The Ghost Specialist

Sam called for a Smokescreen, and Quilava's flames flared to life. She breathed in deep as across from her, the Murkrow took off into the sky. The center of the field became obscured by a murky, black cloud. Victor seemed unbothered.

“Aerial Ace!” he shouted.

Aerial Ace consisted of a loop and a dive that allowed its user to locate a target and slam into it with pin-point accuracy. With Murkrow pulling up higher into the air, its speed would let it pierce through almost any move that’d otherwise let Quilava dodge.

Thankfully, she did know at least one.

“Detect,” Sam said quickly. “Into Flame Charge. Incinerate.”

She stood still. The Smokescreen lingered on the field. When the Murkrow dived, she waited until the very last minute to lunge to the side. Detect let her all but see the trajectory of the move, and as the bird's momentum carried it back into the air, she chased after it.

Fire wreathed her body in a dash forward that increased her speed, thanks to Flame Charge. That translated into a faster projectile when she fired an Incinerate into the air. The move exploded in an airbust, but Murkrow pulled to the side and flew past the flames with only the lightest of singes.

“Incredible! So little time has passed and this battle is already so heated!” Mr. Pokémon shouted.

“That Murkrow...”

Falkner’s voice drifted off as Victor growled and shouted at Sam from across the field.

“Don't expect something that simple to work!” Victor yelled. “Night Shade! Into Feint Attack! You know what to target.”

Once more, Murkrow dived. Sam frowned; Feint Attack was another highly accurate move that'd make Smokescreen worthless. The cloud was already beginning to dissipate without Quilava's influence, and Sam wasn't going to bother telling her to use it again.

“Our normal strategy,” Sam said. Quilava would know what that meant, and disguising his order would prevent Victor and Murkrow from reacting.

This time, when Murkrow dived back down, darkness flickered up around it. As a non-Ghost Type, its Night Shade wasn't as pitch black as Haunter's, but the move still came out dark enough to hide its exact position. Murkrow’s speed let its conjured shadows consume Quilava, and for a few seconds, the only things visible within were faint silhouettes and tiny pin-pricks of light that pierced through thanks to Will-O-Wisp.

There was definite movement, but the specific details couldn't be made out. Will-O-Wisps flickered out, and cries came from both Pokémon. After the clash, both Pokémon pulled back. Murkrow was burned. Quilava winced; there was a nasty cut into her fur on her side.

After flying upwards once more, Murkrow didn't come back down. Victor spoke up once again.

“Send him out,” he said.

“No,” Sam replied. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Fine then. Return!”

Murkrow disappeared.

Sam expected to see Victor’s Houndoom—its Flash Fire would let it counter Quilava's flames incredibly well—but what he absolutely didn't expect was the man’s Sneasel to make an appearance.

“What’s this? Victor has just sent out an Ice Type against a Fire Type!” Mr. Pokémon's voice shouted.

Confused, Nurse Joy mumbled something, but Sam didn’t hear. He was already trying to remember everything he could in an attempt to figure out Victor’s game.

The Sneasel wore a confident smirk. It ran the backs of its sharp claws across a feather sticking out from behind an ear.

“Quick Attack. You know the rest,” Victor said. He sounded relaxed despite the Type disadvantage he had for this fight.

Sneasel licked a claw and narrowed its eyes at Quilava. She stood still and prepared herself, but then it was like the Pokémon disappeared. Sneasel moved fast enough that a blink would lose track of it. She appeared in front of Quilava, sweeping a claw low to catch her in the leg.

Unfortunately, not used to such a small but speedy target, she wasn’t able to avoid the slash.

Victor cackled.

“Keep it up!”

Will-O-Wisp flames sparked up around Quilava. She bid them to shoot down at the Sneasel, but its rapid-fire Fury Swipes prevented her from aiming too well. Each claw only ever swept downwards, always aiming at a single point on her front right leg. While her own agility was well-practiced, Sneasel had taken the concept of speed and made it entirely its own.

