A/N: I apologize so much for not updating this story! I promise it won't die! Really! No new OCs show up in this chapter, so if you're reading for your own character, do skip this. Otherwise, keep going and enjoy what the "game" really is! I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
To reven228: Thanks!
To Dame Rivere: Glad you're enjoying my story, and thanks for the praise! I'm also happy you like how I wrote Viola; here's to hoping I can do the same with the other characters.
To Apostle of Regeneration: I laughed when I read your "summary!" Haha, hope you'll like this chapter as much as the last. I'll try my best to weekly/bi-weekly publish a chapter.
To Red Alfa: Thanks!
If you see any errors, please PM/review. There might be several, since this was mostly done and submitted on a phone and basically in two days? Regardless, enjoy! I don't own your OCs, just my own and this storyline.
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Confidence literally oozed out of his very being. The TV screen freaked out for a second, but when it came back, the cameras were zoomed right onto him and his cocky smirk. He had a really pretty face, I had to admit. Although some parts of his face were covered by bandages and patches, it only added to the general mystery of this Vincent guy.
Beside him, that green blob turned out to be a Scyther, its wings fluttering and blades gleaming. It seemed comfortable with the entire scenario, as if he had been there for a long time.
But I wasn't surprised. S-rank sounded pretty intimidating and judging by the audience's cheers, it was.
Viola piped up from behind me, "Wonder what he's going to get. He's been pretty lucky, so far."
I blinked, then turned around to look at the blonde confusedly. "What do you mean, get? And lucky?"
"He hasn't gotten impossible challenges. Maybe he's cheating...But you don't know where you are?" By her raised eyebrows, she seemed rather surprised at my lack of knowledge.
I pressed my lips together.
"Well, seeing as I wasn't running away from this place like you were, and that I got knocked out basically the second I was in that city, I'd say no." I couldn't help the snark and Viola averted her eyes. I felt a little guilty after saying that, but only a little.
"It's a big game, here. We're just dogs to the rich, used as entertainment. There's a wheel that tells us what we have to do," she murmured, and the loud yelling from the TV made me turn around to face the screen. Viola was right. There, in front of Vincent and his Pokemon, was a large wheel. It looked like something straight off of a casino, flashing lights and bright colors.
It was spinning and spinning, so fast I could barely make out the whirling symbols on it. As it slowed, the pin at the top made a ticking noise and the stadium was so quiet that through the speakers, we could hear the rhythm.
The wheel stopped at a symbol with a flickering flame.
Vincent's face turned sour.
"If you can't do the challenge, then you get a punishment. Win the challenge, and you'll get rewarded," she finished.
I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding.
The announcer's voice boomed again, "And it seems we have our game planned out by the wonderful Wheel! Let's see this if Vincent can withstand the heat of this burning hot game!" The sound of machines grinding and moving revealed small pipes from the ground, before blending into the white of the ground.
Scyther buzzed with discomfort as it peered at the ground, but the Vincent placed a hand on its shoulder.
Three boxes hung from the top of the dome, far, far apart from each other. However, ropes that didn't really look like a traditional natural fiber ropes hung from each box, long enough so that someone could climb it.
I watched, almost spellbound, as a glass cage with two pipes running through it to the very top slowly enveloped the stage. What the hell are they gonna do?
"Well, let's explain the rules!" The audience was eerily quiet as they waited; it was more of an eager silence than a dead kind. "Vincent, and not his Scyther, will have to climb those ropes and grab the tags inside the boxes! To win, he has to have all three of them unscathed and in his own possession, not his Pokemon's! Scyther cannot touch the tags at all, and if he comes in contact, both will immediately fail."
The audience suddenly began to boo loudly. Even from the distance, I could see Vincent sneer at the noise.
"Calm down, dear audience. I know what you're here for," the announcer's voice became silky-smooth and almost deadly. "But you know that this isn't some normal collecting game. We have to spice it up somehow to please the people!" His voice gradually grew louder again, then assumed his normal, exuberant tone.
"There are pipes in the floor that will be shooting flames up at our beloved player and his pet. He'll have to dodge those as best he can, and not burn the tags. However, his Pokemon will also be rather preoccupied! In just a moment, we'll be letting out Lampent that will specifically target dear 'ol Scyther. But if their flames hit Vincent, it's not going to be their fault~" There was a pause. The audience was no longer booing and Vincent no longer looked as confident.
