Just as Germaine had finished speaking, a familiar; and not really a welcome person appeared through the doorway - Germaine was taken aback that they'd let anyone in to speak with him until the fact had sunk in that imprisoning a God was a fools errand and let him go.
And at once the reason why she was unwelcome came from her very mouth, it reeked of the same level of arrogance and single mindedness that Xerneas had - he remembered the conversation she had with his "friend" it was close to how Xerneas got killed, but she wasn't as arrogant is him, which probably saved her from an escalation - their conversation however was no doubt part of the reason why the fight happened in the first place.

"Well "he" isn't here so calling him a moron is something you can do to a brick wall instead, I'm not entirely sure any input from you would be helpful, to me or to him."

Rebeca snorted. "Then he wasn't paying attention when we talked. Seriously, I warn him to keep an eye on Xerneas, and not even a day later, he gets in a fight and kills him." Pushing away from the door frame, she walked further into the room to stand by the window, looking outside. "And from what you said, it's his own damn fault. Even I can see that Xerneas was baiting him into doing something stupid, and he fell for it." Turning, she glowered at the other Avatar. "All he had to do was stay calm."

She sighed, rubbing her face. "Look, I'm sorry. If anybody got screwed over here, it's you. You doing alright?"

@Leos Klien

Germiane was about to give a retort half way through her words until she asked how he was.
This took him by surprise, he half expected a lecture - being the unwilling victim for a serious of events and crimes he didn't commit or had no hand in the action thereof, he still held the belief that Giratina was misunderstood, but only he could truly know what that creature felt.
"Xerneas didn't seem the type to his himself as bait, especially against a creature that has a big bite, I remember with great vividness the moment Giratina ripped him in half, type advantage, guile, power... all that means little when you are faced against an opponent who can literally tear you in half with ease."

Germaine looked over the officer and then back to Rebecca.

"I'm not sure how I'm doing at the moment, a mixture of exasperation, happiness, revulsion, anger and pain. It's a combination of emotions and feelings that have never been together at once, but that's what I'm feeling...
Not sure how to feel when I'm likely the most feared and hated being in this entire city, merely for being picked two years ago by Arceus to be the host for the most alien Pokémon in existence.
In short. I feel like shit."

Nodding, Rebeca turned her head back to the window. "Yeah, I get that. People keep talking about how being an Avatar must be such a great deal, they don't think that maybe some of us had to give something up." Her tone grew slightly bitter, and she looked down at the markings on the back of her hand. "I'm used to this by now, but... yeah, it'd been nice to have been asked first."

Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall, she sighed. If she stayed for much longer, she wasn't going to make registration in time, and she'd already promised Mihkail that she would. "Look, I'm not saying that he shouldn't have done it. Believe me, I know better than he does that Xerneas was crazy; he probably would have done something much worse eventually and hurt a lot of people." Her eyes narrowed. "That doesn't mean that Giratina can just go and do whatever the hell he wants. If he does, he's going to end up putting himself right back where he started, or worse, on the receiving end of what he gave to Xerneas. It's always the guy who throws the first punch that gets screwed for it, and right now, it looks like that person was him. And you just get pulled along for the ride, so he screwed both of you. That's his mistake to own up to." Shaking her head, Rebeca headed for the door. "Hopefully he figures that out. I gotta go."

She paused. "For what it's worth, good luck. You probably need it."

Making her way down to the tunnels, Rebeca sighed. There was always something going on to screw things over for people, and most of the time it was because they never thought about what they were doing. She made it to the registration desk just in time, only putting down Groudon's name. He didn't seem to be using it, and she was going to be getting enough attention as it was without the entire damn world knowing her name. Besides, he didn't seem to be using it.

Once that was done, she started making her way to one of the practice gyms that had been set up. She needed to work off some stress.

Drystan sighed. “This room is getting incredibly cramped. Where exactly did all these people appear from?” He subconsciously pulled a little on the collar of his shirt, attempting to cool down a little. “And on top of that, it’s getting hotter in here. Maybe the air-conditioning units have blown.“

“Or perhaps, the two are linked,” Dialga said, as his host remained silent and irritably hot, waiting for him to expand. “Occam’s razor. This room is more crowded because people are fleeing worse heat elsewhere.”

“I’ll bite. How’d you figure?”

His awareness turned unbidden towards the door. “Look closely, and see the wisped waves of heat.”

True enough, every few heartbeats, the air distorted and the room’s temperature grew a slight more intense. It piqued the interest of both Avatar and Legend, however the Scizor didn’t seem overly keen on following, becoming uncharacteristically nervous with the rising humidity.

Noticing this, Drystan turned. “You seem a little twitchy, there, Del. What’s up?”

“Not a huge fan of overly hot places, for obvious reasons.” She turned to stare dead into his eyes. “You want me to come, that’s fine, but it’ll be in a pokeball. Otherwise, i’m staying right here, where it’s at least almost manageable.”

Nothing’s ever easy, Drystan though, deciding what to do. “Fine, stay here and call me if you see anything out of the ordinary - and there are Avatars here, so make allowances for that. I won’t be too long,” he threw out telepathically while walking towards the door.

Further down the corridor, it became a mild sauna, sticky and unpleasant. Beyond that, it grew hotter still, until they finally reached the gym and found the source.

“Well. Now there is a dangerous one,” Dialga proclaimed, watching the Avatar-figure in the gym and the origin of the excessive heat. Their features were completely unclear, through the ungodly amount of heat waves between them. Drystan watched in complete silence, momentarily blanking out the climate-induced discomfort from merely being close to the Avatar, who held themselves like a fighter. Someone who knew combat well - as well as they knew themselves, at least. Someone who acted, and not merely talked about action.

Drystan’s skin began glowing a soft red from the heat, more noticeable than it should be from normal human flesh. He half-smiled, half-grimaced, realising the effect of the temperature on his altered physiology. The increased density of his skin mimicking the steel of his embodied Legend. Plus side, sunburn wasn’t an issue, but much closer and melting might be. That’s not a chance i’m willing to take, he thought, but even if we don’t find it here, it might not be a wasted trip after all.

“Care to hazard a guess as to which?” he asked, as Dialga began flipping through a list of possibles.

One of the birds, perhaps? No, I don’t get that impression. Entei? Studying the figure for a little longer, he began noting pieces of information to use. “I’m unable to provide you with a definitive answer, my host, ” he said, “but our mystery Avatar is either Heatran or Groudon.”

“Not bad,” Drystan said, nodding. “Heatran would be an easier battle. Groudon, however, is better suited for our plans. If they are on board, of course.”

Dialga’s disbelief was palpable. “You cannot be bloody serious. Look, host. Does that strike you as a co-operative person?”

The man smiled. “For the right cause, yea.” Removing his hat to combat the torrent of sweat accumulating across his forehead, it was perfectly clear getting much closer wasn’t possible - or likely to be good for his health. “I’ll show you, later. For now, take notes. If we end up against them in the tournament, we’ll need every advantage we can get.”

"And don't forget I'll be here for you, Emry," Solomon commented, both Avatars seemingly having a telepathic conversation at the same time. "Whether you want me to step in or not. Your safety is more important than the rules of any game."

Emry nodded to Solomon. Under her mask, she smiled sympathetically at the Corphish, who seemed to be offended by Kaze's latest remark.

"He's not bothering me," the girl said. "Now that I think of it, my Pokemon companion tends to wrangle me more than the other way around... I guess we sort of have it topsy-turvy. Do your Pokemon have nicknames? His name is Solomon."

As she gestured, the Aura Pokemon nodded his head as a polite greeting.

Luckily, Emry didn't seem to be too much bothered, but then, she likely hadn't heard Clabber. Then she reminded him that he hadn't introduced his Pokemon yet.

"Nice to meet you, as well, Solomon," Kaze greeted the Lucario. "My friends are Jingle--the Chimecho--and Clabber--the Corphish."

"And I still think you could have done better. . . . On both of us," Corphish sassed.

"Oh, come on," Kaze said mentally to his Pokemon. "They can't be that bad, can they?"

"When you put it that way . . . yes, yes they are."

"Is it just me," Kaze asked aloud, "or does it seem to be getting hotter out here?"

The gym was completely silent, save for the dull thudding of fists on fabric intermixed with pants and grunts of exertion. The sole occupant stood off in a corner, her focus entirely fixated on the punching bag in front of her; all others had long since vacated the room (she had warned the staff at least that it would be getting a little warm). When she had first come in, barely anyone had paid attention to her, though a few interested looks had been directed at the markings on her legs. More attention was paid when she shrugged off her jacket, revealing the same markings on her arms, identifying her as the Avatar of Groudon. Even more attention, along with a few disapproving looks, came her way when she pulled off her t-shirt and shorts.

At that point, Rebeca was nearly beyond the point of caring. Instead, she proceeded to set up a bag and went to town on it; if anybody had a problem with an Avatar training in her underwear, they didn’t stick around long enough to complain, especially not after the gym turned into a sweat lodge from their perspective. After everyone had left, and she had been given a polite request from the staff to not set the place on fire, her panties had followed the way of the rest of her clothes (they were pretty old and not the right kind for training, and so had been giving her a wedgie).

So that was how Drystan found her, beating up her third punching bag in nothing but a sports bra she had picked up the previous day, hair tied back in a Ponyta tail with a piece of wire she had found and her face twisted in such murderous determination that one would be forgiven for thinking the punching bag had done her some great injustice. Nearby laid the remains of the previous two punching bags that had split open beneath the intensity of her assault. Pale white light glowed around her fists and knees, and the markings on her skin glowed a dim red.

A sharp note split the air as one of the chain links holding up the bag split in half, dropping it into the pile of sand that was pooled beneath it. Blowing a stray piece of hair out of her face, she tossed the broken pieces aside and lifted the bag back onto the hook. ”I’m not interested!”

“I think she means you, my host,” Dialga said, light humour colouring his words.

