A Saga of Tanya the Chansey: 40

A/N: Ok. So. I added a Wattson interlude to chapter 37. I'm adding it here, and it works pretty much exactly as well. But if it seems like I'm going back in time here, it's because I am.

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“Now! I’ve got other challengers and you’ve got a journey to continue!” Wattson laughs, patting the young girl firmly on the shoulder and moving her toward the door. “Best of luck! At the rate she’s going, our partner’s going to be a monster.”

The Joy, Amelia he recalls, grimaces at her excursion from his praise, but tries to cover it up. Saying the typical farewell platitudes to his wide smile and cheery wave goodbye as she makes her exit.

Then the door closes, and Gilberd Wattson’s everpresent smile dims from its exaggerated public face to an expression of amused befuddlement. Running his palm over the bald top of his head, the gym leader looks up to the ceiling of his arena.

“Alan?”

“Twelve minutes to next challenger sir, first badge, skill class B2, trending upward with a 83% confidence.” His assistant’s voice echoes through the loudspeakers. “Would you mind hopping up onto the stands? We need to resurface the field.”

Wattson nods in agreement, walking toward the gate leading to the stands as, from the opposite wall, a long bar slides out over the field and gets to work, lifting dirt from some areas and laying it down in others while sprayers retouch the lines. 

He chuckles as the machine reaches the craters and blackened dirt of the battleground proper and slows to a near crawl, dirt quickly being moved around and soot filtered to get the field back in proper shape.

He has no idea how other gyms handle the workload without his gadgets, sure they’re not operating in the biggest city on the island –a fact he is still quite proud of– but they still have to deal with estimating the relative skill levels of every challenger in the pulsing rush of the gym circuit. To say nothing about field maintenance needing an entire mob of staff, his filtering and monitor system has saved him years worth of time and mental effort.

Wattson runs a palm over his scalp again as he catches himself.

Usually saves him time.

This year…

“Are we sure Porygon2 isn't still upset with me about the whole… unpleasantness?” He muses, smiling at the nearest camera. “I did apologize, but the skill sorter keeps throwing up…”

Alan sighs, the amplified sound echoing over the space.

“Yes sir, the IT crew looked everything over, per your request, we’re just having a few more… outliers this year.”

The Gym Leader snorts, rubbing his ear to clear the final bit of ringing from that chansey’s last egg bomb.

Outliers.

There are more zero badge ‘outliers’ in the first month than all of last year, ranging from what would normally be generational aces to already evolved nepotism starters. But, according to all evidence, they’re ‘just that strong.’

For seemingly no reason.

Wattson eases himself into the nearest seat with a groaning huff.

That chansey almost seemed normal by comparison with how clear cut the situation seemed on the surface.

A three ‘mon zero badge team, working together, might have been able to lift the glass strength filter if they had a few stronger members. Allowing them to move out of the zero badge assessment track and into the general assessment tests.

It was halfway through the reflex and endurance test that the system flagged the ‘mon as a probable nepotism starter and brought it to his attention. Though surprising to be coming from a Joy, his system is designed to compensate for ‘mon that find themselves attached to unsuitable trainers.

Watching through the cameras and seeing how they navigated the test was what convinced him to bypass the more in-depth assessment and send them to him early. Though not because of the chansey’s strength and skill, which –while strong– would just mean a disappointingly easy gym challenge from him.

No, he brought them to him because it was clear that the ‘trainer’ wasn't behaving like a leader. The same reason that he never got to see their second ‘mon, because the chansey was acting more as a chaperone to her human charge than a partner. It’s a near certainty whoever was in that ball was caught wild and not strong enough to be considered a ‘real’ partner. 

With that in mind, his decision to send them to fight him early and use a custom combination of his three and four badge paddock in what he privately calls his ‘solo buster’ team was the only reasonable choice, to teach both of them a lesson his normal badge challenge couldn't.

That coasting off of individual power cannot create the truly strong.

That this won’t work.

Wattson sighs, leaning back in his seat.

“Alan? How many people are in the maze right now?”

