Chapter 10
“All I’m saying is, that battle? Fucking sucked.”
“I won. I do not see what your problem is.”
“Yeah, you won. Because you got fucking lucky. You just told your charizard to all rampage and shit and figured it was on him to handle it.” Titan turns in the great Nathaniel Morgan’s direction, confused, licking ice cream off his snout.
“I told him to use rage, and he did. That is called strategy.” Togetic whips past overhead, trailing a streamer of joy dust. You reach up to pass your hand through it, enjoying the tingle of the glowing flecks against your skin. You and the rest of the team are lounging in the sand, enjoying the spoils of victory–ice cream, mostly. The great Nathaniel Morgan sits alone at a nearby picnic table, contributing nothing but snide comments.
“Oh yeah, ‘just keep doing that one attack, good luck,’ that’s some serious fucking strategy there. Wish I could come up with shit like that, you know? Teach me your secrets, oh motherfucking master trainer.”
“I am not going to teach you anything. I want you to be quiet.”
You toss Titan another tub of ice cream. He eagerly pries the top off and starts licking at the dessert within.
“Damn but I can’t wait until you face Blue,” the great Nathaniel Morgan goes on. “He’s going to fucking wreck you, and he’ll be a complete dick about it the entire time. It’s going to be fucking great.”
“It is not like you could do any better.”
“What, in a battle? Freak, I could kick your ass–” He pauses as a gust of wind blows some of Togetic’s joy dust in his face, then sneezes explosively. “Ow! Fuck! What the fuck is this–?” He sneezes again, then pulls his shirt up over his nose and glares at you with watering eyes. “What the hell is this shit?”
You’re laughing too hard to answer, and Togetic comes drifting down to land on your shoulder, scattering another cloud of dust as she goes. Once you catch your breath, you say, “It is joy dust. Togetic makes it when she is happy. It makes you feel good.”
“Oh, well that explains it,” the great Nathaniel Morgan growls, slightly muffled through his shirt. “No wonder you’re acting like a fucking moron over there, it’s because you’re literally high.” Once Togetic’s lost interest and floated away again, he pulls his shirt down and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “Anyway. Like I was saying. You think you can beat me in a battle? Fat fucking chance. I ain’t no champion, but at least I don’t suck.”
Most days you’d be irritated by that, but nothing can put a dent in your good mood right now. “Oh, really? It is a pity you managed to lose your pokémon. I would enjoy showing you how wrong you are.”
“Yeah? Then lend me one of yours, asshole. Don’t matter to me.”
“Really? You think you could win against me with one of my own pokémon?”
“Easy.” He smirks as laughter overtakes you again. “Tell you what, let’s make a bet out of it, huh? Some jackass took all my fucking cash, you might have heard, so why don’t we say this: if you beat me, I’ll be quiet the whole rest of this fucking stupid trip.”
“You won’t say anything?”
“Not one single fucking word. Sound good?”
Sounds suspicious. “And what do you get if you win?”
“You get off my ass and let me do what I want instead of being glued to your hip twenty-four-fucking-seven.”
“No.”
He rolls his eyes. “One day of freedom, then.”
“No.”
“Come the fuck on! I ain’t gonna win anyway, remember? What the fuck’re you afraid of?” You feign disinterest, picking up handfuls of sand and squeezing until the grains slip between your fingers. Finally the great Nathaniel Morgan makes a frustrated noise. “Come on! One fucking hour!”
You turn back to him and say, “Half an hour.”
He growls to himself while he thinks, drumming his fingers on the table. “Oh, fuck me. Fine! Half an hour. We battle, and if you win, I shut the fuck up, and if I win, you let me out of your sight for half an hour. Deal?”
You take a few seconds to turn it over in your mind, checking for cracks. “Deal.”
“Ha!” he gets up from the table, unfolding with pained slowness, and picks his way down the beach towards you. “I woulda done it for nothing, just to see the look on your stupid face. But I ain’t gonna argue with a fucking perk, neither.”
You stand up too and brush some sand off your pants. You glance around at your team, of which only Thunderstorm is paying any attention to the conversation. “Who do you want?”
“Don’t care. I can kick your ass with any of ’em.”
You hesitate, considering. Finally you decide: “Since you think I did such a bad job with him, you should take Titan and show me how it is done.”