Drystan smiled. “Maybe we should see this through, it might be an enlightening conversation,” he replied to the Legend, internally. “Well, I must disagree. I’m yet to open my mouth, for all you know, I’m a punchbag retailer looking to give you a discount. Although I’m not sure i’d be comfortable leaving them in your care.”

Rebeca simply grunted as she readied her stance, and she resumed her beating. ”You’ve been staring at me for the past. Ten. Minutes!” After only a few blows, the bag decided to throw in the towel like its brothers, spilling its sandy guts onto the pile below. Wiping the sweat off her brow, she slipped the half-empty bag off the hook and tossed it onto the others before walking across the room to stand in front of the newcomer, the glow of her markings radiating waves of heat. ”I am not. Interested.”

From deep within, a sense of unease grew the closer the figure - now identifiable as a woman - became. The man felt Dialga do the human equivalent of swallowing hard. “That’s not Heatran.”

Tattoos flaring, there was no mistake about who this Avatar embodied. Also that she was nearly naked, although that had no factor in how blisteringly hot the area became. Drystan took his hat off and began to fan himself with it. “Ouch. That poor, defenseless punch bag,” he said, chuckling. “Very perceptive, although with the upcoming event, we may find ourselves facing off soon. You might not be interested, but I most certainly am.” Taking a moment to look the woman up and down, he casually remarked, “Do you often make a habit of punching holes in things, in a public place, in the nude?”

Snorting, she rolled her eyes as she turned her back on him and went to grab another bag. Great. Another wiseass. “Don’t hold your breath. You’re not my type.” This would probably be her last one; if she broke anymore she’d probably need to hand over another chunk of gold. ”When they piss me off enough, not often, and often. What’s it to you?”

Not my…Oh, he thought, finally catching on. That’s her first assumption? Rolling wisps of laughter echoed around his head. “In case it has gone un-noticed, Groudon’s Avatar is rather scantily-dressed. Is that not the way of you mortals?”

Drystan scowled darkly at no-one in particular. “How many times? We communicate telepathically, do not read my thoughts. Nothing is sacred with you, I swear.” With his legend’s questionable insinuations quashed, attention could now be returned to the woman. Raising an eyebrow at her rather remarkable tattoos, tracking their lines brought a sense of familiarity, likely borrowed from Giratina. “Curiosity, that’s all. I was late to the party, and am working recon on the present Avatars. Some pretty nasty stuff went down lately, after all.”

”Mmh.” Can’t argue with that I guess. Looking over the array of bags, she shrugged and turned around, the glow of her markings fading as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall. ”So, which one are you? The Avatar of wisecracks and smart-aleckry?”

“Worked out like a master detective, that was,” he declared with a chuckle. “Arceus couldn’t afford to lose me, the world would be such a boring place.” The last few words were given an effeminate, dramatic flair for emphasis.

Rebeca simply gave him a flat expression, unimpressed. ”Try again.”

Having become slightly more accustomed to the heat, he replaced the hat atop his head before fetching out a packet of cigarettes. “Alas, I wasn’t trying to impress you. Since I know yours, I guess it’s only fair to disclose my own. Drystan Graye, Avatar of Dialga, last I checked.” Fishing around for the box of matches, a smirk appeared. “Say, do you just produce massive heat, or could I borrow you for a light?”

She grunted. ”Tweedledumb #1, got it.” She pushed away from the wall and pulled off her bra, dropping it into the bag she had found with the rest of her clothes and headed towards the showers. ”I was asked not to set the whole place on fire, so no.”

Plenty of fire, with little control. Not a shocking revelation, as they go, he thought, thumbing out a match. Following her over, he leaned against the wall outside, and raised the volume of his voice several tones. “I’d introduce you to Tweedledee, but I’m not entirely sure where she has run off too. Perhaps buying shoes, or taking in the sights.” Igniting the cigarette, Drystan filled his lungs full of smoke, and smiled contentedly. “It is so hard to find good help these days, although she’d kill me if she heard that.”

”Funny. I was under the impression that “she” was Tweedledumb #2,” she commented wryly as she turned the shower on, stepping under the spray.

“Maybe to others, but we aren’t all the similar. Friends for a-” Drystan paused, before reconsidering the sentence. “Friends is a strong term. We have put up with one another for a long time, but draw similarities like that between us at your peril.” He smiled for his own benefit. “She’s not fond of it.”

Rebeca snorted again. ”I’ll keep that in mind, I’ve only had one opinion to draw on, and he didn’t exactly give you a glowing review.” She unwrapped the wire from around her hair, moving into the change room to drop it into the bag before stepped back under the shower spray.

Dropping ash on the floor, he banged his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling before taking another drag. “Who was that, then? Giratina badmouths me a lot, and I know he’s in the city, so perhaps that’s a stupid question.” Dialga clearly began taking notice of the idle chatter, suddenly, listening in. “I’d advise against listening to idle chatter. Giratina was dealt a bad hand, but he chose to pick it up. Of all the people I suspect would understand that, you strike me as one. Life's a bitch, so do you complain about it, or get even?”

Again, she stepped out of the shower and into the change room, looking at him critically. ”A few million years is a heckuva bad hand, coming from one of the two who apparently helped deal it to him. I can see why one would want to get even.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, almost as though she was bored of the conversation.

“Don’t lump me in with this. Dialga and Palkia set him up countless millennia before I was even born.”

”Well, since you’re apparently suggesting that you’re the middle man now…”

The familiar ethereal presence of Dialga could be felt swirling around his consciousness. “Sometimes, my host, it is impossible to tell when humans are being sharp or dense.”

He chuckled audibly at the Legend’s comment. “Do you feel misrepresented? Shall I pass on a message?”

“Don’t be facetious.”

“They were all equally to blame, or so I’m led to believe. Giratina allowed himself to be caught, it’s his fault. Avoiding blame is easy.” He flashed her a winning grin. “I’ve been doing it my whole damn life.”

Rebeca’s eyes narrowed. “Right. At least he’s willing to admit that much. I’m more inclined to admit to what’s mine, at least then I can say that it was my choice.” She walked back into the shower, running her hands through her hair. ”So what do you really want.”

“But of course,” he replied. “Admitting blame is half the fun. Doing something without getting credit is pointless.” Taking another puff of the cigarette, he turned to directly face her. “Not everyone agrees with every possible manner of entertainment, do they?”

”Get to the point.”

Drystan’s face became a blank slate. “They say the best way to get to know someone is through combat.” He left a few seconds before he continued. “People can’t hide who they truly are when they fight. I didn’t see much from that distance - especially through the heat, but I picked up enough. Do you want to know what I saw?”

Rebeca shut off the shower and stepped back into the change room, leaning against the wall, waiting.

Taking that as a cue, he dropped the cigarette to the floor, stomping it out. “We are more alike than you can imagine. How many battles have you fought?”

Tilting her head, she glanced at the rows of lockers. ”Battles, or fights?”

“Slip of the tongue. Actual fights. Not legitimate battles. Narrow it down even further. How many fights have you been in, with your life hanging in the balance?”

The look Rebeca gave the man was scathing enough to curdle Miltank milk, and she gestured down her body.

Scanning the scars running across her body once more, he nodded. “Quite impressive. Scars can come from anything however. Even playful scraps. How many times has your life been on the line, directly? I’m willing to wait for the answer,” he said, smiling.

Scowling, she folded her arms over her chest. ”More than I would like. Sometimes others don’t know how to take a hint to leave well enough alone.”

“There we go, giving a straight answer wasn’t so hard, was it?”

”Since you seem to have so much trouble getting straight to the point, you would know.”

Drystan’s face lit up. “I started this by saying we were similar, after all, but that’s besides the point.” Glancing briefly at the raw, destructive power of Groudon - evident from all the little piles of sand around - he saw nothing but potential. Not wasted potential, not exactly, merely unrealised. “Question one is ticked off then. I’m willing to wager you have left quite a few people beaten and bruised. Chances are, some might have even been worse off than that. Am I far off the mark?”

”You do like the sound of your own voice, don’t you.”

“Yes,” came the flat answer. “Did that question strike a nerve? Ducking the question will only get you so far, I can be rather persistent.”

Pushing away from the wall, Rebeca took slow steps until she was standing directly in front of him. ”I don’t get the feeling that you’d apologize if it did. I’m still waiting to hear why you are so interested. I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m not much a people person, and I haven’t had the greatest couple of days.”

Sensing the growing tension Dialga felt it necessary to intervene. “Are you going somewhere with this, host? If not, we might not live to see the tournament - and that’s potentially setting a record for pissing someone off you have just met.”

“Relax,” he replied, bitterly. Drystan didn’t flinch from her presence, as much as his common sense - and legend - screamed for him to. “My interest stems from meeting an Avatar I can understand on a base level. Palkia’s an exception. Our legends share a bond, reading her is child’s play. The same can be said for you. Here comes the point, but let it be on record that I was trying to stagger this out.”

“”Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.” That might even be true - I’ve never bothered with trying any other solution. But it feels good. What did you feel, after winning those fights? Leaving an opponent battered, broken - worse,” he said, drawing particular attention to the last word. “A sense of power, perhaps. Getting drunk on that is easy. The more decisive the win. Do you disagree? ” Tone deathly serious, Drystan leveled the question with a slight more of an edge that he had intended.

For a long moment, Rebeca looked right into the man’s eyes. And she didn’t like what she saw there. ”And I thought I was bad with people.” Turning away, she grabbed her bag and started putting on her clothes. ”Like I said, not interested.” Shouldering the bag, she left him behind. ”I don’t pick fights anymore.”

“She didn’t turn us into sludge. Am I missing something?” Dialga asked, feeling somewhat left out of the loop.

“You mean apart from the detailed knowledge of human interactions? This is the reason you allow me complete control,” the man replied, sending a mental wink to his companion.

After leaving just enough time between the woman leaving and him following to draw doubt into whether or not he actually would, Drystan emerged from the changing rooms, footsteps echoing around the barren gym. “Humour me with an answer to one final question,” he shouted. “Then you are free to leave with the clear consciousness of a job wrapped up, not left to stew. Did you think I was judging you?”