Too many attacks were coming her way, and more than that, Quilava almost looked like she was... slowing down?

“Ember!” Sam shouted.

Any other attack would have come out too slowly to matter. Quilava's fire flared, and she opened her mouth to unleash burning sparks at her opponent. The move was desperate, but thankfully, Sneasel was finally forced away.

Both Pokémon stood off from one another and panted. For how well she was doing, Quilava was already tired, and the assault to her leg meant she winced whenever she put pressure on that foot. Her fur also looked wet, strangely enough.

“...I see,” Sam said. Victor’s smirk was infuriating. “You’re using Icy Wind. It’s subtle, but you’ve been mixing it in with Sneasel’s attack to slow Quilava down.”

The voices of the announcers sounded shocked. No one else had noticed a thing, but that was the only explanation for why Quilava was suddenly wet. While the bone-chilling frost from Icy Wind had passively melted, the added weight of the water was still weighing Quilava down.

Victor replied to Sam by tapping a finger to his temple. As Sam considered it, Victor’s strategy made sense; speed control was often the difference between a win and a loss.

Every ounce of Sneasel’s strategy was making the most use of its speed, and that included slowing its opponents down. Between the targeted swipes at the legs and the Icy Winds themselves, it was trying to completely overwhelm its foes.

But Sam wasn't willing to let Sneasel walk all over his team.

“Return!”

In this battle, four Pokémon were allowed, but there was still only one permitted switch. It made sense to bring back Quilava now before she took more damage. Doing so would keep her healthy for any future opponents and also allow her to rest for when she was sent out next.

But returning her was a mistake.

The very moment Sam grabbed Quilava’s Pokéball, Victor’s gaze sharpened. Before Quilava could be turned to light, the Dark Type trainer shouted a single word command.

“Pursuit!”

Sneasel lunged, holding its claws high. Preparing herself to be returned, Quilava was in no position to defend against the dual strike that painfully slammed into her lower leg.

Her cry of pain was quickly silenced by the act of being returned. As a Dark Type Pokémon, Sneasel put more effort into the attack than it needed to. Its Pursuit was just plain cruel.

“And right before young Samuel can return his Quilava, Victor orders Sneasel to land a devastating blow!” Mr. Pokémon yelled. “Pursuit is one of the only moves that can hit a returning Pokémon, and when it does, it deals significantly more damage!”

Nurse Joy made an unhappy noise.

“That attack was too much. Sneasel’s been too focused on where it strikes. I doubt Quilava will be able to use that leg until she's treated at a Pokémon Center.”

In other words, Quilava’s ability to move would be shot for the rest of the tournament. Victor had decimated Sam’s chances to win in a single blow. A third of his team wouldn’t be able to fight at the same level as before.

Sam stood there, clutching Quilava’s Pokéball. He stared at it as Nurse Joy’s words echoed in his ears.

Until she's treated?

Heavy injuries weren't uncommon in Pokémon battles, but to experience one here, not even halfway through a major tournament?

Sam hated Victor’s ongoing smirk. His expression was one of someone who had just won the entire tournament.

“So, gonna send him out now?” Victor said, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

On the field, Sneasel licked its claws.

As Victor locked eyes with Sam, something started to burn in Sam's chest. Victor didn't deserve to act that smug. Sam could feel the scowl forming on his face, but he couldn’t find a reason to care.

They had tricked him.

Him.

And what ate at him the most was how they had injured Quilava more than what was necessary.

“Primeape,” Sam said, sending out his Pokémon.

Victor smiled.

“So he evolved, huh?”

Sam could hear the audience cheering at the unexpected team member. Between the flames of Quilava and the shadows of Haunter, a bruiser like Primeape seemed otherwise out of place.

But their shouts were deaf in Sam's ears. The voices of the announcers become meaningless to him.

