Kurt walked down the hallway. No, he did not walk, he marched it down, his impressive figure and military uniform making everyone look his way with nervous glances, some of the JCU students quietly whispering to each other. No one dared cross his way, no one wanted to get into any trouble with the massive Machoke from Orre, especially since they had seen what he can do to someone that thought he could rub him the wrong way.

He had beaten some of the strongest and most mon on campus already, and not everyone in the arena. While this caused most of Kurt's “victim” to either stay out of a rematch with him or at least wait until they were feeling strong enough to take him on, there were always some mon who did not accept a defeat...

“Hey, Kurt! Earth to asshole, I'm talking to you!” bellowed a loud voice across the hallway. The Machoke however didn't even turned around to face the mon throwing insults at him. First off all, he already knew who this person was, an obnoxious and quite stupid Blaziken by the name of Jean, who didn't seem to know his place even when put into it a dozen or so times. Secondly, Jean wasn't worth his attention.

That is, until he rocket punched the fighting type in the back of his head with a flare blitz.

“Stop ignoring me for fucks sake!”

Before he could land another punch, the Machoke had turned around lightning fast, seemingly unfazed by the hefty, flaming punch, and had grabbed the Blaziken's burning wrist before he could strike a second time. Faster than Jean could react to it he caught a massive backhand to the side of his head, making him reel back before the bigger fighting type pulled him back in by his arm, embedding his fist with full force into the firebirds stomach. For Jean, it felt like his stomach was squished out like wet sponge, the faint taste of vomit in his mouth. He had to hit back!

“Raaaagh!”

He screamed, throwing his head upwards, trying to catch the Machoke off guard with a headbutt to the chin. However, Kurt had already pulled his head out of the way and slammed it down against the fire types forehead with a loud SMACK, bringing the Blaziken to his knees.

The “punishment” was far from being over however as the militaristic mon kept pounding on the helpless Jean, his fists and knees ramming repeteadly into his face, chest, neck and temples, most of the bystanders just watching in terror as the Blaziken was mauled before their eyes and only few having the courage to search for a teacher that could break up this madness. Meanwhile, Kurt had stopped using the fire types face and body as a punching bag, Jean trying to crawl away towards the lockers, somewhere where he could gain the support to pull himself unto his feet again, leaving a trail of blood that accumulated from a laceration over his right eye as well as a bleeding nose and mouth. Just as he had reached one of the metal locker doors, just as he managed to grab unto one of its protusions with his claw, he felt a gloved hand grab the back of his head violently, pulling him up before slamming his face into the locker with a sick sound between a wet smack and the cry of the metallic door as a dent was imprinted into it via the birds face. Jean wanted to scream and put his arms up to shield from the next blow, but before he could even lift a claw his face was slammed against the metal again, and again, his bruised face looking even more torn and ravaged with each time it was used a battering ram.

At long last, it stopped. Jean didn't knew how long it took for the massive mon behind him to stop his routine of pulling his head back and thrust it forward into the metal door. After the 4th time, he stopped feeling anything, his vision blurred and blackened around the corner of his eyes, if due to concussion or his eyelids swelling and hemorrhaging close he did not know. He even only felt a light stinging pain as the door was so bent that it produced sharpened corners that cut into his swollen face, making him bleed all the more. The last thing he remembered was that his body was lazily thrown against the lockers and that he felt a flash of pain like someone had kicked him into the back of his head, before he slipped closer to the sweet, relieving embrace of unconsciousness that would take away all the pain...

But that didn't happened. Whatever force decided over his fate just simply didn't let him slip off fully, his mind dazed with pain and his body unable to move, but his ears and not totally swollen eyes picking up signals from the world around him. He heard someone scream...no, yell. Multiple voices yelling things like “Stop, you'll kill him.” or “Fuck I can't watch!” Out of the corner of his eye, or at least what was left of his peripheral vision, he saw a massive figure approach him, the heavy boots the person was wearing causing vibrations on the ground that he could even feel in his current state. He then saw one of the feet lifting, above his body, ready to strike down.