She paused, then turned around. ”And why would I think that?”

“Because then i’d be the same as everyone else!” The words echoed around the room.

Rebeca just shook her head, smiled, and left. Why do I keep attracting the crazy ones.

“She’s leaving,” Dialga chimed in, as the man completely ignored him. “She is walking away. Aaaaaaaand she’s gone. You’ve lost her. Shame, that seemed to be going… not awfully?” Drystan fished out his premium cigar, lighting it as several bewildered onlookers began to re-enter the now cooling training gym, wondering what all the shouting was about. The legend - noting the celebratory special occasion cigar - grumbled in unease, but said nothing, before they began to make their way back to the main hall, leaving a thick smoke trail behind.

Arena 2 buzzed with energy as the combatants were led to opposite ends of the battlefield. Bright lights shined down and cameras trained themselves on the spectacle from many angles. Referees stood by the arena's edge with Pokemon who knew Protect. Medics with bulging supply bags waited on the sidelines. The audience, the commentator's booth, and the other arena could be seen at a distance. But all these details were of little importance compared to the foe directly ahead.

Walking down the tunnel towards the arena, Rebeca was only half listening to the attendant beside her as he rattled off the rules for the tournament. This would be the third time now that she had heard them. Apparently, the stunt that Giratina had pulled with Xerneas had the organizers concerned about possible “accidents” during the tournament, so they were covering their bases.

For her own part, Rebeca wasn’t unduly concerned. They might use different words, but the rules in tournaments like these were always the same: don’t kill each other, don’t break each other, and everything will be fine. Something that she didn’t have any intention of breaking, at least not if she didn’t have to. Some of her competitors, however, apparently might not be so inclined.

“Also, there is one last thing, Miss Groudon.”

Blinking, Rebeca paused and turned to the attendant expectantly. He looked somewhat nervous. “You see, your opponent, Emry, has asked that the Legendary she represents not be revealed during the match. The committee decided to allow this, provided that you consent to the same thing. Will that be a problem?”

Huh. Guess she doesn’t want much fuss made about her either. Rebeca shrugged. ”Yeah, sure, whatever.”

The attendant brightened for a moment. “Ah, excellent. I’ll make sure it gets passed on.” He frowned. “However, that does present a new wrinkle. You registered only under the name of your Legendary. Is there another name that we can use to introduce you as?”

For a long moment, Rebeca was silent. She’d used Groudon’s name so that her own wouldn’t be connected to this whole circus. She still didn’t want to use her own. Thinking for a moment, she came to her decision. “Becky.”

“Becky?”

“Yeah. Just Becky.” As she turned and continued down the tunnel, Rebeca felt an odd feeling in her chest. She hadn’t heard that name in two years. Shrugging it off, she stepped into the arena and looked around. Concrete. Alright, I can work with this. Pretty empty, not going to be much help from the environment. Guess this is this just going to be me against her. Despite herself, a slight smile crossed her face. Guess I’ll have to try not to collapse the ceiling. Putting this whole thing underground wasn’t the smartest idea.

She looked across the arena, and promptly stopped. Is that… a kid?

Solomon gave Emry's hand one last squeeze before joining the audience. The masked girl gulped bashfully under all the lights and cameras. But this setup was much less nerve wracking than a stadium full of screaming fans. Emry reminded herself of this fact as she took a calming breath and stepped forward to face her opponent. From this distance she could see a tall woman with dark hair, but she couldn't pick out many other details.

"Thank you for agreeing to my request," the girl called out, hoping her voice came through her silver mask clearly enough. "I don't really like all the attention of being an Avatar. That said..."

At this, Emry slid one foot back and held her arms up in what might be interpreted as an A-for-effort fighting stance.

"I couldn't pass up the chance to test my skills against other Avatars. May the best woman win!"

Rebeca blinked for a moment, then turned back to the retreating attendant behind her. "This is a joke, right? She's a friend of this "Emry"?"

The attendant frowned, shaking his head. "Um, no, she is your opponent."

She turned back to the other girl, silent for a moment, then shook her head. "Yeah, no. I don't think so."

Emry blinked behind the mask, startled and slightly offended by 'Becky's' unexpected comment.

"What's the matter, too scared?"

The childishly confident words sprung almost unbidden from the girl's mouth, and for a second she wished she could take them back. Emry then deciphered a more likely problem and composed herself.

"Is it 'cause you don't want to fight a kid?" The young Avatar sighed into her mask. "Look, I know what I signed up for. I'm not super excited about beating each other up, but it's better to practice our skills now than when we really need them." At this, Emry's teal eyes gazed at Rebeca with an unexpectedly cold look. "I guess Avatars can't really afford to be kids, can we?"

Folding her arms, Rebeca cocked an eyebrow at the girl. "Look, kid. I've got a foot of height and at least a hundred pounds on you. If I hit you I'm gonna fuckin break you, which I'd rather not." She frowned. "How old are you, anyway?"

Emry flinched slightly at Rebeca's threatening words, her tenuous courage faltering.

"Uh..."

The girl's eyes flashed toward Solomon for a second. The Lucario's crimson gaze never left Rebeca.

"It's hard to read people from this far away," Solomon said, "But from what I gather, she wears her emotions out front too much to hide to an ulterior motive. You can be honest about surface questions, but please tap out if she overpowers you as much as she claims. There's no shame in that."

"F-fourteen," Emry answered, embarrassed by her ill-timed stutter.

Rebeca's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Tauros shit." There was no way in hell this girl was fourteen. Tilting her head, she jerked her chin. "What's with the mask?"

Emry subconsciously reached up to touch one cheek of her mask.

"Um, I don't want--"

"Live from Underground Arena Two," a piercing voice boomed throughout the area, "We have our round one, single elimination match. Becky will be facing off against Emry. Let the battle begin!"

Turning her head up towards the crowd, Rebeca scowled darkly. "Oh, hell no." Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Of all the... you know what? Fine." She flicked her fingers, and a circle of silver light flowed around a small piece of the floor, wrenching out a fist-sized chunk of concrete and sending it flying towards Emry.

Emry tried to dodge out of the way, but she misjudged the trajectory of the concrete missile and it slammed into her knee. The girl let out a yelp of pain and deeply regretted choosing a mask that prevented her from wearing her glasses in battle. Thanks to her tough skin, the attack only did a small amount of damage, just slightly affecting her ability to battle. Even with her natural defenses, Emry had expected a much more devastating blow from the imposing woman. It seemed Becky was still going easy on her, underestimating her, perhaps. And Emry could use that to her advantage.

The young Avatar whispered a rhythmic chant. Flashes of silvery light danced around her like twinkling stars for a second... but nothing seemed to happen. Emry resumed her defensive stance.

Raising an eye brow, Rebeca grunted and shrugged her shoulders, slipping one hand into the pocket of her jacket while gesturing upwards with the other. The concrete around Emry cracked and shook, a jet of hot escaping gases making a slight whistling sound.

The move was powerful but slowed by Rebeca's hesitation to go all-out. The shaking ground gave Emry just enough warning to dive away before the ground could crumble beneath her feet and knock her into the scorching steam. Her teal eyes appeared a little more fearful as she looked up at Rebeca from the ground.

Psshhhh, is that the best she can do? came a subtle voice in the girl's mind. Boriiiing! Let's show her how to have some fun!

Beneath the mask, a sight smile grew on her face as she focused her power on the mind of her foe. A disorienting blast of pain rocketed toward Rebeca's mind, and Emry channeled her psychic energy toward spinning her opponent around in the air a couple times for a further disorienting effect-- or maybe just for fun. The attack, combined with her Legendary's natural ability to enhance non-damaging effects of moves, would be enough to confuse Rebeca and buy the masked girl a little time... she hoped.

When the flow of psychic energy subsided, the silver lights appeared around Emry again. The bruise on her leg completely healed as her Wish came true.

When the headache appeared, Rebeca was puzzled. When she lifted into the air, she was startled. When she crashed into the ground, she was displeased. For a moment she just laid there, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

You're holding back.

Grimacing, she flicked a gaze towards the stands. You be quiet.

And she's making you look stupid. Stop insulting the girl and fight.

Mihkail, I am not going to beat up a kid. Especially not while an entire damn city watches me do it.

[e25822]Rebeca, she's testing herself. Be nice.[/color]

She groaned, thumping her head on the concrete. This entire thing was full of crap. Nobody had mentioned that she was going to be fighting a child, she was going to break her in half.

After a moment, Rebeca pushed herself up into a sitting position, shaking her head and looking across at the girl, eyes narrowed and hand pressed against her forehead. Slowly, she got up and began walking towards her, hands once again pushed into her jacket pockets.

Emry warily watched the Avatar slowly recover from her attack. Becky didn't appear to be readying any sort of counter attack. Perhaps Emry's Confusion had worked better than expected? The girl stood her ground and calculated her next move.

A point of silver light appeared behind Emry, shooting around to trace a twelve foot circle, with the Avatar at the center. A grinding, cracking sound split the air, and the very, very large piece of concrete began lifting into the air, carrying the surprised girl with it and leaving a deep crater in the ground. Rebeca broke out into a run, jumping into the bottom of the crater as a silver line ran between Emry's feet, bisecting the concrete. The two pieces split apart, sending the Avatar falling through the air towards the crater below.

Baring her teeth and sweating slightly from the exertion, Rebeca widened her stance and caught Emry in her arms, swiftly depositing her on her back on the ground. "Do me a favour and stay down." Dropping onto her own back, she rotated the concrete pieces around so that the flat sides, what had once been the surface, were now pressed together.

Slipping her legs onto the other girls stomach, Rebeca grinned and relaxed. The hovering chunks of concrete dropped like... well, rocks, crashing down on top of the pair and sealing them inside the crater. Now immersed in darkness, Rebeca chuckled. "Don't lift your head. I dunno how much room we have in here." Taking a risk, she concentrated, and a faint red glow began emitting from her markings, though it could only be seen on the backs of her hands and her bare legs. "You alright? Did I scare ya?"