The charizard’s sunning himself amidst a litter of empty ice cream cartons. He starts at the sound of his name and twists around to look at you over his shoulder.
“Titan, the human would like to use you in a battle against me. Would you mind listening to him for a little while?”
“Oh.” Titan heaves himself to his feet, shaking himself until his wing-vanes rattle and sending up a great cloud of sand. “Sure. I’ll do it.”
“He is ready if you are,” you say to the great Nathaniel Morgan, who is watching the charizard with a hint of a frown.
“Charizard, huh? Yeah, I can work with that. What about you?”
“Why should I tell you?”
He shrugs. “You know what I’ve got. But whatever, if you’re so fucking scared of losing that–”
“Rats,” you snap. “I am using Rats.”
“Whuzzat?” The raticate rolls onto her back and squints up at you from sleep-fogged eyes.
“You are going to be battling Titan in a minute.”
“Give me ten to get ready, and then we’ll fight, okay?” the great Nathaniel Morgan says. He doesn’t wait for you to reply, just motions for Titan to follow him and starts walking away from you. The charizard gives you a bewildered look.
“Why should you have time to prepare?” you ask. “It is not like you normally do before a battle.” Rats scrambles up and starts stretching and combing sand out of her fur.
“You coming?” the great Nathaniel Morgan yells over his shoulder. Titan shoots you another confused glance, turns and stomps after the human.
“Hey!” you yell after them. “Wait! I am talking to you!”
If the great Nathaniel Morgan hears you, he gives no sign. Certainly he doesn’t stop. He can hear you, can’t he? You’re being loud enough.
You waver on the brink of going over and demanding a battle immediately, but confusion holds you back. By your feet, Rats chuckles. “Smooth, Boss.”
Titan stands by the great Nathaniel Morgan a little ways up the beach, out of earshot–or the earshot of a normal human anyway. You consider turning up your ears, decide against it.
So the great Nathaniel Morgan wants to have his secret conference? He thinks a few minutes of preparation will be enough to let him win? Fine, then. It doesn’t matter. You’re going to beat him no matter what. Like he said, you don’t need any extra advantages.
So you just watch. You don’t think even the great Nathaniel Morgan would be dumb enough to try anything with Titan there, but you aren’t going to turn your back on him. As far you can tell the human’s just talking fast, making little hand gestures, while Titan listens in an attitude of polite confusion.
“This is unwise,” Thunderstorm says from beside you. “He would not have made that bet if he wasn’t sure he could win.”
“I know he thinks he can win. He’s just wrong.”
“You have no idea how good he is at battling. Don’t be overconfident.”
“Come on, Thunder. He’s a Rocket. Everybody knows they suck.” You cross your arms over your chest and frown, still watching the distant pantomime. “And he’s stupid even for one of them.”
“Yeah. And you know I can take that big lug one on one anyway,” Rats says. She’s prodding at the sand by her feet, bored. Thunderstorm floats down to her level, zooming in close.
“From what I saw, that ‘big lug’ had to clean up a mess you left in the gym battle earlier today.”
“Well, maybe you saw wrong, three-eyes. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was hard to make things out from where you were cooling your ass on the bench.”
“Rats.” She stops talking but flashes her teeth at Thunderstorm anyway. The magneton drifts off again, much to your relief. The rest of your wait passes peacefully enough, War growing bored and playing a complex drumbeat on the surface of the ocean. It’s not long before you’ve done all the waiting you can stand.
“Hey!” you yell. Titan looks your way. “Enough. Let us battle, if you still insist on it.”
“Oh hell yes,” the great Nathaniel Morgan calls back, starting in your direction. “You got all that, big guy?” he asks Titan over his shoulder.
“I guess,” the charizard says, ducking his head in a nervous nod.
“Go on, Rats.” She takes up her place in front of you, a grim look on her face as she settles into a ready crouch. Her loss at the gym must have really stung. Well, she’ll get to redeem herself here. “Hyper fang!”
“Fire spin!”
Rats takes off at an angle, ready to jink around Titan’s attack. But it doesn’t come. The whirlwind of fire you’d expected to bloom around Rats whips up with Titan at its center instead.
Rats skips to a halt just outside the wall of flame, peering at it. She stays constantly in motion, bouncing back and forth around the perimeter of the attack, looking for an opening. There isn’t one, nor any way to see inside the fire spin–or for Titan to see out.