“This is it...” he thought, preparing for the last pain he would ever feel...but it never came. The only thing that did happen was the feeling of icy cold running down his spine. As he looked up he saw that the massive figure seemed to be covered in ice, moving backwards as he tried to break off the icicles and freezing crust that formed on his torso. The next time Jean looked upwards he saw that a black and yellow mass had clung to the big mon that had tried to unfreeze himself a moment ago, the mass turning out to be...an Umbreon. Was that what those things were called? Jean wasn't sure anymore, his head was hurting bad again, his vision blurring more and more and every of his senses starting to fade out, his memory turned blank. As he saw the black thing tangle with the bigger thing, he felt something...someone...touch him, hold him tight and pick him up, a bit at least above the ground.

“Damn...this isn't good...Jean...Jean! Oh arceus, please Jean talk to me...” he heard someone yell at him, the voice oddly familiar. He looked towards the person holding him, the blurry vision focusing for a moment to reveal...a Lapras he faintly remembered. “Where is this revive Adam gave me...damn...where...ah here!”

He felt a hand pressing something against his battered and broken beak, pressing it past his lips and teeth, something that felt like sugar crystals but tasted far to bitter to be one. However, the bitterness had something refreshing to it...something reviving. He felt his senses slowly coming back to him, feeling returning into his body and the pulsing pain in his head weakening, if only a bit. And slowly, his memory began to came back...

“...R-Rod?”

The Lapras face lightened up when he heard his friend react to his attempts to revive him, “Oh thank goodness, you're alive! I was worried sick when I...when we saw you on the ground with Kurt standing over you, ready to stomp!”

The Blaziken looked over to where Adam was still entangled with the towering Machoke, fiercely biting, clawing and kicking at him in an attempt to mess up the brute's face. However, this attempt was quickly crushed when Kurt slammed the Umbreon against the row of lockers near Jean and Rod with a massive Focus Blast, making the metal screech in agony as it was bend by the black body flying against it. While Adam tried to get up, Kurt moved closer to the trio, his hands glowing with both electric energy and charging focus blasts.

“Oh damn...we're done for....”

Just as it looked like the uniformed fighting type would lunge at the cowering Lapras holding his Blaziken friend and being shielded by the growling Umbreon, sending all three to the hospital (or worse), the Machoke was suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, yanked upwards by a green claw belonging to no other than the Dean himself, Ray Quaza.

“That's enough!” he snarled at the fighting type with one of the most threatening voices he had ever used around his students. “Now, are you going to be civil or do I have to return your favor in kind?”

The Machoke gave no answer, instead holding still like a kitten you were grasping by the neck and scolding.

“Fine stay silent if you want. You'll face major punishment for this!”

“D-dean Quaza...please...” came the ragged plea from the nearby fire type, whom was still laying in Rod's arms, or rather using them as support to hold himself up on his own feet. “As much as I hate admitting it...I started this...its my fault.”

The green dragon gave a displeased look at the bruised red bird, than back to the muscled student he was holding up. With a sigh, he let the Machoke down again. “Ugh...that was very stupid of you, Jean. Very very stupid. I'm sure Donovan will hate hearing about this...” he added, rubbing his face with one claw, the other flexing in visible stress and agitation at the sight of his students picking such brutal fights. “However...I won't punish you Jean...you already got more than enough of that from Kurt here...and speaking off, you'll face disciplinary charges for injuring a fellow student like that, Mr. Vaihna.”

Again, no reply from the fighting type other than one of his cold, blank stares. Disgruntled, Raymond turned away from the scene, making his way back to his office. “You come with me Kurt...and you two, Rod and Adam, please get Jean to the infirmary, will you?”

The two just nodded and helped Jean turn around, walking with him towards the medical wing of the JCU. And though his neck hurted badly when moved, the Blaziken couldn't help but look back over his shoulder at the Machoke walking off into the other direction, following the big green serpent.