"And don't worry, this will be timed, for those wondering. From the top, one pipe expels gas. A very flammable gas, might I add. If Vincent isn't grabbing those tags fast enough, the pipe will leak some out, just to singe him a little so that he speeds up! Once he wins, and if there's an unfortunate disaster with the fires, the other pipe will be responsible for putting it out. After all, we want to have fun, not kill our contestants~"
The audience cheered loudly. I flinched from the sound.
"Are the people here...all sadists?!" I exclaimed, and from behind me, a muffled noise that sounded like affirmation escaped Viola's lips.
"Some hope he'll die. Some hope he'll live. They're all betting on him anyway," she commented disgustedly.
"And now, let's turn the heat up!" With the grating ringing of a bell, there came the sound of whizzing from the screen. Three Lampent flew out from a small square in the middle of the stage, their glowing yellow eyes pinpointing the Scyther floating alone.
Vincent was fast.
Apparently he had a running headstart because he was already halfway up the nearest rope. Climbing it seemed like a piece of cake for him. He was literally slithering up it with a fluidity that I could call beautiful. A camera focused in on the concentration in his face and it seemed the female audience was squealing.
Scyther, however, wasn't having such an easy time. The three Lampents had him cornered, but he was miraculously unscathed. One of the ghost-types had a severe gash on one of its limbs, causing it to float sideways.
Suddenly, from underneath Vincent, there was a slight rumbling.
"Is this the fire?" My mouth opened as the beginning of a tongue of flame shot from the ground. For a second, it looked beautiful, a flickering red streak across the screen, but when it faded, Vincent's jacket had been burnt, revealing the shirt he had underneath.
"Vincent!" A deep voice called out and Scyther somehow evaded the Lampent to dash towards his trainer. His voices came out as very clear, so I supposed they had headsets or amplifiers connected to them.
Vincent hissed, reaching up into the box with a grimace, "Focus on your battle! I got this, Scyther!"
The insect looked dubious for just a moment, before whirling around and sending a devastating Air Slash that sent the injured chandelier-like Pokemon to the ground. The flame inside its cracked head fizzled out and its eyes dimmed.
Scyther's face seemed to drop, until another rumble shook the stadium.
Vincent was almost at the top of the next box, when a loud hissing noise accompanied the rumbling.
"Shit!" He exclaimed and scrambled to grab the tag. Right as his hand swallowed up the red slip of material, fire burst from various openings in the ground.
A cry of pain echoed through the stadium, and the audience roared with approval.
"Oh ho! What's this? Has our star finally run out of luck?" The announcer seemingly giggled and I clenched my fists. Somewhere along the way of watching Vincent, I had begun to cheer for him. And it hurt, seeing someone get injured. It was strange. I never would've felt sorry for anyone when I was traveling.
I had seen dying people, dead people, dying Pokemon, lying on the ground like roadkill, watching me with their hollow, pleading eyes.
I never once felt pity for them.
How come now?
The flames began to die down, the noise of crackling overpowering the mics. I covered my eyes with my hands and peeked from in-between my fingers. As if that would stop the inevitable.
Over the remains of fire, the audience burst into mixed noises; boos and cheers came from the crowd as a singed Scyther was carrying an equally burned Vincent. He was covered in cuts and even from the distance of the camera to his position, I could see the blood dripping onto the white ground.
From the twisted expression of pain on his face, it was probably a serious injury. However, unlike the pair, the other two Lampent were on the ground, their limbs broken and the glass almost completely shattered.
How the flames didn't get absorbed by them mystified me, until I realized that wasn't the fire's fault.
"Last one. You can do it," Scyther murmured, then deposited his trainer onto the rope. His wings fluttered weakly and with a grunt, he lowered himself to the ground, where he collapsed with a close of his eyes.
"Hmmm... Shall we add some more enemies...?" The announcer hummed and the crowd shrieked its approval.
But before they could act, Scyther's eyes snapped open with a deadly glint and he hissed, "You send more Pokemon and I'll cut them down faster than the last."
I flinched at the zooming in of his face and his deep, synthetic voice. What have I gotten myself into? This is worse than anything I've encountered...
I murmured, "God, they're so ruthless..."
Unbeknownst to me, Viola had stood up while I was absorbed by the TV, surprising me when she whispered back, "Vincent and Scyther are part of the less aggressive in here. You should see the others...They're gone."
I gulped and studied her expression. She was serious.
Really serious.
Maybe I would become like them if I was stuck in here for long. It seemed too harsh for me and at this point, I really wished they hadn't taken away Zangoose. He's really the only thing keeping me sane.
