Last time, on Tony' Journey…
Tony, Bianca, Cheren, and even Karen comforted Skyla after her loss in the first round of the Roulette Rumble, Tony earning a little smooch on the cheek for his concern. Meanwhile, a mysterious woman with a ridiculous southern accent by the name of Madame Simone thrashed her opponent in her first battle. Though she enjoyed being in the limelight, she angrily cursed Grimsley's name when she left the arena…
What will happen next? Find out now!
Battle after battle went by. The crowds cheered and Grimsley cackled. Pokémon after Pokémon fell to the attacks of their opponents.
Morning passed and noon arrived. Refreshments were being served to the audience for a minor fee. The trainers got their lunches for free, a small group of maids, clad in vampire attire, serving the competitors neatly cut sandwiches and wine glasses of bright red juice.
Tony chewed his sandwich as he and his friends watched the battle between Cheren and his opponent end, with Cheren as the victor of course. He seemed pretty smug about it, too, though Tony had to admit that he did a pretty good job; as usual, Cheren had battled with his usual combination of strategy and strength.
The battle left Tony wishing that he and Cheren would have the chance to clash again. In fact, it left Tony wishing that he could clash with anyone. Over ten battles had been fought and he hadn't been in any of them.
Already his heart was beating like a wild drum, the sense of anticipation growing with each second that passed. He was so excited that he could hardly eat a bite. All he could do was sit and wonder when he was up, who he was up against, and which arena he was going to battle in. The wait was beginning to kill him!
"And another excellent battle courtesy of our good friend Cheren!" Grimsley announced on the monitor. "I hope you all enjoyed that excellent battle, ladies and gentlemen – I know that I did! Heh-heh-heh." He coughed and then added, "Anyways, we'll be taking a brief intermission for a few moments. I've been informed that the competitors are eating their lunches right now, so please, sit back, enjoy a brief respite and meal if you will! We will return to the bloodba… I mean, 'competition' shortly." He chuckled at his own joke and the screen went dark.
Tony frowned as he leaned against the wall. "I hope I'm next…" he said aloud, wiping crumbs from his mouth.
"Me, too…" Karen muttered.
Bianca raised an eyebrow at the smaller blonde. "Why are you so eager to see him battle?"
Karen gave a nonchalant hand wave. "I just want to see what I'm up against, that's all," she said. "Provided that you actually win," she added, glaring at Tony, "which you'd better do."
"He will win," Skyla warned the smaller girl. "Just you wait and see." She leaned on her boyfriend's side, giving him an encouraging smile.
"T-thanks," Tony stuttered.
"So, uh…" Bianca stuttered, turning red, "how long?"
Tony blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"How long have you two been… you know… together?" Bianca asked, tapping her fingers together.
"Oh." Skyla smiled. "Two days."
"Two days?!" Bianca exclaimed. "You're already doing cheek-kisses and you've only been together for two days?!"
"Kids these days…" Karen commented.
"You're more of a kid than we are, Shorty!" Skyla retorted, giving the tiny blonde a glare. "Besides," she added, "Tony and I knew each other months before we started dating. I mean, it's not like we only met yesterday."
Tony nodded in agreement – mainly because he liked the cheek-kisses. "That's right," he said. "Don't worry about us, Bianca. We're old enough to make some decisions for ourselves."
He froze for a moment, analyzing what he had just said. Huh. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that that had sounded bitter and rebellious…
He shuddered. "I mean," he added, "it's not like we're doing anything wrong, right? We're just dating."
Bianca nodded. "I guess… I'm just surprised you two actually got together," she said to Skyla. "Isn't it a little weird to date somebody who's shorter and younger than you are?"
"Hey!" Tony huffed, feeling offended.
Skyla was equally perturbed by the careless question, but kept her cool. "There's no law I've ever seen saying that I can't date a guy who's two years younger than I am," she replied, "and just because Tony's short doesn't mean he's not boyfriend material. Heck, he's braver than a lot of the buffer guys I've come across are."
Tony blushed. "Aw, shucks…" he muttered.
Bianca bowed her head a little. She hadn't meant to sound so superficial. "Well, I guess I should be happy for you two," she said, smiling brightly all of the sudden. "Congratulations."
"I agree," Karen piped. "Congratulations." She turned away from the group, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "If Tony can score with an older woman, than maybe I can score with… Hee-hee-hee…"
Grimsley purred as he leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk, right next to the microphone.