“Nine, sir.”

“Would you mind putting them on screen?” He asks, waving at the massive stadium display across from him. “And their highlights please.”

“Yes sir.”

Above, the screen flashes black, then changes to nine equal squares showing young trainers staring in confused bafflement at various points of his maze. A few seconds later, each screen switches to videos of their behaviors at key puzzles.

It’s just unfortunate he’s still underestimated the chansey without the benefit of any footage of battles outside his arena. Despite the situation seeming to work out in the end.

Wattson shakes his head ruefully.

He can count on one hand the number of chansey he can remember who’ve attached themselves to a trainers team, much less be an offensive threat. 

He didn't know they could learn egg bomb, and while he recognizes the familiar psychic wobble of gravity, he’s never seen it modified as a directable attack.

Though it’s clear there’s good reason no one else is doing it, gravity is –by definition– not a subtle move, and the clear amount of focus needed to change and maintain the source point requires almost preternaturally good skills at prediction to hit something right at the peak of needing to focus completely on the move. 

Trying to pull her attention in so many directions means it’s both a miracle and a testament to her skills that Chansey managed to hit anything. 

All that extra mental strain for presumably less energy on an attack that now needs to be aimed, and can thus miss, nets in a marked disadvantage compared to the original variant. 

Interesting, but nonviable.

The Gym Leader absentmindedly makes note of the boy on monitor two as he replays the second half of the last battle in his mind.

He’d been quite frankly surprised that the girl managed to get through the confusion and her partner's uncooperative nature to start working together. More so that they managed to pull a victory without having to release her second ‘mon. 

Such a result that could have easily reinforced their current methods as viable instead of a major misstep. Thankfully, from how she’d consistently reacted to his complimenting her partner to the exclusion of the trainer, he's sure she understands the lesson he’d been trying to teach.

Now it falls to the two of them to do something about it, and his fellow gym leaders need to test those convictions. Over and and over, until they’re the best they can be.

“Gym Leader, two minutes to challenger.” Alan’s voice echoes in, cutting though his idle musings. “The system recommends team 1-2B.”

“Alright, thank you Alan.” Wattson laughs, smile widening to its public form before he speedwalks toward his box as the pedestal holding a fresh set of ‘mon rises from the floor.

Stepping onto the dirt again, he gives a wince as his knees and back make their feelings known about what he’s been doing, but his steps don't slow.

There’s a reason people consider this a young man’s game, and why he’s seen almost three generations of gym leaders come and go in his tenure.

The Gym Leader feathers a hand over the balls as he comes to a stop in his proper spot, and in the reflection of those balls he can see his soul burning, illuminating his eyes from within with the same untempered blaze he’s seen in the mirror every morning since he was six years old. 

Even after so long, beneath all the tricks and gadgets he’s built around himself in the city he built.

He’s not done. 

Across the room, the door opens revealing the next challenger as he steps into the arena, blinking rapidly at the bright lights and slightly awestruck to be standing there for the second time, challenging his second badge in the largest venue only after the elite four arena.

Then Gym Leader Wattson releases a hearty laugh with a wide smile as those stunned eyes land on him. 

“Well! I see you’ve enjoyed my traps!”

Not yet.

—--

–_–

—--

“What are you doing you stupid bird!?” A familiar boy shouts breathlessly as he skids to a stop from a dead sprint. “You’re burning the grass! And why are you atta–”

“Shut up! Listen!” Combusken shouts back as he turns fully to face his partner, still in a combat stance, and points behind him. “That’s Happiny!”

The words bring the boy up short, blinking rapidly, then looking back at Tanya with suddenly interested eyes. 

“Wait… her? The ‘mon from your nursery that you wont shut up abo–” 

He’s interrupted by a loud squawk

“Shhh– Shut! Ye– n–” He stutters, turning his back completely on Tanya and flaring brighter. “The one you met! Who I mentioned once!”

There’s a look of amazed realization crossing the trainer’s face, but as he opens his mouth to respond he’s interrupted.