You're a moron.

Shush.

Yes, Rebeca did scare her.

So much happened in the span of a few seconds, all of it out of Emry's control. Then she suddenly found herself trapped in a small dark space with a clearly powerful Avatar pinning her. For a second, Emry couldn't think or even breathe, just staring frozen in shock.

Then, the girl lashed out in blind fear. Emry shrieked and gave a great shove with her mind, putting all her psychic abilities toward trying to blast Becky out of the rocky prison and away from her.

"Solomon!" she mentally cried out.

From the sidelines, the Lucario suddenly jumped to attention and moved as close as he could to the battlefield. He wasn't about to forego the rules to save his companion just yet, but he stiffened in preparation to jump in at a moment's notice.

In their mutual tension, neither of them noticed that Emry's silver mask had fallen off during her fall.

The sudden shove from below took Rebeca by surprise, and she cracked her head against the rock above her. Which, surprisingly, hadn't moved. Okay, I deserved that.

Yes, you did.

Bracing herself against the walls of the crater, Rebeca ignored her brothers voice in her head, using her legs to keep the thrashing girl down. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry, just calm down, please! Before you crack your head too. I'm not gonna hurt ya, I just wanted to talk without all the damn cameras watching. Alright? Please?"

Emry continued to look at her with the wide eyes of prey cornered by a predator. After a few seconds, she gulped and stopped her fighting limbs.

"You can stand down for now," Emry communicated with her friend. "But be ready to break this thing open if things get worse."

Solomon did not stand down, but he managed to resist the urge to free Emry with his bare hands right that second.

"I'll be there at the slightest hint of real danger."

Emry gulped again and dared to look Becky in the eye.

"Couldn't we have talked without the cameras watching after the battle?" The Avatar attempted to sound strong, but her voice and lip quivered from fear.

Rebeca chuckled again. [crimson=crimson]"Well, since it's the fight I want to talk about, that would be kinda difficult wouldn't it."[/color] She raised her hand, trying to direct more of the light from the back of her hand onto the girls face. "You alright? Didn't hurt you did I? She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, this was the first thing I thought of. If you wanna call me a moron, go ahead. My brother already is."

Emry forced her whirring mind to slow down long enough to assess her situation. She had been banged up a little in the process of trapping her in the rocky dome, but nothing too serious. She did notice her missing mask, though, and instinctually moved a hand up to shield her face from the light. The girl's face looked... normal. Nothing unusual about it. She just didn't want it to be publicly recognized as the new face of Jirachi.

"Um, just a little," Emry responded. "I-I'm okay. Uhh... what did you want to talk about? 'Cause if it's the whole fighting a kid thing... like I said, I know what I signed up for. I never really expected to win or anything. It's just..."

The girl hesitated for a second as she stared into the faint red space of the dome.

"There might be other people who won't treat this like a contest... who won't care how much they hurt people... a-and if I have to battle, I'd rather do it as a friendly contest first..."

Her gentle voice trailed off as her gaze seemed to meader farther away from Rebeca's.

Silent for a moment, Rebeca pursed her lips. If anybody needed a shot of steel into their spine, it was this girl. "What do you want?"

I want to battle, Emry thought to herself. But somehow, she couldn't force the words out of her mouth. When she pushed a little harder, all that came out was a small tear down the side of her face, much to her shame.

"I...I want some help," the Avatar squeaked. "There's things I have to do, and I don't even know how to--" The girl's voice cracked slightly, and she had to take a few seconds to stop herself from crying. Her cheeks flushed as she took a breath in and out.

"I want everything to be okay," she sighed. "But if that can't happen, I guess I'm not sure what I want."

Meanwhile, the volunteers were getting anxious. Some started bringing out Pokemon to break through the rock dome. Nobody knew what was going on in that concrete cage, but with the death of Xerneas fresh in everyone's minds, many seemed ready to jump to the most drastic conclusions.

Rebeca frowned. That's... weird. She looked up at the concrete ceiling. "That why you're doing this? You think something bad is gonna happen, and you want to be ready?"

Emry frowned at Rebeca for a few seconds, mind whirring. She wished Solomon were there with her... he's so much better at knowing who to trust. Maybe he could be there. Slowly, visibly, the girl's expression of uncontrolled fear smoothed into a mask of calm.

"Can we get out now?" the Avatar asked quietly. "I... I can be done with this battle."

Just after she spoke, the makeshift dome shook with a loud crack. Muffled shouts could be heard outside.

Rebeca chuckled. "Yeah, sounds like we've kept everyone waiting long enough." Folding her legs up, she planted her feet against the rough concrete. "Tell you what kiddo. When we re done here, I ll take you out for food wherever you want. My treat. And we can just talk, bout whatever, you seem like a good kid. Mean time, how about I give you a couple pointers on looking after yourself, huh?" She started squirming down, giving herself a better angle. "Honestly, I'm in this whole circus because my brother Mihkail basically forced me to. Winning isnt as big a deal as it used to be, so lets just have ourselves a little fun, okay?"

She tried to give the other girl a reassuring grin, and reached out to gently squeeze her hand. "I promise, I'm not quite as much of a bitch as Im making myself look like."

Emry nodded, pleased in spite of herself by the prospect of a friendly fight and a frienly lunch. When Rebeca shifted in a way that seemed to prepare her to break out of the concrete dome, the Avatar of Jirachi flashed a sly grin and whispered a preemptive Wish.

"Great! Hold on to your cute little butt, cuz it's going to get hot in here." Rebeca closed her eyes and began concentrating.

Outside the crater, the attendants and Pokemon gathered in a loose circle around it paused as the ground began to shake slightly.

The markings on Rebecas skin began glowing brighter, and she cracked open an eye. "Hey, you can do psychic stuff, right? Mind tossing me out of here when I shift this? Make it look like you busted out?"

Emry gave Rebeca a confused look for a second before catching on to her idea.

"Uh...okay."

The Avatar hastily pulled off her cap and brushed the blonde hair in front of her face as best as she could. By this point, Emry could hardly see anything. But the psychic type could still sense Rebeca's mental presence, and that alone would be enough to pull off a minor feat of telekinesis.

Rebeca grinned. "Alright, one, two, three!"

To the crowd of people watching, it was like the concrete dome had simply exploded. Groudons Avatar shoved with all the not inconsiderable strength that she had, and assisted by the column of molten rock and high pressure gases that punched through the crater floor, sending both pieces of concrete flying into the air, cracking and falling apart under the stress. Pieces and chunks rained down on the battlefield, along with the body of a single flailing individual. Much to the surprise of everyone, the attendants and their Pokemon managed to avoid the larger pieces.

Landing heavily on the ground, Rebeca simply laid there for a second, groaning, then began pushing herself up and rubbing the back of her head. Damn, girl has some kick to her.

An attendant rushed over to her as she stood up, a slightly panicked expression on his face. "Are you alright, Miss? Miss Emry, is she..."

Rebeca chuckled, looking towards the crater, where the other Avatar was now crawling out. "She's fine. Sorry about that, just wanted to have a little private chat with her."

Emry quietly pulled herself out of the crater and found her mask lying on the ground nearby.

"Sorry things got a little weird there," the Avatar added. "I'm not sure if that was breaking the rules or anything, but I hope we can keep battling."

At this, Emry slipped her mask back on and stood up to face Rebeca, her stance still inexperienced, but at least it had a little more flair to it this time. Silver sparks gleamed around her as the minor bruises she had received healed.

"We're ready for the real battle."

The attendant looked back and forth between them, still visibly concerned. "Its just, when you dropped that rock on you both, and then you were under there for an awfully long time..."

"Yeah yeah, won't happen again." Rebeca shrugged off her jacket and tossed it into the attandants arms, her shirt following closely behind, leaving her standing in only a bra and shorts.

Looking for a moment, the attendant flushed an averted his gaze. "Um, there are children watching this..."

Rebeca rolled her eyes. "They ain't seeing anything they wouldnt see at a pool or the beach. Besides, I like that jacket, so look after it for me." Smiling broadly, Rebeca jerked her chin towards Emry. "So, you wanna tussle, do ya kid?"

And you said that you didn't like putting on a show.

Shaddup.

Emry was prepared to expect the unexpected, but she wasn't quite prepared for that. Her cheeks flused as she gave Rebeca a puzzled look. Then, to follow in the footsteps of the more seasoned battler, the Avatar began to pull up her own shirt.

"That won't be necessary, Em," Solomon quickly cut in, not sure whether to laugh or regret every choice leading up to this event. "Your clothing is more than appropriate for a battle... as was hers."

Emry's blush heated to a deeper red as she pulled her blouse back down, feeling like an idiot.

"Yeah, let's... uh, tussle."

Her grin revealing teeth, Rebeca widened her stance as white light began flowing down her arms and legs, shrouding and solidifying into claws on her hands and feet. "Alright. Show me what you've got."

Emry's heart pounded, fueling her thoughts now that they were more focused. It looked like Rebeca was preparing for a hand-to-hand fight... not Emry's forte. Her best option would be to maintain distance between them as long as possible. The Avatar continued her go-to strategy, using her abilities to shove Rebeca's mind (and hopefully her body as well) with psychic power.

This time, Rebeca was ready for it. She had felt that pressure on her mind and body that signified when the girl was attacking. When the pressure came, she pushed through it, running forward and grinning wildly. Behind Emry, the ground cracked and hissed, and another column of magma erupted, this time at an angle to force her forward.

Emry's eyes widened as Rebeca barrelled through the attack like it was nothing. She heard the cracking earth a split second before the magma spewed toward her. Emry tried to duck out of the way of the attack, but she moved a little too slowly. The lava slammed into the back of her head, eliciting a scream of pain and causing her to tumble forward. The world began to fade for a moment... whatever that move was, it did a lot of damage to the Avatar of Jirachi.

