CYOA 2 – To The Victor Go The Spoils – Chapter 10: Underdog

Previously: Hanzo finally shook himself out of the stupor he had unwittingly fallen into. He sneakily finds out what his opponent's Pokémon might be and devises a strategy against it.

Will he win?

Warnings/content: Salazzle doesn't want any queens beside her; Pokémon typical violence

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Hanzo had never thought twice about serving someone food; certainly not in an erotic way. Putting the steaming slab of meat in front of a mountain of a man like Roadhog, though… it does things to him.

It shouldn’t. The size of a man shouldn’t weigh into – hah – how enjoyable it is to serve him food. Rutledge isn’t particular about his eating either; there is no greed or sloppiness. He eats calm and with focus, barely needing a napkin to wipe excess juices off his chin or the corners of his mouth.

And yet.

Something about it is making Hanzo feel gooey inside. Like a cute little housewife that is waiting for her husband’s approval. Waiting for a nod from him that would tell her she’s done well and later he’ll bend her over nice and fuck her over the side of the couch as a treat…

Hanzo’s eyes glaze over mildly as he keeps watching Rutledge eat, his brain coming up with all kinds of ludicrous scenarios; him being the small town’s toy; living the rest of his live as a whore, needing not to worry about his father or his brother or anything at all other than how fast he can spread his legs for anybody who might have a passing interest…

He’s only been playing the maid for a week and already, thoughts of giving up his journey altogether are starting to creep up in his head – and that, thankfully, is what finally shakes him out of the odd stupor he had fallen into the past few days. He had been in a rut; going through the town, getting perved on, serving Roadhog, training his Pokémon at night…

His tongue moves faster than his head, which is… unusual but welcome right now.

“I am ready to fight you.”

Rutledge pauses with his bottle of beer almost touching his lips, and throws Hanzo a searching look. He has no idea how to interpret it. All he can think about is that he must look like an absolute idiot in his maid uniform, standing there, clutching the hem of his skirt until he notices what he’s doing and stands up straight, chest out.

A dumb little boy that got to his second gym on sheer luck. That is probably what is going through Rutledge’s head.

“Okay,” he grunts finally, taking a swig. The fact that he is not asking Hanzo if he is sure, is making him feel… calmer. Like he is doing the right thing. Has come to the right conclusion. “Go and change. I’ll show you your foe.”

Hanzo bites the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t want to say that he’s already seen her… though the way Rutledge’s mean little eyes stare at him, it feels like he might already know somehow.

“Go,” he repeats, elbow on the table and fat fingers tilting the bottle that looks minuscule in his grip.

Hanzo jerks to life and turns, walking out on stiff legs, heart pounding a mile a minute. He feels… good. Really good. He’s never really made a decision like this one. He stares at the three Pokéballs on his bedside table. They’re vibrating slightly. Are they as excited as he is? Maybe even proud?

He can feel his cheeks heating up but doesn’t dwell on it. He needs to change.

.o.

Rutledge doesn’t talk much to him as they make their way the same route that Hanzo had followed him last time.

He’s not much of an actor so he doesn’t try to make it seem like he’s seeing all of this for the first time. He just remains as quiet as his guide, paying attention not to touch the poison puddles as they start to pop up at the edge of the way.

The clearing with its shimmering pools feels just as eerie with his companion as it had when he’d been there without permission. Rutledge has taken a bag of feed with him again.

He points to a spot not far from where Hanzo had stood last time, fat finger unwavering.

“Stay there. Don’t move.”

He doesn’t need to tell Hanzo twice. He stands with his knees locked and one hand clutching his Pokéballs as he watches Rutledge throw fists full of feed to the ground as the poisonous pools around him begin to bubble and froth.

Soon enough, the first black snout pushes out of the liquid. Within seconds the clearing is swarming with Salandits, grabbing feed and scurrying away with it so they wouldn’t have to share with the others.

Until, that is, the Salazzle appears. She moves out of the remaining pool with a sleek, predatory grace that has the small hairs on Hanzo’s arms stand on end. As she gets up to her hind feet and flicks off droplets of poison from her tail, the Salandit around her take notice and begin to offer her up the pieces of food they hold in their clawed little hands.

She ignores them in favor of stalking toward her trainer, tongue slithering out flirtatiously – until she becomes aware of Hanzo standing at the edge of the clearing.

