Genetically Modified Gyarados!

Tom's fingers trembled as he held the urn David had just handed him like a cursed artifact. His face darkened like storm clouds gathering before a downpour. In the sky above, the Gyarados leader's crimson eyes narrowed, filled with cold-blooded fury. The corners of its wide, snarling mouth began to glow ominously.

"Wait—hold on a minute—" Tom sputtered, but it was already too late.

From the depths of Gyarados' throat, a blinding white beam began to charge. This wasn't a love tap. It was Hyper Beam.

Tom's face drained of color faster than a Magikarp flopping on a sunbaked dock.

"PIKACHU! Thunderbolt—NOW!!" David's shout cut through the air like a sword through butter.

The little yellow rodent leapt dramatically off his shoulder mid-sprint, sparks bursting around its cheeks like tiny fireworks. With a war cry of "Pika-chuuuuu!" it unleashed a massive bolt of lightning straight at the oncoming Hyper Beam.

A pale-yellow electric surge smashed into the white-hot beam of destruction. BOOM! The entire sky lit up like a New Year's party gone wrong. Smoke erupted everywhere, turning the battlefield into a foggy warzone.

Out of the mist, a tall figure emerged, standing heroically in front of Tom. Arms folded, cloak billowing—well, if he had one—it was David, with his usual smug yet righteous expression slapped on his face like an overconfident superhero.

"I'm David!" he declared. "And the one thing I cannot stand… is someone bullying the weak!"

Everyone present: Excuse me? Aren't YOU the bully?

[You gained +2000 negative emotion from Tyranitar…][+2000 negative emotion from Aron…][+200 negative emotion from Grant…][+100 negative emotion from Gyarados…]

The Gyarados blinked in stunned silence. Hadn't this guy just thrown Tom under the bus—and reversed it for good measure—just a minute ago? Where was that heroic speech when Gyarados got booted into a lake like a soggy beach ball?

Even Tom was briefly stunned. His jaw dropped, urn in hand. "Bro…" he muttered, eyes misty. "You really are a true friend…"

David cut him off immediately. "Less crying, more paying. Fork over a secret treasure, or I'll strip that urn, grind it into powder, and feed it to you like protein mix."

"Why are you like this?" Tom groaned.

David just pointed dramatically at the angry Gyarados horde above. "Gyarados! I challenge you! Come face me head-on!"

"Pika pika!" Pikachu threw up its tiny fists and shadowboxed the air, its cheeks crackling with sparks like a caffeine-fueled pugilist.

But before things escalated any further, Tom gasped, wide-eyed, and pointed at the lake. "DUDE! Look over there! Several SHINY GYARADOS!"

David whipped around to look. Sure enough, a handful of Gyarados shimmering in bright red glided across the water majestically.

"Whoa, you're right…" David muttered, eyes gleaming. "Jackpot!"

Luna and Tom both leaned forward in excitement.

"It's true!" Luna exclaimed. "That's definitely Shiny coloring!"

"Looks like I'm about to get rich!" Tom added, rubbing his hands like a villain in a kids' cartoon.

But something felt off.

David glanced at his system panel. Normally, rare Pokémon would trigger a fancy popup with sparkles and a triumphant ding—like a jackpot screen on a slot machine. But now? Nothing.

His eyes narrowed. "Wait a sec… Why is there no Shiny tag? They're red… but…"

He squinted harder. The red was way too bright. Like, "somebody spray-painted a Magikarp and hoped for the best" bright.

Suddenly, Aron called out from the side. "HEY! I recognize those guys!"

Everyone turned as he walked up, waving his arms.

"That whole group of Magikarp came from a League rescue operation," Aron explained. "They were genetically modified after being dumped into the outer lake of the Mystery Zone. When they evolved, they kept their Magikarp coloration. That's not natural Shiny coloring."

David's expression fell flatter than a Poké Puff in a washing machine. "Wait… So these aren't rare?"

"Nope. And worse, they're unstable," Aron continued. "The modifications made them extra aggressive and… well, unhinged."

David blinked. "So what you're saying is… they're not Shiny, they're just angry?"