“Um…” Amelia calls out hesitantly, Taillow on her shoulder flaring his feathers defensively and her hand at the pokeballs on her hip. “Is everything–”

“You.” The red haired trainer interrupts, stomping closer. “You’re the ‘mon’s partner? I challenge you to a battle, what’s the wager?”

The nurse in training looks caught flat footed by the challenge, stammering for a second.

“Well I– I dont– I was actually just about to–”

“No. We’re fighting, how much?” He says, walking past her, stepping into one of the trainer boxes of the nearest public arena and turning to face her again with a smirk. “If you think you’re gonna lose that badly I’ll give you two to one odds on the wager. I already got the heat badge, so I just assumed you had gotten at least one.”

There’s a beat of silence as the words register, then Amelia narrows her eyes.

“No. We’ll do a normal bet. How does thirty five hundred sound?”

“Done.” He responds as Combusken steps into the trainer box beside him.

Only now, as she starts walking toward the opposite trainer box, does Amelia freeze and look back at her partner sheepishly.

“...Sorr–”

“It’s fine.” Tanya interrupts, brushing past, her eyes never breaking from the chicken’s. “The bird wouldn't leave us alone any other way.”

It’ll also be a good test of their improved communication protocol, which they’ve been theorycrafting since Wattson. Mostly on Amelia’s part, trying to filter everything for its usefulness and simplify it to a single word, and this will be the first time using it in a fight Tanya knows will be on relatively equal footing.

Combusken puffs his feathers indignantly at Tanya’s words as she steps into the other box, but as his feathers begin to flicker with tongues of flame at the edges and he steps forward, a hand presses onto his shoulder.

“Wh–!”

“Wait.” The trainer, who’d never introduced himself, says calmly as he grabs one of the two pokeballs from his hip. “Remember the deal?”

Combusken’s eyes widen.

“But this isn’t–!”

“Training your self control?”

“But…” The ‘mon trails off, eyes looking desperately between Tanya, his trainer, and the pokeball. “But it’s…”

His words devolve into an irritated grumble, his eyes locking onto his partner’s and staring up at him as if sizing the human up.

In the silence, Tanya sees Amelia lean closer out the corner of her eye.

“He’s being very rude.” She mutters. “Do you know them?”

Tanya blinks, then considers how to answer for a moment before responding.

“Just Combusken. He’s from my batch at the hospital, you’ve met before.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Oh him.”

Any further conversation is halted as Combusken drops his gaze, crosses his arms, then ruffles the feathers around his neck and head as he steps back from the edge of the box. Muttering something too quietly to hear across the space separating them.

Tanya gives a soft huff of surprise at the result, she’d been expecting the chicken to ignore whatever agreement he’d formed with his partner, instead there's nothing but but begrudging compliance. 

He certainly wouldn't have done that the last time she saw him.

Instead, the still unnamed trainer straightens up and holds out a pokeball in challenge, opens his mouth to shout something, then seems to freeze where he stands.

“What’s your name again?”

“...Amelia” She says, unimpressed, “and you?”

“Orwel.” He says, blinking as if seeing his opponent for the first time, glancing at her hair. “Wait, aren't you a–”

“Now who’s stalling?” Amelia interrupts with a glare, grabbing Tanya’s pokeball from her hip. “You backing out?”

Orwel widens his stance.

“Well alright then.” He growls, baring his teeth across the dirt. “Amelia! Our eyes have met! Send out your partner! Go Machop!”

“Chansey!” She responds, voice twisting in surprise at the call as their opponent sends out a ‘mon other than Combusken.

Tanya’s surprised too, glancing at her Rival as he seems to be straining every muscle in his body to not leap into the arena as an unfamiliar grey ‘mon fades into view with a few disoriented blinks.

But soon his eyes lock to hers, and she snaps to focus as he gets into a fighting stance.

Close high guard, reminiscent of some kind of boxing posture. Trying to be light on his feet, he begins to approach in a hopping stutter-step as Tanya mirrors him with much simpler and slower footwork.