How does he expect hiding to help? You snicker to yourself and say, “Get ready with a hyper fang as soon as the fire goes out.”
“Like I need telling,” Rats mutters, keeping up her restless pace around the attack’s edge. The very moment the flames start to dissipate she’s on her way, lunging and sinking her teeth into Titan’s side. He roars and turns to unleash a flamethrower at her. Rats lets go and scampers out of the way, skipping light-footed across the ring of molten sand left by the fire spin. She backs up even farther when Titan sends another flamethrower slashing her way.
“Go for the whiskers,” the great Nathaniel Morgan says. Typical. It’s what everyone thinks of first, battling a raticate. They’re not even half as fast with their whiskers damaged.
“Another hyper fang when you see an opening, Rats,” you say. She ducks under more fire, then starts forward again, teeth bared.
“Now! Get it!”
Titan hooks his foot-claws under the rim of the slaggy, half-crystallized ring of sand the fire spin left behind. He lifts. Rats stumbles, caught off-guard as the arena moves beneath her feet. “Slash!” the great Nathaniel Morgan yells.
Titan lunges, claws at the ready, and Rats spins away, protecting her face.
That’s not what Titan’s aiming for. He reaches with his jaws, clamping down on Rats’ tail as it comes whipping into view. Then he rears upright, dragging the raticate backwards and into the air.
Both of you are too startled to react until it’s too late. Rats’ front paws scrabble across the ground for a moment, and then she’s hanging upside-down, clutching at nothing.
“Hey! What the–?” She flails around a bit but only succeeds in rocking herself back and forth. Titan is standing with his neck stuck out awkwardly, Rats dangling where she can’t reach any part of his body.
“You–you, you–put me down!” She tries to curl in on herself, reach up and claw at Titan’s face, maybe, or pull her tail out of his mouth. But she can’t reach and falls back in an exhausted flop, swinging like a pendulum.
“Rats.” You still don’t really understand how this happened. “Get out of there! Try–quick attack? Sucker punch. Something!”
“I swear, you stupid lizard, you’re going to pay for–nrrrrrgh!” Rats transforms into a crazy ball of paddling limbs, twisting gently back and forth but making no progress towards freeing herself. You can see the muscles in Titan’s neck straining to keep his head held out at such a strange angle, but he doesn’t look tired.
“Good. Now go for the whiskers,” the great Nathaniel Morgan says, and Titan brings his tail around and lines it up carefully under Rats. Then he starts to move it up, closer and closer to his helpless opponent. Rats, hanging in quiet exhaustion, sees it coming, her eyes widening.
“No–you–no! No no no nononononononononono!” The raticate throws herself into another fit of desperate struggling, to no avail. Titan’s grip stays firm, and the flame keeps moving closer. In another couple seconds it’s going to reach Rats’ face.
The pokéball’s recall beam reaches her first, and Titan’s mouth snaps closed as her tail vanishes from between his teeth. He rocks back on his haunches in the sudden absence of her weight and blinks in consternation.
“Worked like a charm,” the great Nathaniel Morgan says, a broad and hideous mockery of a smile spreading across his face. “Nice job, big guy.” Titan lets out a snort of surprise and jerks his head around to look as the human pats him on the side in passing.
The great Nathaniel Morgan stands in front of the charizard with arms crossed over his chest, his horrid grin stretching even wider. “Ooh, yeah, I was right. That look is fucking priceless.” But after a second his smirk fades. “Ugh. Actually, no, wipe that look off my face already. You’re making me look like a total fucking moron.”
“I won,” Titan says, staring at the arena in front of him, the place where Rats isn’t. Then his snout crinkles in a grin. “I won!”
He looks to you, hoping to share his excitement, but pauses on catching sight of your expression. His wings droop, and he knots his claws together, hunching his shoulders down. “Oh. Sorry.”
“No, Titan.” You’re barely able to get the words out between gritted teeth. He glances up at you, nervously, then away again. “You did a good job. Nice work. But you!” You turn and glare at the great Nathaniel Morgan, who raises his eyebrows. “You cheated!”
“Oh, really? And how the fuck did I cheat?”
“That was not an actual attack! You cannot do that!”
