By the next morning, we'd left the desert and completed our trip to Phoenix to refuel. I figured it would be a good place to learn Flygon's moveset, strengths, and weaknesses.
He had wanted to fly beside us until Phoenix, so before we left, I called in a PAP drone to fix his broken wing and patch him up.
"You need a name," I said quietly.
He tilted his head, the sound he made low and thoughtful, almost curious.
I smiled faintly. "Simon," I decided. "You look like a Simon."
His tail flicked once, amused warmth echoing through the link between us. Simon, he repeated softly, as if trying the word on for size.
"Welcome to the team," I murmured, clipping his Poké Ball to my belt.
"You're really talking to him like that?" Skyla asked, climbing down the cockpit ladder.
"What'd you name him?"
"Simon," I said.
She grinned. "Kind of dignified for a dragon."
"So is he," I said simply.
I whistled to get his attention and had the drone deploy a training hologram like I had with Scizor.
Simon hovered above the cracked earth, his wings stirring up spirals of red dust with every beat. The air trembled around him. I shaded my eyes, smiling. "You ready to show me what you can do, big guy?"
He gave a low rumble that rolled through my chest like distant thunder, not aggressive, but eager.
Skyla adjusted her aviator shades, glancing at the PokéBots as they projected a faint blue grid over the training ground. "Shield perimeter's stable. Don't blow a hole in my flight field, okay?"
Simon growled softly, amused. No promises.
I laughed and took a few steps back. "Alright, partner. Show me what you've got. Anything."
He cocked his head, eyes gleaming, then lunged forward in a blur of motion. Energy crackled around his claws, green light gathering into jagged arcs. He carved a sweeping strike through one of the hovering targets, the blow so fast it left a streak in the air.
"Holy-" I caught myself. "That's Dragon Claw."
Skyla nodded, scanning her wristband. "Impact velocity reads off the charts."
PAP Training Unit-07: "Close-combat energy signature detected. Power yield: 88%. Move recognition confirmed. Dragon Claw registered."
Simon's chest rumbled with satisfaction. That one felt good.
"Yeah," I said, shielding my face from the sand kicked up by his wings. "I can tell."
He circled back, wings beating hard enough to stir mini-cyclones across the plateau. Then he rose higher, the air pressure dropping with the altitude shift. Without warning, he folded his wings and dove, tucking his body mid-dive like a cannonball. At the last second, he flipped forward and extended his tail, now crackling with green energy. He slammed it into the ground like a meteor.
Then the earth split open.
A shockwave ripped through the ground, shallow fissures spreading outward in all directions. Dust exploded skyward, and the impact knocked me back a step. The PokéBots jolted midair, their lenses flashing red.
PAP Training Unit-07: "Seismic activity detected! Ground resonance level: extreme. Move recognition confirmed. Earthquake added to Flygon's move set."
Skyla stumbled, laughing despite the tremor. "Okay, that's enough to register on local radar. He's got raw muscle under all that elegance."
Simon lifted his tail, wings flicking in pride. Was that too much?
I grinned, coughing through the dust. "Just enough. Any harder and we'd have to apologize to Arizona."
The sand settled slowly, the plateau steaming with trapped heat.
I looked up at him again, curious. "Okay, so physical strength, check. You've got that down. But what about range? You've gotta have something for distant engagements, right?"
Simon tilted his head, then opened his jaws slightly and released a low, pulsing hum. The sound was subtle at first, then sharpened until it shimmered through the air like glass under tension.
The PokéBot flickered.
PAP Training Unit-07: "Sound-based emission detected. Frequency: 31.8 kilohertz. Move recognition verified. Supersonic registered."
Skyla watched the targets ripple in the wave's path. "He's using the resonance to distort air pressure, like hitting turbulence with a soundwave."
I nodded. "Can you… Focus that?" I asked Simon. "Make it sharper, maybe stronger?"
He hesitated, wings shifting restlessly. I can try.
He inhaled, a long, deep draw that made the desert air pulse. The sound that followed was far more than a hum.
The first ring of compressed air burst outward like a cannon blast, scattering dust and debris. The shockwave hit the training grid and rattled the PokéBots in midair.
PAP Training Unit-07: "Warning: output exceeds safety parameters. Containment field destabilizing."
"Simon!" I shouted. "Ease off!"
But the next wave had already left him. The Boomburst struck the grid's barrier and flared like lightning across the sky. The desert roared in answer.
Skyla threw an arm up to block the wind, laughing through the chaos. "You weren't kidding when you asked him to make it stronger!"
Simon staggered midair, stunned by his own power. The vibrations still shimmered around him, raw and uncontrolled. I could feel his panic flicker through our link.
I didn't mean-
It's okay! I sent back quickly. Breathe, Simon. Pull it in.
