Champion Lance
Dragon Master
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Personae huius fabulae
CHAMPION LANCE BLACKTHORNE (Champion of the Indigo League)
PKMN TRAINER MARY LEAF (the macguffin)
GYM LEADER GARY OAK (the irrepressible hotshot)
Author’s Note: I’m setting the rating at PG-13 just to be safe. There will be no explicit language and I do not expect anything in the way of explicit sexual scenes, but Lance’s behavior has been inspired by the recent scandals of Tiger Woods and I’d rather have a decent rating to keep things on the level just in case.
Now, for names. Blackthorn City does not have an ‘e’ but I think it ought to, so it does when used as Lance’s last name. The FR/LG female character has been unofficially named Leaf by the community, and I’ve used that as her last name. Her first name is Mary, so as to be a rather pointed and unsubtle connection with the Rival character, Gary Oak. Despite the anime names, the games will function as the story’s primary canon.
This prologue’s going to test the waters just a bit, so I can get a feel for the story. It’ll jump around from the main story with flashbacks and peeks forward.
I’ll appreciate comments from the readers, as I intend to craft the ongoing story based on reader feedback on which gym leaders they’d like to see, etc. I plan minimal use of original characters, as I prefer to flesh out existing ones.
PROLOGUE
Seven years earlier…
The final tier - Pokémon League Headquarters, Indigo Plateau
Something was dreadfully wrong at the Pokémon League. A mere child had defeated the greatest trainers the world had ever seen, and another upstart trainer was hot on his heels. It felt as if some local school was conducting a field trip to the League, but the children weren’t here to find idols they might look up to—they were here to win.
At eighteen years of age, Lance wasn’t particularly old himself. Yet his conquest of the Johto League had been swift and terrible, and he soon became the leading member of the Indigo Elite Four. He was a legend, and though success bred confidence, he also tried to behave in a gallant manner that befits his stature. So when an eleven year-old child became the first trainer to vanquish him, Lance congratulated him on a battle well fought and saluted him as the first League Champion to arise during his term on the Elite Four.
Gary Oak was the grandson of one of Kanto’s most formidable champions, and Lance respected that. The dragon master had magnificent ancestry himself, and he knew that his forebears contributed as much to his victory as his own talent did: it was only fitting that young Oak follow in his elder’s footsteps.
This new challenger though, she had to be defeated at all costs. Though from the same town as Oak, she could not have been further from that fine young lad. They were the same age and had defeated the Kanto gyms with great alacrity—inside a year, according to their registration information. Yet the girl was a nonentity, a nobody, and her battle style did not seem nearly as sophisticated as Oak’s, who had constructed a perfectly balanced team that had comfortably dispatched Lance’s colleagues.
Lance stood at the end of a great hall, waiting for the first glimpses of his opponent. He had read up on her file, but he avoided watching her battles with the other Elite Four trainers as a matter of courtesy and fairness. He didn’t need such a cheap crutch.
He saw her before he heard her, which was curious—footsteps usually boomed in the chamber. She appeared to be a slight thing, and Lance imagined that she couldn’t possibly have been taller than five feet. She was still a distance away, but he could make out her white hat. As she began to resolve in his vision, Lance could tell that she lacked Oak’s sense for stylish clothing.
She wore rumpled socks, her blouse was rather loose and appeared to be oversized, and her knee-length skirt was an extremely tacky shade of red. She looked like a clown: though Lance knew better than to let appearances deceive him. Getting this far was no small feat: few had ever done it in recent years.
“Ah, I heard about you, Miss Leaf,” Lance began with silken softness, “I lead the Elite Four; you can call me ‘Lance, the dragon trainer.’ You know that dragons are mythical Pokémon: they’re hard to catch and raise, but their powers are superior! They’re virtually indestructible.” Well, that was a bit of hyperbole. She didn’t need to know that, though.
The girl was unimpressed. “Do all League masters taunt their opponents? What’s the point? Are you that insecure?”
The brat was precocious. This displeased the dragon master. “Well, are you ready to lose? Your League challenge ends with me, Mary Leaf!”
But of course, it didn’t happen that way.
Present time
Dragonite stood over the fallen Garchomp and pumped a first into the palm of her right arm in a gesture of triumph. His Dragonite, though labored of breath and covered in cuts and burns, was incredibly proud of her hard won victory. Lance himself felt a little empty.
