I would like to thank Foxyjosh and Just-Ice 121 for following this story. May there be many more people who enjoy this sci-fi tale.
Here's the second chapter. I decided to put it up today partly because it's Election Day here; while I can't compete with Kornacki, I can at least watch views come in, and hopefully feedback as well. So please, I'd love if you all made my day by reviewing. Enjoy.
Current music: Fake Happy - Paramore
TEN YEARS LATER
The heat of the day was stifling, but it didn't bother the young woman at all as she stepped out of the news van. After all, having lived in the nation of Alola her whole life, she'd grown used to it.
"Are you sure you don't want more security, Katt?" her bodyguard enquired. "I could always call in backup."
Katt snorted. "I'm not the President, Mr. DeAngelo. I'm just a lowly reporter. I should be fine."
"If you say so. But if you get shot dead at this event, don't go blaming me for it."
Why did you bring that up, anyway?
"If I were dead," Katt continued, "I don't believe I would have the capacity to be angry at anyone, much less you. But the most important thing right now is the big event - Arceus knows it's the biggest tournament of the year."
Before the two of them (and many other reporters and security personnel), there stood the Alola Colosseum. Constructed mainly out of light red bricks, it evoked an ancient Alolan fishing village, complete with small palm trees waving in the wind.
Unlike a traditional Alolan dwelling, however, the structure was gargantuan. It made your average football stadium look like a shack in the most pitiful slums of Moraga City. Of course, it had to be enormous in order to accommodate the events it had been built for.
Katt wasn't necessarily fat, but she was tall with a solid build. Additionally, the dark blue color of her blouse didn't help matters. Knowing that the hot equatorial sun was a factor, she should have had the foresight to wear lighter-colored clothing. She chalked this oversight up to her excitement about the tournament.
In her right hand, the journalist held her laptop computer, neatly folded shut with the pineapple logo on it (signifying that it had been manufactured in the Alolan islands.) Her left hand was currently occupied with waving off the other reporters' potential advances on her.
Seriously, why would they look at me that way? You see that man there? He looks like he's attracted to me, but why should I care? Why would anyone find me pretty?
Katt shook her head just as vigorously as she shook her left hand. She climbed the steps along with her bodyguard into the colosseum's entrance hall, which was mercifully air-conditioned.
"Good morning, Ms. Keller," the man at the front desk said in a sweet, almost saccharine tone.
"There's no need to be so formal," the journalist snapped. "Katt is just fine."
"Fair enough, Katt. Anyway, do you have your press pass for the Alola Colosseum? You must produce it, or else you will not be allowed to cover the tournament."
"Why can't we do the honor system here? You know I have permission; I'm in good standing with the ABC (Alolan Broadcasting Corporation)."
The man shook his head. "Unfortunately, this is standard protocol. We can't run on the honor system at this event, sadly."
"Fine," Katt said, pursing her lips. Speaking of purse, she reached into hers and took out the ID containing her press credentials.
"Okay, you may enter."
Katt made her way through the line for the metal detector. Once she was on the other side of the security portal, she reunited with her trusty laptop and walked to the journalist's room at the end of the lavish hallway.
Along the way, she marveled at the red carpet, the paintings of jungle plants on the walls… overall, the interior of the Colosseum was quite a sight to behold. Even after covering all these tournaments, Katt couldn't help but be amazed. To have access to such a beautiful stadium was a gift from Arceus.
The journalists' room looked a lot like what one might find at a country club. There was a fireplace in one corner (not that it would ever be used), a pool table, a piano, and a cabinet atop which a series of refreshments had been placed.
The reporters themselves came from a variety of different networks, each indicated by their badge. Some were from Vulpix News, some were from OANN (One Alola News Network), and still others came from XYZ. Most of them were chatting with one another, talking as casually as if they'd been friends for many years.
In many cases, this was true. Most of the reporters covering the tournament in person were quite a bit older than Katt, and they certainly had more seniority. In time, the press club became a sort of clique, just like one would find in high school.
Katt helped herself to a glass of lemon water and sat in the corner. She opened her PineApple laptop and connected to the stadium's Wi-Fi. She'd need it later on.
The conversation continued all around her, but Katt paid it no mind. She wasn't welcome in any of these talks - that much was clear. But soon enough, it wouldn't matter; after all, she had a job to do.