He hovered shakily, chest heaving, before letting out one last low, measured pulse, a quieter echo of the earlier blast. The energy softened, spreading gently through the hot air like the after-ring of a struck bell.
PAP Training Unit-07: "Attack stabilized. Power yield: 108%. Move recognition confirmed. Boomburst added to Flygon's move set."
Simon exhaled hard, landing beside me with a thud. Too much power for such a small trick.
"Not a trick," I said, brushing grit from my jacket. "A statement."
Skyla lowered her shades and grinned. "You're lucky the desert's empty, otherwise we'd be explaining that one to the FAA."
Simon gave a weary snort, curling his tail around himself. Still think you want me using that indoors?
"Let's start with outdoors only," I said, smiling. "Preferably far away from civilization."
The PokéBots whirred as they reset the grid, flickering in and out of sync.
PAP Training Unit-07: "Session summary: combat proficiency verified. Move log updated. Dragon Claw, Earthquake, Supersonic, Boomburst. End of report."
Skyla turned toward me, her expression thoughtful. "He's a natural flier, strong and fast, but that kind of power's got to be earned, not just used. I can work with him after you battle Burgh."
"That'd be great!" I said, watching Simon as he stretched his wings again, dust scattering like mist around him. "He just needs to find a rhythm."
Skyla smiled faintly. "Sounds like someone else I know."
The wind shifted, carrying the last echo of Simon's hum through the canyon with a deep, resonant tone that faded into the vast desert silence.
By sunset, the plateau had cooled to a burnished orange. Skyla double-checked her flight panels while Zoey lounged against the plane, pretending she wasn't impressed. Simon rested nearby, eyes half-closed, sand curling around his claws in slow spirals.
"You think Burgh's bugs are ready for that?" Skyla asked quietly.
I smiled. "No. But I think I am."
She nodded, glancing toward the horizon. "Wheels up at sunrise. Eastbound tailwind should put us in New York by lunch."
Zoey groaned, stretching. I hate mornings.
You hate everything before coffee, I teased.
She smirked. And yet I'm still the reliable one.
Skyla climbed into the cockpit to run diagnostics while I stood with Simon, resting a hand against his scaled shoulder. "Good work today," I said quietly.
Now that the plane was refueled, we left for New York.
The hum of the engines was steady, almost soothing, a low vibration that filled the small cabin as we cut through a band of afternoon cloud. I sat in the co-pilot's seat beside Skyla while Zoey dozed in the back, curled under a spare flight jacket.
Skyla adjusted the throttle, one hand light on the yoke, eyes flicking over the instrument panel. The cockpit door behind us stayed open so I could still see Zoey's ears twitch every time the plane banked.
I scrolled through Skyla's League profile on my phone, the glow from the screen painting my hands blue in the dim light.
Name: Skyla
Age: 24
Occupation: Certified Pilot, Gym Leader (Santa Monica)
Affiliation: PAP - Shield Division
Known Alias: The Winged Ace
I smirked. "The Winged Ace? Really?"
She grinned, eyes still on the horizon. "Don't blame me. The League press came up with it after I landed a crippled Beartic-class transport during a storm. Apparently, 'Ace' sounded better than 'Lucky.'"
"Guess they weren't wrong."
She only shrugged, calm as ever.
The next lines scrolled down.
Appointed Gym Leader at sixteen. Logged over 300 long-range flights. Zero civilian casualties.
I raised an eyebrow. "Three hundred flights?"
"Three hundred and two," she corrected. "They never update those files fast enough."
Her tone wasn't bragging, just matter-of-fact, like she'd lived enough danger to stop romanticizing it.
I skimmed the last entry.
Authorized for intercity trainer transport and humanitarian response under Level-2 League Priority Clearance.
"So that's how you got us into Teterboro," I said. "Didn't peg you for League royalty."
Skyla chuckled. "Hardly. It just means PAP trusts me not to land in Central Park."
Behind us, Zoey stirred from her nap, her voice brushing through my thoughts. If she does, I'm haunting you both.
I snorted before I could stop myself.
Skyla glanced sideways. "What?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, waving it off. "Zoey's just… being Zoey."
Her lips quirked. "I'm starting to learn what that means."
The clouds ahead thinned, and the skyline came into view, glass towers glinting through the haze, the Hudson a ribbon of silver light beneath us.
Skyla steadied the plane with a small correction, her voice quieter now. "You look nervous."
"Just realizing I might be in over my head."
She smiled without looking away from the horizon. "Good. Means you're exactly where you're supposed to be."
The altimeter ticked lower as the city grew closer, sunlight rippling across the fuselage.
We arrived in New York just as the afternoon light started bouncing off the glass towers, painting the streets in gold and gray. Zoey had been quiet the whole ride, which usually meant she was either thinking too much or plotting something. By the time we reached the hotel, I finally asked what was on her mind.
Atrea, she said in my head, her tone calm but deliberate, I think I'm sitting this one out.