****************
Later that day
****************

With a loud gasp, Jean awoke from his sleep, waked by another nightmare. He didn't knew how long he had slept since they had put him in this medical bed and sedated him. As his eyes slowly accommodated to the darkness around him, he saw that both Rod and Adam were by his side, the Umbreon sleeping rolled up at the feet of his bed while the Lapras had pulled up a chair and seemingly had fallen asleep while leaning over the Blaziken. Jean also saw that a very benevolent nurse must have seen them all sleeping together, since both the water and dark type had blankets laid upon them.

Tracing over his face with a claw tip carefully, he could feel that most of the wounds had already been healed, probably thanks to big amounts of applied potions, but a few small scars and cuts were still present, much to his dismay.

“That fucking Kurt...” he muttered beneath his breath. “Why can't I beat him...?”

And then the nightmare came back, the one that had pulled him from his sleep. It wasn't as much of a nightmare as it was a relived memory of his first fight with the massive Machoke from Orre. And in retrospective, with the knowledge of how the fight will end and that he can't change it, even in his dreams, the whole thing was just way more painful to remember.

It had started so good, or at least not bad. He had entered the arena to the melody Rod had chosen, thinking that it did fit the fiery bird very well, his new and shiny battle uniform he had bought just a month ago from one of the vendors in the nearby town fitting his body oh so well and making him look even better than usual and even bigger parts of the crowd were cheering for him, wishing him the best of luck and telling him to toast his opponent and show him how they do things over here in Johto.

And then Kurt entered. The big fighting type unceremonious came in through the northern entrance, not doing anything announcing, practically appearing out of nowhere. Immediately, the crowd grew a bit more silent, most of the students watching the Blaziken's opponent. He was basically the total antithesis to the fire type ranging from their looks.

Jean was wearing a brightly colored outfit reminiscent of one of the fake, overstylized cowboys from popular Wild West shows, with swallow-tailed, wide-legged pants and an open vest showing off his muscular chest, all in blue and white. Kurt was wearing a plain Orrean military uniform, which was a mix between a dust- and blastjacket and a greatcoat with long arm sleeves, covering almost all of his body except a bit of the face peeking over the up turned collar and under the officer's cap, as well as thick, metal gloves, leather boots and sturdy military pants. Except for a small, metallic Lucario skull, there was no decoration on the outfit.

“Wow, looks like someone has put on their finest and most expansive outfit for their glorious defeat by me~” Jean could remember him saying, trying to taunt this weird, militaristic Machoke from Orre. “Or did you know you would loose today and didn't wanted to spoil your garderobe, mon amis?”

No reaction. No reaction at all. Just a cold, unemotional stare from behind this high collar.

“What? Not in the mood for a bit of trashtalk, étranger?”

Suddenly, Kurt turned around slowly, making his way towards the exit again. The Blaziken remembered how confused he was at first at seeing his opponent leave before the fight had even started yet. At first he thought that the big Machoke was just scared, but then he heard him talking to the ref:

“I will not fight this weak opponent.”

Weak?

WEAK???

No one...NO ONE dared calling Jean weak, no one ever did and got away with it unharmed.

“OH NO, YOU'LL STAY THE FUCK HERE, BASTARD!”

The Machoke stopped dead in his tracks, not turning around however.

“I will not fight and waste my time.”

Oh the Blaziken was furious, even when he remembered that moment now, lying in the infirmary. With a furious motion, he told the Referee to start the fight, no matter what the Machoke was trying to do. “Oh no you don't! No one gets away after he insulted me! Ref, blow the whistle, now!”

The Farfetch'd referee tried to object, but was quickly stopped by the Machoke turning around, facing his opponent again and speaking up.

“I'll teach you a lesson to remember your place, if you want that.” muttered the massive fighting type coldly. A moment later, unsure what to do else, the flying type blew the whistle, opening the fight and quickly stepping aside. And as soon as he had opened the fight, Jean was at his enemy, Flare Blitzing into Kurt with a flaming rocket punch, a technique he had copied from a Charmeleon named Greg he had fought when he had visited the PCA. With a loud *thump*, his burning fist connected with the military mon's chest, caving the thick jacket in and leaving slight burns, not as much as Jean had thought he would cause. Quickly, he jumped back a bit and tried to roundhouse a Blaze Kick at the Machoke, connecting yet again, this time striking his foe directly into the face. After such a blow, many would topple and succumb to the fighting bird...however Kurt didn't. Moving his head back into position like he hadn't been hit at all, nothing seemed to indicate that the attack had caused any damage except a slight burnt bruise on the bigger mons cheek and collar.