About five minutes after Katt had turned on her computer, one of the event's announcers strode confidently into the room, standing tall and beaming from ear to ear.
"It's time for the interviews!" the buff man announced eagerly. "Each of you will be assigned a contestant to ask questions of, and then you'll upload the responses to our portal. Does that sound like a plan?"
The journalists all nodded, including Katt; then again, there was no reason for them not to nod. They couldn't exactly decline to do their job.
"Okay. I sent you all an email earlier, which you should have received by now. It'll tell you what room you are meant to head to, as well as which contestant is using that room."
Katt clicked back into the tab containing her inbox, where she found a recent email from the Alolan Athletic Association. She clicked it open and began to read.
Your assigned room is Room 928. Your assigned interviewee is August Hemlock, 19, of Dakal City.
Along with the name and room number, there was a link to the portal at which the answers would be recorded. Katt kept that in mind as she left the journalists' room and made her way back down the hallway.
Given that the room was presumably on the ninth floor of the stadium, it might have been more convenient to take the elevator. However, Katt knew that on the day of the opening ceremony, there was likely to be a long line for said elevator.
So she resolved to take the stairs instead. Besides, it was a good way to get some steps in without overheating.
Although no time limit had been given for the interview to be conducted, Katt couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency as she scaled the stairwell. She was practically bouncing up each step.
Of course! I'm going to get to interview a contestant! This is the first time I've been able to do so; during previous years, I was only in the press room.
Once on the ninth level, Katt trekked along the hallway like she was walking along an avenue. She passed Room 922, then 926… and there it was, on the left.
Katt knocked on the door. "Hello?"
A rather gruff male voice answered her. "Who is this?"
Don't be so intimidated. He's about a decade younger than me, even if he might be the next regional champion in the Pokémon League.
"I am a reporter. I'm here for your interview," Katt said, trying not to let her voice break.
"Why do I have to do an interview?" the voice replied.
"Because that's part of being a high-profile trainer," the woman said sharply. "Like it or not, the second you signed up for the tournament, you agreed to this. Please, for the love of Arceus, open the goddamn door."
The door swung open, and on the other side stood a young man.
He was taller than Katt, but only slightly, with curly auburn hair and glasses. He wore a yellow tie-dye shirt on his chest and a rather uneasy smile on his face.
"Come on in," the boy said blankly. "I'm sorry I yelled."
"There's no need to apologize," Katt told him. "Just make sure you learn from that mistake."
The young man motioned for Katt to sit down on the couch. It was then that the reporter noticed just how lavish the room was - it was not only air-conditioned, but it contained an en-suite bathroom, fridge with a variety of cold drinks, and even a bed.
"I take it you'll be staying here tonight, August?"
The boy nodded, then frowned. "How did you know my name?"
"The identities of all 320 contestants are public information," Katt replied. "As is the format of the tournament. Round-robins in pools of five, then a 64-person single-elimination bracket among the winners of each pool."
August put his head in his hands, reclining on the couch. "I wasn't asking for this. I didn't sign up for a media circus."
"But you did," Katt pointed out. "Like I said, that's probably something you should have thought of before you entered the tournament."
The young man sighed, then waved around the suite. "Well, help yourself to whatever drinks you want. Make yourself at home. We can talk about whatever you like."
"Well, okay," Katt replied. "I came here with a specific list of questions. Your answers to the questionnaire will be posted online tonight, so please answer honestly."
"Fine" August grunted.
"First question," Katt said, "what is your full name?"
"August S Hemlock. The S doesn't stand for anything, it's just there."
"An interesting decision. Could you tell me any more about that?"
"Well, I can't be entirely sure. As far as I can remember, my parents wanted to honor two of my uncles - both of their names started with S, but my parents couldn't agree. So it's just S."
"Huh," Katt replied, typing this answer into her document. "So how old are you, August? My information says you're nineteen. Is this correct?"
"That is correct," August replied mechanically.
"Noted. In that case, please tell me what Pokémon trainer you're most like."
August didn't even hesitate. "Ash Ketchum, of course. In fact, my initials - A.S.H. - well, you know. That wasn't intentional, but I think it's cool."
"Is there any other way in which you want to emulate Ash Ketchum?"
