The big man with the Machamp didn't stay long after Ethan's Annihilape rag-dolled his partner into the pavement. He recalled his broken fighter and bolted through the crowd, face pale as chalk. Ethan brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder.
Annihilape, still trembling with leftover fury, returned to his trainer's side. Ethan patted the ghostly ape's head. "Good job. You've scared off another one. Take a break." With a shimmer of red light, the beast vanished into its ball.
When Ethan turned back to the queue, every trainer behind him was staring. Mouths open, eyes wide. Ethan sighed, tugging his jacket straight.
"Honestly. Can't even queue for a Gym battle without turning into a sideshow."
He hadn't wanted the spotlight. For once, he'd planned to just line up like everyone else, grab the badge, and move on. But no—some brute had dragged him center stage, and now the whole line had branded him the morning's entertainment.
The Venusaur trainer ahead of him stared like Ethan had just sprouted horns. Ethan raised a brow. "What's the look for? I'm not the attraction here. The swimsuit girls running Cerulean Gym are behind you. Turn around."
He actually reached out and spun the guy's chin back toward the entrance, earning a strangled laugh from the crowd.
Moments later, one of the Gym sisters emerged, clipboard in hand. She called for the Venusaur trainer to step forward. Just as the man took his first step, a barked voice cut across the courtyard.
"Wait!"
A new figure strode in—tattooed arms, scars across his jaw, and a swagger meant to compensate for the panic still simmering in his eyes. Behind him trudged the same brute Ethan had humiliated, glaring daggers as if someone had returned his courage on loan.
The tattooed man planted himself squarely in the path of the Venusaur trainer. "Excuse me. I need to take this challenge first. Got a train to Saffron in two hours." His smile didn't reach his eyes.
The Venusaur trainer faltered. The Gym sister started to object, but the newcomer raised a hand and pulled out a pouch of coins. "Five hundred Alliance credits. Plus, an invitation to watch my match."
Then he turned to the line. "I've got six badges already. Today I'm going for my seventh. Which means I'll be facing Cerulean's main force. Want to watch?"
The effect was instant. The crowd buzzed like Beedrill in a hive. Six-badge trainer? Main force battle? This was the kind of spectacle people paid to stream online, let alone see in person.
"Come on, brother, let him go first!""Yeah, we all get to watch a real Gym-level fight!"
Ethan folded his arms. The hypocrisy amused him—everyone cheering for a chance to watch, but none willing to give up their own place in line. It would come down to the Venusaur trainer. Sure enough, greed and nerves won out. The boy swallowed, nodded, and stepped aside.
The tattooed man's lips stretched into a smile that was uglier than defeat. He turned to Ethan specifically. "Want to watch up close, brother?"
Ethan gave him a flat look, then shifted his gaze to the humiliated brute still trailing behind. Ah. So this was theater. The man wanted to redeem his reputation by crushing Cerulean's ace while Ethan watched.
The brute sneered. "You're lucky, kid. You get to witness what real strength looks like."
Ethan chuckled under his breath. Right. Show me how your level forty-nine Machamp can topple a Gym ace. Unless you've got a miracle hiding in one of those Poké Balls, this'll be over fast.
Inside the Gym, the eldest sister—Daisy—welcomed the challenger. When she heard his demand to face her main Pokémon, her brows arched. Few had the audacity. Fewer still survived.
She tossed her Poké Ball. A burst of light revealed Starmie, gem core pulsing with psychic glow.
From the stands, Ethan's eyes narrowed. Level fifty-three. Stronger even than Sabrina's Alakazam in Saffron. He leaned back, arms crossed. "Call it now. He's done."
The battle began. Starmie shimmered forward, a blur of water and psychic energy. The tattooed man's Machamp charged. One command later, a single Psychic lifted the four-armed brute into the air and slammed it like a ragdoll into the wall. KO in under a minute.
Ethan cupped his jaw with mock awe. "Wow. Stunning. Truly breathtaking."
The brute in the stands flushed red, realizing the sarcasm. "Shut up! My brother's got more! Watch the next one!"
Fine. Round two. A Blastoise, level forty-eight, lumbered onto the field. Better typing this time, but still outmatched. It lasted almost two minutes before Starmie overwhelmed it with a relentless Psychic onslaught.
Ethan applauded, deadpan. "Encore! Encore! Most riveting two minutes of my life."
The brute's fists clenched, but Ethan didn't budge. Come on. Swing at me. Annihilape is itching for another workout.
The tattooed man recalled his Blastoise, shame written across his face. He snapped at his brother: "Kamon, let's go."
But before they could slip out, Daisy called for the next challenger.
Ethan raised his hand lazily. "That'd be me."
"You'll be up against the standard roster," Daisy said kindly. "My main Pokémon don't need to—"
"That's the problem," Ethan interrupted. "I didn't come for your side team. I came for your main force."
The Gym fell silent.
Daisy blinked. "…Are you certain?"
Ethan smiled. "Positive. But give Starmie a rest first. Fair fight, and all that."
For a moment, Daisy simply stared. Then, with a small laugh, she stepped down from the platform. "Understood."
At the entrance, Kamon tugged his brother's sleeve. "Boss… your train."
He got a slap for his trouble. "Forget the train. Change the ticket. This one—" he jerked his chin at Ethan—"this one's worth watching."