Shauntal, who was currently typing away on Angelina, gave the man a bizarre look. "You certainly look happy," she remarked.
"And why wouldn't I be?" Grimsley asked, still grinning. "My audience is pleased, my trainers performing perfectly, the bets I've made had all paid off, and I'm now fifty-thousand yen richer. Why wouldn't I be happy?"
"Because money can't buy happiness?" Shauntal offered.
Grimsley snorted. "You old-fashioned nerds and your silly little mottos."
Shauntal sweat-dropped. Typical Grimsley, she thought, returning to her typing.
Grimsley raised a thin eyebrow. "I certainly hope you're not writing a scathing exposé about me," he said, flashing her a fanged grin. "Why, Shauntal, if you want to know more about me, I'll be happy to provide an interview. Perhaps over dinner sometime?"
Shauntal rolled her eyes. "No, I am not writing about a cocky, slimy, and egotistical vampire wannabe," she replied.
Grimsley put a hand to his heart and gave a gasping wheeze, as if Shauntal's words had stabbed him. "You wound me," he mockingly gasped. "And what, may I ask, are you writing about that could possibly be more enthralling than I am?" he asked. Without giving Shauntal time to answer, he snatched away the papers from Angelina's slot.
Shauntal gasped. "Grimsley!" she snapped. "Give those back!"
Grimsley, ignoring Shauntal, lazily skimmed through the pages. " 'The Butterfree Kid'?" he read aloud, his eyes going from left to right as he scanned the page.
"G-give those back!" Shauntal cried, blushing bright red and making a grab for her papers. "The story isn't done yet… and that's just a rough draft!"
Without even looking, Grimsley stuck his hand out and grabbed Shauntal's forehead as gently as he could, holding her back as he continued to read through the pages. A grin tugged at his mouth several times but he kept it repressed.
Shauntal flailed her arms about uselessly, her face bright red. "Grimsley…" she whined, feeling humiliated.
Grimsley gave a whistle. "A skin-tight purple silk dress? Why don't you ever wear that when I'm around, darling?" he asked.
"If you're implying that that character is my avatar in the story," Shauntal stuttered, "then you're completely wrong!"
"Purple hair, purple dress, and a wealthy baroness who just so happens to be involved in a train robbery where the thieves tell the lovely lady that they're going to steal her typewriter, and it's not you?" Grimsley asked, smirking.
Shauntal's face went bright red. "G-Grimsley…" she whined, still flailing her arms.
Grimsley ignored her and kept reading, his smirk growing wider and wider. "It's good," he told the purple-haired writer. "It's very good, if not a bit hammy and predictable."
Shauntal pouted. "It is not… Hammy and predictable, I mean."
"Please!" Grimsley snorted. "First of all, a good thief never informs anyone of what he's planning to steal, especially the one who possesses his target!"
"Professor Amelia is an egotist, though," Shauntal argued. "She's warning the baroness ahead of time because she's so sure in her ability to steal the typewriter!"
"Shauntal, please, take it from the ex-con," Grimsley deadpanned. "Good thieves don't do that. It's just asking for trouble. Now, you could do that and say, have somebody else steal the typewriter and have the detective and villainess have to work together to find it, backstabbing each other along the way. That'd be very interesting."
Shauntal sweat-dropped. "Well, that is more or less what really happened…" she muttered.
"And what's this about the Butterfree Kid being attracted to the baroness?" Grimsley asked. "I didn't know you had a thing for younger men, Shauntal, though that could explain why we haven't gone out yet…"
"She's not my avatar!" Shauntal wailed. "Give me my draft back, right now!"
"Don't want to. Can't make me," Grimsley said with a grin.
Shauntal scowled, fed up with her so-called friend's tricks. "Grimsley," she hissed, "if you don't give those back right this very instant I will write my next novel using your blood as ink!" she shrieked.
Grimsley's grin vanished and he swallowed. "F-fine," he said, handing her back the papers. "Take it. I only wanted to have a peek. Haven't you ever heard of constructive criticism?"
Shauntal didn't say a word. She placed her papers back into the typewriter and returned to work, typing away in silence.
Grimsley raised an eyebrow. "Oh, the silent treatment, eh? We'll just see how long that lasts…"
Shauntal didn't reply.
Grimsley looked at his watch. "Oh, look at the time!" he exclaimed. "Time to get back to the fights." He cracked his knuckles. "Showtime!" he announced, switching on the mic again.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Grimsley's voice called from the speakers above and below the arena. "Thank you for your patience! We will now continue the Roulette Rumble fighting tournament!"