“They hurt Quilava,” Sam told Primeape. “They targeted her legs and purposefully injured her. She won't be able to run until tomorrow.”

On the field, a vein throbbed on Primeape's head. His excitement for the battle faded away, slowly replaced by growing anger.

“She won't be able to fight how she likes. She won't be able to use her speed,” Sam continued.

Primeape's hair stood on its end.

“And worst of all, it was just a ploy to lure you out. They didn't even care for her. She was just a roadblock to bringing you in battle.”

A crack pierced through the crowd’s shouts as Primeape clenched his fists. Victor's smirk twitched down ever so slightly. He looked to be struggling to maintain that same smile.

“Hey, uh, so you know this is just a battle, right? Targeting certain body parts is just good strategy. And we don't actually care about the rematch that much! We were just trying to play it up for the—”

“Brick Break,” Sam interrupted.

When the battle resumed, Primeape exploded forward into a dash.

Sneasel was still faster, but its arrogance vanished in the face of Primeape's pure rage. Victor’s Pokémon used Quick Attack to run away and only run away—something that served to increase Primeape’s rage. For all its speed, Sneasel could never truly escape Primeape’s impending wrath. After all, Victor had already used his one switch, and as a species, Primeape were known to never give up a grudge.

“I-Icy Wind!” Victor shouted.

His stutter was music to Sam's ears.

Sneasel paused to turn and release a frosty breeze across Primeape's body. Ice formed on his hair, chilling him and intending to slow him down.

That didn't matter.

His ongoing momentum carried him forward to crush Sneasel’s face with a fist.

The Pokémon bounced. For a moment, it was almost like Primeape's strike caused its face to cave in. Dust was thrown into the air as it skidded over the ground, and when it came to a stop, Sneasel was motionless outside of its breathing. The audience fell into a dead silence for the briefest of moments before erupting into cheers.

“Fine! If you want to play it like that, come out, Murkrow!”

The bird reappeared, replacing Sneasel on the field.

“Curse, Primeape,” Sam said. “On repeat.”

“Aerial Ace! Don't stay nearby!”

Primeape closed his eyes and breathed in, focusing. While not a Bulk Up, a week of meditation allowed him to pull off this move much more easily than before. He let the energy flow through him as Mukrow flew and pulled up into the air. When it dived down, there was a pause.

Primeape snapped open his eyes and struck with a fist. Before Murkrow could even reach him, he snatched it right out of the air.

“Finish it,” Sam ordered.

“N-Night Shade!” Victor tried to shout.

Though dim darkness briefly popped up around Primeape, the move fell just as quickly as it started. Primeape’s free hand slammed into Murkrow’s gut, and he tossed the unconscious Pokémon to the side a second later.

“Next,” Sam said.

One of Victor’s eyes twitched. He didn't grab his next Pokéball right away.

“...I've never seen a Primeape that brutal. What move is it using again?” Nurse Joy asked.

“Curse,” Falkner said. “Primeape is maintaining a few instances of it at once. When used by a non-Ghost Type, Curse usually forces its user to slow thanks to the intense focus needed to maintain it, but with how Primeape is utilizing its rage...”

His voice trailed off. Someone else spoke up.

“A Pokémon consumed by anger, but not enough to lose itself. Faith in its trainer so strong, that there’s no thought behind its actions other than directed violence. I would call it beautiful if it wasn't so terrifying,” Mr. Pokémon said.

The delay seemed to let Victor steady himself somewhat. He unclipped a third ball from his belt and whispered something under his breath. Then, with a shout, his next team member appeared.

“Houndoom! Overwhelm it with flame!”

“Rage,” Sam said.

He didn't need to say more than that.

Houndoom was a canine with fur that seemed naturally blackened by ash. Ridges of bone lined its back, almost resembling stripes. Two large horns curved out of its head as the Dark Type stared at Primeape.

Fire licked out of the sides of its mouth before it exhaled a Flamethrower that utterly engulfed Sam’s Pokémon on the field.

