"YEAH! Yeah, you heard me... Fuckin' prick."

As Josh Devlin makes his escape, you simply stand there, watching. Before long, the Master of Faster has run away at top speed, while you're still here, standing where he once stood. By all accounts, this should be a win. You started the fight, you pulled no punches, you beat him back, and you forced him to give up his ground. If you worded it like that and typed it up in a neat little report and submitted it to the Rocket Admins, they'd probably think you won, too. BARNABY FINCH wouldn't blink twice at it. jayden cross would congratulate you on a job well done. fern delaney would... Do something, you assume, you don't know, you've never met him. Later, you'd go out for drinks in Sootopolis with howard slayte, and he'd have that look in his eye as he told you it didn't matter, really, in the grand scheme of things.

And right here, right now? As the gym leader flees atop his Gouging Fire, and you revel in your so-called "victory"? You can't help but feel you would agree with him.

Pointless. Fucking pointless.

Breathing a sigh, you tap your Pokeballs. It's closing time at the bar, and you're the pianist playing it out as the depressed drunks shuffle out. With every keystroke, a Pokemon returns to its ball. By the end, you're left alone, truly alone.

And, more than that, you're left just as empty as you were when you came here.

---

Josh Devlin