What? That's it? The voice tickled the edges of Emry's consciousness. It was just getting exciting! C'mon, wimp, you can't quit now!

Emry gritted her teeth and forced herself back to reality to find Rebeca mere feet away and closing in fast. No time for strategy now, not even time to move... as if her pounding head were capable of movement, anyway. The girl grunted from the mental exertion as she poured the last of her strength into a powerful Psychic blast. She attempted to use Rebeca's momentum against her to send her flying past Emry and into the crevasse she had just ripped into the floor.

The sudden pull from behind caught Rebeca off guard, sending her tumbling into the crater. When she finally came to a stop, she couldn't help but laugh as she stood up. "You improvised! That's good!" Reaching the top of the crater into two lunging strides, she swung at the smaller girl, electricity crackling around her fist.

"Mmkss," Emry replied, mouth full of a berry she managed to shove in while Rebeca was falling. She still felt exhausted and dizzy, but at least she was capable of standing after eating the refreshing berry. The Avatar was just about to return to her feet when her opponent came back with a sparking claw. Emry squeaked and closed her eyes, focusing her powers on the fist. If the plan worked out, Rebeca would end up punching herself instead. She had never attempted such a strategy, but she entered this Tournament to test and improve her skills, so this was the best time to try something new.

As though someone had pulled on her arm, Rebecas fist swerved to the side, putting her off balance. She instinctively spun with it, slamming back-first into the other girl and knocking them both over. Rolling onto her feet, Rebeca came up, waves of heat coming off her now, her markings glowing brightly as she smiled. "Not bad, not bad. Here's your first lesson: ditch the fancy mask. If you want to hide your face, use something simple, like a ski mask." She shrugged. "You'll look like you're thinking of robbing the place, but if you're already trying to hide, you've got other concerns. What you don't want is something that will obscure your vision. If you can't see what the other guy is doing, then you're screwed."

A chunk of concrete off to Emry's right became illuminated in silver light, flying up towards her side.

Rebeca's words slowly made their way through Emry's fuzzy mind, as if wading through water. By the time their meaning became clear, the Avatar only had a split second to search for the implied attack, and she chose the wrong side. Emry collapsed back onto the ground as the rock pummeled the side of her chest. The girl panted from pain and exhaustion, and sweat that she couldn't wipe away seeped into her stinging eyes. She managed to find Rebeca's form through the haze.

"Thanks for the favor," Emry said hoarsely. "Now it's time for me to do you one. I forfeit!"

A couple seconds passed. And then, everything happened at once.

"We have a winner!" the announcer declared. "Becky has defeated Emry and will continue to the next round."

Before the commentator had finished, a small team of medics swarmed the field. Several attended to Emry, checking her vitals and spraying potions on her bleeding head. Solomon stood right outside the ring of nurses, watching closely but knowing there wasn't much he could do.

"You should've tapped out as soon as she used a ground-type move." the Lucario mentally grumbled. His stance and tone softened a bit. "But, considering the situation, you handled the rest of the battle well. I'm proud of you."

Emry smiled weakly. Then she relaxed, just letting the medics take care of her after the tense battle.

Grinning broadly, Rebeca relented when the attendant from before held out her jacket, tossing it to her on account of the wall of heat she was giving off. She approached the group of medics as she pulled her jacket on, letting it hang open. "Hey kid!"

"Hmmm?" Emry mumbled, looking up lazily. Her wounds were quickly being healed, but she was still physically and mentally exhausted.

Meanwhile, a few medics approached Rebeca, assessing her wounds and applying a few potions.

She waved them off. Any scrapes she had could heal on their own. "Not bad. Come see me tomorrow for lesson two. I'll go a little easier on you next time." She turned and headed towards the entrance tunnel, raising her hand in a wave. "And I still owe you lunch when they let you go!"

Admit it, I was right.

Rebeca rolled her eyes at the smugness in Mikhail's voice. Shaddup, you hunk of rock.

The combatants were led to opposite ends of a large arena. Bright lights shined down and cameras trained themselves on the spectacle from many angles. Referees stood by the arena's edge with Pokemon who knew Protect. Medics with bulging supply bags waited on the sidelines. The audience, the commentator's booth, and the other arena could be seen at a distance. But all these details were of little importance compared to the foe directly ahead.

No one could argue that the battlefield was massive; it was much larger than Kaze's expectations by far. For a moment, his gaze wandered as he marveled at the enormity of the arena. But then, he realized he needed to pay attention to the person who would be his opponent. The man who emerged from the other side of the field was one Kaze was unfamiliar with, though one he recalled having seen in the waiting area earlier.

The man's appearance reminded Kaze of himself, if he were to be much older and more intimidating. Shades of blue were the common factor, though. But something about the man unnerved Kaze. It wasn't the cigarette in his mouth, not his stature, but the look in his eyes. Something about his eyes simply seemed . . . strange.

"He's got a sort of pride to him, it seems. Yet, I can't pin down what Avatar he may be."

"Suicune? Glad you're up. Any advice?" Kaze asked his Legend.

"All things considered, I would hazard that he is either Cobalion or Dialga. Neither of which would be a particularly good match-up for us. If Cobalion . . . avoid using anything Ice-based. If he's Dialga, Ice is our best chance. And even then, we'd be pushing our luck. You are, however, quite nimble. Perhaps you could try to use that to your advantage. More than anything, watch his moves and do your best to counter them in any way possible.

"Thanks. I'll do my best." Shedding his jacket, Kaze took a deep breath and gave his Soothe Bell a jingle. It's ok, he thought. Just focus. Suicune said to use my speed . . . so starting things with Tailwind would be best . . . I hope.

---

After a refreshing cigar break in the training gym, Drystan made his way back to find Deladriss in the main area. Standing next to her was a man wearing an official uniform, maybe mid-thirties, clipboard in hand. Twirling on a heel almost as soon as Drystan had burst through from the crowd of bodies to the outer wall, he walked over.

"Ah, there you are. Your battle is in area one, over there," said the man, pointing over to a field in the distance."

The Avatar nodded. "Appreciated, my good man. Who is my opponent to be?"

His gaze faltered, briefly, and something crossed his face. Pain? Concern? "It's not for me to say," came the attendant's quiet reply, before he weaved back into the crowd.

“That was not a good reaction,” Dialga said, evidentally as unnerved by the comments as Drystan. With a good luck from the Scizor, the two made their way over towards the specified battle field, lighting a cigarette along the way.

Walking up to the arena, the crowd was heavy. Various types of people littered the area, some officials, sponsors, medics, the list goes on. At the other side of the field was a kid, around early teens, waiting eagerly - and with a hint of nerves - for the arrival of the opponent. Moments passed, and no other Avatar arrived. A whisper of power erupted slightly from the kid, opposite, and Drystan felt rather lightheaded as Dialga reacted to it.

“Well, I'll be damned. That's Suicine.”

Pure shock almost caused his host to drop the cigarette from his gaping mouth. “Our opponent is a child?”

“So it would seem. If I recall, you mentioned Suicine on your list of potential allies to look into. Here he is, might be worth a shot.”

“If the rumours are to be believed, he can cure the power plague. However, I was under the impression he was a few inches taller back then.”

Drystan dropped into a calculating mindset, scanning his opponent for any hidden gambit, any unseen gimmick, and found nothing. He's no fighter, what's the deal? he thought to himself.

“I am unsure, my host,” came the unbidden reply. “Hold back during this encounter, winning can be just as bad for our image.”

Shaking his head, focus fell on Suicine's Avatar. “No, this needs to be quashed before it begins.” Taking a few steps forwards across the space between them, he called out, “Hey, are you the Avatar of Suicine?” Dialga sighed, and wondered why no-one ever believed him.

Kaze's attention was snapped from attempting to strategize back to the man in front of him, and it took a moment for him to realize what had been said. "Yeah," he called back in reply, not sure exactly what to expect from his opponent. "What about yours?" He felt somewhat ashamed that this man could identify him so quickly, and Kaze was left guessing.

“I am here to represent Dialga,” he said, proudly. “Listen, I mean no offense by this, but you do not seem to be a fighter. The last thing I want is to hurt you, however holding back isn't a desirable option for me either. It might be safer for you to call this off, kid.” Taking a drag of the cigarette, smoke billowed out into the space between the Avatars, as Drystan returned to trying to read the motives of his opponent - with stark little success.

Kaze almost allowed himself to be convinced to throw in the white towel before things had even begun. But he knew he needed to become stronger, and that wasn't going to happen by giving up. "Don't hold back, then," Kaze said. "But I'm not giving up now. I want to get stronger, so I can protect my friends. Even if this battle is in your favor, I have to at least try." He tried to look brave, but he knew it would take a massive stroke of luck to best someone of Dialga's caliber.

A soft smile crossed his lips. “Believe it or not, kid, I've been there before.” Letting the cigarette fall to the floor, Drystan clicked his fingers for dramatic flair and let the Legend's power fly. In mere seconds, the falling object was nothing more than dust in the air, scattering on the ground. It's taking all he has not to turn tail and run, he thought.

“But he remains steadfast. Admirable.”

“Agreed,” he said to Dialga, smiling. “Out of respect for your decision, I will use every ounce of my power in this fight between us, treating you as an equal, rather than some fool.” Adjusting his hat, he stared directly at the opponent opposite. “Take a single piece of advice before we begin. No matter what you may have heard, being scared isn't a bad thing. Fear can be the most useful ally in the world. Use it well.” With that, he about turned and strode back to the outer edge of the arena, to prepare for the upcoming battle.

Kaze's fear for Dialga's Avatar was quickly turned to respect in those last moments before he returned to his starting position. He didn't look to harm Kaze, but it seemed . . . he rather wanted to befriend him. Though he was still uncertain of his abilities, he felt much more at ease. Nervousness wracked him, but his fear was diminishing. Whether that would remain, he had no clue. But Kaze would give this his all.

Moments later, a deep voice boomed around the arena.