Naturally, the crowd went wild, cheers and claps echoing throughout the casino.
The roulette wheel from before, now much smaller with only about ten remaining faces on it, popped up on the screen again. "As per usual," Grimsley announced, "I will spin this wheel to determine the first challenger! Shauntal, would you do the honors?"
There was no reply.
"Oh, dear, I seem to have broken Shauntal…" Grimsley murmured. "Oh well, I'll fix her later…" There was a sound of someone getting thumped. "Ouch! Shauntal! S-stop that! Oww!"
Everyone sweat-dropped in unison. For whatever reason, they all felt as though Grimsley had it coming, although they didn't know why.
"Ah… Ahem," Grimsley said after a moment of silence, "I guess I'll spin the wheel myself, then. Shauntal's a little… eh, busy." He seized the wheel and gave it a yank, the numbers and faces going round and round the wheel, finally stopping at…
"Ladies and gentlemen, our first competitor for this battle is Ms. Bianca Bel!"
The crowd cheered as Bianca slowly came out from the gate to the arena, shyly waving at the cheering crowd as she took her position by the arena. "Uh… Hi, everyone…"
"Bianca Bel was a competitor in the first N1," Grimsley announced. "Though she lost in the first round, to the winner of our first battle in this tournament, the lovely Ms. Karen Silph, Bianca displayed amazing courage and energy for a girl of her age!"
The roulette wheel popped up at the side of Bianca. She was hardly surprised, of course, having seen it happen to every trainer that came before her. "Ms. Bel," Grimsley hissed from the booth, "spin the wheel to choose your opponent!"
Bianca stroked her chin and puffed her cheeks as she looked at the wheel, looking over each and every opponent she could possibly go up against. Finally, she grabbed the side and gave it a gentle turn to the left. The wheel slowly inched closer and closer to…
"And Bianca's opponent shall be…" The wheel came to a halt. "One Mr. Tony Miller!"
In the announcer's booth, Shauntal looked up from her typewriter.
Below the arena, Tony grinned thankfully. "Finally," he said happily, "I'm up."
Skyla gave him a quick hug. "Good luck!" she told him.
Cheren rolled his eyes. "Luck will hardly be needed against Bianca, but nevertheless do your best."
Tony smiled awkwardly. "Eh, thanks…" Jerk…
"You'd better win!" Karen warned again.
"I heard you the first time," Tony replied, already walking off. "See you all when I'm done!"
"Do your best!" Skyla called as Tony left the waiting room. They then turned their eyes to the screen, eager to see their friends perform.
The VIP booth had been the first thing Grimsley had planned for when he had built the arena. VIPs attracted a good deal of attention from the public and they paid well to boot. As such, a good deal of effort was put into the construction booth.
The booth sat above the others, sitting across from the announcer's booth. It was a plain black box with a long rectangular window running down it. The booth was large enough to hold at least twenty people. Today, however, it only held two.
Sandrine, the raven-haired maid, was bent over the mahogany table that was in the back of the booth, gently spreading plain saltine crackers with incredibly expensive Slowpoke tail pâté, placing each completed morsel onto a shining silver platter. That done, she poured a glass of expensive apple sider and set it on the tray. Wiping her hands off on her white apron, she lifted the tray up and carried it to her charge, her face expressionless as she went about her job.
"Mademoiselle Antoinette," she announced as she approached the front row of seats in the booth, placing the tray on a small portable table that Sandrine had brought. "Dejeuner."
"Merci, Sandrine," her charge replied. The girl's hand, clad in a white glove, gently lifted one of the crackers from the plate and lifted it daintily to a pair of grinning painted lips. "Slowpoke pâté," she whispered hungrily before placing the cracker into her mouth, happily chewing it. "Trés bien. Merci beaucoup, Sandrine."
She was a young woman, lithe and thin, with pristine ivory skin. Her eyes were a beautiful blue color, so dark and mysterious that they almost seemed purple. Her hair was neatly groomed and curled into several swirling dangling ponytails that wrapped around the side of her head like curtains of gold.
Her dress was old-fashioned. Old-fashioned things were fashionable to her. It was made from dark purple silk, with intricate designs, curvy and wavy, like ancient ruins, covering her skirt, sewn in with golden twine. Her dainty feet were clad in dark burgundy shoes with high-heels, her legs with white tights, her hands with white gloves. A golden band was wrapped about her ring finger, topped with a sparkling amethyst; not the most expensive gem, but certainly a beautiful one.
