challenge

(Original notes: nothing relevant)

Originally written May 12th, 2016. I actually fixed up a line now that makes more sense, unnoticeable unless you read it on tumblr and even then. This takes place about a few years before the XY games, no more than around five. I keep telling myself I'll write more battles for practice. I've been telling myself this for several years, rip.;;

But the Kalos Elite Four is great. c:

Contrary to what the other regions thought, Kalos always had strong leaders. True, if one looked at the government, then yes, the region was a joke. Aside from the most famous war three thousand years ago, Kalos had been run by tyrants and airheads until the 1950s, when the region had finally elected for a parliament to work alongside the foolish monarchs. Even after that no one took them seriously; instead of pokemon battles, much of the region had favored pokemon performances instead. It was a circus parade of young and old alike, dressing themselves and their pokemon up in over-the-top frills and puffs. Not that favoring fashion was bad – it wasn't – but one look in the old Kalosian books could make anyone hurl.

Then everything changed in the mid-1970s when Kalos's Pokemon League was formed. The Elite Four took the rest of the league by storm, not only because the main competition aired on national TV alongside the Master Class tournament but also because of the resulting Champion. At just thirty years old, the Sinnoh-born Drasna swept the stage and became an instant role-model for many kids, trainers and performers alike. She was fierce, rugged, and trained dragon-types. Even without comparing to the other boring men in the League, she was a goddess.

But forty years later, it was time for a change. Since the fire-type Elite Four member died a couple of years ago, the current Pokemon League was defunct. While pokemon training had definitely been on the rise over the past few decades, it was still unpopular enough for the original Elite Four (or Elite Three now) to remain largely unchallenged. Their freshest member came around just last year, the famous asshole chef, Siebold, and he attracted the ladies, but that asshole bratwurst didn't deserve to have a place in the same League as Drasna.

Then again, Drasna wouldn't be the Champion for much longer, either, at least if everything went to plan. Standing outside of the Pokemon League's building, Malva couldn't wipe that small smirk on her face while she brushed her fingers against her poke balls. Today was the day. She'd been waiting to take on that fierce old lady for as long as she'd been in the pokemon training spiel. In the early years of the League, Drasna obliterated every weak trainer with one, two pokemon at the most, but for the past fifteen years or so she became a recluse. With the other regions' leagues gaining popularity, Kalos couldn't afford to be left behind.

And Malva couldn't afford missing the challenge of a lifetime.

Before she could rush in headfirst, Diantha held her by the wrist. She looked over her shoulder, keeping that same smirk for her girlfriend. "Are you afraid I'm gonna get crushed?"

"Of course not. I hope you'll have a good battle. It's just…" Diantha lowered her eyes, pressing her lips together. "Just. Malva, dear, just be careful. You know the Champion's around the same age as Wikstrom and Ramos."

"And? I'm not concerned about those weaklings."

"I-I know you're not. All I'm saying is that…perhaps Drasna's not quite as strong as she used to be."

"She'll still be stronger than those two combined. Siebold, too." Malva chuckled. "You sure you don't want to try a double battle with me? I still bet we could wipe the floor together."

"No, dear, this is your time to shine. I'll be waiting on the good news. Good luck!"

"Thanks, babe."

Giving Diantha a quick kiss on the cheek, Malva rushed forward into the building. There wouldn't be too much suspense in this fight. Since the Elite Four was still defunct, there was no need to directly challenge the fools and the asshole; she'd be able to take Drasna on at full energy. Her insides burned with a passion that hadn't been felt since she won that big pool tournament back in college. Her blood still boiled with excitement every time she remembered all of those crying men. She hoped this would top that.

The Elite Three were in the room before the Champion. Ramos and Siebold were playing a game of checkers, while Wikstrom was knitting something…maybe some socks? They all stared at her as she stepped forward, and Siebold raised an eyebrow while Ramos took three of his checkers in one go. "Guten Tag, my bitter raisin. I'm afraid we cannot hook up today. I'm sure you wouldn't mind the company, but I am a gentleman."

"Get bent over your own six pack of expired sausages. I'm here to fight Drasna since you guys are falling apart."

"We still have the best cooking around now."

"You'll slowly poison them all."

"Like the finest pressure cooker."

They glared at each other. Ramos took another piece and scrunched his face the way old people did whenever they were angry or constipated. "Hey, Siebold, don't let this young whippersnapper talk to you so disrespectfully! Just because we don't have the current authority to fight doesn't mean we've lost our pride!"

"Nein, nein, she's being her old friendly self. She's just a sexy bottle of hot sauce waiting to burn everybody. Luckily for us we have our raincoats."

"Eh, just let Drasna deal with her," Wikstrom added, snorting. "As chivalrous gentlemen we can let her deal with the snappish firecracker."

Ramos pushed himself up from the seat. "But what if-"

"Nah, if she becomes Champion I'll tenderize my meat and give up my cooking for good. But I guess we ought to wish her good luck." Siebold made his move, then stared at Malva with a blank face and said in a deadpan voice, "Good luck, challenger. My weenie depends on your loss-ow."