Hanzo digs his heels into the ground, forcing himself to remain perfectly still as Salazzle rushes toward him, maw opened wide to attack. A sharp grunt of her trainer has her stopping dead in her tracks. She’s so close, Hanzo can smell the toxins covering her body. They don’t smell as bad as he would have thought, but it still makes his stomach roil.

He can’t wrench his eyes away from her until she finally turns away with a huff and a saucy flick of her tail.

“Quite… the welcome,” he croaks finally, trying not to appear as shaken as he feels.

Rutledge grunts, his fat paw of a hand petting over Salazzle’s sleek head.

“She gets jealous,” is his only explanation. He waves Hanzo closer, so he slowly does just so, taking care not to accidentally step on one of the many Salandits.

“She will be your opponent. Just one Pokémon. She’s old now, but quite experienced. I would not underestimate her if I were you.”

Hanzo nods. He wouldn’t have even without the warning. He briefly starts to have doubts about whether Magikarp would be able to deal with her… but- he can’t let himself get bogged down now.

“Who will be her opponent?” Roadhog asks, his little eyes fixed on Hanzo.

He opens his mouth, almost replying before thinking better of it. If he’s learned one thing in the week staying with this man, it is that he is painfully intelligent. He shouldn’t give him more ammunition than is needed.

“You will see that tomorrow,” he says, straightening his back. “I know your gym’s layout. It has everything I require.”

Roadhog scratches his belly and shrugs his shoulders.

“Fair ‘nuff.”

He is nonchalant about it like he is about everything else, but Hanzo gets the feeling that he is already starting to wonder what his little fuckdoll is up to.

A tug at Hanzo’s pants has him glancing down to see one of the many Salandit’s having grabbed on to the fabric to start and crawl up his leg.

Before he can react one way or the other, Salazzle screeches suddenly like a banshee and rushes forward, one clawed hand shooting out to grab the Salandit by the neck and rip it from Hanzo, holding it high in the air as if about to rip its scrawny little throat out.

Hanzo’s back is ramrod straight in an instant, his fingers clutching tight at the Pokéballs. Ponyta is almost burning a perfect circle into the palm of his hand as he demands to know with a rasp in his voice: “What is going on?!”

The Salandit is spitting mad even with its life handing in the balance, claws scratching at Salazzle’s arm.

“Stop it.” Rutledge’s grunt is low but… tense. His small, dark eyes fixed on the back of Salazzle’s head.

Her tail swishes, slicing through the air before she all but throws the Salandit across the clearing where it lands somewhere in the bushes.

“What just happened?” Hanzo is staring into the darkness, his heart pounding a mile a minute. He’s never witnessed two Pokémon so downright murderous when not even pitted against each other in a fight.

He can’t see anything rustling. Is the Salandit even still alive?

“It’s a female. Her daughter. The only one in the whole pack.” He moves one fat arm to indicate the writhing mass of Pokémon that had been utterly still while their matriarch had been close to killing one of them. “They don’t get along.”

No kidding is what Hanzo wants to say, but he can’t make his tongue work right now.

“Will she be alright?” he asks eventually with a croak to his voice, still peering into the darkness.

“For now, yes.” Rutledge shrugs one shoulder though Hanzo can sense that he is equally tense as Hanzo is after the brutal display. He shifts, blotting out the moon with his huge bulk.

“Let’s go back home. Tomorrow, we will fight.”

Before Hanzo can protest that they should not leave mother and daughter alone for a moment longer, Rutledge pulls out an old looking Pokéball into which he makes Salazzle retreat so he will have her the next morning for their match.

Hanzo follows him slowly, his skin still in goosebumps. Can Magikarp really do this? The thought of pitting the hapless Pokémon against such a killing machine has his blood run cold.

But there is no other solution. Not after he’s trained his Pokémon rather specifically the past few days.

They have to make it.

They have to.

.oOo.

Hanzo’s heart is pounding a mile a minute as he steps foot into the arena the next morning. Breakfast had been a very quiet affair.

He had not put on his maid costume, of course. That part is over and done with – and Rutledge had not made a single comment toward the change. He had, in fact, not said much at all, eating his eggs with what Hanzo feels like has been a meditative quiet that he tried desperately to copy.

The Pokéballs at his hip are vibrating softly. He presses his palm against them. It feels like they are cheering him on. He had let Ponyta out last night just to watch it stretch its long legs and power itself out a little, and it had actually come to him to nudge against his face with its warm nose, breathing a short-of-scalding breath against his skin in what he likes to think had been meant as reassuring.

