Ridgeback Stop Area S (12M Pokémon dollars), Kanto – 6:00 AM
"You're coming with me!" Marceline commanded, yanking Jaxon by the wrist before he could retreat into the trailer—like a man desperate to dodge what he knew was coming.
With the grace and fury of a goddess in combat heels, she dragged him across the clearing. Her blazer whipped behind her like a dark cape, and even a wild Pidgeotto overhead was forced into a nosedive by the sheer force of her presence.
It's six in the morning—" Jaxon started, but the steely glare in her eyes cut him off. Fierce and mesmerizing in equal measure, Marceline's eyes burned with the promise of vengeance and uncompromising command. He gulped and fell in step behind her as the early-morning hum of Pokémon rising from slumber added an eerie overtone to the unfolding drama.
It was too early in the morning for this.
Six in the morning is prime training time," she declared with unwavering authority. "If you want to win the Kanto League, you need discipline, grit, and a commitment beyond empty indulgences. No more high-course meals and sugary snacks for your Pokémon. You need—"
Jaxon muttered under his breath, "I need an escape plan..."
Marceline's eyes narrowed. With heels that dug into the earth as if anchoring her resolve, she spun to face him. "What was that?" Her voice snapped like a whip in the still morning air.
"Nothing!" Jaxon replied quickly, his voice pitching higher than he intended. "I meant that I need... erm... guidance!"
A dangerous smile flickered on her lips. "Guidance is exactly what you're going to get. Now, pay attention."
Brailling behind, Bonnie ambled along, nonchalantly sipping an oversized berry smoothie that—by all rights probably bought using Jaxon's credit card. "Ooooh, couple fight. Who's sleeping outside tonight?"
"I'm sleeping on top of someone tonight if you don't help me," Jaxon hissed back.
Without a hint of embarrassment, Marceline shoved a training regime folder into his chest. Inside, pages upon pages detailed every Pokémon ready for battle.
So many pages.
Battle-Ready Pokémon: Summary and Detailed ReportSummary of Pokémon Ready for Battle Duty
Man the girl is so serious about Pokemon battling I'm shocked that Mercy didn't get into battle circuit earlier.
Marceline's dedication to Pokémon was beyond question. What, then, was holding her back? Lost in admiration, Jaxon failed to notice Marcel's cheeks turning redder than a chili pepper.
As member of the Banking Clan, Marcel possessed the uncanny ability to read people's expressions and understand individuals Jaxon as though they were open books She would never admit this was the first time anyone besides her family had looked at one of her reports with genuine admirations.
The report outlines the current Pokémon available and their readiness for battle. Each Pokémon distinct in nature, abilities, and move set, offering a strategic blend of potential and versatility to the team. Below is the summary:
Pokémon: Ralts ("Elise")
Nickname: Elise
Nature: Timid (+Speed, -Attack)
Ability: Synchronize
Type: Psychic / Fairy
Level: 12
Moveset: Confusion Growl Mystical Fire Confuse Ray Mean Look Destiny Bond Disable Misty Terrain Telekinesis Flash Knock Off
EV:
IV:
Description: Elise is a seven-month-old Ralts whose biological structure grants her enhanced speed compared to the average Ralts. However, this comes at a cost—she is physically weaker than her peers. Female Ralts are not particularly known for physical prowess, and Elise is no exception. Her strength lies in her wide range of support and offensive moves, such as Mystical Fire and Destiny Bond, making her a valuable tactical asset in battle. Her Timid nature accentuates her speed, allowing her to act quickly and effectively in most scenarios.
Elise is the strongest of the available Pokemon which is saying something. For reasons unknown to most, the DNA of Elise contains heavy amounts of Fighintg and Ghost Type energy. According to tests Elise is capable of breaking stones with her fist.