“The fuck...?” Jean remembered himself saying, leaping back a bit to observe his unusual opponents behavior. Was this guy made of steel? He just had eaten to powerful fire attacks in such a way that most people facing them would have fainted or at least doubled over in pain, and yet this guy was standing there like the fight hadn't even started yet. “Are you trying to shit me, Enculé?!?”

The Blaziken tried to Flare Blitz again, his fist drawing back to strike with rocket-propelled power the next moment...however he didn't came that far. Instead, he was falling backwards as he had been hit in the face directly with a lighting fast Focus punch. Seriously, Jean hadn't seen that coming, and neither had most of the onlookers, as the Machoke had moved with almost extremespeed-like agility and had struck the Blaziken with a powerful punch to the face that felt like a train at full speed.

“How...how did you do that...?” panted the fire bird, kneeling and rubbing his chin. “It doesn't matter...I'll still beat you, no matter how fast you are!”

Suddenly Jean jumped up from his kneeling position, trying to flying roundhouse kick the bigger fighting type, missing him completely and trying to knee the other mon, failing yet again as Kurt simply blocked it by grabbing his opponents knee and slamming him back to the ground, followed by a green energy blast from the Machoke's palm as he aimed a Focus Blast at Jean's chest. And even though he managed to block off the attack by crossing his arms before his chest, the pure kinectic energy of it pushed him at least a feet into the ground, vibrating through his body and shaking him up thoroughly.

“That can't be...I can't...I won't loose to you!”

And again, Jean jumped to his feet, this time using another approach. His body suddenly bulked up, his muscles growing larger and stronger, and a moment later he had changed from your averagely, toned Blaziken into a buff and bulkier version of himself. “I tried speed before, but now I'll just smash your face to pieces you Orrean Motherfucker!”

Leaping forward, he tried to Low Kick the Machoke off his feet, but again the fighting type managed to move faster than his opponent, making a small jump backwards before easily fending off multiple fast Double Kicks aimed at his head and chest and evade a Sky Uppercut to the side, catching the Blaziken off guard by ramming his own knee into the flaming birds stomach, followed by a elbow to the back of his neck. Recovering from that attack quickly, Jean immediately propelled himself off the ground as he fell to his knees, launching into yet another Sky Uppercut, managing to hit the big fighting type right in the chin with a loud crack.

Jean had slight problems to remember what happened next, his memories blurry. All he could remember was that he had tried to land a second Blaze Kick, but it seemed the bigger mon had foreseen this, since he simply grabbed the burning ankle out of the air, making the red bird tumble as he was pulled off the ground and hit in the kidney repeatedly with several Bullet Punches at the same time. “ACK!”

He also could remember being spun around by his leg a moment later before being thrown into the middle of the ring. “Ugh...what...what just h-happened...” mumbled the bruised fire type, slowly raising to his knees as he held his side with one of his claws.

“I have no more time to waste with you.”

With a groan, Jean closed his eyes, rubbing his eyes as he remembered what came next. He didn't wanted too...it had been so painful...

All that happened at that day, at that moment seemed to had slowed down to bullet time, as he saw his opponent cross his arms before his chest, slowly walk towards him and then...a short flash before his eyes...a stinging pain...and then he looked back over his shoulders to see that Kurt was already standing behind him. He hadn't seen him move past him at all, the Machoke just standing there, his gloved hands extended to both sides in what seemed to be the aftermath of a Cross Chop...and then, Jean looked down his body, towards the source of this stinging pain.

“Feel the Red Rain of Phenac on your skin...”