Cynthia was the shrewdest opponent he’d ever faced. She seemed at times to be three or four steps ahead of him, and it had indeed been an uphill battle for him. Yet it seemed just another meaningless accolade. He sighed, and recalled his Pokémon.
After having done the same, Cynthia looked at her opponent with a sort of bemused wonder. “Are you alright? You look like you’re the one who lost this one. Enjoy your victory!” She seemed genuinely happy for him, and Lance wondered why.
He’d won, but he still felt unhappy. What was eating at him so? He had thought back to that battle from years gone by, but it had never plagued him. On the contrary: defeating Gary Oak a year after his defeat had restored his dignity and made him the Indigo Champion. Ah, but perhaps that was it—he had worked his way through the Hoenn and Sinnoh leagues but he had never beaten Mary Leaf. The trainers he had faced were subtle and skilled on a level surpassing that plucky youth, but the balance sheet still stood in her favor: he’d never beaten her. Why did that bother him, why now?
Still, there was one thing that could always clear his head. “Yes, you’re right of course. Would you care to join me for dinner,” he asked as he extended his hand.
Cynthia accepted his handshake, but then turned a sad smile in his direction. “Is that how you ensnared poor Misty of Cerulean, or that steel trainer? I’m a little too old to be your plaything, and a little too wise to be awed by your attentions.”
Lance affected surprise, but decided to play it straight. “You seem terribly well informed. There’s no way you could have found that out on your own—who told you?”
“Who do you think?” Cynthia challenged.
“Ah,” Lance said. The spurned one. She had been willing to accept Misty as a dalliance—the talented water trainer was a bit tomboyish for his tastes, but she had an infectious smile, a carefree manner, and a way of mixing things up… but his other impropriety (that she knew of, anyway) was personal. She had thought she was the only object of his sincere affection, which was true for a time, but things changed on his journey through the leagues.
And indeed, Lance found himself wondering just how much things had changed. Had Leaf improved just as he had? Had she caught any magnificent specimens? He even found himself wondering how she looked now, as she would have presumably just reached adulthood. In all that, his failure to have his way with Cynthia suddenly meant very little—as did the rest of it.
“Keep your title,” Lance offered, “I spent too long running the Hoenn League, and I haven’t the time to do the same here—I’m sure you’ve run Sinnoh better than that foolish magician."
Cynthia looked at Lance as if he’d grown three heads, but she seemed happy enough with the arrangement. Lance didn’t particularly care—he had someone to find, and he knew who to ask first: the gym leader of Viridian City.
CHAMPION LANCE BLACKTHORNE (Champion of the Indigo League)
PKMN TRAINER MARY LEAF (the macguffin)
GYM LEADER GARY OAK (the irrepressible hotshot)
Author’s Note: I’m setting the rating at PG-13 just to be safe. There will be no explicit language and I do not expect anything in the way of explicit sexual scenes, but Lance’s behavior has been inspired by the recent scandals of Tiger Woods and I’d rather have a decent rating to keep things on the level just in case.
Now, for names. Blackthorn City does not have an ‘e’ but I think it ought to, so it does when used as Lance’s last name. The FR/LG female character has been unofficially named Leaf by the community, and I’ve used that as her last name. Her first name is Mary, so as to be a rather pointed and unsubtle connection with the Rival character, Gary Oak. Despite the anime names, the games will function as the story’s primary canon.
This prologue’s going to test the waters just a bit, so I can get a feel for the story. It’ll jump around from the main story with flashbacks and peeks forward.
I’ll appreciate comments from the readers, as I intend to craft the ongoing story based on reader feedback on which gym leaders they’d like to see, etc. I plan minimal use of original characters, as I prefer to flesh out existing ones.
PROLOGUE
Champion’s Sanctum, Sinnoh Pokémon League
Two champions faced each other, standing on what appeared to be a pitch black void. The room was dark, illuminated only by a soft blue light tracing the shape of a Pokéball in the middle of the arena. Both of them had known this battle was inevitable, but there was little of the pre-battle taunting that came with most League matches. They were consummate professionals and masters of their art: there was no need for such pedestrian antics.
“A title challenge has been made!” bellowed the announcer and referee, “Champion Lance Blackthorne of the Indigo Plateau challenges Champion Cynthia Shirona of the Sinnoh League! Each competitor will be allowed the use of six Pokémon, with no substitutions!”