Pokémon: Carbink ("Seraphine")
Name: Seraphine
Nature: Calm (+Special Defense, -Attack)
Ability: Clear Body
Type: Rock / Fairy
Level: 27
Moveset: Reflect, Moonblast, Power Gem, Stealth Rock, Safeguard, Trick Room, Calm Mind, Ancient Power, Light Screen, Flail, Stone Edge, Toxic, Rest, Explosion, Rock Polish, Flash, Dazzling Gleam, Sleep Talk, Rock Slide, Gyro Ball, Safeguard, Earth power, Magic Coat, Magnet Rise, Wonder Room, Snore, Psychic, Facade, Double Team, Stored Power, Telekinesis, Stomping Tantrum, Hail, Sunny Day, Hidden Power (Grass), Sandstrom, Subsitute, Body Press, Charm, Rain Dance, Body Slam, Rock Blast, Flash Cannon, Spikes, Iron Head, Heavy Slam, Hyper Beam, Tera Blast, Endeavor, Giga Impact, Amnesia, Gravity, Boton Pass, Scorching Sands, Misty Explosion.
Description: Seraphine has the intuitive movepool out of all the Pokemon.
An all rounded Pokemon with set up moves, hazards, weather, and has perfect coverage about most of her type. The bad knews that she is utterly horrible on performing even a single move correctly and its not like the Carbink speices are known for attacking power. Carbink does best on balance teams looking for a threatening Stealth Rock user that can keep its entry hazards up. Seraphine has unatural flying abliliy. She scores high on all flying premiters.
Pokémon: Buneary ("Aurora")
Name: Aurora
Nature: Sassy (+Special Defense, -Speed)
Ability: Limber
Type: Normal
Level: 18
Moveset: Quick Attack, Charm, Baby-Doll Eyes, Attract, Return, Encore, Sweet Kiss.
Description: Aurora is a playful yet resilient Buneary whose Sassy nature boosts her Special Defense, allowing her to withstand attacks that would overwhelm most. However, this comes at the expense of her speed, making her slightly slower than her average counterparts. Her Limber ability prevents paralysis, giving her a consistent edge in battles where status effects play a role. While her combat style leans more toward defensive play, Aurora can adapt to various situations with surprising finesse.
Pokémon: Deino (Gwen)
Nickname: Gwen
Nature: Rash (+Sp. Atk, -Sp. Def)
Ability: Hustle
Type: Dark / Dragon
Level: 15
Moveset: Tackle, Bite, Dragon Rage, Focus Energy, Headbutt, Work Up, Roar, Assurance.
Description: Gwen is the one the most unusual Deino's ever reprot. Usally Deino's isn't the best to use competitive-wise. It has decent bulk with a unique typing, but Fairy-types hurts its usefulness. It also has a decent Attack stat, but a poor Speed stat, which forces it to run a Choice Scarf. But Gwen has highest base stats out of eveyone and has werid obesstion at the firing range. Perfect aim its like her Hustle Ability doesn't even work at all sometimes.
Pokémon: Combee (Quinn)
Nickname: Quinn
Nature: Naive (+Speed, -Sp. Def)
Ability: Honey Gather
Type: Bug / Flying
Level: 7
Moveset: Gust, Sweet Scent, Bug Bite, Struggle Bug
Description: With her Naive nature, Quinn future as wall is dead as a stone but like other her genetics don't play standard. She phyical bulking way too much for an Bug/Flying type.
Pokémon: Sneasel [Hisuian] (Nami)
Nickname: Nami
Nature: Naughty (+Attack, -Sp. Def)
Ability: Pressure
Type: Fighting / Poison
Level: 14
Moveset: Rock Smash, Poison Jab, Shadow Claw, Aerial Ace, Hone Claws
Description: Nami the the least powerful of the main six that can fight. With her nature she is stronger than most of kind (Which is going to mine) is powerful and versatile threat in comeptitive scene, leveraging its excellent Speed tier and powerful STAB attacks to great effect. Not much in the metagame can withstand its potent Close Combat and Gunk Shot combination, and those that can, like Mesprit and Mismagius, are threatened by Throat Chop. She is love fighting as Nami spars with Elise three times a day and always loses.
Jaxon finally looked up from the dossier. He didn't say anything at first, just stared at Marceline like she was a different person. Maybe she was. He knew she had passion, but this? This was purpose, systematized and sharpened like a knife.
And then came the kicker—the final packet tucked into the folder's back flap: the training programs.
Oh man this is going to rough.
---Jaxon Ryder Mercer: Pokémon Battles (Waifu Team)---
Training Grounds – Ridgeback Stop Area S, Kanto – 8:13 AM
The sun had barely cleared the treetops when the air split with the sound of impact—fists meeting pads, claws slicing through reinforced targets, and the sharp bark of commands delivered with military precision.
