Tavish gave the man next to him the harshest glare possible, given his lack of two eyes. A fellow eye-patch haver enjoyed their sandwich filled to the brim with greens and meats. Disgusting. Absolutely terrible. Did this man even know?

Of course, Tavish knew something like this would happen as soon as he entered. People were entitled to their own choices, even if they were the wrong ones. Even if they inadvertently supported a terrible industry that relied on the most abusive treatments thought up by the human mind, people enjoyed eating meat.

And he wasn’t one to reinforce stereotypes. He’d just have to move on with his life. Bigger fish to fry in Hoenn. But when they physically vocalized their enjoyment of it? Right next to him? Right next to his friend, Sir, the Farfetch’d-Galar, saved from a farm that stacked cages upon cages as high as the sky reached?

All bets were off.

“Keep yer thoughts t-yerself,” Tavish smacked the stranger’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna hear about your stupid, sinful sandwich.”

Unfortunately for Howard, Sir had a different idea of how to convey this thought. He hopped off the stool to the left of Tavish, waddled over, and swung its leek high into the air.

And dropped it directly onto both his and Serizawa’s plate. A perfect strike, as green collided with white.

The glass plates shattered, and the food scattered all over the bar top and the floor. Tavish glanced down at Sir, who only stared in rage at the archeologist. Defiance was the only option, and violence was the greatest message.

“Unless, of course,” the man leaned forward, directly into Howard’s personal space, “you’ve got a problem with my friend 'ere?”

---

howard slayte
No gimmicks
3/3

"Huh?" Howard frowned as he looked up from his sandwich and peered at Tavish. What the heck was this guy talking about? "What's wrong? I'm just eating my sandwich!"

What was this guy's issue? Howard scowled as the man smacked him. Was he drunk? His eye flicked to the Farfetch'd, then to the man's sandwich. Arceus above, what a horrible sandwich! The texture on it must've been awful. If any sandwich was sinful, it had to be that. It was an affront to sandwiches everywhere.

Paldea would spit on this guy's food.

"Oh, Arceus above..." Howard groaned and rolled his eye. "You're one of those Pokemon rights people aren't you?"

SMASH! Serizawa teared up as he stared at his broken plate. His sandwich was ruined, and for what? By some Galarian bird that thought it was hot shit? What sort of knight stole food from the poor Larvitars of Hoenn? This would not stand.

"Larvi..." Serizawa made a fist. "TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!"

Serizawa took Tavish's Farfetch'd by the leek and threw it across the pub, splitting tables and chairs as the bird tumbled backwards. Serizawa lunged after the bird with a manic energy, as if planning to put it six feet under.

"Serizawa, no!" Howard cried, standing up. He turned to his aggressor. "Sir, I am so sorr-"

---

tavish rose
3/3
LB4VXCuP

As Howard turned to Tavish, the man had already raised his own fist. By the time their eyes made contact, Howard would’ve seen a glance of the fellow one-eyed man in all of his glorious rage and fury. “Go to hell!”

His fist collided with his cheek, which sent him a few feet away. “Apologize to whatever divines ye want, but they ain’t gonna recognize ye by the time I’m done with ya!”

Meanwhile, the Farfetch’d-Galar flew back with much fanfare. People were hit by his body, not to mention the various pieces of furniture rocked and even topped over. His back hit the wall, and it slid to the floor.

If only this kept it on the ground.

Instead, the bird used his leek to bring himself back upright and to point at the Larvitar. It predicted its trajectory, the wind resistance within the bar, the position from where it had jumped, and even the pressure with regard to their sea level. All this information passed within his skull, all in slow motion as it predicted the landing point of the leap.

Ah, predictable. Directly on himself? Simple, yet effective if he did not do anything about it. Surely, he would be next on the dinner plate.

Thus, the leek once again rose to the heavens. If the attack landed, it would be smacked directly into the floor. Not much could stop a Larvitar momentum-wise, but they’d be in a perfect position for him to strike. If he missed? He might as well be dead.

Yet there could only be one action. Sir dodged to the right, and brought the leek down as soon as the green ball of rage passed right underneath.

---

howard slayte
3/3

    75vnj_jB

Howard's head rolled back with the punch, but the impact of Tavish's fist would be satisfying for the Galarian man. The firm thump of bone on bone mixed with the recoil of the target's body mixed into a pleasant sensation.

A pleasant sensation for Tavish. An utterly miserable one for Howard.

The archaeologist went down with a crash. Not only did he hear ringing in his ears, but he also heard Tempest Quinn and jayden cross demeaning him for his poor form. They would've wanted him to parry the strike with some ancient Hoyeon shadowboxing or a Galarian sword technique, before julienning Tavish's limbs.