Sandrine, the elder of the two, always felt it difficult to be in the presence of such an image of young beauty. Mademoiselle Antoinette was only fourteen years old, and yet she was already far more lovely than her own mother. Sandrine had never been as lovely as a girl, and even today she looked rather plain, and remained tragically single to boot.
Still, she was the Mademoiselle's maid, and her duty was her duty, regardless of her homeliness. She bowed her head and stepped backwards, allowing her lady to enjoy her expensive meal. She turned her attention to the arena, to the approaching trainers. Despite her neutral expression, Sandrine couldn't help but get enthralled whenever she saw a Pokémon Battle.
Her olive eyes widened when she saw Tony. "Mademoiselle Antoinette. C'est lui."
The Mademoiselle had just been about to devour another helping of pâté. She swiftly placed the cracker down to the table and pulled out a tiny set of binoculars. "C'est lui?" she asked, leaning over to the window (a task hindered by her hoop skirt).
"Oui." Sandrine pointed down to Tony as he approached the battlefield, the Mademoiselle following her hand. "C'est lui. Antonio Maruko."
The Mademoiselle laughed merrily and clapped her hands. "Trés bien!" she cried. "Parfait, Sandrine! Merci!"
Sandrine bowed her head humbly. "Trés bien, ma Mademoiselle."
The Mademoiselle turned her attention back to the cheery-looking blond young man. "Il est… petit," she admitted. "J'aime petit." She turned back to Sandrine, a smirk crossing her peach lips. "Sandrine, charges le lanceur," she ordered.
Sandrine nodded. "Mais oui." She leaned down to the floor and pulled up a metal case, opening it up and pulling out a long metal tube with a scope attached to the top. Pulling out a metallic canister, she shoved it into the barrel of the launcher. "Le lanceur est charger avec le cadeau, ma Mademoiselle," the maid announced.
The Mademoiselle smirked widely as she lifted another cracker to her mouth. "Parfait." She slowly ate the cracker and glowered down to the battlefield as Sandrine raised the launcher to take aim at Tony. "Parfait…"
The audience cheered as Tony took to the arena, many of them recognizing him as that bug-catcher who did so well during the N1. He waved to them, albeit a little shyly, and took his place across from Bianca. They both seemed to wish each other a good game, but the young man couldn't hear what they said over Grimsley's voice.
"Mr. Tony Miller is a bug-catcher who hails all the way from the Kanto Region. He exclusively uses Bug-type Pokémon to battle. During the N1, Tony battled lost against our friend Mr. Cheren in the second round, although the match was later discovered to be sabotaged for whatever reason. I'm sure the two are looking forward to a rematch!"
The young man nearly gagged when he saw Tony's face. There he was… his former friend, enjoying the company of trollops and murderers, wasting his potential, hurting his Pokémon, and blackening his once pure soul.
N scowled; he blamed himself. He should have been a better influence to Tony. He should have had Skyla removed from the situation before she could plant her evil seeds in the bug-catcher's mind. Now it was too late.
The Plasma King sat silently in his office, hidden deep underground in the shadows of the Team Plasma headquarters. The room was pitch black, save for the flickering glow of the TV screen.
N had known about the Roulette Rumble, and had naturally been appalled by it. A circus of Pokémon torture, with its ringleader a convicted criminal? Was the world truly this wretched and ugly?!
He wanted to change the channel, but he couldn't. He had to see this. He had to reaffirm his beliefs in Pokémon Liberation.
"You're watching it again." The silky, solemn voice of the woman sounded far-away and sad.
"I am," N replied.
"You don't have to," the second woman said, her voice slightly softer though just as somber. "We see how much it hurts you to see those Pokémon paraded and beaten for amusement."
"Please, Sire, turn the TV off," the first woman begged.
N shook his head. "How can I do what's right," he asked, "without substantial knowledge of what is wrong?" His eyes locked onto the TV screen, onto Tony's face. "Tony…" he muttered. "I've failed you…"
"He failed himself, Sire," the second woman said. "He made his decision."
"A decision that he didn't know any better but to make," N replied. "He's seen too much of the sugar-coating, the lies, and the propaganda to know the evils of the league. It was my duty to show it to him, and I failed." He leaned back into the couch, sinking into the soft material. "How can a King change the world," he asked thoughtfully, "when he cannot change a single boy?" He closed his eyes. "And to think," he whispered, "I once thought Tony was like me… I thought he was chosen…"
"If he was," the first woman said, "he is not now. Ideals of righteousness do not exist in the Pokémon League."