By the time I looked back at the screen, Vincent had struggled his way to the top, and in his hand, he grasped the blue tag tightly. Then, with a half-triumphant, half-exhausted grin, he let go of the rope in his other hand, falling against the ground with a resounding thump that sounded like it would've hurt terribly.
The audience went absolutely bat-shit crazy after that.
Some of the people, as the camera panned around, were screaming obscenities at Vincent, while others, mostly women, shed tears at his survival.
I swallowed my shout of joy. It would've been radically awkward if I made a noise.
The cells around us slowly began to wake up from their stupor, their attention drawn away from the source of entertainment. Silent noise went back to low wailing and moans of distress, and from a distant cell, I heard a low groan, "We're all gonna die...!"
The way the guy's voice trembled and shook almost made my knees weak.
The TV crackled again and in front of the prone Vincent, a wheel emerged from the ground. It was large, pastel-colored, and very unintimidating.
"To our wonderful survivor, Vincent Feng, the Wheel of Fortune comes to grant you one of your many greedy wishes..." The man called and the wheel began to spin wildly.
It slowed, before stopping on a crude drawing of...pills..?
He weakly raised his head and smiled slightly, before basically fainting from exhaustion. Perhaps that ordeal was a lot more tiring than he made it seem.
"And our champion gets an extra dose of painkillers and medication to speed himself recovery along so he can be good as new in his next appearance in Utopia! So, we shall draw the curtains to this show and prepare for tomorrow's spectacular event!" The lights dimmed from the stage as the glass cage rose back up and the audience was illuminated as they strolled their way out.
Leather, feather boas, lavish jewelry glinting in the light, I ground my teeth as I watched them leave. They were so lucky. So, so lucky.
But none of them had Pokemon and those thoughts disappeared.
I was probably the lucky one, blessed with the chance to meet Zangoose, to trust and feel trust from a Pokemon.
From outside the cell, I heard the echoing of footsteps and the rolling of wheels. Dashing to the bars, I peered through, squinting in the oddly artificial darkness in hopes of seeing whoever was coming. Did they give back your Pokemon after sticking that voice projector in? Maybe? I hoped to all the Legendaries that they would be as generous as my fantasies.
But as the figures passed, my hopes were crushed.
Two stretcher beds passed, one with Scyther on it and the other with Vincent. His blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark and as I nearly stuck my entire head through the bars, our eyes met.
He seemed to smirk at me. The way a person does when they know who you are; it was that kind of smile.
I stumbled backwards, confusion blurring my mind and the headache from earlier returned full-force.
"You okay?" Viola stared at me.
She seemed slightly concerned. Could I trust her? The real question was, could I trust myself?
"It's...nothing!" I mustered up a smile and walked back to the bars to glance at the clock. 10 PM. "I don't know what'll happen tomorrow, but I think it's a good idea to have a good rest.
The blonde nodded, then flopped back onto the bed in silence.
Surprisingly, the moaning and screaming had died down. Perhaps they were starting to get drowsy.
I climbed to the top bunk and grimaced.
Dust, dirt, and more dust. The blanket was gray from no one using it. I choked back a violent cough when I fluffed it up.
Viola coughed from the lower bunk and I threw a "sorry!" back at her. The bed was hard, almost like sleeping on a rock. A log in the forest would've been better.
Zangoose would've been with me. The air would be fresh and not dank and disgusting. I closed my eyes, remembering memories, or at least, what I had left of them.
Things seemed to just stop at around when I first started my journey. But I remembered my first encounter with Zangoose. Hoenn, was it? Yes, I used to live in Hoenn.
Did I have a brother? I can't remember. Memories are impermanent. They change and fade and are so easily lost.
Is it better to remember, or to forget?
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A/N: Uhhhh, how was it? I hope not too bad! Thanks to Generic Person the Fifth for sparking the fire to write again! I was probably in a slump and quite busy, but her PM really inspired me.
Her new Pokemon fic is really cool as well, and SYOC, so if you're reading this, go check hers out as well! (I honestly think it's cool! She didn't tell me to advertise, haha. And this is an A/N, so I can say whatever I want, right?)
Ah this turned out to be really long..
Questions of the chapter are:
What do you think about Vincent? Your opinion on his character, his mysteriousness, his (maybe?) connection to our still nameless protagonist...
Through PM, is it okay for your OC's Pokemon to be grievously injured/hurt? If so, which?
A lot of OCs will be showing up next chapter, so see you then!
-Vis