"Live from Underground Arena One, we have our round one, single elimination match. Kaze Elwynn, Avatar of Suicune, will be facing off against Drystan Graye, Avatar of Dialga. Let the battle begin!"

“Same as always?”

Drystan adjusted his hat slightly, focusing on the task at hand. “Pretty much, although with less focus on akiado. We can get more momentum with our own attacks, than using a smaller and weaker opponent's against them. How would you suggest beginning?”

“Oh, my host.” The legend allowed a rolling chuckle to colour the words. “With a bang.”

Stalking towards the middle ground of the arena, Drystan allowed himself a small sigh. “I hate doing this,” he said, nearing his target. Bowing his head and taking a large breath in, he suddenly locked his gaze dead-center on Suicine's Avatar, releasing a torrent of cobalt-blue ethereal flames howling across the room. The air - already clammy from the crowds of people around - exploded with colour and a heat which robbed the very moisture from it, and left it horridly dry.

The explosion sent Kaze flying through the air, yet as he decended, he managed to get his feet beneath him again. Though there was pain from the landing, he was still upright, and managed to eat the Mago Berry that Clabber had convinced him to buy earlier. The sweet taste was strong, yet immensely refreshing.

With the berry consumed, Kaze felt a new level of energy, and with his power created a breeze which blew in his favor. This was quickly followed by the formation of dark clouds within the great cavern, which soon opened their floodgates. With that, the terrain was set to be in Kaze's favor. So all that remained was to survive. The wind and the rain were an ally to him, but would not be so kind to many opponents. Using them to his advantage, he began to sprint at inhuman speeds around the battlefield in his attempt to disorient his opponent.

Buffeted by the wind, Drystan crossed his arms in front of him, an attempt to block the worst of it from his eyes. The gust caught his hat and sent it hurtling into the far wall, causing the man to grumble slightly. With the rain hammering down - and his suit slowly getting soaked - Drystan began to run down possibilities for his next move.

The kid was fast, and that ruled out hand-to-hand combat. Drystan wasn't slow by regular standards, but keeping up with pokemon-level speed was going to be borderline impossible. One option was simply to crumble the ground under the opponent's feet and use that superhuman speed to his advantage, or fire off another barrage of Dragon's Breath.

Neither of those appealed, when the final option had so much more flair. Drystan focused, tapping into Dialga's power, first and foremost to return the hat skittering around in the breeze. It appeared firmly in his hands, before being replaced stop his head. Secondly, he allowed the power to build up before projecting an image of sheer horror - one of Dialga's true and terrifying power - to the waiting crowd, and his opponent. For a moment, shadows themselves seemed to distort and grow darker, as a dark purple haze drifted around the man, with dark scarlet eyes holding a deep hunger piercing through.

Fear churned inside Kaze again as new shadows were cast over the arena, this time from a hazy image of a villainous grin. The image could give nightmares to even the most steadfast of men, and wishing only to be rid of its terrifying glare, Kaze jumped toward the clouds, using the energy given to him by their pounding rains, and welled up a blast of water from inside of himself. The blast had the power of a fire hose, sailing straight for the dark eyes which taunted him.

Slamming squarely into Drystan's stomach, the water lifted him up, carrying him back several feet before - rather unceremoniously - dumping him onto the ground with a solid thud. Slowly rising and wiping the wet hair from his eyes, he turned to stare at Kaze.

“Kid's got some grit,” Dialga said, with a chuckle.

“He soaked my goddamn suit. Do you know how much this damn thing cost?” The Avatar sighed. “I bloody hate water types.” Taking another deep breath in, he prepared to lance the sky with a gout of fire. Upon releasing the welling energy, however, he merely coughed and singed the inside of his own throat.

Dialga's presence pushed lightly against his consciousness. “If you do that, it's rather unlikely Suicine will have an answer. Try something a little less powerful, maybe he'll learn a thing or two.”

The man struggled to breathe for several seconds, not just down to the pain, but at the realisation. His legend had simply snuffed out an attack like it was nothing. “Not sure what you just did,” he spat, “but never do it again.” Gathering a ball of steely-white energy instead - infused with a little of the power from the blast of water - Drystan fired the orb towards his airbourne opponent.

The counterattack was much quicker than Kaze had anticipated, but he had stopped worrying about trying to strategize and was now focused on survival. And his control over the wind and small, aerodynamic figure were about to play to his advantage.

Kaze pulled his arms in close and angled toward the ground, and with the Tailwind still pushing him, he kicked, rocketing out of the path of the white sphere with only a hair's breadth of distance between himself and the attack.

His landing was hardly graceful, yet he had survived, which was his goal, and there seemed to be enough time for an attack to follow, and the one he chose, Drystan would not see coming. With his mind, he created a violent strike that was about the psychic equivalent of throwing a dart. And that dart was aimed right at his target's bullseye.

Drystan began running towards Kaze a brief moment after his landing. Halfway between starting off and reaching him, however, a horrible, writhing power slapped right into him. Stumbling to the floor, he was able to shrug off the pain for the most part. Dialga, however, could not. The Legend roared in hideous pain, causing his Avatar to burst into a fit of the giggles and he climbed back to his feet.

“Maybe next time you'll let me attack him properly,” Drystan said to Dialga, comically.

Starting off again, slowed by a few seconds due to the psychic attack, the man aimed for the one thing no-one would expect in a battle between Avatars. Slamming on the breaks as he reached Kaze, his left hand flew palm-first towards his gut. No powers, no fancy tricks, just pure speed and momentum, something which has served the human race since the dawn of time.

And Kaze realized his intent too late. By the time the Avatar of the North Wind began his attempt to avoid it, the palm struck him square. The force of the impact resulted in Kaze lying on his back, the wind knocked out of him. The attack was not one from Drystan's powers, but simply an attack like he had been in a street brawl.

Kaze might have cried out had he anything in his lungs to use. But that was the issue. He had none for the moment, and crying would do nothing to help him. He needed time . . . and that would come with distance. Again calling on Suicune's control of the wind, Kaze forcibly filled his lungs, then exhaled, his power amplifying his breath into a small whirlwind which he hoped would give him the time he needed to return to his feet.

Feeling the wind whip up around him, Drystan let himself be taken along, as opposed to fighting against it - which would have been a futile excerise, one can't fight the wind. Rolling as he hit the ground, righting with all the deftness of an acrobat. Quick, clean, and easy.

“Being an Avatar is a useful thing, sometimes. We can go toe-to-toe with the common folk with ease, but against other Avatars, things are less cut and dry. Relying on powers will get you killed, in real fights, kid. Learn to roll with the punches.”

Bringing his right hand completely across his torso, Drystan focused on the ground beneath Kaze. With a single arc of his hand, the collected power released, and began to warp the concrete - and the earth below.

Only having just risen to his feet, the shifting ground made it difficult for Kaze to keep his balance. Again, he made an attempt to become airborne, but he found he could not kick off with enough power to get far. And unfortunately, he was returning to the ground just as it decided to release the true power of the attack.

A resounding crack splintered the earth beneath the concerte floor, causing an eruption of raw heat to pour out - directly onto the space Kaze currently occupied. The battle was declared over shortly after that. Drystan approached the fallen Avatar, after it's conclusion.

"We have a winner!" the announcer declared. "Drystan, Avatar of Dialga, will continue to the next round!"

Before the announcer had finished, a small team of medics swarmed both combatants. Drystan seemed to brush off the field nurses at first, and they reluctantly complied. The unconscious form of Kaze received more attention. As soon as the young Avatar was declared stable, one medic took out a syringe and gave him a standard injection of Revive. Kaze opened his eyes to find a few nurses and Drystan standing over him.

“Well, you have potential, kid. You rely strongly on Suicine's help, and you'll find that can be a hindrance as much as a help. No idea how long we have until the second round of the tournament begins, but,” the man said, turning and beginning to walk away. A soft, cobalt glow spread across his entire body, before it flared to an almost blinding level, leaving Drystan standing with his back to Kaze, suit now dry and hat once again present. "If you feel like it, come find me. Maybe you aren't a lost cause quite yet."

Vuduin had watched the duel after his with interest, as well as a recording of the one before his. They had both been quite entertaining to watch. Rebecaa's duel in particular was rather fun, it had been rather drama filled, even including a surprise surrender at the end. Well that meant Vuduin's trick wasn't very original but that was all right. He'd found he didn't really have the heart for fighting, nor was he very good at it. Perhaps he could've won going all out, perhaps not. Of course as a result of his questionable decision he'd had to spend a few minutes getting looked over by medics after his own bout: but his wounds were rather minor, more exhaustion than anything else from Alain's draining attacks.

He'd competently sown the tear in his robe up: it was barely noticeable now, but the same couldn't be said for his glasses. He was still wearing them, though the right lens was entirely gone save for a few lonely shards. Probably unsafe. "Well it was a valuable experience I daresay." Vuduin said to no one in particular. He took another sip of water and leaned back his chair in front of the medic tent. He had been asked to at least rest for the next couple hours and get one last checkup before leaving and he'd of course obliged. After all, it was a very nice chair.

Having recently concluded the first round in the tournament, Drystan found himself growing a little peckish. Deciding to skip out on a shower - skin still damp from the veritable downpour Kaze had generated - he found that one of the nearby underground caverns had been taken over by some entrepreneurial types exploiting the niche provided by all of the present attendants, officials and Avatars. Saying that, the prices were fair and the food did look tasty.

Glancing down the menu, he ordered a Tauros steak with salad, alongside a flask of warming tea. Not forgetting about Deladriss, however, a plate of berries was also added to the tab - alongside a pokepuff for her sweet tooth, much to her delight. Paying the man, and collecting his food, Drystan found an empty table a few rows from the back of the room able to seat four, and set to relaxing. Ever-vigilant, the scizor stood watch over the table while leaning against the adjacent wall, stealing a berry from the piled plate every now and again.