"Pretty much."

Tom, who had already pulled out five Poké Balls and was halfway into a celebratory dance, froze. "...You mean I can't sell them on the black market?!"

"Tom!" Luna barked. "You're not supposed to SAY that part out loud!"

David groaned and slapped his forehead. "So this whole time I thought I was about to make a fortune selling rare red Gyarados, and it turns out I was just ogling angry fish cosplay?"

****

David stood calmly on the rocky edge of the lake in the heart of the Mystery Zone, his coat flapping lightly in the breeze like a budget superhero. Around him, the group of wild Gyarados thrashed and roared, their scarlet bodies gleaming in the sun—bright red, angry, and genetically enhanced disasters waiting to happen.

He narrowed his eyes, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "So that explains it," David muttered, watching one particularly flashy Gyarados charge up a glimmering Hyper Beam in its mouth. "These guys aren't just angry—they're turbo angry. Modified Gyarados with access to Hyper Beam before puberty… that's just cheating."

Still, David wasn't even remotely worried. Not because he was brave—well, partly because of that—but mostly because he had Pikachu.

With the confidence of someone holding a royal flush in a game of Uno, he pointed forward and shouted, "Pikachu! Close the distance with Quick Attack! Follow up with Thunderbolt—make it count!"

Pikachu, perched on his shoulder until now, suddenly tensed. Its cheeks crackled with electric sparks as it leapt into action. The air hummed with static as a faint blue light shimmered around it, then—WHOOOSH!—Pikachu vanished like a blur.

It didn't leap so much as launch into the sky like a yellow missile.

"Wait… WHAT?!" Tom practically shrieked.

Luna gasped. "Did it just… jump into the air?"

Even Aron, who always looked like someone who slept two hours a night and wrestled wild Pokémon for breakfast, had his mouth slightly open. "That Pikachu—did it just fly?"

"No," David said, grinning. "Just jumped."

"Jumped?!" Grant looked like he was going to need therapy. "It's flying! That's flying without wings!"

To everyone watching, Pikachu seemed to hang in the air like a floating thunder god. Its body glowed with raw voltage, the sparks around it dancing like a storm cloud gone rogue. And then—right at Gyarados' eye level—it raised its tiny fists.

From above, Gyarados stared in disbelief. It had never seen anything like this. It was used to intimidating fishermen and chewing on Magikarp, not getting sucker punched in the sky by an electric mouse wearing a baseball cap.

Pikachu grinned, squinted its eyes, and let loose.

BOOOOOOOOOM!!!

A lightning bolt as thick as a tree trunk screamed down from the heavens, slamming Gyarados right in the face. The sky lit up like a disco on fast-forward.

KRRAAAK-THOOOOM!!!

The sound was so loud that even Aron flinched. The Gyarados didn't scream—it didn't even have time to scream. It just got wrecked. The beam of thunder launched it from midair like a meteor, sending the oversized sea serpent crashing down to earth with an explosion that shook the ground.

BAAAAAAM!!

When the dust settled, Gyarados was twitching on its back, lodged in the dirt like someone had tried to bury it halfway. Its scales were smoking. Its eyes had turned into classic cartoon spirals.

And there, landing softly like a hero in a movie trailer, was Pikachu.

It adjusted the black-and-red cap on its head with one paw, then looked down with the cold, unbothered expression of someone who had just paid off their student loans. Lightning still danced faintly along its fur as it turned back to David with a nod.

David's system interface pinged in his mind with that overly cheery mechanical voice:

[Pikachu defeated Gyarados! Gained 1,530 experience points!]

[Ding! Pikachu leveled up to Level 40!]

"Nice," David said casually, dusting his hands off. "One down."

Behind him, Aron was in a state of psychological collapse. His eyes narrowed as he stared at David's team. "That Pikachu… It's not just strong. It's terrifying."

He began ticking off a mental list, mumbling under his breath:

"A Shiny Ralts with Elite-tier potential… A prehistoric Larvitar that somehow hasn't exploded from internal power overload… And now this Pikachu, who's stronger than some gym leaders' ace Pokémon?"