He’s likely somewhat strong if he has proficiency at a martial art, as it’s clear his combat style has structure. She’s not extremely familiar with methods of hand to hand combat, but she’d assume from vague knowledge of boxing that he’s going to focus on attacking with the–

“Upper body.” Amelia calls.

–so she’ll need to keep that in mind.

As he closes in, the ‘mon quickly punches the air as if to warm himself up, then stumbles as the punches throw him off balance and disrupts his rhythm. He recovers, and a more precise plan begins to form.

Disrupt footwork.

Tanya grips the dirt in front of Machop as raises his foot to take another step, but he sees the faintly glowing earth in time and avoids it, but has to put himself off balance as a consequence.

He tries to bounce the other way to correct his center of gravity, then gravity is multiplied all around, and he’s only put further off balance with a stumble.

But even off balance he gets closer and, with a burst of speed, surprises her as he plants a leg in the dirt, stabilizes, then launches himself toward her with a heavy punch that whistles as the ‘mon shoots through the air.

Then embeds itself into her bulk with barely a ripple.

Tanya blinks as she glances down at the arm, buried halfway to the elbow in her body.

Ah…

She’d overestimated the threat here.

Machop looks similarly surprised, but he’s snapped back to reality at his trainer’s call of ‘backstep!’ and leaps backward. Following the retreat, he gets back into his boxing posture, but he seems hesitant to charge back in, unsure of what to do.

“Machop! Keep moving! Rock smash!” Orwel calls, commands that are quickly obeyed as the ‘mon approaches again, putting more effort into footwork and unpredictable movement.

Tanya continues her measured approach, crossing the halfway point of the ring.

Rock smash, from the name she’d assume it’s a relatively strong roc–

“Fighting move!”

–fighting type move. Meaning she should probably avoid getting hit with this one, doubly so with the typing advantage.

As her opponent sidesteps forward, her eyes calmly track him as he does, flaring purple, he slows and stains as a zone of gravity barely larger than himself envelops and tracks him. Entering his final approach, the ‘mon’s fists begin to emit wisps of white energy as it winds up into a massively telegraphed punch.

Then a clump of dirt flings from the side, smashes into his fist just as he launches the attack, and all the energy hits nothing but empty air as Tanya steps to the side to prevent a glancing blow.

Machop yelps as he stumbles forward, completely losing his footing in the enhanced gravity, but before he can fall flat to the floor, his descent is halted.

By Tanya gripping one of his flailing arms.

A few seconds later the ‘mon is groaning on the floor, Tanya staring down as she releases his arm.

That fight was… much slower than she’s used to. Downright leisurely with the amount of time she had to consider her actions. 

Machop disappears from his crater in a flash of red, and Tanya’s eyes snap to her Rival as the air suddenly feels uncomfortably hot.

Amelia says something and it’s almost discarded, but the ‘mon catches herself and focuses in, to break the habit if nothing else. 

It’d not been important, just a suggestion to use soft boiled, so Tanya waves her down without looking back.

Until she masters that move it’s a massive energy sink, and Machop barely dealt any damage. She’ll need that energy more to push her body faster and shield against further damage.

She takes a step back, giving herself a fraction of a second longer to react.

Especially with a type disadvantage.

Combusken looks up at his trainer, shivering with constrained energy.

“Now?”

The boy grins as he reclips his ball, then throws his arm out and points across the dirt.

“Go!”

There’s a blur, then a clump of dirt shoots up to Tanya’s left, predicting and deflecting a leaping kick as her Rival crosses the distance in less than a second.

She counters, creating a zone of gravity around herself, simplified equations allowing it to appear in a fraction of the time. The accelerated drop doesn't surprise him, using the increased downward force like a spring, he launches back from the other direction with another kick.

Dodging, she jumps to the side then compresses bulk to pull away from followup attack as he flies past. 

The abrupt change in direction has slowed him down, capitalize.

The chicken plants a single leg onto the ground and uses it to redirect his momentum upward, dodging two clumps of earth that fly beneath him, breaking them apart with another kick as they abruptly change direction to track him.

