[attr="class","sunshine"]Standing around is boring and irritating but nothing new in her life. Plank rides it out as patiently as she can. Spits in the dirt a couple more times, kicks the wet spots until they vanish. When they finally let her in she follows without comment. She hopes if she doesn't complain there won't be any small talk; and sure enough that's how it goes.

They make the walk to the field in blessed silence. She's surprised, though, at what she finds there. Not the pokemon or the trenches or the battle-scarred ground. The gym leader. He looks like he's her age. Imagine that.

"Bonnie," Plank replies to the gym leader's greeting, "it's a pleasure, or whatever."

Not only is he her age, Doug seems just as eager to get on with things as she does. She can appreciate that. She reaches in her pockets, pulls out two pokeballs, and without ceremony releases her pokemon onto the field. Two flashes of light twist and shape themselves.

One grows long and terrible, when the glow fades Grog -- her Gyarados -- is revealed. He roars proudly into the air before snarling at the opposing pokemon already out. His attempt at INTIMIDATION clear and pronounced.

The other takes less impressive shape. A bulbous mass grows wings and when the light is gone her Pelipper, Swabbie, is revealed. Flapping his wings lazily to hold himself aloft. Already clouds form above his head. They grow and spread slowly at first, and then all at once. The battlefield's silence is broken by the sound of rain as a DRIZZLE begins to wet the ground.

"Let's see what he's got, bring the storm boys!" she commands. Swabbie begins to beat his wings more fiercely, summoning gale winds at the same time as Grog seems to call them through his hot, heavy breath alone. Two HURRICANES surge across the field, emboldened by the already souring weather.