“Not an actual attack? What, you’ve never heard of ‘I win?’ It’s like feint attack except it’s super effective against total dickheads.”
“That is not even a real thing!” you howl.
The great Nathaniel Morgan shakes his head. “Honestly. What are they teaching you little monsters in school these days? Oh, wait.” He smirks at you again. “Never went to school, did you? I bet they wouldn’t take you ’cause you were too fucking ugly–”
“That battle does not count! You only won because you cheated. You cannot beat me in a fair fight!”
“It’s not cheating, Freak. It’s called fucking strategy. Maybe you oughta try it sometime. Starting with teaching your raticate some goddamned distance attacks already. If you don’t, you’re just going to end up getting fucked over when somebody with half a brain puts their pokémon out of reach. I mean, you didn’t even teach it fucking hyper beam? I thought all the dumbass newbies loved hyper–”
“I do not want your stupid advice. I do not take advice from cheaters!”
“–is your strongest, but that doesn’t mean you can just throw it at everything and expect it to be able to bite it to death or whatever–”
“Shut up. Shut up! That battle does not count. You will not get your stupid reward.”
He shrugs and smirks at you again. “Huh. Not like I was really expecting you to keep your fucking word.” He uncrosses his arms and wanders back to his spot at the table, followed by Titan’s morose gaze. “But guess what, Freak? I already got my fucking reward. And it’s that you’re never. Ever. Going to live this one down.”
Indeed, the great Nathaniel Morgan’s still going on about the battle at dinnertime. You’d hoped food would shut him up for a while, but he doesn’t have a problem with talking while chewing. If anything, he’s more expansive than he was before. “All I’m saying is, you want to actually win against somebody who knows what they’re doing, you’ve got a long way to go,” he says.
Your pokémon have already eaten and gone off on their own, leaving you to pick at your food and try to ignore your remaining dinner companion. He’s already eaten two of the center’s stiff, squashed burgers and shows no sign of slowing down.
“Like what the hell kind of trainer tells their charizard to rampage all over the fucking place? Sure it’s kind of badass, but you can’t just rage at shit and expect to win against anybody with half a fucking clue. Plus one of these days it’s gonna come back and bite the two of you in the ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down for fucking weeks, like that shit is dangerous, dumbfuck.”
You grimace and pull your tray a little closer to you, just to be safe. For once you wish the great Nathaniel Morgan wouldn’t curse so much. All those “f”s are dangerous when he’s talking with his mouth full.
“Not that I blame you for having trouble with it,” the great Nathaniel Morgan goes on, stickily. “I swear to God I’ve never met a dumber pokémon in all my fucking life. I could barely get it to understand even real fucking simple instructions.”
“Shut up. Do not talk about Titan like that.”
“Why the hell shouldn’t I? Who’s the one who just got fucking curbstomped? I know what I’m talking about, Freak. At least I know more than you.”
You don’t meet his eyes, prodding experimentally at your pudding. It looks a bit more appetizing than the rest of what’s on your plate. “I told you. It does not matter that you won. You do not know anything. And I will not allow you to talk about my friends like that.”
“Yeah, yeah, it doesn’t count or some shit. That what you’re telling yourself?” You wrinkle your nose as he spews spitty crumbs everywhere with a laugh. “Face it, Freak. You lost to the fucking Rocket scum. You’re a shitty trainer, and no amount of bitching at me is going to change that.”
“I do not have to face it because it is not true. You can keep saying the same things over and over again, but that will not change the fact that you are a weak, stupid human who cheats.” You shove a spoonful of pudding in your mouth to shut yourself up. You shouldn’t even be talking to him. But ignoring him doesn’t help, either, and you’re beyond tired of his sneering rants.
“That so? You want to talk weak and stupid, maybe you oughta take a look at that raticate of yours. Fucking pathetic, that’s what it is.”
“Shut up!” You bang the fist holding your spoon down on the table so hard some of the soda in your glass sloshes over the rim. “I told you not to talk about my friends like that, and I meant it. If you keep saying those kinds of things, I will–”
“You’ll what?” He leans forward now, food forgotten, and lowers his voice so you have to strain to hear. “Set me on fire? Make my head explode? In front of everyone here?”
There’s maybe a dozen other people in the cafeteria, humans and their pokémon. The two of you have a table to yourself, shoved up against the wall, but it’s true–there are plenty of witnesses.