Now, Primeape didn't have much in the way of defense. Curse strengthened his body to help mitigate the damage of physical attacks, but that did nothing to help him against a special move like Flamethrower. The fire and its heat crept into him, dealing damage he couldn't resist.

But the move couldn’t last forever, and when Houndoom stopped to breathe in, it paused, eyes widening in fear.

Primeape was walking forward. The fire had obscured his movement. Curse meant he couldn’t move very fast, but he was unrelenting. Each step caused his anger to grow as lingering embers burned at his hair.

“Again,” Victor said.

Primeape was engulfed once more. When the second Flamethrower ended, parts of his fur was now charred black.

“Again!” Victor shouted.

Smoke drifted from Primeape. A burn had definitely settled in. His body was covered in scorch marks, but rage-filled eyes pierced through, malevolently locked onto Houndoom’s.

Briefly, Sam could picture how Primeape would be once he evolved. A resolute force of nature, a body rippling with muscle, a being chained to the earth through the force of his own will.

A material specter of pure rage.

One day, Primeape would be unstoppable, but today was not that day. This was just a glimpse, come and gone like the embers of Houndoom's flames.

“Just... take it out, Houndoom! One last Flamethrower, before it can—”

“Too late.”

Primeape lurched forward, the last few feet skipping by in a dash. His hand snapped up to grip Houndoom's mouth shut, preventing Flamethrower from being used again.

The dog’s whines were pitiful. It tried to pull away, but Primeape was just too strong. Like he had done with Murkrow, Primeape held his opponent in place and drew a hand back.

Nothing happened.

No attack hit. Houndoom disappeared in a flash.

A few members of the crowd booed as Victor let out a long breath. Frowning, the referee turned towards him.

“You have already recalled Murkrow. By returning Houndoom here, you've withdrawn it from the fight.”

“I... I know,” Victor said with a sigh.

One Pokémon left.

There was only one Pokémon left between them and a guaranteed TM prize, but Sam wasn't sure what that Pokémon was. Houndoom had done a number to Primeape. Though he looked as enraged and deadly as ever, he had been severely hurt from that fight.

He should not have been able to withstand two Flamethrowers, let alone three. He was pushing himself beyond his normal level, and Sam could tell they'd pay for this later.

Not too far away from Primeape, Victor unhooked his last Pokéball, and he held it in one hand. He stared at it, though not consistently. His gaze kept flicking to where Primeape stood on the field and back to the ball in his hand.

“I have a Golbat,” Victor said.

That made sense to Sam. While not a Dark Type, the species was capable of powerful bites that played well alongside Dark Type strategies.

“Primeape is on my side of the field,” Victor continued. “He marched here when he approached Houndoom. I can only send out Golbat so far away. No matter where he appears, my Pokémon will be in range of Primeape’s attacks, and since he's drastically boosted by Curse...”

No way. Hold on—

“I don't have a way to win this. I don't want my Pokémon getting hurt if it’s not necessary,” Victor said. “I forfeit.”

The audience exploded into an uproar. The announcers were shouting—someone forfeiting in such a manner was generally unheard of. But Victor was defeated, if not through Pokémon, then through the sheer intimidation.

“Plus, he still has Quilava and Haunter. Even if I knocked out Primeape, Golbat's a recent catch. Not even Dark Type moves would give us a win,” Victor added.

The head referee nodded along, accepting Victor’s reasoning. Meanwhile, Sam stood there and clenched his fists. It wasn't Victor’s place to end the battle like that. He shouldn’t have forfeit.

Except, as the adrenaline of an ongoing battle faded away, Sam breathed out.

As a trainer, he had to acknowledge it was completely acceptable for Victor to end the match there.

This was just one battle, and Victor had the right to care about his Pokémon. Sam had the right to care for his own team, too. The injury to Quilava might require a night to properly heal, but it was only a single night and a single injury. Holding a grudge over it would be unreasonable, even though he really wanted to.