The sun had barely cleared the treetops when the air split with the sound of impact—fists on pads, claws slicing through reinforced targets, and the sharp bark of commands delivered with military precision.
"This is such a stupid idea," Marceline muttered, wiping sweat from her brow as she doubled over next to a boulder now reduced to rubble. Jaxon's Ralts—Elise, dainty and skittish and absurdly overpowered—had just shattered it with a glowing punch. Her eyes flickered with eerie spectral fire, and Marceline could've sworn the little psychic grinned afterward.
That wasn't normal. That wasn't even legal in three regions.
"C'mon, Marcy. You said you wanted to win the League," Jaxon shouted between lunges. "That means you sweat, you bleed, or you walk."
Bonnie, perched atop a stack of unused training weights, sipped her smoothie like it was champagne. "She's definitely bleeding."
Jaxon, clad in his custom battle outfit—styled after classic martial wear but decked in his personal colors of purple, black, and red—was using weighted training gear strapped to his wrists and ankles. His entire outfit was made from a material so dense it made simple movement feel like wading through concrete. It was almost cartoonishly heavy. Like, how-is-he-even-standing levels of weighted.
The boy didn't even remember buying this equipment.
"How—how—" Marceline gasped, glaring. Unlike Jaxon's absurd training loadout, her own training outfit—though designed for utility—still weighed significantly less. Just about 100kg. Along with a compact device strapped to her belt that projected a personal bubble around her with double Earthland's gravity.
Jaxon is at 300kg on his Gi and 80kg on his arms. Fifteen times Earth's garvity. Damn him.
This method was insane.
"Groovitron again!" Jaxon yelled, already caught in the rhythm barely dodging a low-swinging Machoke-Bot punch.. He had no memory of buying this cursed device—or even how to operate it—but now it was his life.
The Groovitron—a floating disco ball emitting seizure-worthy lights—activated again. As Bonnie calmly popped in her noise-cancelling earbuds, the rest of them were forced to dance uncontrollably to the beat of Jaxon's latest "battle mix."
"I'm going to kill you," Marceline snarled as she danced. "Slowly. With poison. And then myself." Marceline screeched, as her team continued training with Jaxon's poison-types. Oh, they would be hers—just wait. But the beauty of watching Jaxon suffer? Soon very very soon...
She glared at him, but Jaxon was too busy busting out some truly regrettable dance moves to notice. The worst part? The song playing was one of his own—a self-made track that was, unfortunately, better than most of the music she'd heard recently.
"Should be fine," He had said.
Spoiler: it wasn't.
His shirt flew off in a spasm of motion.
"I'm bringin' sexy back (yeah)... Them other boys don't know how to act (yeah)..."
"Why are you all staring?" Jaxon panted mid-spin.
Beneath his shirt, Jaxon wore modified ammo belts—packed with smoke bombs, flashbangs, tasers, pepper spray, lockpicks, and handcuffs—all artistically arranged to accent his physique. It looked like he stepped out of a "PokéBoy Supply – Survival Edition" calendar shoot.
Bonnie let out a low whistle. "I thought you might have some big guns under that shirt, Lady Killer, but I wasn't expecting a full armory. Eh, Marcy?"
Marceline didn't respond. Her jaw had slackened. She was drooling. She didn't even know.
"Want…" she whispered.
Bonnie gaped at her best friend. Any traces of Ice Queen Merceline the terror of men back in school is melting faster than any ice cream in the hot sun.
"Okay, what the hell, Marcy? Aren't you supposed to hate him." She teased.
"I do," Marceline hissed. "I also want to lick his abs. Shut up."
She barely had time to be shocked before Jaxon spun into his next verse. And was it just her imagination, or was he… getting better at dancing?
"Coming to you on a dusty road, good loving—I got a truckload!"
Bonnie leaned back with a sigh and whipped out her streamer phone—courtesy of Jaxon's credit card, costing 2 million Pokédollars. "Screw it. He's going viral."
Below, the battlefield-turned-dance floor was a chaotic fusion of training and madness.
