Ever since the moment that Kyogre, or as skyler dross would put it, “my little friend” had gone on the rampage, it had been near-impossible to find the damned thing, moreso subdue it—because… well, things happened.

“Not only that, supposedly they’ve also been causing weather problems as well,” he hummed quietly from the back of his shiny Metagross, Ro, flying alongside the Noivern with his massive silver legs tucked in.

“According to the Weather Institute reports, at least, whenever there’s a particularly violent patch of rainfall happening someplace for no reason and the rest of the place is sunny or has its own weather condition… that’s where the big ol’ fish is supposed to be.”

(Sorry, Sky! Love you.)

Seeing as his own legendary patron wasn’t up to scratch yet fighting another legendary Pokémon running rampant, he would be approaching this problem with the best way he knew how:

With a good ol’ fashioned beat-em-up!

“It’s going to be either violent rainfall, or… worst-case scenario, Water-types fleeing the area before we find the rainfall, so prepare yourself,” he continued as he scouted ahead, the silver beast flying ahead of the Noivern and expanding the ‘mental net’ that the Metagross had casted over where they were.

So far, so good… for now.

While he waited for her to catch up, he took a look at his PokéGear to double-check that the weather reports had pointed them in the right direction.

“Hm… this place is peaceful… almost too peaceful,” he’d muse out loud once she was close enough.

Where was the big ol’ fish hiding?

It wouldn’t take too long before the ‘peace’ itself is shattered—with a sudden strong gust of wind. Normally, out here at sea it would be windy, but this wind brought with it that cloying scent of—

“Smell that? Kind of like wet pavement?” he would ask her as he squinted up ahead.

And sure enough, there was a particular section of the ocean whose bright, sunny visage would be marred by a sudden formation of swirling rain clouds.

“…looks like we found our fish,” he would remark, knocking exactly once on the back of his Metagross’s head; a signal for them to move faster so that they could close the distance as quickly as possible.

“When you see any Pokémon moving away; can you help guide them away from that mess?” he would point in the sudden ‘storm spot’ direction.

The smell of ‘wet pavement’ was getting stronger, the closer they approached.

Seeing as most of his other Pokémon weren’t exactly fliers or such, he would then shift from a seated to a crouching position; the closer they approached the ‘strange’ storm-like formation.

The first sign that something was wrong was a huge flock of Wingull and Pelipper fleeing the scene, squawking ever so loudly the noise made it impossible to think.

“Incoming!” he would yell from his position—he’d already brought out the survival knife he wore around his waist and had somehow, somewhat, materialized a ‘blade of frost’ around it.

The next sign that there was something bad waiting for them were the Wailmer—normally quiet and content to living in the deep, there was an entire flock of them suddenly surfacing; making all kinds of distressed noises.

“Help them get away, I’m going in down there.”

Never mind if she was going to see this; the moment the Metagross was close enough to the very edge of the ‘storm’, he would take a flying leap downward—but not hit the water as the ‘wings’ of dark, shedding ‘ice’ would appear from behind his back.

“You stupid fucking FISH!” he would yell as the wind currents threatened to touch the surface of the water.