Aron looked like a man who just realized he'd brought a water gun to a firefight.

"And that Dreepy that flew in earlier…? No way that's average either. Although the evolution to Dragapult still remains a mystery, why do I feel this kid can find it?"

The man's thoughts were spiraling. "Who is this kid?! What kind of twisted, overpowered Pokémon daycare is he running?!"

Meanwhile, David was busy celebrating his own way—by flexing slightly in the direction of the cratered Gyarados.

Tom, still reeling from the visual of Pikachu dive-bombing like Zeus on a sugar high, stammered, "D-David… I think that Gyarados actually… had a family…"

David shrugged. "He should've thought about that before trying to Hyper Beam you in the face."

Luna nodded solemnly. "Facts."

Even Grant, who previously looked like he wanted to challenge David, was starting to backpedal both physically and emotionally. "Uhh, yeah… maybe we don't fight him. That Pikachu's got main-character energy."

The area had gone quiet, the surrounding wild Gyarados group stunned by the display of power. None of them dared move, not even the flashy red ones with genetically engineered rage issues.

David cracked his knuckles.

"Alright," he said with a grin, "who's next?"

But there was no answer. No challengers. Just a bunch of overgrown sea dragons pretending to be rocks.

Pikachu climbed back onto David's shoulder like nothing happened, looking around smugly as if to say, Y'all better behave.

****

The crackling storm of electricity finally faded.

For a second, it was like someone had hit the pause button on the entire forest.

Not a single leaf rustled. Even the breeze stopped blowing, as if nature itself was afraid to speak.

The once-wild rampaging Gyarados now lay smoldering in the dirt, twitching faintly with residual sparks dancing around its massive, scaly body. Its tongue lolled out, eyes rolled back into swirls. The forest creatures—Ursaring, Beedrill, and every nearby bug and bird—froze like taxidermy in shock.

Even the typically rowdy wild Pokémon just... stared.

And so did the humans.

Aron, Luna, Commander Grant—every one of them stood stiff, mouths hanging open, looking like they'd just seen a Magikarp land a punch on Arceus.

And right in the middle of the clearing, arms crossed and totally unfazed, was David.

He had entered this part of the Mystery Zone under Luna's adventure team license. Everyone knew Pikachu had power, sure—but they didn't think it had that kind of power.

From Luna's perspective, even though she knew David's Pikachu had already reached a professional-level tier, she'd still believed it was only impressive by Pikachu standards.

In her mind, if Pikachu could go toe-to-toe with an angry Raticate or a high-flying Pidgeotto, that was already worth a round of applause.

But this?

This was a Gyarados. And not just any Gyarados—it was practically a flying battleship.

While technically not at true professional strength, this beast was genetically modified. It could already use Hyper Beam, for crying out loud. And Pikachu had erased it from the sky like it was an inconvenient cloud on a sunny day.

One hit.

Boom. Over.

No dodging. No fancy counters.

Just an electric nuke to the face.

Luna's mouth opened, but all that came out was a choked, "What..."

Grant, the ever-stoic and experienced adventurer, looked like he needed to sit down.

Meanwhile, Aron—an actual Elite Four member—was having a small crisis of faith.

"That... That move... Was that Thunderbolt?" he muttered, blinking hard as if trying to clear his vision. "No. That couldn't be Thunderbolt... That looked more like Thunder!"

He wasn't wrong. It did look like Thunder—like someone had installed a weather disaster inside Pikachu and then pressed the big red button.

And the worst part?

It came from a Pokémon who, in most people's minds, was about as threatening as a stuffed toy.

To the average person, Pikachu was the face of cuddly cuteness. The happy yellow rat who smiled at children and snuggled in hammocks.

But David's Pikachu?

This thing adjusted its cap after obliterating a dragon.

Aron glanced over at David's team again.

Was this what Rookie Trainers were like these days?

Aron began seriously questioning the state of the world. Was there a secret elite family in the League named Blake? Had David been raised by Zapdos? Was this divine punishment for ignoring his emails?

His thoughts spun like a confused Whirlipede.