Elise and Nami sparred inside a tight circle of cracked dirt, a blur of fairy light and poisoned claws. Nami ducked low with a feinting Shadow Claw, only to get blindsided by Misty Terrain. Elise countered with Confuse Ray—Nami, for the third time that morning, smacked face-first into a tree.
The same tree that Elise, now unimpressed, dodged behind when a her sister Snubbull charged. With a flick, Elise punched the Pitbull Pokémon in the gut, launching it out of the zone. She turned—too late. The Getter Attack Robot G.A.R blindsided her.
All humanoid Pokémon were required to spar until they dropped, then take a five-minute break before going again. G.A.R didn't pull punches.
Downrange, Gwen took her firing test. Stone plates zipped across the sky at variable speeds. The challenge wasn't just speed—it was discernment. White bubbles only burst with special attacks. Red ones exploded on contact with anything else. Gwen landed every hit. No hesitation. No waste. Just cold, mechanical precision.
Nearby, other long-range attackers took turns, blasting plates. If even one wrong bubble detonated—
BOOM.
Just like that.
Meanwhile, Seraphine floated three feet off the ground, trapped inside a gravity-reversal simulation. Energy panels blinked in a confusing rhythm as her commands misfired. Trick Room went backward. Calm Mind fizzled. Stealth Rocks landed on her own face. Same thing said for others that training their proficiency in their moves.
All of them are mediocre. This regime is mostly followed by Psychic and Dragon types.
At the far edge, Aurora led a distraction drill. Her eyes sparkled with fake tears, wobbling toward a dummy with an adorable pout. Then—BAM. Quick Attack cracked it. Then Return. The emotional backlash flattened the next dummy in line.
Quinn the Combee was not in the air. She was doing pushups.
Yes. Pushups. Weighted bands strapped to her thorax, antennae quivering. Her six wings barely flapped as she grunted through resistance drills designed for Machokes. No one even knew Combee could do that. The wild Fighting-types stared in silent respect.
Nearby, fire-types dunked half their bodies in drums of boiling water, superheating the liquid with internal fire energy. Then they launched massive Flamethrowers skyward—over and over, until the intensity of their fire reached maximum output.
The Water-types stood at the rim of a deep artificial trench carved into the stone, half-flooded with churning, ice-cold water that spun like a whirlpool. To strengthen their elemental endurance, each Pokémon submerged for intervals of five minutes at a time, resisting the pressure of a controlled current designed to mimic high-tide storm conditions. When they emerged, it wasn't over—they fired precision Water Pulses into moving, evasive drones that zipped just above the trench like flitting targets. Each missed blast caused the drone to release a jolt of static back into the water, encouraging accuracy by force of pain.
After the trench drills came the obstacle swim—a grueling gauntlet of jagged rocks, randomized current bursts, and pressure jets hidden in the walls. The object was simple: race from one end to the other while carrying a weighted capsule that recorded reaction speed and strength. At first glance, it seemed easy. But once the pressure turned up, even the fastest swimmers found themselves thrashed against the walls, and more than one had to be dragged out mid-challenge for emergency rest. Bonnie made sure to keep towels ready and a restorative mist machine humming at full blast to keep their bodies from locking up.
Lastly came the hydro-target test. Standing upright on floating platforms no wider than a Pokéball case, the Water-types balanced with weighted packs tied to their tails or fins. Above, suspended from vines, swung heavy ceramic dummies shaped like human trainers, requiring the Pokémon to defend while not toppling into the pond. Precision Hydro Pumps, Water Guns, and Aqua Jets were used to redirect the swinging obstacles without breaking them—meant to simulate high-pressure battle scenarios where innocent lives hung in the balance.
Electric-types trained at a zone cordoned off with thick rubber matting and grounded poles, crackling with ambient voltage. The air practically buzzed with static, every step sparking against the ground. Pokémon here wore copper anklets and were tasked with charging oversized energy cores without short-circuiting themselves. Whenever one got the voltage ratio wrong, it triggered a pulse of backshock, zapping the offender and knocking them flat. Bonnie had to step in once to reset a poor Pichu who'd launched herself halfway into a tree.
