Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ 40_Economic Concepts ❯ Theme #7: Command Economy ( Chapter 7 )

Title: Command
Author: Shadow/Phantomness
Pairing: Championshipping (Lance x Red)
Fandom: Pokémon
Theme: #7, Command Economy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: <> for telepathy, ** for thoughts, italics if a pokemon talks

Warnings: AU, het

 

“I hate my job.” Red groaned.

Lance shrugged. “It could be worse. You're already lucky they assigned you to become a Trainer. It was just chance that you became Champion.”

“Yes, I know.” The Champion sighed. The Kanto Governing Council ruled the region, and decided who would do what job through a series of tests. The most fortunate - the ones with the most freedom - were the Trainers. The worst - the ones that did not have sufficient ability to do anything else were sent to work in the fields or factories. Of course, there was a large gap in between, but for the most part, people were content.

 

Those who became the Elite Four, plus the Champion - were primed to become the new Leaders. They were the face of the League. The Gym Leaders were set in place to keep the Trainers from becoming too unruly. In fact, it was a well-kept secret, but even Team Rocket was government-controlled. They were useful to… deter… the unworthy.

Red hadn't known this. He had known more than a lot of kids, since he had been to the specialized Trainer classes, but even so, being promoted to lead the deception was something he was uncomfortable with.

During his journey, he hadn't worried about becoming Champion. He hadn't thought it would be possible! The Elite Four were amazingly powerful, and all he had wanted was to meet them.

 

When Cloyster had managed to take down Lance's Dragonite, he had almost - almost fainted on the spot, but Lance had been awfully nice about it, and then President Goodman had come out to talk to him, and before he knew what was happening he had been inaugurated as new Champion and given his duties.

Which was why he was here now, sitting in this small group of people and listening to a bespectacled man in a brown suit talk about shoelace production.

… Boring…

 

He zoned off, noticing that the Elite Four seemed to be studiously taking notes, with Lorelei writing in a small sketchpad and Lance tapping away on her laptop - something unavailable to the general public. After about an hour, the last man finished speaking and left.

She gave him a sideways glance as they filed out of the meeting room. “Did you hear a word at all, love?”

Red blushed, unaccustomed to the … well, friendliness. “Not really.”

“I know.” Lance shook her head. “The minimum age for becoming a member of the Elite is eighteen years, but since you're Champion, it seems that they didn't take that into account. Also, you haven't had to take the Elite classes.”

He groaned at the prospect of more schooling - indoctrination more like - and then sighed.

 

“However, I would be willing to teach you myself. It would save time, and perhaps I could make things interesting.” She suggested.

Red perked up. “Would you really do that for me?”

“Sure,” Lance grinned and that was that.

He hugged her, missing the flash of something in the golden eyes as the woman shook her head. At least this way, she could keep Red safe. Things could not stay stagnant forever, and soon danger would come to the Elite, but they could handle it. After all, they were Elite, and they didn't lose.

Besides, Lance thought, as she bent down and covered Red's lips with her own, causing the Champion to blush and stammer in surprise, it was so much more fun this way. After all, one could find small amusements, even in the most rigid enterprise…

 

End Fic

Completed 1/5/06

Edited 12/2/09

A Command Economy is one where the government controls production and distribution of everything. Think North Korea. Communism! Whee. So I went the whole way with the idea. Too much 1984…