[journey] a big old wrecking ball

Amidst the tension, Ruìsāng discerned a wave of fear coursing through the crowd, igniting a strategic spark within him. He contemplated amplifying their fear, banking on the notion that a frightened adversary is often an unpredictable one. By instigating panic, he theorised he might disband the majority, isolating their leader for a direct confrontation—a prospect he arrogantly believed he could triumph in.

The leader hinted at a radical agenda, branding themselves as outcasts or even terrorists, intent on sending shockwaves through what they deemed corrupt institutions. A younger, more reckless Ruìsāng might have found common ground in their disdain for corruption. However, the awareness of innocents caught in the crossfire—people merely seeking to engage in Pokémon battles—solidified his resolve. Whatever their intentions, they were going to hurt innocent lives.

Acknowledging he was not a hero, he nevertheless recognized an opportunity to act. As the crowd’s fervour escalated into roars of approval, Ruìsāng felt a surge of revulsion, the dark depths of his heart stirring in response.

Understanding the futility of awaiting police intervention, Ruìsāng crafted a swift warning on his phone, detailing the imminent threat. He entrusted the message to Lìeyàn, instructing her to find a reliable outsider to alert the authorities before returning to his side. Despite her initial reluctance, Lìeyàn acquiesced, vanishing into the night.

Alone but undeterred, Ruìsāng advanced into visibility, embodying confidence and defiance. His introduction, laced with sarcasm and challenge, cut through the charged atmosphere.

“Impressive speech. One has to wonder, do you really buy into your own narrative, or do you simply bank on their stupidity?”

They called him a child, and Ruìsāng responded with a gentle smile. Despite his youthful appearance, marked by soft blonde hair cascading over his shoulders and impressively flawless skin that accentuated his youth, he felt no need to intimidate these men. Standing calmly amidst the tension, he appeared innocently composed, a stark contrast to the impending danger.

As one of the men advanced, leaning towards him, Ruìsāng elegantly stepped back, not from fear, but to maintain distance and avoid any unwanted contact. The tension escalated as the man withdrew two Pokéballs, and his companions pressed themselves against the walls, bracing for what was to come. Ruìsāng couldn’t help but chuckle softly as an Ambipom and Crobat were released, hopeful that Lìeyàn was successfully summoning help.


Resolved to stall for time, he engaged. “Well, if it’s a battle you want, who am I to deny it?” he declared with a slight smile. Opting for strategic simplicity, he chose to release only one of his Pokémon given the confined space, taking out a single Pokéball. The sphere enlarged in his hand, and with a flash of blue light, his Metagross materialised, positioning itself protectively between Ruìsāng and his adversary.

“Pūjī, Kàngjūn,” Ruìsāng commanded crisply. His Metagross, possessing intellect akin to a supercomputer, had learned the language easily, launching into a Body Press against the Ambipom in an attempt to pin it to the ground.

He followed up with another tactical command, anticipating the movements of the Crobat. “Děngdài, ránhòu shǐyòng Jídòng Quán,” he instructed. This order was clear: Kàngjūn was to wait for the right moment and then strike with an Ice Punch, prepared to counter the Crobat’s approach effectively.

As the men initially laughed off the situation, their amusement quickly evaporated when they witnessed the raw power unleashed by Ruìsāng’s Metagross. A confident grin tugged at the corner of Ruìsāng’s mouth, his self-assurance bolstered by the knowledge that he could easily outmanoeuvre two of them.

However, his arrogance nearly cost him dearly.

In a swift turn of events, his arms were seized, and four more Pokémon burst into the room: a Fearow, Sceptile, Typhlosion, and Dragapult. His red eyes darted around, quickly assessing the order in which he would need to take them down, a hiss of annoyance escaping his lips.

“Do you really think I’d be this arrogant if I didn’t have someone else here?” Ruìsāng whispered to the men gripping him. He then made a calculated move, lowering his centre of gravity by bending his knees and attempting to turn sideways to aim a kick at one of their faces. As expected, this manoeuvre led them to restrain his arms more firmly against his back.

This was exactly what Ruìsāng had needed.

The force they applied in holding him provided just the opportunity he needed to enact his next move. With a resigned sigh, he let his head droop slightly, feigning defeat.

“Give up the fight and you’ll get out of here alive,” he murmured softly. He sensed the disarray and fear among the men; some seemed regretful of their involvement. By sowing seeds of doubt, Ruìsāng hoped to prolong the encounter, possibly avoiding the need to call upon a divine promise.

He then issued a command to his Metagross in a low, urgent tone: “Jiǎzhuāng gōngjí. Ránhòu xiàng wǒ Huízhuǎn qiú.”

Accustomed to following orders without hesitation, the Metagross prepared to execute the plan. The Metagross locked eyes with the Typhlosion, feigned a forward attack, then spun around as he launched into a Gyro Ball.

At the same time, Ruìsāng threw himself to the ground, expecting the men's grip to hold him up from slamming into the ground, while lowering himself enough to avoid what was coming.

This would ideally leave them vulnerable to being slammed against the wall by the Metagross, while Ruìsāng safely hit the floor, using the chaos to his advantage.

See, his plan hadn’t unfolded exactly as he had envisioned, but it was sufficiently close to work.

The two men, dumbasses, had managed to knock each other’s heads together, effectively taking care of that problem themselves. Still, Ruìsāng wasn't done; he commanded his Metagross to launch an attack, revelling in the display of its formidable power—a sight he could savour endlessly. Pure power.

However, when Ruìsāng scanned the area for the group's leader, he spotted the man making a break for it. Annoyed, he clicked his tongue sharply and sprang into action to give chase. Simultaneously, he signalled his Metagross with a raised hand.

“Psychic! Bring him down!” he commanded loudly in the common tongue, sprinting after the fleeing figure. He had every faith in his Metagross to execute the command, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

Almost losing his footing, Ruìsāng nimbly dodged the Crobat that whizzed past, disrupting the Metagross’ Psychic attack.

With a hiss of frustration, he accelerated his pace, urgently pulling another Pokéball from his pocket. “Both of you, keep them here!” he shouted, hurling the ball behind him as he continued his pursuit. The Dragapult materialised, its appearance causing an uproar among the remaining foes while the Metagross positioned itself at the entrance to block any escape with its large body.

Ruìsāng, however, didn't pause or slow his chase. He darted around the right corner in pursuit of the group's leader. The chaos unfolding behind him was background noise to his singular focus. This man had not only orchestrated an attack but had also dared to mock him. Ruìsāng was intent on demonstrating what would happen if anyone underestimated him.

Asshole.