Voltage dancing followed next. Fast-moving mechanical tracks lit up with randomized tiles beneath the Pokémon's feet—each tile corresponding to a different charge level. The Pokémon had to leap, duck, or unleash timed Discharges to either connect with or avoid each tile. A misstep earned a swift shock and a system reset. It wasn't just about survival; it was about precision and energy management. Each spark had to be controlled, every ounce of power deliberate. Bonnie called it Pokémon Zumba, though Marceline swore it was just sanctioned torture.
Final round: lightning tether pulls. Each Electric-type was fitted with an electric-dampening collar and attached to a weighted sled rigged with resistance bands. Their goal was to drag the sled across the training field using nothing but electromagnetic propulsion—sparks flaring from their bodies as they poured voltage into their limbs to propel themselves forward. The first time Akali, the youngest Electric-type, tried this, she got dragged backward into a pole and lay there buzzing for ten minutes. Still, she insisted on trying again, wings twitching with furious determination.
Editor: Alright they get the damn point move on already!
---Jaxon Ryder Mercer: Pokémon Battles (Waifu Team)---
Training Grounds – Ridgeback Stop Area S, Kanto – 2:30 PM
Bonnie twirled a strand of pink hair around her finger as she watched Jaxon's chest rise and fall slowly, his head still resting against her lap like a heavy, overworked Growlithe pup. She'd never admit it aloud—at least not with Marceline still awake—but this was her favorite part of training: the aftermath, where she got to enjoy the rare silence and drink in the sight of a man who could drag himself through hell and still look like sin draped in sweat.
He wasn't just hot. No, that would be selling him short. Jaxon was some rare, god-tier blend of charm and chaos, raw talent and refined drama, a man who could throw a Pokéball one second and steal your credit card the next—and somehow, you'd thank him for it.
His muscles, currently limp and sore from gravity training, had that sculpted kind of appeal you'd expect from someone who trained on a mountaintop with their shirt off while dramatic winds blew through their hair. Bonnie had seen it all—celebrities, influencers, top-ranking Gym Leaders—but Jaxon? Jaxon had the gall to be hotter than all of them with half the effort and a quarter the brain cells.
"That jawline could cut diamonds," she murmured to no one, running her fingers over his dark hair. "And don't even get me started on those arms. He could lift me, a Snorlax, and a year's supply of berry smoothies in one go and not break a sweat."
"And then there's the money," she added in a dreamy tone, smiling like a Meowth staring at a vault of gold. "My boy buys me a 2-million Pokédollar phone on accident. Who does that? I can't even be mad when he 'accidentally' wires my tuition and forgets to tell me. I didn't even ask for that! I just complained once about school and he fixed it. Rich, dumb, and generous? Literally husband material."
"And the way he sings?" she went on, voice rising in pitch. "It's illegal. ILLEGAL. Like—I get he's tone-deaf 30% of the time, but the other 70%? That man drops bars and falsetto like a pop idol in heat. I've seen Pokémon Rangers and Trainers freeze mid-battle just to listen to him hum. That's not normal. That's elite-level seduction through soundwaves."
"And the dancing..." Her voice trailed off with a small whimper. "I watched that man thrust once in those weighted pants and I ascended. I saw heaven, Marcy. And you know what? Heaven looked like him in slow motion, hips rolling, sweat glistening, with the sun behind him like he was in a shampoo commercial for dangerous men."
Marceline stared at her friend like she'd grown a second head.
"I'm genuinely disturbed," she said, arms crossed, though her eyes kept flicking—against her will—back toward the peacefully sleeping disaster that was Jaxon.
Bonnie smirked, brushing some leaves off his cheek. "You think it's just the looks? Nah. It's the fact that underneath the smooth-talking chaos and explosive devices, he's got this fire, Marcy. Like, an actual, stubborn, beautiful inferno. The way he trains, the way he throws himself into everything like it matters... It's impossible not to want to be around him. He makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, the world doesn't suck."
There was a long pause before Bonnie leaned down and whispered in a tone that turned cheeky again, "Also, the man makes his own soundtracks. I'm talking original music, beat drops, backup vocals. Who does that?"
Jaxon groaned in his sleep.
Bonnie grinned, lowering her sunglasses with flair. "Sweet dreams, DJ Heartthrob."
Marceline looked away, jaw clenched tight. "Still gonna kill him later. Than myself."
Bonnie shrugged. "Sure, just let me marry him first."