"Oh, you don't know? I'm a friend of Sahara, here – a colleague, per se. We exterminate pests..." So ... Carl and Vale had been right - Sahara had been in alliance with the dragon all this time. To say that Smith was surprised would've been an overstatement - the truth of it all was that he was saddened. Saddened and disappointed that the female he had initially trusted had been taking them all for a bunch of idiots all this time; helped Gaear to fake his death; had played a role in Vale's death.
It took the Aggron every last ounce of his strength not to charge at the Arcanine and break her neck on the spot. He would deal with her later - right now that monster of a dragon was his biggest priority. "One Bayleef down; only some scrap-metal and a mangy feline to go..."
"I wonder if yer arsehole is as big as yer mouth?" Smith mockingly pondered, raising a hand up to his chin in thought. "Don't answer that, lad. The truth is yer should take a look at yer opponents before yer start talkin' big." The snide grin that had occupied Smith's face was replaced by an enraged snarl. The Aggron slammed his fists together. "Yer killed Vale. I can't let yer get away with that."
Smith was somewhat surprised that Sahara jumped to his defense; maybe the little bitch had half a soul after all. He relished in the idea of teaching her a lesson or two after he'd cleaned up the trail of shit that Gaear was fond of leaving behind. A Razor Wind flew in his direction, and Smith barely flinched as it collided with his hard armour, leaving nothing but a small indentation on the right knee.
"So what? Yer tickle yer victims to death? Give me a fuckin' break," Smith roared with laughter, smacking a hand on the other knee. The Haxorus was upon him in almost an instant, his body glowing as a Dragon Pulse flickered in the back of his throat. "As I said before, it’s nothing personal." "Yer talk too much. Shut up and get on with it," Smith growled, bracing himself and holding up both of his hands. In his last battle with a Haxorus, he had managed to win after grabbing the dragon's tusks and wrestling it to the ground. If one looked carefully, one could still see the faint, linear scars on his palms where he had grasped the blades. If Gaear just took another step closer, maybe he could reach...
As predicted, Carl took one look at the monstrous dragon and fled as quickly as his legs could carry him. Smith was glad that the poor thing was out of harm's reach for now. With a gruff growl, the Steel-type turned back to his opponent. "Come on then. I'm waiting, yer shit-faced bastard." His raised hands began to give off a red glow as he prepared a Dragon Claw. "Or shall I go first?"