The trio - Drystan, Deladriss and Dialga - talked telepathically over the meal, discussing the events earlier, the events yesterday and the plan of action for dealing with the present threat of this so-called ‘Alliance of Justice’. Security around the tournament arena were clearly on edge, nervously scanning the crowd for any shifty characters, their loyal Arcanine’s waiting patiently for any commands.

Naturally, that’s when a sound like a thunderclap split the air, reverberating around the underground storage room turned dining hall. The room was filled suddenly with the acrid reek of smouldered ozone, as though singed by plasma. Nearby the food stands, at the opposite end of the room, a large violet portal hovered where a section of the wall once did. Through it stood a female figure dressed in torn clothing, a shock of neon pink hair contrasting entirely against the bleary and unfocused look in her eyes. Blinking several times, she began to stumble - since it couldn’t be accurately called a walk - into the large room. At her side, a gorgeously vibrant Milotic surveyed the audience staring at them, before gracefully slithering after her owner.

Moving like a zombie, the girl drew some startled reactions from the various people in the eating hall as security tracked her with hooded eyes and slitted gazes, calling into their radios about a potential threat. The Milotic took a chair at the side of the table beside Deladriss. Drystan had just cut another succulent slice of steak as the figure collapsed into the seat opposite him and her head promptly slammed down onto the table amid a tangle of arms and hair. Freshly burnt air was replaced by a new but not entirely unpleasant smell - Prinap Brandy.

It took all the self control Drystan had to not simply burst out laughing at the lump’s plight, so he settled for sarcastic witticisms instead. Chewing over the piece of steak recently departing his fork, he smirked, before swallowing. “Back to the land of the living? That’s certainly the question that springs to mind, although I get the impression the phrase not might apply here.”

A grunt was the only response from the pile of girl, who remained completely still. “Have you gone monosyllabic on me? Great Arceus, we need a half-gallon of black coffee, stat.” As if to underline the point, he took a swig from the flask of tea. “Seriously, my dear, at least try to stay on this side of the abyss. There are corpses more lively than you, and that is discounting Xerneas.”

Her head swiveled a tad, a single piercing green eye glared out through the gap between her arm and the table, before she pushed herself up with several grumbles, finally settling upright by resting her cheek on a knuckle. By this point, another several security guards were present in various places around the room, several of whom began to approach the Avatars. Drystan raised an arm to dismiss them. “Relax, she’s with me,” he said, before lowering his voice. “Although if you could shut the portal again, it might make them more at ease.”

Turning, she gave a snort, before clicking her fingers, and returning to her slump. As quickly as it had appeared, the portal snapped shut back into a solid wall. Security looked warily at each other before nodding and move back, remaining close enough to intervene should anything happen. Drystan simply sat, staring at her expectantly. “So… Need I ask?”

Palkia’s Avatar rubbed her eyes with her free hand, before speaking softly with a hoarse and breaking voice. “Couldn’t sleep last night, so I decided to see what the city had to offer, maybe meet some people and get some leads of the Alliance.”

This made her counterpart chuckle. “Oh, really? How did that go, then?”

With a glare capable of turning men to stone, she allowed the silence to drag out longer than was comfortable. “Just so happens there is a nice bar - a really nice bar - on the first floor. No leads, a pounding headache and a missed opportunity to join the tournament is all I have to show for it, outside a good time.”

“I appreciate you letting me know in advance, so we didn’t hang around waiting on you.”

A small smile appeared for a brief moment on the girl’s lips. “My pleasure, after all, I know you’d do the same.” The two Avatar’s locked eyes. “Anyhow, stop stalling. Did you go to see him?”

Drystan gained those adorable, large puppy-dog eyes as he raised his arms in a “Who, me?” expression, unable to answer verbally due to eating. “Well, you’ve had plenty of time. Rumours are swirling round that you beat up a kid,” she replied, almost instantly.

Sighing, the man swallowed his mouthful of food, before smirking. “Claudia, darling,” he drawled, pronouncing the latter word with an additional ‘h’. “What I do with my time is most certainly my busine-”

“Don’t bullshit me Drystan. He is dangerous.”

Hand clenching the fork until it hurt, his voice rippled forth with a cold, quiet and directionless fury. “I am perfectly capable of telling danger for myself. I was doing it long before you came along.”

And I’ll be doing it long after you are gone. He hadn’t said it, but Claudia knew that it was implied.

After cutting another piece of steak, Drystan stared at it on his fork for an overlong second, before dropping it to the plate and pushing the whole lot into the center of the table. “And suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite.” The girl’s eyes glanced repeatedly at the plate, several times in as many seconds, before she snatched it up, cutting the steak rapidly into tiny pieces with such ferocity one would assume she hadn’t eaten in weeks, before the entire plate of food began steadily disappearing. “Did you have breakfast this morning?”

Claudia’s head rapidly moved from side to side, the words “No time” struggling to appear through the food. Taking a £10 note from his wallet, Drystan folded it in half, then half again, carefully tearing along the folds. With a flare of cobalt blue light, each of the four torn quarters became a full £10 once more. One returned inside the wallet, and the other three were slid over to the ravenously hungry girl. “Here. Grab yourself something to eat. I, on the other hand, have a match to prepare for.”

As Drystan glanced over to Deladriss - who had given some berries to the Milotic and fiercely wolfed down the Pokepuff - began to move in step with her master. Claudia looked up, giving her counterpart a thumbs up. “Awesome. Would root for you once I’ve finished eating, but I don’t plan to stick around.”

This comment caused Dialga’s Avatar to stop dead in his tracks. “Excuse me?” he said, in a voice that held a deeper meaning, an edge of anxiety. “And why not?”

She shrugged. “Stuff to do back home. Apparently a few Pokemon there have contracted the plague. I’m heading back to make sure the Alliance don’t try to kick them while they are down.” Smiling, she looked towards Drystan. “Besides, you are a big boy and i’m positive you’ll be fine on your own.”

He scanned her face for any hidden intent, but found nothing. Whether that meant it wasn’t there or was simply behind whatever mask she had donned today wasn’t clear. “Shame. I figured you’d want to pick over Mauville with a fine comb. Nevermind, I suppose.” Walking towards the door, he called back, “Best of luck.”

“You too.”

Departing the room, Drystan’s phone was in his hand within 10 seconds, the number already punched in and trying to connect. The reassuring click of success sounded, before a man on the other end of the line spoke. “Boss. What’s up?”

“Palkia’s returning home early. According to her, it’s nothing but a harmless visit - a preventative measure to put the Alliance off the scent, but i’m not convinced she doesn’t know more than she is letting on.”

The line was quiet for a moment. “How should I proceed?”

Drystan leaned against the wall to finish the call before entering the main area again. “Tone down the search and do not let her find out what we have been doing.”

“Got it, Boss,” the voice said, before a harsh laugh echoed down the line and it went dead.

He was too far from Fuchsia to return, and doing so would alert Palkia to some kind of problem - and would undermine the work already ongoing in Mauville. The only option was to trust his men to handle the situation correctly.

That didn’t fill him with a great deal of hope.

With the next round not for a little while - and having a good amount of stress to work off when it came around - Drystan found the only thing which would calm the nerves was pacing. Several loops of the room later, he began to wonder if a striding Avatar looking like the personification of thunder might have been spooking the attendants, who gave him looks that didn’t worry so much for him but instead feared their own hides might bear the brunt of whatever upset him.

Dialga slowly but surely talked his host around, and the two eventually settled down with a cigarette next to the medical tent with Deladriss close behind. A small distance away sat another Avatar, and curiosity was one of the reasons he allowed himself to be won round. Which Pokemon the man embodied wasn’t clear, and his own Legend didn’t have much idea, but the fact he was an Avatar was painfully obvious due to the rather… eclectic dress sense.

Noticing the rather battered pair of glasses on the man’s face, Drystan stretched out a hand towards him, palm upturned and flat. “I think glasses only work when they are in one piece. Give them here a second, and i’ll have them right as rain.” Smiling, he looked at the flowing robe once more. “Unless they are an accessory to compliment that very gothic-y look you have going on.”

Vuduin looked at the man quizzically, than at himself. "Well I suppose it is a bit... Dark isn't it?" Vuduin had never paid much attention to his dress, this was what he left home with. It was fairly durable clothing, comfortable in most temperatures, didn't stain easily, and he felt it made him look kind of impressive. Vuduin looked back at the avatar again. This was the one that had fought the kid. "Right as rain? An appropriate idiom given your duel. A quick-fix would be appreciated I suppose." Lost in thought, Vuduin hadn't bothered doing anything about his glasses. He now removed them and handed them to the pleasant man. "Such a power must be rather handy."

Someone else with abilities that were helpful instead of hurtful. Was it really only him? It seemed depressingly accurate so far. "Did you enjoy your battle? It was rather impressive. You seemed quite, hm, invested in winning. Why was that may I ask? Or am I mistaken?" Vuduin asked the man curiously. He was interested to hear somebody else's viewpoint on battling. If Vuduin had faced Kaze the result likely would've been similar to his previous bout. Thinking about it more Vuduin would've expected end result in battling any of the avatars he knew of. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that. Shade stared at the man from underneath Vuduin's chair, seemingly suspicious for some reason. Maybe it was the hat.

Taking the pair of glasses, the Avatar focused on channeling Dialga’s power into them, sensing that familiar thrum spread forward, warming him inside. A blue glare later, and the object was as new as the day it was purchased. Drystan held them up to his face, staring through them towards the black-robed man, and giving a single nod of approval at the handiwork.

“Handier than one might think,” he said, folding the legs of the glasses before reaching out to hand them back. “It cuts down massively on costs in pretty much any way you can imagine - and this is only a fraction of what it can really do.”

Drystan pondered the question for a moment. His newfound companion didn’t appear to have any ulterior motive for asking, but he had picked up on the raw desire there. Essence tugged at the corner of his awareness, before a faint ethereal whisper spoke. “Careful. He may be more than he appears.”

Deep down, Drystan believed that wasn’t the case.