Then the gravity zone decouples from Tanya, enveloping him with a burst of concentration as she pulls an egg from her pouch and pours energy inside. Remembering just in time to keep it at a low yield to avoid trouble with the city.

Combusken is less prepared for the gravity so high in the air, squawking as the sudden acceleration disrupts a forming attack and the growing glow in his throat dissipates into exhaled smoke. 

He recovers, eyes tracking the approaching egg and twisting around with a kick to destroy the projectile. The resulting explosion is disappointing, barely stronger than a hand grenade, the smoke isn't thick enough to obscure Combusken being sent tumbling toward the edge of the arena.

Tanya charges to close the gap as her opponent lands, pulling another egg from her pouch as soon as it appears.

Combusken crouches into a launch and, with a flare of heat, burns brighter and shoots forward faster.

She grunts in pain as a kick lands with a sizzling thud before he disappears again, moving around in  preparation for another attack almost too quickly to properly track..

But she knows him. In different shapes admittedly, but she’s fought this fight countless times before. So she knows what he’s going to do next.

Backstep.

The tip of a claw whistles by, hitting nothing but air.

Gravity.

He stumbles on the landing as the laws of physics shift abruptly, allowing Tanya to get a grapple hold on one of his arms, the same trick that worked on her previous opponent.

But this time, as Tanya slams him into the ground and begins lifting him again, Combusken manages a heavy kick to the joint of her arm and forces himself from her grip.

He lands on his feet with a stagger and continues the assault.

Telekinetic dirt in his path is thrown upward, redirecting and preventing more speed, narrowing his options.

Combusken moves to suggest retreat to gather more speed, but it’s a feint, he’s going to jump back in. Right into another egg–

“Flamethrower!”

Wh–

As soon as the first syllable leaves his trainer’s lips Combusken completely changes tactics. Leaping backward in ernest, his throat bulges and begins to glow from within, followed by a deluge of fire. 

Tanya isn't fast enough to dodge the unexpected attack. Caught off guard, she can only shield her eyes as the flames envelop her and the world becomes red.

It hurts, almost like a strong sandstorm ripping at her skin that then sticks to her. Its not unbearably painful, but certainly not pleasant. No, the main issue is the fact she can't see anything.

Jumping blindly to the side to get away from the fire, it takes a second to realize she’s out.

“Double kick!” The trainer screams, and Tanya’s forced to try and find her opponent again despite tongues of flame still flickering across her body

Before she can lock on, pain erupts from her left side, a pain that comes from two levels. Both physical and as if the blow was antithetical to the energy that saturates her body, thus it punches through her defences like they’re not there.

She staggers, eyes finally finding a lock as Combusken smoothly transitions his first white tinged kick into a second, but can do little more and brace herself for–

It hits her egg, and while it still hurts, the reinforced shell absorbs the bulk of the initial force.

Better still it seems to hurt her opponent as he squawks and stumbles back, a reaction that she knows will result in him performing another flame charge to–

“Flamethrower!” Orwel shouts, continuing as Combusken obeys before he even gets the first word out. “Dont let her see!” 

Combusken obeys, but this time Tanya’s more prepared, and as the first flickers of flame leave his mouth he’s forced to dodge an egg bomb that flies toward his head. But he’s unprepared for the egg changing directions mid air behind him, the explosion knocking him forward.

Tanya takes a moment to breathe and assess as Combusken turns his uncontrolled tumble into a roll and staggers to his feet.

They’re just as close as the last time they fought, new tricks, but all the same.

As it stands they’re both hurt, and while her Rival hasn't taken the bulk of the blows even the weak egg bombs seem to have dealt significant damage. She’s not too much better, the flames and blunt force delivered at such speed can't be ignored, she can feel herself slowing down.

Then Combusken’s eyes snap to hers as he flares with yet more heat, more power, and he disappears into a flaming blur.

But...

He appears at her side, leg already swinging for another kick, and Tanya steps into the blow for a grapple.

