The brunette lifted a hand to shade her eyes as a gleaming chrome something came skipping across the surface of the ocean, refracting light like a disco ball. “Huh. That’s a new one,” she observed, cracking a tab on one of the beer cans and taking a drink as the shining Pokemon—which turned out to be a Metagross— cruised to a halt, depositing exactly one (1) passenger on the beach. The person proceeded to fall down in the sand and not get back up again.

All right.

She took a deep breath and counted to ten in her head. It was a good strategy for making sound decisions, and more importantly, for leaving enough time for someone else to do something. Anyone? No? Just me? She was the only one who’d seen it?

...As she’d observed so thoroughly before, she was the only one out here. And it looked like this guy was the only one coming to meet her.

“Bird,” Jess said aloud to get her Starly’s attention. The black-and-white Pokemon gave a little jump and flutter to look at her, twisting her head this way and that. “Check he’s all right, won’t you? I’ll be right over.” That kind of ride didn’t look comfortable for long distances—if something was wrong, hell, she didn’t want to be the one swinging her feet and whistling while a man fell dead on the beach. Feeling sorry for herself (for now) could wait.

Bird fluttered up and over the side of the dock, dipping in the air until she could swoop over the shirtless body in the sand. Doing as she’d been trained, the little Starly fluttered her wings and landed in the center of Lars’s chest. Feeling breath and a heartbeat, she let out a bright, sing-song trill of notes to let her Ranger companion know he was alive. This was cause for celebration!

Jess had managed to get to her feet, scooping up her six-pack as an afterthought. She made it down the dock and out onto the sand at a slow, uneven jog. Jesus, I got more cramped sitting out there than I thought.

“Hey, you okay, beach guy?” She wasn’t too worried, since Bird had signaled he seemed all right, but she owed him fair warning. “You in need of resuscitation?” In the movies that looked like mouth-to-mouth CPR, but in reality it was more like Jess jamming her knuckles into someone’s sternum and rubbing against the bone so hard they woke up from the friction. Wasn’t so fun or filmable.

Laurence Anderson

"Happy to help," Jess responded. She eased down in the sand next to the blonde man, stretching out both legs before letting them thump down. "Seems like serendipity. I got drinks, and you look like you need one."

She set the condensation-covered six-pack down in the wet sand-- the lapping waves would keep them cool and keep most of the dry sand off the outside. She brushed one off and held it out to Lars, shooing her partner off his chest so she could set the can there instead. Maybe the cold against his bare skin would help wake him up.

"There you go. C'mon, sit up, I'm not gonna feed it to you." She grinned, wry, and pulled her head back out of his eyeline as she settled back down. "There's a hell of a sunset you're missing." 

The date who'd never shown up was fading in her mind as she sat back in the sand, drinking from her open beer and watching the sun dip lower in the sky. It felt good. Relaxing. Like moving on, instead of waiting 'til nightfall with flowers in her lap. 

"What's got you so beat, beach guy?"

Laurence Anderson

“Oh sure, I heard all the hullabaloo up north. You’re in that star tournament, then?” Jess’s eyes crossed the bay, drawn towards the far side. If she squinted, she thought she could see the dark shape of the headland in the distance. Slateport really was just a hop, skip, and a Metagross ride away.

Speaking of the Metagross... “Can’t be all bad, if you’re piloting something like that.” Jess raised her drink as if to toast the mirror-bright steel-type. It looked like something from another planet. “I get you, though. I was never a real battler either. Counted on the Pokémon to do all the real work.”

She took a long, thoughtful sip of the beer. Her head dropped slightly, resting her chin on one hand. “They got it tougher than we do.”

Laurence Anderson

Some people might have watched a man finish off a can of 7% in the space of minutes and said "Slow Down."

"Drink up," Jess said, the corner of her mouth twitching in what was suspiciously close to a smile. 

She stretched out her legs in the sand, feeling her heels dig into the line where the shore met the sea. From the way the guy described the string of endless battles, it sure sounded like the League had pulled out all the stops for this one.

Her lips pursed, letting out a soft, low whistle once he finished. "Sounds like a real gauntlet," she said. "Guess they weed out the small fry if they run y'all through the wringer on the first day." Jess didn't know much about the competitive scene, but in the wild, endurance and versatility won out over brute strength. If the initial round of contestants made it through, the fights would come less-- but they'd be just as tough to make up for it.

Still, it seemed like a hell of a lot to put yourself through just for some tournament title. "So what're you battling for?" she asked. She pulled another beer off the plastic loop and passed it to her shirtless companion. "Money? Fame? Girls? ...Guys?"

Jess winked, taking a sip of her drink.

Laurence Anderson

"Sure," Jess said, pushing the can she'd fetched for him at the shirtless man. She pulled it back abruptly, having a thought. "Say, you ain't sunburned, are you? Must have been hot out there today." She eyed him again-- if he was suffering from any kind of heat exhaustion, the alcohol wouldn't do him any favors.

Then again, if he had heatstroke, he'd probably feel too sick to drink. After a moment, she relinquished the can. 

His answer about battling was fair, and Jess hummed thoughtfully. "So what's the consensus? What wins-- brute force, or unconventional tactics?" She broke off one of the beer tabs and rolled it between her fingers. There's no clear answer in Pokemon battling, conventional wisdom aside. Sometimes in the wild, the big and strong ones just take the prize. That's the way of the world. 

But that was for individual Pokemon. Individual cases. Over time, species who adapted had higher success rates than those who won skirmishes on a one-to-one basis. "If you ask me, nobody was made to take the world head on," she said lightly after a moment, enjoying the sunset. "Hell, especially not Pokemon."

On Hoenn, like most League regions, a Pokemon's usefulness came from the way they meshed with other species. Opponents and teammates-- and the trainer themselves. It was a tricky business, and not one Jess thought herself an expert in. But it didn't take a genius to figure out the winner of a battle didn't necessarily win the war. Without something like a Tournament, how was anyone supposed to know what did?

Laurence Anderson

"Alto Mare?" She glanced at him through half-lidded eyes, feeling relaxed. "I grew up in Azalea Town just north of there, across the channel. Went there on a field trip once or twice, but haven't been back since I was a kid." Her lips were looser than usual tonight-- sober, she was a little more wary about who she clued in on her life story. But the alcohol and ambiance had done their work, and the distress of getting stood up on her lame date had almost faded away. 

She was so relaxed she didn't even notice the silence which fell between them-- not until Lars broke it with his name. She turned to him with a crooked half-smile. "Lars from Mars. Gotcha. Your UFO got a name, too?" She thumbed at the Metagross who'd so kindly deposited its blonde trainer on the beach.

"I'm Jess. I guess. It's been awhile." She sighed. "Though whatever you wanna call me, I'm open to it. Lookin' for a fresh start, wouldn't mind a new name to go with it."

Jess the Ranger had been shredded with the rest of her files when she'd gotten fired. That's what she imagined, anyway-- technically, she was on "official leave", but she knew what that pedantic shit meant. She was never getting back into Almia, not without dragging her ass through court and probably the nine hells to boot.

Laurence Anderson