The great Nathaniel Morgan flicks a glance around the room, as if to drive his point home, then turns a smirk on you. “Yeah, that’s right. So just what the fuck do you think you’re going to do to me, huh? What would you do if I told you that lardass charizard of yours is the weakest, pussiest, ugliest excuse for a retarded lizard I ever–”
“I said shut up! Do not talk about him like that. I do not even care who is watching, I will–” realize with sudden cold certainty that the room has gone quiet and every single eye is on you. Find yourself standing up with your fist drawn back as if preparing to drive it through the great Nathaniel Morgan’s smug, ugly face. Discover that your hand hurts for some reason.
You open your fist, and your spoon clatters unevenly to the table. It’s a useless mess of metal now, bent and twisted back on itself from the force of your grip. After a moment of surprise, you realize that now everyone is staring at the spoon instead of you. You shuffle it hastily onto your tray under a litter of used napkins, then sit back down again and try to act like nothing’s happened.
“This center silverware,” the great Nathaniel Morgan says blithely. “Completely shitty, am I right?” He’s gone back to eating.
You wince as a young girl bangs her fork experimentally against the edge of her table. You sit and stare down at the remains of the meal in front of you, not even seeing it. You force yourself to stillness and as close to calm as you can manage, waiting, meeting no one’s eye. Gradually, conversation in the cafeteria starts to pick up again.
After a few minutes you realize that the fries the great Nathaniel Morgan’s eating are yours and decide dinnertime’s over. “You are going to pay for that,” you hiss at him.
“Oh, I know. Totally fucking worth it, though.” He stares right back at you, and there’s not a trace of fear in his expression.
“Take your tray back to the kitchen,” you say, gathering your own. “If you know what is good for you, you will not make a scene.” From now on, he’ll be getting his meals in your room, and let him complain as much as he likes. This was a disaster. And, you think as you dump your tray off into the garbage, to top it all off, you didn’t even get to finish your pudding.
You aren’t surprised to find Rats back at the room, taking advantage of the quiet to get in a good nap. She’s the only one there. The great Nathaniel Morgan lowers himself onto his own bed, favoring his injuries, and takes to staring at the ceiling.
You glare at him. “Do not even think you can ignore me. You are going to regret saying those things about my friends.”
“Hey, Boss,” Rats says on the tail end of a yawn, “could you maybe keep it down? Trying to sleep, here.”
“I think you should leave, Rats,” you say, running your thumb back and forth over the side of your fist. Iron spines are starting to grow out from your knuckles.
Rats raises her head and squints at you. “What do you mean? What are you going to–oh. Hey, whoah, hang on a second. What’s going on?”
“Don’t worry about it, Rats. Just get out of here.”
She’s on her feet already, as alert and attentive as if she’d never been napping. “Hold it. I don’t like the looks of this. Why don’t we just take a minute and–hey. Hey! I’m talking to you, here!” She makes a running jump when you start towards the human, catching your arm and clinging, like she’s going to somehow hold you back.
“Look, you can’t go around beating people up whenever they get on your nerves, all right? What the heck’s your problem?” You try to twist your arm free, but she hangs on tighter, feet scrabbling for purchase against your side. You work to pry her off while you talk, your words coming out breathless and harsh.
“He made fun of Titan, Rats. He made fun of you. I told him to stop and he wouldn’t stop, and I can’t just let him get away with that, he can’t keep saying things like that. It isn’t right! Someone needs to punish him for being so mean.”
“That so?” Rats’ whiskers twitch, and she pauses for a moment. “Oh, well… Maybe if you just punched him once… No! No, kidding, kidding!” She tries to reach across and grab your other arm, too, while you do your best to shake her off without hurting her. The great Nathaniel Morgan watches the two of you struggling out of the corner of one eye, face expressionless.
“I’m serious! You need to chill out and think this over, okay? Hey–Absol! Absol, back me up, here.”
“Back you up on what?”
“Absol?” You jerk around so fast that Rats digs her claws into your arm to keep from being thrown off. Absol’s walking down the bed towards you, as casual as though she’s been there all along. You sit down at the foot of the bed, gut twisting with nerves and embarrassment, and Rats lets go.
“Backup,” she mutters to herself as she drops to the floor. “Gotta get backup. One second!” You barely notice the sound of the door opening and shutting behind her. Absol settles down next to you with her legs stuck out straight in front of her, calm as anything.