"Well, there's obviously the desire to be the best, like no one ever was. Of course, some dreams are more realistic than others."
"That much is true," Katt agreed aloud, typing a few more notes into her document. But then she looked up from her laptop. She had a hard question for August, and she hoped it wouldn't break him down. But she had to ask nonetheless.
"What would you do if you were known as the best? That is to say, how would you handle the media attention? Because to be honest with you, you seem to be crumbling under the coverage you're already receiving."
August did not answer; instead, he grabbed a bottle of mango juice from the cabinet beside him and took a long swig of it. He seemed to be waiting for Katt to say something else.
"Let me put it this way, August: If you win the Alolan Championship, you'll qualify for the Global Championship. And I can promise you this: If you end up at that tournament, this interview will look like nothing by comparison.
"So, what will you do? You won't exactly be able to hide from the world then."
"Well, I'll go find a girl," August responded casually.
Katt wrinkled her nose. "Find a girl?"
"Well, yeah. If I win this tournament, and am confirmed to be the best trainer in the world, they'll be crawling towards me. They'll literally be on their knees, like I'm the Messiah or something."
Something struck Katt about the young man's demeanor. How could August speak so casually about getting a date from the tournament? But it wasn't just casual; his speech sounded so neutral, along with his body language, that she could almost convince herself he didn't care.
So then, if he doesn't care, why is he here? I'm sure there are plenty of trainers who would be eager to take his place!
"It's not the color of your hair that matters, August," Katt replied sharply. "Rather, it's the content of your character. I hope that whatever relationship you find once this is over, especially if you win, is rooted in mutual respect. But that's neither here nor there right now."
"Noted," August responded, crossing his arms and legs.
"While we're on the subject of what you'd do if you won, you should know that the prize pool for this event is winner-take-all. All three hundred and twenty contestants paid a thousand Alolan Poké in order to compete, and that prize money, along with an extra million, will be awarded to the winner of the tournament. Now, that million might be six hundred grand by the time the government takes it, but-".
"Why are you telling me all this?" August snapped. "You think I don't know it already?"
"Because it's a segue into my next question, which is this: If you win, what will you do with the money?"
August visibly flinched at that question. He leaned back on the couch, as far away from Katt as possible, as though the journalist had just coughed in his direction. He then glared at her.
"That's personal," the young man replied. "That's deeply personal."
Katt sighed. "You don't have to give too many details. You don't even have to tell the truth. Just bullshit something."
"Fine. I'll take the money and run."
"Run from what? The law? You still have to pay taxes on your winnings, you know."
"I guess I'll open… a dog bar. You know, where people can take their Lillipup or Houndour or what have you, and they can bring them there, and the dogs will be served like they would at a human restaurant."
"Don't they already have Pokémon menus at many restaurants?" Katt enquired. "I don't see why that would be necessary."
"Well, it'd be my money, and if I win, I can do whatever I want with it."
"That much is true. But," Katt continued, rolling her eyes somewhat playfully, "I don't buy that answer in the slightest."
Just when August was about to open his mouth to protest, the reporter clarified her statement. "But that's fine," she said. "Like I said, wanting to open a dog bar is certainly going to help you stand out from the others. Then again, this isn't The Houndoom Games; you're not going to get any sponsors here."
August started looking from side to side. Something about his gaze rubbed Katt the wrong way, as though he were trying to stare right through her.
"What are you doing?" she asked him. "We've still got some more questions to get through."
"Ah, right," August said with a sigh. "I'm just not very good at staring, you know?"
"You don't need to stare at me," Katt replied with a frown.
"Whatever. Anyway, what were you going to ask me next?"
"Is there anyone in particular you want to impress by winning? Who are you doing this for?"
August's eyes curled downward into slits, as did his lips. There were tears in his eyes - whether they were of sadness, anger, or joy, Katt couldn't tell.
A few seconds later, he responded with the following two words:
"My brother."
"Oh?" Katt responded, typing a few more words, then allowing the document to auto-save. "Tell me more about your brother."
"Well, his name is Jerry. He's four years younger than me, and he's my best friend."
Katt smiled. "I am glad you have a good relationship with your brother. Not all sibling pairs are so fortunate."
"It's not your job to judge our relationship," August responded coolly.
"I never said I was trying to do that. Anyway, who or what is your inspiration in life?"
