Gladion with smug satisfaction reviewed the contract his lawyer, Clara, had crafted for his deal with Professor Oak.
Clara, a sharp-witted woman who could outmaneuver Harvey Specter from the show suits in a legal battle had outdone herself.
The contract secured Gladion the manufacturing and selling rights to the Pokédex and all future editions, while obligating Oak to slap Gladion's name—or his company's, Vortex Innovations—on any Fairy-type research publications.
In return, Gladion would deliver a comprehensive report on the Fairy-type, including its moves, type chart, and a Sylveon, the Fairy-type Eevee evolution, plus a hefty annual sponsorship for Oak's lab.
'Checkmate,' Gladion thought, sipping a Moomoo Milk as he buzzed with triumph. 'Oak's gonna regret underestimating me.'
Clara had dispatched the contract to Oak's Pallet Town lab via Ultron, Gladion's Metagross, whose teleportation skills ensured a delivery faster than a Pidgeot on Tailwind.
Ultron had returned an hour later alongside Kai, Gladion's assistant.
"Signed, sealed, delivered," Kai said, tossing the signed papers onto the desk, nearly tripping over a stray cable in his haste.
"Oak didn't even flinch—probably too busy daydreaming about that Sylveon." Ultron's telepathic voice, dry as a Steelix's hide, chimed in, "The professor was scribbling fairy-themed haikus when we left. Peculiar human." Gladion chuckled, flipping through the papers, each page a testament to his victory.
'Flawless.' He'd already sent Oak the promised goods—a detailed Fairy-type report, outlining known Pokémon like Clefairy and Jigglypuff, their moves like Moonblast, and a type chart showing Fairy's edge over Dragon and weakness to Poison and Steel, plus a Poké Ball containing a Sylveon.
"That old bastard," Gladion mumbled, his smirk widening as he leaned back, "accepted my sponsorship, so he'll have to plaster my name and Vortex Innovations on the Fairy-type reveal. Bet he didn't see that coming. It is as if I did not lose anything in this deal. All the fairy type research that he would release would have my name on it anyways."
Gladion's thoughts drifting to his father, Ben. "Hmm, maybe I'll swap my name for Dad's. He's the one who helped me train that Eevee into Sylveon, after all. Feels right."
He was about to head to the training field to train with his Pokemon, when a piercing alarm blared through the entire Moonwood Town.
Gladion's psychic aura snapped to high alert, his senses scanning for the source—'Its the navy alarm.' His heart raced, but his voice stayed cool as Kai burst in, his platform boots clattering, face pale as a Gastly.
"Sir, the navy's calling for you—urgent!" Kai gasped, nearly tripping again, his voice cracking. "They need you now!" Gladion's eyes narrowed, his psychic aura steadying. "Hold the fort, Kai. Keep the gym in order. I'll be back." He teleported to the gym's ranch in a flash of psychic energy, recalling some of his Pokemon into their Poké Balls.
With another flicker, he materialized at Moonwood's coastal navy outpost, the salty air thick with tension.
Trainers sprinted to report for duty. Civilians hurried to bunkers, clutching children and Pokémon, their faces taut with fear.
Rangers patrolled with their Pokemon, while soldiers barked orders, their Poké Balls gleaming at their belts.
The distant roar of waves carried a deeper, angrier sound—Gyarados, multiple, their fury palpable even from miles away.
Gladion's psychic senses locked onto the Navy Marshal, Torres, a grizzled veteran with a scar across his cheek, his aura radiating urgency tinged with dread. "Gym Leader Gladion, thank Arceus you're here," Torres said, saluting, his voice rough. "We've got a crisis. A dozen Gyarados—pissed-off ones—are heading straight for Moonwood."
Gladion's eyes widened, his psychic aura spiking with shock and confusion.
"Deliberately targeting us?" he asked, his voice low, mind racing. Torres nodded grimly, gesturing to a map on a nearby table, red markers dotting the coast.
"Yes, sir. They're not migrating or feeding—they're coming for us, fast." Gladion's psychic senses probed the situation, his thoughts sharp.
"Did someone overhunt Magikarp in the area? That'd set off Gyarados like nothing else." Torres shook his head, his jaw tight.
"No clue, but we've got a lead. We apprehended a man on an unidentified vessel, wearing a Team Rocket uniform. Six others with him weren't so lucky—eaten or vaporized by Gyarados Hyper Beams." Gladion frowned, 'Team Rocket. Always stirring the pot.'
His mind flashed to his recent schemes—framing Rocket for Aqua's base attack. 'Did I poke the Horsea's nest too hard? Have they figured out that it was me that made their alliance with Team Aqua crumble. No they should not have enough proof for that. Maybe... It's team aqua framing team Rocket. I mean if I could do it, what is stopping them from doing the same. They would just have to wear Team Rocket T shirts to look like one. They would want the Indigo Authorities of Team Rocket's tail as revenge.'
Torres's eyes hardened, his voice dropping to a growl. "With my authority as the head of Navy here, I'm declaring this a Grade B danger to Moonwood Town. As a Psychic, I'm lifting your restrictions on mind-reading. Get us answers from that bastard."
Gladion nodded, his voice steady. "Understood."
'Not that I'd let laws stop me, but legal immunity's a nice perk'
He strode toward the holding cell.
--Author Notes------
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