N nodded. "No. They don't." He sighed. "I… Should I give him another chance?" he asked.
"Sire," the second woman said meekly, "you've given him so many… and he's thwarted Team Plasma's Holy Mission so many times…"
"It is a King's duty to look after his subjects," N replied. "How can I be all-loving and not all-forgiving?"
"Sire…"
"Hah!" the bittersweet tone of Kayla's voice broke the solemn atmosphere as the wraith-like woman slithered passed the silhouettes of N's entourage, chuckling darkly. "Oh, isn't this just precious?" she cooed, swishing back her raven hair. "A little family time with a brother and his sisters! I'm so glad that you two have taken this moment to reinforce his God-Complex," she said, giving the two women a smirk.
"Do not speak of the Chosen One with such a tone!" the first woman said, her soft tone failing to convey enough harshness to be threatening to a hardened killer.
"Spare me," Kayla replied, smacking her lips. "Anyways, oh Great and Holy and Wonderful Lord N, King of all Pokémon and Prince of the Heavens and Great Proclaimer of Whiny Pacifist Schlock that Nobody Really Cares About, might I suggest, if you really think that Mr. Miller is threat, that you, oh, I don't know, take care of him. The Rocket way."
N gave Kayla a scathing look. "We are not Rockets," he growled.
"I know. You're Plasmas," Kayla sniggered. "But that doesn't mean that a good ol'-fashioned assassination couldn't get the job done, eh? Heavens, kid, you've got a trio of ninjas and a professional and dare I say wonderful mercenary – moi – on your side. Use us!"
N scowled. "No. Tony was my friend. I'll not send the likes of you to kill him."
Kayla returned the scowl. "You," she hissed, "are without a doubt the biggest idiot criminal overlord I've ever worked for."
"The Chosen One is neither a fool nor a criminal!" the second of N's entourage screamed.
Kayla ignored her. "Newsflash, kid," she growled down at N, "you've tried and tried to do things without spilling any blood, time and time again. And time and time again you've failed. You haven't made your point to this Tony kid. Why?"
"Because the biased news programs call us 'hippies' and 'lunatics'," N sighed. "And he has a former Gym Leader as his consort," he spat.
"Exactly." Kayla snapped her fingers underneath N's nose. "Now, use your brain for this one, N. If words aren't working, what do you do? You take…" She waved her hand to N, gesturing for him to finish her sentence.
"I will not have Tony executed," N said firmly, realizing the implications in Kayla's words at once.
"Then don't kill him," Kayla said, frustrated. "Make him see things from your perspective. Turn him to your side!"
"He's tried that!" the first of the entourage cried.
"This time," Kayla hissed, ignoring the protest, "you force him to your side! You take what he loves and you hold it juuust out of his reach and you make him work for it! Make him a Plasma by force!"
"And how," N said, feeling very frustrated and very nervous, "do you propose we do that?"
"Take his little 'consort'." Kayla hissed. Her lips split into an ugly grin. "Take away Skyla Fuuro. She's a Gym Leader, right? Two Pidove, one stone… if you'll pardon the expression."
It was a vulgar expression, to be sure, but N stared at Kayla's face in thoughtful silence for a brief moment. He then turned his eyes back to the television screen, where the battle between Tony and Bianca had begun.
"Sire…" one of his shrouded entourage whispered, her eyes darting back and forth between N and Kayla.
N finally spoke. "My sisters… Summon the Shadow Triad."
Kayla's grin became manic; she was starting to love this gig.
Author's Note:
4000+ words… Wowzah.
Tony and Bianca are about to have their epic battle! But who are the mysterious women who are watching – and just what is Sandrine doing with that gun-like device…? To make matters all the more scary, N's watching too, and he's planning something equally sinister!
What will happen next? Tune in again to find out!
Reader Question Time! I've heard rumors of an upcoming Pokémon detective RPG! If it's real, what are your thoughts on the project? Answer after you review!
Tony's Party:
1: Lucky, female Butterfree
Ability: Compound eyes
2: Sunny, female Larvesta
Ability: Flame Body
3: Lancelot, male Escavalier
Ability: Swarm
4: Strike, male Scolipede
Ability: Poison Point
5: Clover, female Swadloon
Ability: Leaf Guard
6: Rock Candy, female Dwebble
Ability: Sturdy