The reigning champion of Sinnoh smiled softly, and gathered the fleece tails of her long coat in order to offer her challenger a deep curtsey. “I have been looking forward to this, Lance. I have heard so much about your faculty with dragon Pokémon, but I have always desired to see the master at work. I know how finicky dragons can be, after all.”
Lance Blackthorne crossed his arms over his chest and bowed sharply from his waist, allowing his cape to swirl behind him in a rather dramatic fashion. “I intend to show you, my friend. Your associate Lucian informs me that you’ve assembled a collection of disparate Pokémon, regardless of type. I find this most curious in a champion.”
Cynthia chuckled at this. “Most curious? You speak as if you find my choice nonsensical. Creating a balanced battling team is certainly a challenge, but I hardly need to tell you the benefits of taking the difficult route with Pokémon! For most trainers, their choice of Pokémon reflects their personality; make no mistake, I am exactly the same. I like to see balance in all things—in people, in Pokémon, in the world—for that is when we are most at peace with ourselves, and peace is required for true happiness.”
The few trainers that had ever won the honor of facing him had all shivered in awe of his dragons, but Cynthia seemed to delight in the challenge. It was as refreshing as it was unnerving: the last trainer to have such fire was also the only trainer who had ever bested him.
Two champions faced each other, standing on what appeared to be a pitch black void. The room was dark, illuminated only by a soft blue light tracing the shape of a Pokéball in the middle of the arena. Both of them had known this battle was inevitable, but there was little of the pre-battle taunting that came with most League matches. They were consummate professionals and masters of their art: there was no need for such pedestrian antics.
“A title challenge has been made!” bellowed the announcer and referee, “Champion Lance Blackthorne of the Indigo Plateau challenges Champion Cynthia Shirona of the Sinnoh League! Each competitor will be allowed the use of six Pokémon, with no substitutions!”
The reigning champion of Sinnoh smiled softly, and gathered the fleece tails of her long coat in order to offer her challenger a deep curtsey. “I have been looking forward to this, Lance. I have heard so much about your faculty with dragon Pokémon, but I have always desired to see the master at work. I know how finicky dragons can be, after all.”
Lance Blackthorne crossed his arms over his chest and bowed sharply from his waist, allowing his cape to swirl behind him in a rather dramatic fashion. “I intend to show you, my friend. Your associate Lucian informs me that you’ve assembled a collection of disparate Pokémon, regardless of type. I find this most curious in a champion.”
Cynthia chuckled at this. “Most curious? You speak as if you find my choice nonsensical. Creating a balanced battling team is certainly a challenge, but I hardly need to tell you the benefits of taking the difficult route with Pokémon! For most trainers, their choice of Pokémon reflects their personality; make no mistake, I am exactly the same. I like to see balance in all things—in people, in Pokémon, in the world—for that is when we are most at peace with ourselves, and peace is required for true happiness.”
The few trainers that had ever won the honor of facing him had all shivered in awe of his dragons, but Cynthia seemed to delight in the challenge. It was as refreshing as it was unnerving: the last trainer to have such fire was also the only trainer who had ever bested him.
Seven years earlier…
The final tier - Pokémon League Headquarters, Indigo Plateau
Something was dreadfully wrong at the Pokémon League. A mere child had defeated the greatest trainers the world had ever seen, and another upstart trainer was hot on his heels. It felt as if some local school was conducting a field trip to the League, but the children weren’t here to find idols they might look up to—they were here to win.
At eighteen years of age, Lance wasn’t particularly old himself. Yet his conquest of the Johto League had been swift and terrible, and he soon became the leading member of the Indigo Elite Four. He was a legend, and though success bred confidence, he also tried to behave in a gallant manner that befits his stature. So when an eleven year-old child became the first trainer to vanquish him, Lance congratulated him on a battle well fought and saluted him as the first League Champion to arise during his term on the Elite Four.
Gary Oak was the grandson of one of Kanto’s most formidable champions, and Lance respected that. The dragon master had magnificent ancestry himself, and he knew that his forebears contributed as much to his victory as his own talent did: it was only fitting that young Oak follow in his elder’s footsteps.
This new challenger though, she had to be defeated at all costs. Though from the same town as Oak, she could not have been further from that fine young lad. They were the same age and had defeated the Kanto gyms with great alacrity—inside a year, according to their registration information. Yet the girl was a nonentity, a nobody, and her battle style did not seem nearly as sophisticated as Oak’s, who had constructed a perfectly balanced team that had comfortably dispatched Lance’s colleagues.