“No, you are definitely not mistaken,” he said, carefully scanning the fellow Avatar’s eyes. “I am simply in the market for a certain magical macguffin, and believed - perhaps foolishly - that I may find such a trinket at a gathering of Avatars.” Taking a drag of the cigarette in his mouth, his face suddenly contorted into something resembling disgust for a mere moment, before he quickly blew out the smoke.

“Forgive me, I’m yet to introduce myself. Drystan Graye, Avatar of Dialga, and that there is Deladriss.” Another small pause between words followed, before he spoke again. “They both wish me to offer greetings on their behalf as well. May I offer you a cigarette? Many of the guests here do not seem to smoke, but I find it impolite not to at least offer.”

Vuduin nodded. A magical macguffin hm? He started at the man's introduction, "Of course, it seems my manners were forgotten as well, I'm Vuduin." His speech was odd. He'd offered greetings on behalf of Dialga? Ah yes, he must be one of those that was in... Contact for lack of a better word, with his legend. Vuduin shrugged in response to the offer and took the cigarette, as well as the proffered glasses which he quickly placed back on his head. "I'm afraid I've never smoked, but I've never turned down a gift either." A twist of his hand and the cigarette vanished into a pocket.

"I thank both Dialga and Deladriss for their greetings and offer mine and Shade's return." At the mention of his name Shade floated out from beneath the chair and landed on Vuduin's head protectively, still staring inquisitively at Drystan. This avatar was rather odd. The self deprecating snippets and self-confidence were an odd match. Perhaps a perfectionist who was glaringly aware of his own mistakes. "If I may inquire further, what was your intent with this macguffin? You don't seem like the sort of man to do anything idly, even your talk to me I would assume is more than random interest."

“This one asks too many questions, host.”

“Hush, you. I like him.”

Dialga snorted, so much as an entity dwelling entirely within someone’s head could, and returned to stoic silence. When his host grasped hold of an idea, even Arceus couldn’t convince him to let go. Meanwhile, Drystan took stock of this man - Vuduin - properly for the first time. The introduction as the Avatar of Dialga was not simply for show, no mere act of pride. As Vuduin had answered the introduction with merely his own name, it was safe to say that the two were entirely separate beings. Whatever Legend this man embodied was likely sleeping somewhere far under the surface, then, or perhaps it had been completely gobbled up by the human psyche.

Meetings with other Avatars had shown him that could happen.

Vuduin had taken the gift without the intent to use it, he thought, out of politeness perhaps? Or obligation? Drystan carefully eyed Shade the Ghastly, who until now had remained unnoticed by him. The question had been a very direct one, straight to the point without being pointed. It smacked of curiosity and intrigue, not accusation. Even the evaluation of his own character had been right on the mark, even if this was the one exception to the rule.

Drystan flicked some ash onto the floor, before crushing it into a neat little pile with the sole of a shoe. “Our meeting is a mix of chance, and my overly inquisitive nature. Originally, I wished to see if it would be possible to guess which of the Legends you embody, but as it is, Dialga and I are entirely stumped on that front, and I was only in this area in the first place as a result of some rather… disappointing news.”

Looking Vuduin in the eye for a second, he carefully weighed up just how much information he wanted to divulge about the artifact - ergo his intentions. Following his inclination, Drystan decided to continue with the brutal honesty, albeit mixed with his trademark misdirection, and would see how far it helped. “To answer your original question, Vuduin, would require dwelling on the events of last night,” he said, taking a drag of the cigarette. Upon blowing the smoke out, it fell heavily around him. “A terrible thing, as I’m sure we can both agree, and while Giratina and Dialga have never quite seen eye-to-eye, we can’t help but feel a slight guilt over the needless carnage.”

“Excuse me?” Dialga demanded, drawing a lazy smile from his host.

“I heard that he was incarcerated as a result of the fighting, but from the snippets I have seen, he couldn’t have been in complete control of his actions. Xerneas’s dead was tragic to be sure, but I can’t sit back and let Giratina rot - again - in a cell.” Drystan looked at the floor for a second, in silence, before raising his pleading eyes to meet those of Vuduin. “Perhaps you could help me, since so few others seem willing to.” Leaning in close, he lowered his voice several notches, so that the question would go unheard by the medics and other attendants around them.

“What do you know of the Griseous Orb?”

Interesting. Vuduin listened to Drystan's explanation and query carefully, displaying nothing more than mild interest, though the mention of the Griseous Orb brought more curiosity to the surface. Drystan's observation of not being able to determine Vuduin's avatar was noted, but he felt no particular need to enlighten the man on the subject. It wasn't that he felt holding it secret would give him any power over the man, it was more of an idle curiosity of his reaction. Would he pursue the subject further? Drystan seemed like a man that liked knowing things, particularly things no one else did. "Very little I'm afraid. Folktales and meaningless stories shared by people who've had a drink too many. Every story seems to have a grain of truth in it however. From what brief time I spent with Giratina's host and what I know of his story, it is one filled with unfairness and suffering. For the moment I have no greater purpose-" aside from not driving entire populations mad with nightmares, "So I would not be averse to helping you, though of course I should like more detail before making any commitments, but that can happen in good time." Vuduin said in a friendly fashion. It would be nice to able to help someone with something other than watering their plants or fixing a roof. It was odd to be asked for help so upfront though by such a man, perhaps he was in as much need of assistance as he indicated.

“He’s good,” Drystan noted to his Legend. “Either through deliberate effort or simple lack of focus, our newfound friend is giving nothing away.”

“Forget that,” the voice inside his head murmured. “Maybe you should try this ‘honesty’ lark more often. Did he really just agree to help?”

The answer came in the form of a widening smile across the lips of his host. “That you are even willing to hear me out is a relief. So many people clam up at the mention of Giratina, especially with recent events. Although, they can hardly be blamed for that, I suppose, as anyone with sense would be worried.” Taking a final draw of the cigarette, he gestured at himself. “Case in point.”

Crumpling the last of the cigarette into a cloud of burning embers in his palm, Drystan allowed them to fall and scatter across the floor, carried by the slight breeze generated from the people walking past, cursing the lack of genuine fresh air. “As Dialga’s Avatar, I am in a unique position to comment on the fact that time is short. If Giratina has begun to rampage, then the outcomes are few. He will either die, or will kill countless more.”

“If the Orb falls into the wrong hands, be they malicious or simply ignorant, then finding it may be impossible. Should my counterpart get her hands on it, or someone like her, then you can replace the ‘may’ in that sentence with ‘will’.” Drystan removed his hat briefly, to wipe a line of sweat from his brow due to heat in the room, reminding him that one of his opponents for the next round would be Groudon’s scar-ridden broad.

Swallowing down that uncomfortable feeling, he returned to the task at hand. “I have employed many eyes to search for the Orb, in many places, and have turned up countless fakes and replicas, but never the real thing. My small band was drawn to this city in the hopes of it turning up, but my attempts to track it down with Dialga have proved fruitless - apparently a result of the void opening last night.”

“If you wish to know more, you need only ask, and I will answer what I can in the remaining time before my next bout. If this proves insufficient, we could always speak more over a meal later, if you’d prefer.” Throughout the entire time, Drystan’s curiosity kept poking it’s head up, desperate to ask about Vuduin’s Legend. He smiled, and berated it once again, keeping the friendly tone going. Everything is going fine, he thought, no need to ruin it now.

Dialga chuckled, as though it was only a matter of time.

The sun was half-hidden by the horizon by the time their small band of Avatars arrived at Mauville city. Together, they had checked into the festival moments before the stall shut and the officials left. Since it was so late, there wasn’t much sightseeing to be done that night. Aktzin and his Umbreon settled into the hotel room provided, as two of his companions left him behind to take care of ‘business’.

It wasn’t the first time, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Even on this trip.

Regardless, he slept soundly and rose late, only waking from slumber early afternoon. Salem had other ideas, and getting her to follow on would take several pokes and prods. After a fair bit of persuasion, the two left the hotel - almost - ready to face the day. Breakfast would have been nice, but they stopped serving it several hours before either of them woke. Yet another strange practise that was lost on Aktzin. Why stop serving food so early?

Heading to the central plaza, the glass roof allowed him to truly appreciate the day. The gaping hole played it’s part as well. It was a bright, sunny, breezy… blistering hot day. How much the sun actually played in his discomfort wasn’t clear, but the sweat on his forehead was there regardless. The real reason was more likely the heavy black leather overcoat he wore. It’s back was blazoned with a large skeletal dragon, coloured teal blue, with harsh bolts flaring from it. To those looking for it, the jacket marked him out as the Avatar of Zekrom and was a gift from a friend. A commissioned piece courtesy of some tailor in Fuschia city given to him by one Drystan Graye. He made some mutterings about carrots and sticks as he handed Aktzin the jacket, although the ex-tribal was too focused on the jacket to listen closely. He had various reasons for following him, but the free goodies were a favourite.

Wandering around the first green Aktzin had seen since arriving, he smiled to himself. The garden on the roof was his first destination but it was mostly sealed off as a result of some structural damage. Probably those damned terrorists, he thought to himself. Standing before a large and impressive crystal, the plaque said that it changes colour based on recent events. He wasn’t sure how it worked, but it seemed almost entirely random. Whether that said more about the crystal or recent events remained to be seen.

For the next little while, Aktzin and Salem wandered the attractions the city had to offer. Various shops selling potions, pokeballs and ribbons. Centres offering battles and training. Even a trip to the local gym - where Zekrom had proved a firm favourite due to the electric currents. Finally, he arriving to sign up for the tournament which someone had moved underground without his knowledge. According to some man on the gate, however, signing up had stopped roughly…

4 hours ago.

”Bother”, Aktzin sighed.

Just then, his stomach began to rumble. City humans had such strict deadlines. Without anyone around to show him the way, and with no idea where his friends had run off to, Aktzin headed off in search of food for himself and Salem. Drystan had listed various foods to try and those to avoid but the names had little meaning to him. A quaint little restaurant was close by and so he decided to try his luck there.