…he’s still predictab–

“Combusken!” The trainer calls, power saturating his voice.

Then the kick lands.

…

Tanya pushes her face out of the grass and dirt, blinking several times as she tries to figure out what happened.

Looking around, she realizes that she’s not in the dirt of the arena and, looking back, can see the chicken standing in the center of the arena, staring at her with a surprised expression.

“Ring out!” Orwell calls giddily, smirking at Amelia as the words seem to snap her back to reality as Tanya climbs to her feet with a wince.

“Right! Taillow!” She calls, hesitating as she reaches for Tanya’s pokeball, then switching balls and releasing a panicked looking Taillow into the field. “Get height!”

Combusken twitches as his trainer calls for him too, looking around the arena as if confused as Taillow squawks in fear.

“Are you crazy!? I can't– Ah!” He screams, flinging himself off the ground as quickly as possible as Combusken’s eyes lock on to his new opponent.

Tanya softly groans in pain as she pulls herself to her feet, brushing dirt and grass off of herself as she begins trudging back toward the arena.

Ring out, she’d severely misjudged the strength of that last attack, apparently.

The ‘mon winces as she comes to a stop close to her partner, drawing power from her core to soft boil an egg for herself.

The most… irritating part is the fact that she’s not out of energy or unconscious right now, meaning there were still things she could have done to win.

A zone of gravity around herself might have given her enough weight to not fly as far, or better bracing herself against the kick, it was a lapse in her information gathering skills that allowed the attack to surprise her. Preventing him from getting the attack off in the first place, she knows how he moves, the vector and timing of the attack didn't surprise her. 

Tanya sighs in relief as a pink ghostly egg sinks into her flesh and the love within attacks the injuries with methodical efficiency. 

This won't happen again.

Next time.

Refocusing on the fight, Tanya realizes –to her surprise– that Taillow is still flying around. Devoted almost entirely to dodging repeated flamethrowers admittedly, but not getting hit.

“Double team!” Amelia calls, and sure enough the ‘mon pauses in the frantic flapping of wings to focus, then shimmering double images appear and disappear for split seconds with every wingflap.

Almost immediately Combusken’s flamethrowers stop having as much accuracy as the false positives mess with his reflexes and predictive abilities.

“Gah! Stop that!”

Taillow laughs between wing beats, adding a flourish to his flight as he swoops around a gout of flame.

“Aw what’s the matter!? Poor flightless chick can't hit me?”

Combusken stops breathing fire, glowing brighter as he stares up at his opponent with pure rage.

“I’ll show you flightless!” He screams as he crouches down in preparation to jump.

“No Combusken! Flamethrower!” Orwel shouts, but he goes ignored as his partner leaps into the air at the flying ‘mon.

Taillow dodges easily, laughing harder as he falls to the ground and tries again to equal success.

Amelia, seeing her advantage, calls out.

“Try to hit him from behind when he starts to fall!”

Unfortunately for Taillow, Combusken’s third attempt is much more successful, managing to predict him through the double team and sending the ‘mon tumbling into the ground with a well placed axe kick.

Then, as the ‘mon tried to take flight again, he’s enveloped in a stream of fire as Combusken falls to the ground.

Once the smoke clears, it reveals a thoroughly soot covered Taillow groaning in the dirt.

“Taillow?” Amelia calls, then sighs and pulls out her pokeball and recalls her partner before looking at her fellow trainer with a slightly trained smile. “Congradulations.”

Orwel grins and pumps his fist.

“Yes! Victory!” He cheers.

Combusken looks less happy.

“Wait… we’re not done!” He shouts, looking around at everyone’s faces. “I barely got to fight–”

He cuts himself off as Amelia pulls out her wallet as she steps into the arena and starts counting off bills as Orwel does the same.

She glances at Tanya as she makes to follow.

“Can you heal right now?” She mutters, looking up at the other trainer with a professional smile after Tanya nods in an affirmative. “Here’s the money. Now. Shall we heal your Pokémon?”