Lance stood at the end of a great hall, waiting for the first glimpses of his opponent. He had read up on her file, but he avoided watching her battles with the other Elite Four trainers as a matter of courtesy and fairness. He didn’t need such a cheap crutch.
He saw her before he heard her, which was curious—footsteps usually boomed in the chamber. She appeared to be a slight thing, and Lance imagined that she couldn’t possibly have been taller than five feet. She was still a distance away, but he could make out her white hat. As she began to resolve in his vision, Lance could tell that she lacked Oak’s sense for stylish clothing.
She wore rumpled socks, her blouse was rather loose and appeared to be oversized, and her knee-length skirt was an extremely tacky shade of red. She looked like a clown: though Lance knew better than to let appearances deceive him. Getting this far was no small feat: few had ever done it in recent years.
“Ah, I heard about you, Miss Leaf,” Lance began with silken softness, “I lead the Elite Four; you can call me ‘Lance, the dragon trainer.’ You know that dragons are mythical Pokémon: they’re hard to catch and raise, but their powers are superior! They’re virtually indestructible.” Well, that was a bit of hyperbole. She didn’t need to know that, though.
The girl was unimpressed. “Do all League masters taunt their opponents? What’s the point? Are you that insecure?”
The brat was precocious. This displeased the dragon master. “Well, are you ready to lose? Your League challenge ends with me, Mary Leaf!”
But of course, it didn’t happen that way.
Present time
Dragonite stood over the fallen Garchomp and pumped a first into the palm of her right arm in a gesture of triumph. His Dragonite, though labored of breath and covered in cuts and burns, was incredibly proud of her hard won victory. Lance himself felt a little empty.
Cynthia was the shrewdest opponent he’d ever faced. She seemed at times to be three or four steps ahead of him, and it had indeed been an uphill battle for him. Yet it seemed just another meaningless accolade. He sighed, and recalled his Pokémon.
After having done the same, Cynthia looked at her opponent with a sort of bemused wonder. “Are you alright? You look like you’re the one who lost this one. Enjoy your victory!” She seemed genuinely happy for him, and Lance wondered why.
He’d won, but he still felt unhappy. What was eating at him so? He had thought back to that battle from years gone by, but it had never plagued him. On the contrary: defeating Gary Oak a year after his defeat had restored his dignity and made him the Indigo Champion. Ah, but perhaps that was it—he had worked his way through the Hoenn and Sinnoh leagues but he had never beaten Mary Leaf. The trainers he had faced were subtle and skilled on a level surpassing that plucky youth, but the balance sheet still stood in her favor: he’d never beaten her. Why did that bother him, why now?
Still, there was one thing that could always clear his head. “Yes, you’re right of course. Would you care to join me for dinner,” he asked as he extended his hand.
Cynthia accepted his handshake, but then turned a sad smile in his direction. “Is that how you ensnared poor Misty of Cerulean, or that steel trainer? I’m a little too old to be your plaything, and a little too wise to be awed by your attentions.”
Lance affected surprise, but decided to play it straight. “You seem terribly well informed. There’s no way you could have found that out on your own—who told you?”
“Who do you think?” Cynthia challenged.
“Ah,” Lance said. The spurned one. She had been willing to accept Misty as a dalliance—the talented water trainer was a bit tomboyish for his tastes, but she had an infectious smile, a carefree manner, and a way of mixing things up… but his other impropriety (that she knew of, anyway) was personal. She had thought she was the only object of his sincere affection, which was true for a time, but things changed on his journey through the leagues.
And indeed, Lance found himself wondering just how much things had changed. Had Leaf improved just as he had? Had she caught any magnificent specimens? He even found himself wondering how she looked now, as she would have presumably just reached adulthood. In all that, his failure to have his way with Cynthia suddenly meant very little—as did the rest of it.
“Keep your title,” Lance offered, “I spent too long running the Hoenn League, and I haven’t the time to do the same here—I’m sure you’ve run Sinnoh better than that foolish magician."
Cynthia looked at Lance as if he’d grown three heads, but she seemed happy enough with the arrangement. Lance didn’t particularly care—he had someone to find, and he knew who to ask first: the gym leader of Viridian City.
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