"Is this what the kids are calling 'balanced teams' now?" he mumbled.

Back in the battlefield, Gyarados lay embedded in the earth, smoking gently. Pikachu landed lightly, brushing some imaginary dust off its paws. Then, with a calm air of coolness, it reached up and tilted its cap slightly, striking a pose worthy of a movie poster.

David strolled over, hands in his pockets, humming nonchalantly like he hadn't just committed casual lightning-based devastation.

He glanced at the crater where Gyarados had fallen, frowned slightly, and rubbed his chin. "Hmm... That Thunderbolt felt a bit weak."

Everyone turned to look at him like he'd just insulted gravity.

"Maybe I should have Pikachu stand out in a few thunderstorms. Let nature toughen it up a bit."

Pikachu's ears shot up.

"Pika?!" it squeaked, completely horrified. Its tail fizzed involuntarily as the thought of being used as a natural lightning rod sank in.

Luna nearly choked.

"You're calling that weak?" she blurted out, eyes bugging out.

Grant just held his head in his hands.

[+2000 Negative Emotion Points from Luna…]

[+200 from Grant…]

[+400 from Pikachu, who is now deeply reconsidering its trainer choices…]

Even Aron, battle-hardened and used to seeing chaos on a daily basis, stared at David like he was insane.

"Did... did this guy just suggest electrocuting his own Pikachu for training?"

"Does he hate it or love it? I can't tell!"

Thunderstorms. For training.

Aron decided then and there: either David was a genius, or the most dangerous lunatic the Alliance had ever seen.

Possibly both.

Still, David ignored them all.

He turned his attention to the poor, electrocuted Gyarados, still twitching in the dirt like a dropped toaster.

"Hey, Gyarados," David said casually, crouching beside it. "I can see you've got a heart. You care about your group. You want to protect them, yeah?"

The fallen dragon opened one eye slowly, groaning.

David smiled. "Come with me. I'll train you. You'll be strong enough to protect them all... and then some."

The words weren't just casual. They had weight.

Gyarados stared at him for a moment. Then its gaze flicked past David to the stoic Pikachu behind him—still giving off faint electric sparks, glaring with the patience of a serial zapper.

A shiver ran down Gyarados' spine.

But then it nodded.

Heavily. Sincerely.

"Roooaaarrr!"

The cry echoed across the forest, shaking the trees.

This wasn't just surrender.

This was trust.

It had once been part of Giovanni's twisted experiments, modified for power it barely understood. But now, after watching David and Pikachu, it saw something different.

Strength with purpose.

If this trainer could create a Pikachu like that, then maybe—just maybe—he could help Gyarados become something more than a lab project with anger issues.

It had made its choice.

Gyarados would follow David.

And it would rise.

****

David reached into his backpack with the flair of a magician about to pull out a rabbit—or in this case, something far more dramatic. He grabbed a Poké Ball he'd prepared earlier, gave it a twirl in his fingers like a professional juggler, and hurled it toward the collapsed Gyarados.

Thunk!

The Poké Ball exploded in a flash of white light, swallowed the massive sea serpent whole, and dropped to the ground with a soft bounce. It trembled once. Twice. Thrice.

Click.

Just like that, the fearsome Gyarados—leader of the lake, master of roars, terror of the deep—was officially his. Captured. Tamed. Domesticated. Ready to be trained, overfed, and sent into combat for David's amusement.

He grinned, holding the Poké Ball up dramatically to the sky like it was Excalibur. But before he could recite any cool lines about his new partnership with Gyarados, he felt something tugging on the bottom of his pants.

He glanced down.

Larvitar.

Poor, miserable, dark-energy-infected Larvitar. Its eyes were round and glistening like it had just been ghosted on a date, looking up at David with a face that screamed, "Did you seriously forget about me?"

David blinked. Then smiled sheepishly.

"Oh right. Larvitar. My bad, little guy—I totally forgot about you."

Even Pikachu gave him a side-eye like, Wow. Cold.

David reached into his backpack again, pulled out another Poké Ball, and tapped it gently against Larvitar's forehead.

Boop.