The trainer blinks rapidly, as if he’d been abruptly forced to switch mental gears.

“Wait you are a–”

“Shall we heal your Pokémon?” Amelia interrupts with even greater professional detachment, straightening her clothes.

“...Sure?” He half asks, handing over Machop’s pokeball.

“Double or nothing! We didn't win for real!” Combusken cries out as Tanya steps forward and tosses a weightless pink egg at him. “Chansey’s still conscious! We gotta go again!”

Amelia glances at the screaming chicken questioningly as Tanya tosses more healing at Machop’s pokeball, then Taillow’s after she sees it easily sink into the first ball.

Tanya sighs as she answers the implied question.

“Combusken doesn't think the victory is authentic, so he wants to go again.”

Amelia’s face lights up in understanding, then she smiles at Combusken.

“Oh don't worry Combusken, you won fair and square. But we’ve got to go, and aren't you here to fight the gym?”

Both ‘mon and trainer have their faces twist into an expression of embarrassed realization that look eerily similar to the other, and Orwel’s cheeks gain a faint tinge of red.

“Y-yea! Of course we are! I didn't forget!” He stammers, roughly shoving his wallet into a pocket. “I just knew this gym would be easy!”

Combusken doesn't look mollified.

“But– I–” He tries, looking from his trainer, to Amelia, to Tanya, then quickly to the ground.

Amelia, face still mostly wearing the mask of professional friendlyness, has the corner of her mouth quirk upward slightly at the two.

“Well, I’d recommend checking in with a pokecenter before challenging the gym, best of luck, but we’ve got to go.” She says, handing back the other trainer’s pokeball. “Thank you for waiting. We've restored your Pokémon to full health. We hope to see you again!” 

Then, her rote speech concluded, Amelia turns on her heel and begins walking toward the exit, Tanya walking right beside.

But as soon as her face leaves eyeline, the professional mask drops to reveal an expression of pure focus, eyes darting around and fingers twitching restlessly beneath a furrowed brow.

“Help me break this fight down, I’m not waiting until after the evening shift for a writeup. I need to know now.”

Tanya considers arguing the point, on the advantages of proper procedure, but concludes her statements would be received… poorly.

“At least write an abbreviated summary until we get on the train.”

—--

–_–

—--

Lightly stepping off the platform they’d had to change trains in and onto the other line, Tayna glances over at her partner as she continues to discuss every aspect of the fight with an overwhelmed Taillow, only given a reprieve every time she breathes.

She’d been surprised at how… energetic Amelia gets when breaking down fights, the loss more so as every pause, decision, and observation is interrogated, especially her own.

So absorbed in her discussion, she didn't realize who had followed them between trains.

Tanya carefully casts her eyes about the space, keeping the targets of her observation in careful view without giving away her intentions.

Five people, male, young, loud. They shove and banter with each other, interspersed with extremely loud bouts of laughter. Their behavior has everyone else on the train glancing at them with the extremely familiar mixture of discomfort and offence given to those violating the social contract.

But the boys are all wearing red.

It’s not extreme, a shirt underneath a hoodie, socks, a wristband, but all the same shade and worn so the colors have prominence despite the small surface area.

Team Magma.

Tanya looks away fully.

At least that’s what they want to be perceived as.

She’s never had to deal with the criminal element very much in any life, soldiers, looters, rebels, even terrorists, but never gangs. Her only reference point for their culture and methods are from shows she’d watched a subjective twenty years ago.

Even still, she has to think these children are, at most, groupies to the actual enterprise.

The uniforms make a certain amount of sense if she squints, it’s truly the best branding an organization could ask for, but she can't believe full blooded members would be so obvious when not in uniform.

Or so young.

Then they get off at the stop before Tanya’s, and the sighting is carefully filed away in her mind but otherwise not considered further.

---

A/N: My life!

In shambles!

(Not in a bad way, but in an overly dramatic way)
It's a hydra-like mess and I hate it!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I cant get anything done! Because the second I start to make progress, everything else rises up to stab me!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

...

Ta-ta All!