“Where the fuck did that thing come from?” The great Nathaniel Morgan’s raised himself up on one elbow, giving Absol a narrow-eyed stare. And it’s just too much.
“Stop it! Absol is not a thing, she is a person, just like you! Except better. And it is because of her that you are still alive, so you ought to show her some respect. Do not ever call my friends ‘its’ unless that is what they are. Do not call them ‘things.’ Call them by their names, and treat them like actual people, or you will not like what happens next.”
Absol actually blinks, and for a moment the great Nathaniel Morgan is struck dumb. But he’s never off-balance for long. “Wow. Jesus fucking Christ, I fucking get it already,” he snarls. He nods at Absol, who barely glances in his direction. “Sorry, your royal motherfucking highness. There. You want me to curtsy, too? God.”
Absol looks up at you. “Why are you so angry?”
“Absol, where have you been?” You run your fingers through her ruff, trying to calm down. “This stupid human is ruining everything. He’s slow, and he always complains, and he said mean things about Titan and Rats, and about me, and we had a battle and he cheated so he won, and I hate him. Why do you keep protecting him?”
Absol’s red eyes show no sign of emotion. “What makes you think I am protecting him?”
“Why can’t I just kill him? Absol, he should have died in the first place. He deserves it. He’s horrible.”
Absol rolls onto her back and stretches her legs in the air, one at a time, and languidly flexes her claws. Without looking at you, she asks, “Do you think killing him will solve anything?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have to listen to him anymore. And he wouldn’t be able to do more bad things.”
“He would not be able to do more good things, either.”
“He doesn’t do good things, Absol. He’s a bad guy.” You reach out to scratch her stomach, but retreat when you receive an icy look. “If you don’t want me to kill him, then just say so already,” you say as Absol tucks her legs back in and starts licking at her ruff.
“You are free to make whatever choices are not dictated by Fate. I will not deny you that,” she says without interest.
You make an exasperated noise. “I wish I could tell where that was.”
Absol gives the faintest of smiles and rolls back onto her stomach. “I came to make sure this business wasn’t causing any delay. Are you still expecting to reach the plateau within a week?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be there. I already beat the seventh gym. I got the badge today, see?” You show her the little pin you’ve stuck on your backpack, and she peers at it with polite interest.
“Congratulations. That’s very nice,” she says, and you grin and slide the bag to the floor again.
“So, are you going to stay for awhile?” you ask. Absol kneads the bedspread with her claws for a few seconds.
“For the night, I think.” You smile and scratch around the base of her blade, and she is content to be fussed over for a bit.
“So? What the fuck?” the great Nathaniel Morgan says after a few minutes. You shoot him a glare, and Absol gives him a bland look when you stop petting her. “You got any more pokémon that are just gonna appear out of thin air, or what?”
“No.”
“Well? What the fuck is up with that… with fucking Absol, then? You sure were having a real animal noise session over there.”
“Absol came to see whether my journey is going all right. Which it is. Except for you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Glad I could be of motherfucking service. What, so Absol’s all about you being the best there ever was and shit? How the fuck does a freak like you even get a fucking fanclub?”
“She does not care about that, no,” you say with a hint of reproach. Absol snorts. “She wants me to go to the plateau so I can find my brother. I need his help.”
“What the fuck? You have a brother? There’s more of you shits?” The great Nathaniel Morgan rubs at his face as if abruptly tired. “Oh dear God.”
You frown at him, then watch as Absol leaps down from the bed and stretches. She ranges around the room, sniffing at corners, peering into the A/C unit. The great Nathaniel Morgan says, “So why the shitty badge quest, then? Just go to the fucking plateau and leave me the fuck out of it.”
You don’t need to be hearing this from him, too. “I need to be able to get close to the Champion. Only people fighting in the tournament are allowed in that part of the plateau.”
“So, wait, the champion… Wait, the fuck? You’re saying the champion is your brother?” He gives you a calculating look. “I thought Red was a fucking only child. Not that I can’t see why they’d want to keep you quiet.”
Absol grows bored of wandering and jumps back up on the bed, stretching out across its full width. “Do not be stupid. Of course my brother is not the Champion,” you say. “My brother is Mewtwo.”