Unfortunately for those two, Howard was a desk jockey. He hadn't thrown hands with anyone since college.

"Fuck off, one-eye! I just wanted to eat my sandwich!"

He did throw pans though. As he reached out, he felt the smooth haft of a metal frying pan that had fallen to the ground in the ruckus. With a ferocious swing, he aimed for Tavish's head.

Serizawa let out a howl as the leek struck his head. It'd concuss the Larvitar for sure, but that wouldn't stop it from being fueled by sheer adrenaline and primordial rage.

So it reached out and grabbed the leek again with its user still attached, before throwing it towards the jukebox in the corner of the pub.

---

tavish rose
2/3
UWoj4s5G

“You idiot!” Tavish caught the frying pan moments before it collided with his skull. His other hand grabbed and pulled Howard up to him until their two only good eyes met face-to-face. “We both only got the one!”

With all of his strength, Tavish pulled the archeologist over the bar chair and into the air. He tried to toss him as far as possible, but he’d settle for just a foot away. Anything to show this blasphemer the error of his ways. To show him the numerous sins that would haunt him. “Eat dirt, ya git!”

At least Sir had a somewhat even battle. Even as Sarizawa was struck by the powerful blow of his leek, he had a rather clever idea. The world turned upside down, catapulted by his own strong grip on his weapon. Turned against him, as the Larvitar threw him right into the jukebox.

And, well, Sir was never going to let go of his leek. That was his pride and joy. Much like a child, it would be a cold day in hell before he ever let it go. There were very few moments where it caused more problems than it solved. Unfortunately, this was one of those moments as it once again collided with a hard, solid object.

The jukebox was destroyed. Obliterated. Even though neither of them were large or terribly strong, a perfect (or lucky) throw would destroy anything. Such was the case as Sir both struck the machine in the core of its electronics, and watched the Larvitar charge forth once more.

But Sir wouldn’t let this happen without fighting back. He quickly righted himself back to normal, using the leek as a spear of stability. Momentum carried him forward, back onto the ground as it whipped the leek back forward. Finally, he charged right towards the Larvitar as well, green plant pointed forward in defense.

Who would strike true?

---

howard slayte
2/3
 
  Y|FRoj1W

"Guh..." Howard's eye widened to the size of a coin as Tavish caught the frying pan. Not even the Megalopolans had been able to do that, and they were aliens maddened by hunger and corrupted by a magenta chain. This guy had stopped it without breaking a sweat!

What sort of monster was this? Howard's eye flicked to the Farfetch'd, before blinking in understanding.

The last thought Howard's synapses cooked up before he got concussed by a bar stool was Oh, he's Galarian. Howard was flung across the bar, smashing into tables and stools alike.

Remiel Calcifet and Elise Calcifet would be so proud of their countrymen.

Reaching around in the rubble of the bar, Howard picked up a soggy Torchicken Piccata and threw it at Tavish. The piece of chicken flopped against his forehead and slid to the ground.

"Whathefuuuuuuuuuuuuck?" Howard's voice rang out from the ground. "I've got two eyeeeeeeeeeeeees..."

Meanwhile, as Sir rose from the broken jukebox, a broken version of Backlight played, and Melody Miro 's voice filled the pub.

"TheY gAVE mE A GRUdgE...!" The song came out garbled from broken speakers, utterly decimated by a Farfetch'd's feathered behind.

Serizawa lunged forward, dodging the leek as he did so, before picking up a dropped bottle of Beedrill Bourbon and attempting to smash Sir over the head with it. "iT WaS ALL thaNks TO hIm!!!"

---

tavish rose
2/3 (no mechanic)
A6AkxIBk

Tavish stared down at the chicken breast with a mix of emotions. Rage at the act, fury at the specific thing thrown at him, disgust at being in contact with a commodified remain of a once living creature. After a few moments, his emotions finally settled on a healthy middle ground of them all.

Thus, the galarian picked up the closest bar stool, hefted the metal frame well above his head, and inched closer. His one visible eyebrow slanted down hard, and he breathed heavily.

“You… fucking devil,” the man hissed. “First, ya insult my ideals. And then ya do that little, ‘coincidental’ attack? Forget the divines, I’m sendin’ ya STRAIGHT to the hellspawn in the Distortion World!”

It didn’t take long for him to be right above Howard, his legs spread out so he could better position himself. Better stance to slam the wooden top of the seat into the archeologist's skull.

Once again, Sarizawa fared much better than his trainer. A brown glass bottle shattered into hundreds of tiny, bite sized pieces upon Sir’s skull. Stars swam in his vision, like a carousel that rocked back and forth. It took all his willpower not to immediately drop to the floor and give in to the comforting abyss.