Horror filled his mind, his eyes growing wide as he saw that there was a massive and deep X-shaped cut across his chest. Before he could scream in terror and pain, the wound bursted into a big red fountain as his blood spilled across the arena ground, his body slumping to the floor as he felt his mind slip off into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Tracing a claw along his chest, Jean could still feel the cross shaped scar underneath his regrown plumes, making him want to punch something, just to get this aggression and frustration out of his body, to forget about this reoccurring dream of his worst defeat ever at the hands of this terrible mon. However, seeing how both Adam and Rod were still tightly sleeping, he decided to just go back to sleep himself, pulling his blanket up over his head.

“One day...Kurt...One day I'll make you pay...for everything...”

*************************************************************

Name: Kurt Vaihna
Age: 22
Species: Male Machoke
Style: Brute Force mixed with military fighting styles
Favorite Food: Nothing really
Sexuality: Asexual

To describe Kurt right, one has to know about his background. Kurt grew up in the more uncivilised areas of Orre, one where the governments and royal families influences can't reach. Here, life is basically hell on earth, you try to fight to survive or die trying. Not being string enough basically spells out death for you in the land where warlords struggle against each other and the survival of the strongest is all that counts. The same thing happened to young Kurt's parents, both of them dying before being able to have any influence on their son. “Luckily” for him, he was taken in by a rather big Warlord in the region searching for a successor to his reign. For 20 years, he trained and taught his adopted son everything about war, about fighting, about killing, which turned the fighting type into a deadly and formidable fighter. Soon after hitting the age of 21, his “Father” considered him mature enough to take over his small empire and tested his son by attacking him off guard and challenging him to a fight of life and death. Defying the odds and heavily injured, Kurt managed to kill his adoptive father and take up the role of his successor, becoming the new Warlord and leader of his fathers army. However, Kurt had other plans.

For him, a fight for survival is a wasted effort. When fighting becomes necessary for your everyday life, for your survival, it becomes dull, uninspired and a pure waste of potential. That's why he decided to take his hover bike and flee from his former underlings across the Orrean borders, where he was picked up by police- and border forces. And while they wanted to arrest him and put him into one of the deepest dungeons possible. However, legally their hands were bound and the proposal of the Ex-Junior Warlord was just too good to miss out on. In exchange for vital information that could help the Orrean Government fight the Warlords and unite the land, Kurt would be able to live in the more civilized Pokeregions of the world, holding back and living life as a “good” and “social” member of society, so that he can compete with the oh so praised strong youth as well as the fighters of the Leagues and crush all of them.

As far as personality goes, Kurt is not someone you want to be a friend with. He is mostly antisocial, sticking only to himself, and displays strong darwinistic and totalitarian beliefs. Basically, for him the weak ones should either die or serve the strong ones, and even though he holds those opinions back a bit to not get into trouble with the officials, he still isn't shy about saying what he thinks.

As for his fighting abilities, Kurt is a beast. He moves way too fast for someone his size and race and hits very hard. Also, he seems to be able to absorb a lot of damage without even showing signs of getting worn out. Also, he is good at comboing attacks, as seen in his special combos “Red Rain of Phenac” (a cross chop executed with a vacuum wave to cut the enemy open with a x shape, originally used knifes when back in Orre), “The Black Fog of Gateon” (a strong combo of throws and then a choke hold), “Agate Sunrise” (an uppercut into the air and then juggling of the opponent by rapidfire Focus Blasts and Bullet Punches) and “Pyrite Depression” (a legsweep or other mean of tumbling the enemy, then an Earthquake stomp to the chest and Point-Blank Focus Blast to embed the enemy into the ground). So far, no one on the JCU could beat him, but seeing how he seems to have hit a relative limit for his abilities and evolves slower than other students, most people should be able to stand up to him at the end of their second year and have chances of a victory against him. So, see him as a challenge to overcome if you send your kids to the JCU.

Overall, one should carefully avoid this mon, unless they think they can handle him.

*************************************************************

Aaaaand here is the last of  ebonypikachu 's commissions for me, depicting my new military Machoke char, Kurt. Note that this is the uniform he wears outside combat, not the one he does wear in combat. That one looks more like what the Captain from Hellsing is wearing:

http://i627.photobucket.com/albums/.....g/mil_hans.png

So, overall, I'm very happy how this came out. :3

Gotta love uniforms, rawr.