Siebold rubbed at his nose and grumbled under his breath. The other two exchanged disgruntled looks as she continued walking. No one was about to stop her and her good mood. If it wasn't for Siebold joining them recently, the sponsors probably would've cut their funding by now. They should've been thankful that they had any kind of challenger at all. The local news was missing out on some great footage. At the very least, it was better than anything they were filming now.

As she walked the hallway grew warmer and warmer, but not like in a way where one was cozy and reading a book in front of a fireplace. This warmth was more of a suffocating kind, as if one was ready to take on a dragon's lair. (Well, no kidding, she is a dragon trainer, Malva thought.) Or, in an odd way to put it, as if one's grandma was taking a bunch of cakes out of the oven and the only escape from the heat was one open window. It was suffocating almost in an endearing kind of way.

She opened the door. A bigger blast of warmth passed through her, but there was no fireplace in sight. Windows reflecting the sunlight were all around the room, and the ceilings and pillars were decorated with gold paint. As expected of the Kalos League. And sitting in a rocking chair, old and much smaller than her promotional posters made her out to be, was Drasna. As Malva walked closer, she realized the Champion was asleep. Snoring, at fact.

This was both amusing and disappointing at the same time, and both gave Malva a loss of words. She never had much of a family, but seeing the old lady like this kind of gave her a glimpse of what having a grandmother might be like. Grimacing, she leaned over Drasna and gently shook her shoulder. "Hey," she said softly, so as not to kill the hag in her sleep. "Hey, we have an appointment to battle today. Wake up."

"Zzzzzzzzzzzzz."

"Oh. There should be a rule somewhere that makes this an automatic forfeit or something. I don't have all day. I want to battle."

"Zzz."

"Don't make me say the p-wor- WHAT THE FU-"

"NOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-"

Malva rolled onto the floor just seconds before a Noivern blasted a Flamethrower attack right before her feet. The force of the impact stung her elbows; surely they'd be bruised before the night finished. Before it could launch another attack, she tossed out a pokeball. "Talonflame, fight back with Flare Blitz!

"Talo!"

There was a huge clash of fire; then Noivern surged forward, ignoring Talonflame for Malva again. She clenched her teeth, reaching for her Swiss army knife in her pocket. That batbrain must've thought she was attacking its trainer. If trained right dragon-types were one of the most loyal types of pokemon, often extremely so. The battle would have to start without Drasna. While Noivern began inhaling, creating a deep purple light, she signaled to Talonflame to prepare a Flamethrower of her own. Soon a Dragon Pulse collided with it, shaking the ground, and she lurched forward with the force.

Before she had time to catch her breath, Talonflame went down, swirly-eyed and all as she plummeted into her arms, and she was face to face with a bad-smelling bat brain. Her glasses fogged up, and she leaned her head back as to not smell that bad breath as much. "Do your worst, Rabies," she snarled. "I had a history minor in college."

Noivern snapped its jaws at her. She was about ready to stab its eyes out with her knife when it suddenly pulled back, straightening its posture. Drasna leaned on her toes and petted its head, soothing the beast. "Now, now, Noivern, what's all the ruckus you're making?" she asked.

She continued petting the dragon for a minute. Then two. Then five. Finally Malva sat up and glared at them both until the old lady finally looked in her direction and jumped back, clearly startled. "Oh, I didn't see you at first! I'm sorry. Wikstrom keeps telling me to wear my glasses, but old habits die hard. These old eyes can still be cured by some good greens, I bet." She walked over and squinted at Talonflame. "Oh, my, your Talonflame looks injured. You may want to take it to a Pokemon Center."

"Thanks for your observation, ma'am."

"No, no, I've had enough spam. I don't know how to use the computer that well and everyone keeps emailing me. Kids these days." Drasna sighed and shook her head, then smiled. "I'm glad you took an interest in the position, though. Ramos has been wanting to become a gym leader for some time now. Can't blame him. Retirement's not for any of us."

"Position? Position for what?"

"For the new Elite Four member. We had a talk over the phone…"

"To battle!" Malva snapped. "I'm not interested in your thankless job! I wanted to battle you and maybe take over as Champion!"

"Couldn't quite hear you, dearie. You said you want to buy some rattles?"

"NO! BATTLE!"

"Well, dearie, we can get you some rattles later. First let's get Talonflame all better. Come along."

Drasna patted her on the back and walked out of the room. Malva squeezed Talonflame tighter to her and glared at the floor. This was probably the most infuriating old hag she'd ever met. How dare she act so casual after her batbrain of a beast totaled her most precious bird? Well, she wouldn't fall for this old lady nice schtick. There had to be something more sinister up Drasna's sleeve. For now she'd agree to this Elite Four business until she could strike again. She had nothing better to do.

She couldn't help but smirk again. There weren't too many people who could bait her.