Without a target for his anger, Primeape started to wobble on his feet. Sam returned him before Victor noticed. Likely, Primeape was a single light touch away from falling onto his back.

Stepping onto the field, Sam met Victor met in the center. The referee specifically declared Sam the “winner” of the match, purposefully not using the word “victor” to avoid confusion.

“Your team is...” Victor smiled morosely and shook Sam’s hand. “Good fight. I’ll do better next time.”

“Good fight. And I will, too.”

Something about Sam’s words caused Victor to flinch. He stiffly turned around to leave the field.

Sam waved to the audience before returning to the waiting room, himself. He passed over Quilava and Primeape to be healed, but he was now stuck with a dilemma.

Sure, he was in the top four, and sure, Sam had guaranteed himself at least one TM. However, with two of his Pokémon so injured and exhausted, he felt as though his odds of winning overall had dropped to zero.

Edgar was Sam's next opponent, of course. Though Sam felt emotionally spent after the match against Victor, he knew he still needed to spend the time between battles planning for his upcoming fight. He grabbed his stuff from a locker and made sure he had Haunter's Pokéball with him. His other team members were healing, but Sam could at least still read through the entries of the Poison Type species he knew of.

As he started towards the exit of the waiting room, he heard a voice.

“Let me in! I’m a friend of one of the competitors! I have to go inside!”

He exited the room to see Redi trying to convince a burly security guard to let her pass.

“Redi,” Sam greeted.

“See? Told you!”

She stuck out her tongue at the guard before moving to the side of the hallway with Sam.

“How’s Quilava? And Primeape?” Redi asked in a worried tone.

“They’re being healed. But... Primeape won't have the energy to push himself like that again. And Quilava’s leg probably won't be healed until tomorrow. She should be able to run, at least, but she won’t be able to do anything too intense.”

Redi grumbled, unhappily crossing her arms.

“Stupid Victor. Stupid Dark Types. If I ever get my hands on him—”

“It’s fine. If we weren't in a tournament, I probably wouldn't have even blinked after that battle.”

“Still...”

She eyed Sam before sighing, falling with a slump even though she wasn’t the one battling.

“I’m going to need to rely on Haunter again after this,” Sam continued. “He’s been able to rest at least, so he should be fine for the next match. It’s against Edgar, though, and we know he’s put Shadow Punch to use.”

“Are you going to use Hex?”

“Maybe,” Sam said slowly. “We could sweep with that. But I don't know if I want to pull it out here instead of waiting until the bigger tournament.”

Doing so would help him win, but it’d cost him in the long run. The Violet City Tournament wasn't as important as the Silver Conference, but Sam did want to see if some of his Pokémon could learn Hyper Beam, too.

Thinking about it, it’s not like we’re destined to lose to Edgar. It’ll be an uphill battle, but we do at least have some chance of winning.

“Man,” Redi groaned. “Too bad you don't have some secret, fourth Pokémon. Something you can pull out of your pocket and surprise everyone here.”

“That was supposed to be Primeape, but—” Sam paused, cutting himself off. “Hold on. What if I do?”

Redi blinked.

“What?”

“What if I told you I could get a fourth Pokémon on my team?”

Teams had to be approved to enter this tournament, but from what Sam had read, there was nothing against using a Pokémon you’d just caught. It was a specific exception only left out because it wasn't necessary. After all, how many people would ever be able to catch a new Pokémon in between rounds? The only other rule that might be relevant was one that prevented trainers from using traded Pokémon obtained during the tournament itself.

“What are you talking about, Sam?” Redi asked.

“There’s a Pokémon here. A Ghost Type. Convincing her to join my team could give my Pokémon the breathing room we need to win. We already know she’s strong, and if I can just find her...”

He snapped his gaze to his friend.

“Redi, Misdreavus is in the building with us right now. If she’s willing to help, we’d be able to beat Edgar and move onto the finals, no problem at all.”