That stopped me in my tracks. You're what?
She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. I said I'm skipping the Burgh battle. Let Trilla and Scizor handle it. I need to work on something else anyway.
Something else, I repeated, half in disbelief. You hate missing a fight.
Yeah, well… bug types piss me off. Her eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Besides, I've been thinking about what happened with Skyla. I got off easy against her Swoobat, but whenever I battle Flying types, I feel like I'm fighting ghosts. If I can learn to adapt and read them, I'll be even more effective. I figured maybe she can help.
I followed her glance toward Skyla, who was unpacking her flight gear from her duffel near the curb. You want to train with Skyla?
She's a pilot, right? She knows how Flying types think. If I can't fly, I might as well learn how to fight like I can.
I hesitated, then nodded. Alright… I'll let her know.
I turned to Skyla, who looked up as I approached. "Hey, Zoey wants to sit out my Gym match tomorrow. She, uh, wants your help with something instead."
Skyla blinked, clearly surprised. "Really? She said that?"
"Yeah," I said, smiling faintly. "She wants to get better at countering Flying types. Figured you'd be the best person to teach her."
Skyla tilted her head, a grin spreading across her face. "Well, I can't say no to that. She's got the reflexes for it. I'll run her through some agility drills while you're with Burgh."
Zoey nodded toward her, giving a confident smirk that Skyla couldn't interpret, but I easily could. Guess we've got a deal.
Skyla laughed softly, though she couldn't hear the words. "I have no idea what that look means, but I'll take it as a yes."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. "Be careful with her. She's got an ego and claws to match."
"Don't worry," Skyla said, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. "I've dealt with worse attitudes in the cockpit."
Zoey's eyes glinted. We'll see about that.
As the two of them walked off toward the training fields by the pier, I couldn't help feeling a strange hollowness. Zoey had been by my side in every battle since day one. It almost felt wrong getting into one without her. But watching her stride off with Skyla, tail flicking with quiet determination, I knew she'd made the right call.
The afternoon light in New York was sharp and cold, bouncing off the windows like it was trying to burn the fog away. Skyla and Zoey were at the training field by the waterfront, which left me with the rest of the team.
Trilla sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded neatly in her lap, her dress catching the soft glow of the TV. Scizor stood by the window, motionless except for the faint rise and fall of his breathing vents. Simon rested on the balcony rail, tail swaying lazily, his wings humming a low rhythm as he watched the city below.
I called them over as I spread Burgh's gym schematic across the coffee table. The paper was creased from the long day, but the diagram itself was mesmerizing. A sprawling circular arena covered in irregular patches of platforms, vines, and puddles of color where paint had clearly been spilled intentionally.
"An art installation and a battlefield," I muttered, tracing one finger along the central ring. "Figures."
Simon leaned over my shoulder, his wings folded tight so he wouldn't clip the lamps. Looks like a trap to me. Half those ledges don't even connect.
"They don't," I said. "Some of them rotate. The League notes say the terrain changes between rounds, but it doesn't say why."
Trilla sat cross-legged on the carpet, eyes glowing faintly as she studied the blueprint. Her voice brushed against my mind, gentle as always. The energy readings on the floor markers don't look natural. Psychic influence, maybe?
I shook my head. "Burgh's not a Psychic specialist. It's something mechanical. Maybe the system reacts to movement, like the field 'responds' to the art being made."
Simon tilted his head. So… we paint the floor while trying not to get wrecked.
"That's one way to put it," I said, smiling despite myself.
Scizor stood behind us, silent as usual, the low whir of his thrusters the only sound he made. His gaze lingered on the patterns marked in red. Bursts that looked almost like splatters. He pointed to them with one claw.
I followed the gesture. "Yeah. That's where the paint underneath the floor accumulates. Maybe attacks and movement leave pigment trails, and each change in color triggers the arena shift."
Trilla glanced up at me. So the battlefield changes as the fight becomes more… expressive?
"Exactly," I said. "Burgh's whole thing is creativity in motion. Every move is a brushstroke. Every battle is a painting." I paused, staring at the diagram again. "We can speculate all we want, but I don't know for sure what triggers the transformation between rounds. It could be a timer, or maybe he decides when the 'piece' is complete."
Simon let out a low hum, his tail twitching. I hate surprises.
"You and me both," I said. I folded the schematic and tucked it back into my bag. "Still, if it's art we're talking about, then chaos is part of the plan. We'll adapt."
Trilla smiled faintly, folding her hands in her lap. You always say that, and yet you always do.
Scizor nodded once, his metal frame gleaming under the dim lamp.
I leaned back against the couch, letting the sound of the rain fill the silence. "We're heading out in 30. Just know that this battle is likely going to be messy," I said. "But that's okay. Sometimes the best art is."
Simon smirked, the faintest flicker of flame in his eyes. Then let's make something unforgettable.