But he could not give up in the face of such a terrible creature. He blinked the stream of blood from his eyes, which watered and mixed with the crimson to form a weird in-between slosh. Shaky wings gripped the leek tight, until his hollow bones protested against such force.

With whatever remainder of senses still available, he aimed seconds after the bottle smashed. The hard part of the leek shot forward, directly into the chest of Sarizawa.

His beak followed swiftly, more akin to a smash than a jab.

---

howard slayte
2/3
 DmaWhLI9

"What are you talking about?" Howard groaned as his held his head. "I just wanted to eat a sandwich..."

The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on Howard. He was losing a fight against a guy over his taste in food. Howard and Kouji Matsubara had severe disagreements over their tastes in food, but Howard couldn't imagine throwing hands with Kouji over it. Admittedly, Kouji could kick him across the breakroom, but that was neither here nor there.

"PUNISH THEM ALL!" Melody's voice kept playing from the jukebox.

As Tavish stood over him, the Rocket Admin realized that it very much was here and there. The bar stood would be Tavish's Excalibur, his Behemoth Blade that would slay the Eternatus known as Howard Slayte so that he could end the Darkest Day. A horrible event where Howard Slayte dare to enjoy a sandwich.

Or something like that. The concussion was likely kicking in.

Kicking in... Howard's fried brain came to a conclusion. He listened to the voices in his head, each of which gave him advice.

Look, man. Just fuckin' win. Thanks Shred Zeppelin . Real big help.

Mr. Howard, I highly recommend that you fight with hono- Sorry Grigori, not happening.

Losing a fight to a Galarian in a bar over a sandwich? Is this the sort of Admin you want to be? If only you had taken my sword fighting class- Howard pushed jayden cross 's voice out of his mind.

Finally, Tempest Quinn spoke up in his mind.

KICK HIM IN THE NUTS KICK HIM IN THE NUTS KICK HIM IN THE NUTS.

Howard kicked Tavish Rose in his two Little Wyndons. The nearby television that was playing a game of soccer rang out with a referee blowing a whistle.

"SCARLET CRIMSON LIT UP FROM BEHIND...!"

Sir's beak smashed into Serizawa, who reeled back in pain. After several seconds of shaking his head, the Larvitar opened his mouth to fire a Hyper Beam directly into Sir's face.

---

tavish rose
1/3 (no mechanic)
rhGchAtZ

The bar stool fell to the side, centimeters from Howard’s head. Tavish groaned and slowly lowered his hands onto the painful area. Suddenly, he fell to one knee, eye closed tight. It was as if the world slowed to a craw, and nothing else made sense.

“I’ll… give ya this… your not entirely brainless,” Tavish grumbled out. One of his hands reached forward and took hold of Howard’s arm. “But I ain’t either.”

Despite the lead ball in his stomach and nerves that shook after the nut kick, he managed to swing his head back. His skull shot forward, right into Howard’s own. After all, his own body was still under constant attack by his testicles. They held everything in a vice grip.

What was a little head-force trauma?

Sir stared down a different potential end, though. Energy gathered in the maw of Serizawa, one that he knew the danger of. Even such a small creature like itself could muster up nuclear amounts of energy, given the desire. Tavish might know more than himself, but the point was that something had to be done.

“FARRRRRRRRRRRR–” The bird quickly maneuvered its leek right into the face of the Larvitar. The weapon quickly entered the gullet of his foe, in the hope that it would block most of the attack, if not turn the creature into a miniature bomb itself.

His Final Gambit.

---

howard slayte
1/3 (No Gimmick)

 q81kMGHB

"OWWWWWWWWWW!" Howard whined as Tavish gave him a double decker concussion. It was twice the hospital fee, twice the pan, half of the misery. "Don't do that! My head is my best part! I get paid to keep this thing intact!"

In a desperate bid, he threw another piece of chicken at Tavish. It flopped helplessly against Tavish's forehead. jayden cross would've been upset that Howard hadn't paid attention in his chicken weaponry class.

Alas.

"TAAAAAR!" Serizawa lifted his stubby little arms and caught the leek. It was a flawless counter. The archaeologist would've given Larvitar a ten out of ten on countering Sir's strike if his head wasn't a scrambled egg.

Serizawa clenched a fist and let power gather within it. The various tables and silverware clattered as Serizawa channeled his entire lifeforce into this punch. The jukebox glitched out, juggling between Melody Miro 's M.M and DESIREE BLOOMS 's Conquer the Demon. Suddenly, it sparked and exploded, letting out a shower of sparks that made for an epic final clash.

"Tarrrr..." (Special Translation: This is it! The last of my power...!)

"LARVITAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!" (Special Translation: UNITED STATES OF MT. SILVER!)

Serizawa threw a punch that split the skies.

---

tavish rose
1/3 (no mechanic)
W64CLGQi

The chicken breast thudded against Tavish’s forehead once again. This time, however, he looked entirely unphased. He wasn’t even paying attention to Howard anymore, a forgotten relic of the past. Instead, his gaze went towards Sir and Serizawa. Towards the power that gathered inside the little green creature.

Sir looked to be on death row. The way he balanced his entire weight on the leek that the Larvitar held. This was quite the foe, he realized. Perhaps too late, as the combination of his one attack, the Hyper Beam, and now this… this raw power that accumulated. A closed system building pressure had less potential energy than this. The world listened to the call to gather.

And all he could do was watch. He tried to pull his leek out of the Larvitar’s hand, but to no avail. The best Sir could hope for was a complete miss from his opponent. Tavish tried to scurry off of Howard, but he knew he'd never make it. He tried regardless, as he scrambled over a sideways stool and the painful splinters of a shattered table. "Sir! Retreat!"

But Sir never backed down from a challenge.

He pushed his leek forward, in the faint hope it'd throw the fist that swung his way off its final destination...

---

LWQrVjas

---

But some things are out of anyone's control. The fist that rivaled a nuclear explosion rocked Sir's world. Immediate black out, and he flew into the wall at record speeds. Despite being made of brick, he punched through with surprisingly minimal destruction. A neat, near perfect hole detonated, and debris shot out like a grenade.

"Sir!"

No response. Sir's orange webbed feet dangled from the very edge of the hole, his leek stuck straight through the wall by his side.

A loss.

---

howard slayte
0/3 (No gimmick)

"Tar!" Serizawa panted as Sir was struck down. It had been a hard fight, dirty and brutal, but the Larvitar was victorious. Truly, he was the strongest of Junior's brood. Michael Navidson would be so proud of his Pokémon's successor's ability to win a bar fight.

After a moment, Serizawa reached down and plucked a half-empty bottle and drank from it. After finishing it, Serizawa threw the bottle against the wall. It smashed into pieces.

"Tar!" Serizawa glared at Tavish as he waddled closer and closer to the Galarian. He grabbed Howard's foot and slowly dragged him through the trashed pub towards the exit, where the distant sound of sirens could be heard. Rangers? Police officers? Serizawa didn't want to stick around to find out.

Smart little bastard, he was.

"My sandwich...!" Howard groaned as his head thumped against the leg of a chair. "No! Serizawa..."

The look the Rocket Admin gave was a mix of delirium and hate. This was not over. The two disappeared out the door.

---

tavish rose
1/3 (no mechanic)
WIN

Tavish ignored the the wail of the distant siren, the Larvitar that dragged his trainer out the bar by himself, and even the pain that still wracked his body. Damn it all. He could NOT lose one of his few teammates this early on. They’d only been here for almost half a year, yet it felt like much more.

Eventually, Tavish reached the place where Sir was ‘buried’. Bits of mortar coated those once proud feathers, which he brushed off gently. Tears streamed down his face at the realization that there was still life, if faint, inside this bird’s broken body. He grabbed and tore one brick, then another, and one last bit of the wall. Then, with the gentlest of grabs, the kind reserved for a firstborn, the chemist pulled out his companion.

“Sir…” Farfetch’d-Galar tried to utter a word, but Tavish shushed him softly. “Save your strength, soldier. They might have won this battle…”

His other arm tugged at the leek. It slid out on the second pull, and sent even more debris to the ground. The bar looked like a battlefield, and its victors long gone. A flame of passion burned behind his eye patch. Fury flooded his senses. A fellow eye patch owner did this, and didn’t even have the decency to help out a wounded person.

“But that bloody-fuckin-coward will rue this day. They won't live the war.”

They hobbled past the defunct jukebox, which sparked dangerous flickers of energy into the air. There were almost zero remaining, intact tables or chairs. All of the booze behind the bar remained in relatively good shape. The bottom shelf stuff had shattered somewhere along the way, but the expensive stuff escaped. As Tavish stepped over the broken furniture, he hoped the counter and took the fullest one. Disinfectant.

As he approached the stainless steel door to the kitchen, he properly examined the bar. In all honesty... it could've been much worse. Hoenn probably considered this a terrorist attack. A ploy to distract all the participants in the Vital City Tournament for malicious reasons. Or perhaps an argument gone wrong. A fighting of ideals, a robbery, a cover up-- the determination would rest with those who spoke up and how the news writers spun it.

Tuesday night in Galar, though.

---

howard slayte

LOSS