The situation on the field turned in a moment. Idris's two Pokémon had pressed their attack and failed, and instead the Typhlosion had taken a Hydro Pump from the Gyarados; it was picking itself up off the ground now, soaked through.
"Damn it, that Gyarados recovers too quickly as well."
Idris's brows were drawn tight. He had not expected things to come to this.
Earlier he had taken them for a few Intermediate-level nobodies, and it had never crossed his mind that one of those "nobodies" would be this good — good enough to push him this far.
"Idris, let me help you."
A young man appeared from somewhere and came hurrying over, taking his place beside Idris against Vance and the other two.
With him came a Pokémon of Advanced strength and three of Intermediate strength — weaker than Idris's, but a force in their own right.
"Oh, you have got to be joking. We finally had a sniff of winning and now — damn it, now we're in trouble. I don't know whether the boss can hold out. The two of us can at least keep those ones off him."
Ambrose hurriedly recalled the Pokémon lying on the ground. Only a Quagsire was left beside him to protect him, and Emery, next to him, had only his Machoke left.
"Fight together! Hold on — our support will be here soon!"
Vance shouted it, directing Gyarados and his partner, and with Ambrose's two Pokémon working alongside them they went to meet the other side.
With support at his back Idris joined hands with the newcomer, their strength much increased, and they fought Vance's four Pokémon to a standstill.
Ten Pokémon in all in the melee, the other side shifting from moment to moment; on the strength of Gyarados and his partner, both of whom were showing what they could do, the thing was held steady for the time being.
"This is no good. Holding steady means losing. These Team Rocket people have the numbers, and there's no telling when the support from Celadon will get here. We have to finish this quickly."
"I know that. But that Trainer over there is no ordinary man, and those two Pokémon of his are out of the common run as well. There's nothing I can do about it for the moment."
Cold sweat ran down Idris's forehead, and his eyes never left the fighting. Again and again he had tried to close in on them, and every time Vance had neatly undone it. He wanted the men opposite finished quickly too; he simply could not manage it.
Across from him Vance looked as steady as a rock, and inside he was anxious as well, because an Elite-class Trainer had his eye on him and had only been cut off on the way. He wanted the fight over quickly himself.
"Aah!"
"Damn it, my hand."
"It hurts!"
With the two sides at each other there were naturally casualties, and the number of dead was climbing; the unlucky ones had gone down on the spot at the very start.
"Rumble, rumble—"
Below, while Vance and the others were still hard at it, energy surged wildly overhead, and the force coming off it reached even the Pokémon on the ground.
"Elite-Four-class!"
A fight at that level had to be Elite-Four-class. Nothing but an Elite-Four-class could lay that kind of weight on him.
"Whrrr—"
Just then a Flygon came down out of the sky with a man on its back and landed not far behind Vance.
"Pah." Sylas got up unsteadily. Nothing was left of his earlier polish; one half of his handsome face was a mess of blood, and he spat out a mouthful of bloody water.
"Hahaha. Elite-Four-class or not, you're staying here today!"
Sylas said it coldly, to the sky. His landing just now had been the work of a single careless blow from the Elite-Four-class man up there.
He was not dead, though, and that Elite-Four-class man was tied up by two Elite-Four-class men of their own. Things did not look good for him.
"Roarr—"
On the back of a Dragonite sat a lean-faced man in the uniform of a League investigator, looking gravely across at the two men opposite.
"The Branch Chief of Pewter City and the Branch Chief of Celadon City. Two Chiefs joining hands against one man. Very creditable."
At the Elite-Four-class level every man was a name in his own part of the world, and being in the same region, the three of them counted as "old acquaintances" who had crossed swords a good many times.
"Heh heh. So long as it keeps you here, Bram will own to whatever discredit you care to name."
The speaker was a tall, spare man, hawk-eyed and hook-nosed, somewhere in his forties by the look of his face, smiling broadly at the other man.
This was the Chief of Team Rocket's Celadon branch, Bram, an Elite-Four-class Trainer who ruled his own corner of the region.
Beside him stood a burly man, the Branch Chief of Pewter City, also an Elite-Four-class Trainer. The two of them had joined forces to hunt down this Elite-Four-class man of the League.
"Just as I said. Leave the professional work to the professionals. Look — haven't we landed a big fish? There. That's professionalism."
"True enough. The young come up behind us and push us out. The pair of us only know how to fight and kill; we'd never have thought up a plan like this."
The two Chiefs said it cheerfully.
"Hmph. That depends on whether the two of you have the ability. Dragonite."
"Roarr—"
The Dragonite let out a deafening dragon's roar. A vast dragon's presence swept across the field, and the sheer ferocity of it came straight at the men opposite.
"A pseudo-legendary Dragonite, and no mistake."
Bram sighed. Apart from the old companion at his side, every Gym-class Pokémon there was trembling, jumpy and frightened.
"Chief Harrow, let's have everything you've got, or we'll never take him."
"It's past time."
Both men threw out another Poké Ball, and two more Elite-Four-class presences appeared on the field. These two were the ones they kept back to guard themselves; at a moment like this, there was nothing for it but to send them out.
Both were seasoned Elite-Four-class men, and naturally they had more than one Elite-Four-class Pokémon apiece.
The Elite-Four-class man on the Dragonite's back sent out a Pokémon of his own in reply, Elite-Four-class as well.
"Boom—"
Both battlefields, the one in the sky and the one on the ground, erupted at once. Elite-Four-class Pokémon had come to grips, and the area around them emptied in an instant as everyone deliberately kept clear of it; a few unlucky ones were caught at the edge of it and died where they stood.
Fortunately that place was still some way from where Vance and the others were, and for the moment it did not reach them.
"Sylas, are you all right?"
Vance helped Sylas up, concern in his voice.
"Cough, cough. It's nothing, nothing." As he spoke, blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
To Vance and the others he did not look much like a man to whom it was nothing.
"Heh. Taking a blow from an Elite-Four-class today and still being up and about — that's worth bragging over." Sylas recalled the Flygon on the ground and looked across at Idris and the other man.
"Haven't you taken them yet?"
"They're awkward. Not yet."
"Then I'll help you."
A Machamp appeared on the field, a Pokémon not far short of Gym-class. Four arms came up and several Focus Blasts went out, landing precisely, and after that one attack the Pokémon of Idris and the other man were beaten, lying on the ground and not moving.
"Magnificent, Commander!"
Ambrose said it in excitement. One blow, and the opponents they had fought so hard against were finished. It was a fine sight.
"Hmph. The strong bullying the weak. Team Rocket to the life — a filthy trick."
Just as they were about to press their advantage, support arrived on Idris's side: a middle-aged man with a square face, who moved in and blocked Sylas.
"They're yours."
Sylas said it over his shoulder and went forward to meet him.
"Don't worry, Commander. Leave the rest to the three of us."
Ambrose said it with complete confidence.
Now that the two of them had lost their fighting Pokémon, surely they were his to do as he pleased with.