He’s got this.

His Pokémon got this.

The middle of the arena is a large circle of water. He had been wondering about it, not thinking that Rutledge was a water type trainer, but after seeing the pools of poison that the Salandit and Salazzle are living in, it… makes a lot more sense.

Roadhog is standing on the other side of the field; huge and foreboding. His form has become very familiar to Hanzo by now. The sight of his large gut and big, muscular arms has his body go warm and tingly, ready to… service.

But this is not the time for that. Now is the time to fight.

“Are you ready,” Hog grunts. It is barely a question. His Salazzle is stalking the very edge of the arena, her tail swishing through the air with agitation. She looks like she is ready to kill.

Looking at her, Hanzo is reminded of the brutal way she had grabbed her daughter, about to snap her neck like a twig. Could he really do this to Magikarp? Too late now.

“I am,” he calls back, back straight, pulling away Magikarp’s ball from his hip.

Hog moves one fat arm, indicating the arena with a swipe of it.

“Begin.”

Hanzo inhales deeply, centering himself – then throws the Pokéball.

Over the distance he can barely tell but he knows that Hog’s mean little eyes are on the bright white light just as Salazzle’s are. She has stopped stalking and is completely still, watching the water as the light takes on Magikarp’s shape.

It is quiet in the arena for a long beat.

Hanzo waits for Rutledge to get angry and ask him what the Hell he is doing in a gym fight with a Magikarp. He can see a frown starting to build on the fat forehead as Hog obviously starts to wonder what he is up to…

But no reprimand comes.

Instead, a loud beep sounds, signalling the start of the match.

“Attack.”

Magikarp stays at its spot in the water, mouth gaping at the advancing Salazzle.

Hanzo curls one hand into a fist, doubt pushing into the background as his head becomes a lot clearer and his heartbeat finally begins to even out into a slower, calmer rhythm.

“Evade, Magikarp!”

As Salazzle hears the command, she automatically rearranges the trajectory of her body, anticipating Magikarp’s body to dive deeper into the water – while Magikarp uses the strength of its tail to propel itself upward, shooting into the air like a cannonball.

Hanzo can hear the grunt of confusion coming from across the arena. A fierce grin spreads on his face, one hand balling into a fist of victory at his side.

“Watergun!”

Magikarp twists in the air with its strong, stout body, staring at the Salazzle with its large, dumb eyes. As she turns her head up to stare at it, flames licking at the sides of her maw, getting ready to attack the Pokémon in mid-air, Magikarp suddenly shoots its own attack.

It hits her hard. She digs her claws into the ground but the grooves become longer and longer as she is being pushed back before Magikarp inevitably has to fall back into the water.

The silence is deafening. Roadhog has taken a single step forward, his round face slack with surprise or shock. Hanzo’s heart pumps fast, sudden arousal shooting through his body as he realizes that they have… they have a chance at winning. They actually do.

“That’s not a Magikarp,” Rutledge rasps.

Hanzo snorts. “Of course it is!”

Though he can understand the confusion; he’s never seen a Magikarp do much of… anything other than uselessly splash in the water and gape at its surroundings.

He decides to take the moment of surprise.

“Splash! Go on, overwhelm her!”

Salazzle is smoking quite literally; she must have swallowed a good bit of Magikarp’s Watergun and is now trying to jump-start her fire again while bracing herself on the ground, her eyes wide in shock and dismay.

Hanzo feels giddy. He can tell he’s getting a hard-on but he honestly doesn’t care. If the Watergun hit this hard… Splash might just do the trick. It does play into Magikarp’s strengths, after all.

Salazzle is old and experienced, though. As a sudden tidal wave is flung toward her, curtesy of Magikarp’s strong tail, she ducks and rolls off to the side, using her own tail to help propel her further.

“Toxic.”

Rutledge’s demand sounds so ominous, the small hair on Hanzo’s arms stand on edge again.

As he watches, Salazzle looks like she is about to regurgitate her last meal. Instead, as she opens her sharp fanged mouth, a sludge-like substance starts to drip out from it and into the pool of water Magikarp is in.

Within seconds, the poison is coating the surface, making it look much like the pools back on the clearing. His insides start to shrivel up.

“Magikarp, dive!”

It does do so, disappearing underneath the surface. Hanzo clutches his Pokéball, breath coming in fast, little pants.

This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. Should he call Magikarp back? But who should pick up the slack?