"Jerry is."
"That is odd," Katt responded.
"Why so?"
"Because," the journalist said, "I would think that your younger brother would usually look up to you. Is there any reason it's the other way around with you?"
August did not reply. He just stared off into space; or more accurately, he stared at the mini-fridge.
"I'll move on, then," Katt replied. "Before I go, it is important that I get to meet your team of Pokémon."
The trainer narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to inspect them or anything? I've heard of what Team Rocket does."
"Why would I be affiliated with Team Rocket? They're a criminal organization; we're just the free press of Alola."
"Forget I said anything," August said flatly. "And sure, I'll let you meet my Pokémon. The Pokéballs are in the cabinet; I'll get them out."
Katt waited with bated breath as August opened the drawer of the nearby cabinet. She half-expected the Pokémon within said drawer to burst out of their Pokéballs and attack her, just based on their trainer's demeanor alone.
Fortunately, that did not happen. August sat the four identical Pokéballs on the table; at least, they were identical other than the stickers on each one.
"You still use stickers?" Katt enquired. "I thought they were associated with children."
"They bloody well aren't!" August snapped. "They're the only way I can remember which one is which - I mean, they all look the same!"
"Fair enough," the journalist replied. "In that case, why don't you open one of them and let me meet your team."
August still looked a bit peeved, but he pressed the button on one of the Pokéballs. In a flash of cyan light, a beaver-like creature appeared on the carpet, its black eyes staring right into Katt's soul.
The Bidoof bared its buck teeth for the journalist to see, and Katt would be lying if she said that it didn't make her feel uneasy. This creature appeared more… well, lucid isn't the right word. But something about the Bidoof's eyes, despite not having any whites to them, made it look as though the creature's consciousness were heightened.
"This is Bandit," August said. "Bandit, say hello to Katt."
"Bidoof! Bidoof!" Bandit exclaimed. This was not, strictly speaking, a surprise; humans and Pokémon had their own languages, and anything a creature in the latter category said would sound like gibberish (or simply their species' name.)
Some speculated that Pokémon had a full understanding of the human language, though it wasn't Katt's job to pursue that possibility. Her main concern, of course, was the interview.
"It's nice to meet you, Bandit," the journalist said, trying to keep her cool. "I wish you good luck in the tournament tomorrow."
The Bidoof clacked its fangs together as if to say, Thank you so much, Katt! But the reporter knew that was likely wishful thinking.
"They say Bandit's quite clever," August told Katt. "That's what the professor told me when I received him from the lab, and that's why I named him Bandit."
"Fair enough," Katt replied. "That makes sense, I suppose."
"Okay, Bandit, time for you to get some rest," August said.
"Bidoof! Bidoof!" Bandit protested.
"It's not punishment," the young man replied. "It's for your own good. You need to be in top shape for the tournament tomorrow; or, as the saying goes, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."
"Bidoof! Bidoof!"
"Yes, I know you don't have bright eyes. It's a figure of speech, but it's still a good piece of advice."
Before Bandit could protest any further, August pressed the button on the open Pokéball, producing a flash of red light that swallowed Bandit whole.
Katt frowned. "You seem to be very close to your Pokémon."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No," the reporter responded, putting her hands in the air. "It's not a problem. It's just… I don't see such strong bonds very often."
"And that's why I'm going to win," August asserted, far more confidently than Katt had heard him speak before. "Hell, I'd bet my brother's life on it."
The reporter pursed her lips. "Okay then."
The second half of the interview went far more swimmingly than the first half. Katt was introduced to Steve the Oshawott, Canaan the Riolu, and Mariana the Sylveon, all of whom spoke with only one word apiece: The name of their species.
Despite this, August seemed to understand them perfectly. Either that, or he was just playing pretend; which, of course, all children did at some point, but at nineteen years old, August Hemlock was hardly a child.
There were a few other questions to fill out, but one particular line stood out to Katt above all the rest.
Everyone wants to be the best at something; there's no doubt about that. But in a field of 320 Pokémon trainers, nobody can be assured of victory. And sure, August's comment about being willing to bet his brother's life on victory was likely intended as a boast, meant to project confidence rather than a will to sacrifice his brother if he lost.
But to speak with such confidence, and in such a brazen manner, raised one question for Katt.
Does he know something I don't?