White light sucked the little rock-type inside. The ball trembled slightly in his hand—barely a wiggle, as if even the Poké Ball knew Larvitar had no energy left to resist—and then stopped.

Click.

Captured. Easy.

David now held both Poké Balls in each hand, posing like a low-budget superhero caught in a dramatic moment. He shouted with theatrical pride, "Gyarados! Larvitar! You're officially part of the team now!"

"Pika pikaaa!" Pikachu leaped into the air with its paws out like it was Ash's Pikachu trying to copy the pose. The enthusiasm was real.

Off to the side, Aron—former Elite Four, respected authority, now suffering from an urgent gastrointestinal crisis—peeked through the trees, eyes twitching with rage.

[(▼_▼) Rage.jpg]

"CAN YOU STOP POSING LIKE THAT WHILE I'M TRYING TO POOP?!" he roared from the shadows.

About thirty minutes later, Aron emerged from the trees like a survivor of a natural disaster. His face was pale, his stomach still clutching at itself in protest, and his legs were trembling like wet spaghetti.

David, naturally, was cracking up.

Ever since Aron had kicked them out of the forest earlier with fire in his eyes, David's system notifications had been blowing up like a Vegas jackpot.

Every second, another delicious ding of negativity.

He turned his attention to Tyranitar, who had been minding its own business, towering off to the side. David tilted his head thoughtfully.

"I wonder... would Tyranitar accept one of those... jet cubes?" he murmured with an evil glint in his eye. "If it does, I might just harvest another mountain of emotional trauma..."

As if sensing imminent danger, Tyranitar stiffened. A chill swept down its rocky spine, and without even turning around, it slowly backed away from David. Nope. Not today. Not after what happened to Larvitar.

Meanwhile, Grant—the captain of the garrison stationed in this part of the Mystery Zone—was surveying the battlefield with the grim face of someone who'd just found his home turned into a demolition site. He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Aron, who was still trying to keep upright.

"Aron," he said, his voice thin and tired. "Look at this Mystery Zone... what do we do now?"

Aron followed his gaze. The previously serene, peaceful garrison area was now a war-torn mess. Craters decorated the ground like it had been bombed from orbit. Bits of burnt vegetation lay strewn everywhere. The scent? A mix of scorched fur, ozone, and regret.

Gone were the quiet, tranquil vibes. This wasn't a mystery zone anymore—it was a disaster zone.

Both Grant and Aron turned their eyes to David, who was—of course—still grinning. A thick, invisible cloud of resentment swirled around them.

[Negative emotion value from Aron: +2000][Negative emotion value from Grant: +200][Negative emotion value from Aron: +3000][Negative emotion value from Grant: +300]

David blinked at their increasingly stormy expressions and instinctively ducked behind Tyranitar.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he yelped. "Don't blame me! I didn't do anything! This was Gyarados and Ursaring's fault, okay?! I'm just the innocent bystander!"

Aron rubbed his temples so hard it looked like he was trying to erase his own eyebrows. After a long sigh—one that carried the weight of a thousand disappointments—he finally muttered:

"Let's just go back to the garrison camp before I lose the will to live."

He recalled Tyranitar into its Poké Ball with a grunt, refusing to look at David again. Without another word, he summoned his Tropius, mounted up, and flew off like his soul had checked out ten minutes ago.

Honestly, he'd rather fight Giovanni in a swimsuit while juggling Poké Balls blindfolded than have another two-minute conversation with David. Every second around him shaved a year off his lifespan.

David watched him leave, still holding Ralts in his arms.

"So... anyone want to give me a ride?" he asked innocently, looking toward Tom and Luna.

The two froze.

Their smiles vanished.

Tom and Luna exchanged looks of mutual dread and instantly turned away as if David had just sneezed on them during flu season. They were gone in a flash—vanishing into the sky on their Pidgeots like the world's fastest delivery service.

David stood there.

Alone.

Abandoned.

Again.

"…Fine," he muttered with a pout. "I didn't want to ride with you guys anyway."

Pikachu sighed. Ralts facepalmed.

Life wasn't good.