Salazzle is stalking around the pool, her tongue slithering out every now and then. She looks like she is thoroughly enjoying having her prey cornered. There is no sign of Magikarp anywhere; no bubbles, no small currents moving around the oily poison sheen on the water.

Hanzo’s heart clenches. Is… is Magikarp even okay?

As he thinks it, the Pokémon reappears –  belly up, floating in the water as if… as if it were

dead.

His mouth runs dry, belly immediately wanting to revolt. Oh God. What has he done? How far did the toxins reach into the water?

He can hear a shuffle. Rutledge is frowning. He looks also hesitant, which makes Hanzo’s panic go up another notch. His hand is trembling as he takes a step forward.

“Magikarp?”

Salazzle extends her claw. She looks so damn pleased with herself. What is she going to do? Pluck up the fish and eat it raw?

Hanzo’s body runs hot and cold at the same time, a voice screaming at him to get Magikarp and hurry it to the Pokécenter.

Rutledge’s back is stiff.

“Kid. Run to-”

That’s when Hanzo sees it: the minimal movements of Magikarp’s fins.

His mouth opens and then closes again, brain stalling, confused with what he is seeing.

Instinct takes over. He needs to trust his Pokémon.

“W-Watergun!”

Rutledge makes an angry sound, probably about to tell him to stop fucking around and getting his Pokémon the emergency aid that it needs-

When Magikarp suddenly twists around and shoots the attack right into Salazzle’s surprised face.

Close up as she was, the water hits her hard, throwing her back and having her roll across the dusty arena floor until she slams into the wall outside the arena.

She lies there for a few seconds motionless. Everything seems very still.

Finally she pulls herself together on trembling limbs, spitting water to the ground. It sounds like her fire has been completely doused. It would take a while to rekindle it, Hanzo is sure…

But even so…

He won.

They won.

Salazzle has left the space of the arena.

Hanzo stares at her, then at Rutledge standing frozen and slack-faced at the other side of the rink – and lastly he looks toward Magikarp. It’s expression is oddly pinched, mouth closed as it stares at Hanzo.

It occurs to him that it is trying not to ingest any of the poison coating the water’s surface thickly. He runs over, arms thrown open wide, and the large Pokémon propels itself out and into his arms. Where the toxic sludge hits Hanzo’s skin, it starts to burn; but Magikarp’s rust red scales look pristine as ever. Maybe they protected it from the poison?

“You did… so well. Thank you,” Hanzo whispers with feeling.

They won.

.oOo.

“That Magikarp… is something else.”

Rutledge’s dark, little eyes are fixed on Magikarp’s Pokéball put on the middle of the table after a visit to the Pokémon Center.

Hanzo is slowly brushing his fingers over the bandages Nurse Joy had put on his hands and forearms where the poison had lightly burned his skin. He nods his head, part grim, part giddy.

“It truly is.”

“You have special Pokémon. You need to take good care of them.”

Hanzo’s back straightens and he nods again.

Rutledge stares at him, then leans to the side with a grunt, pulling something out of his pocket. A moment later, he puts his gym’s badge on the table in front of Hanzo: a stylized pig’s face being roasted over flames which seem to spring forth from poisonous bubbles.

He takes it in hand, slowly curling his fingers around it. He’s earned this one.

“You get somethin’ more. Not for your win. But for playing along.” Rutledge keeps staring at him. “What do ya want.”

Hanzo’s mouth opens, then closes again. The offer takes him by surprise, and it shows. Rutledge begins to stand up with a grunt of: “You’ll leave tomorrow. Think on what you-”

“I want to be on top.”

He sits down again, staring at Hanzo quietly. Hanzo leans forward, his fist with the badge on the table, slightly trembling – with anticipation.

“I want to be on top of you. Ride you.”

Rutledge blinks slowly, face unreadable. A week ago, it had… honestly scared Hanzo, but now he pushes onward, coasting on the feeling of his win.

“And I want something else.”

“That so, huh? Little bit greedy, I’d say.”

He ignores that, leaning forward, eyes fixing Rutledge with an intense stare.

“I want the Salandit. Salazzle’s daughter. I want her.”

For the first time since Hanzo has known Rutledge, he looks honestly surprised – and hesitant.

Next time: Will Roadhog give Hanzo one of his Pokémon? Will Hanzo be getting more than he’s bargained for? Next time it’s Good Bye Lavaridge and Hello… Gogoat?