Chapter Twenty Six – Psyshock
Evelina
Wow. Look at that, Evelina Joy. Your name in the Sports section of the National Herald, Eve thought, admiring the six-inch square article looted from the newspapers in the common room.
It was only about fifty words summarising her Quarter Finals battle, and buried away eight pages from the back at that, but Eve had carefully torn it out anyway. She'd followed the Tigerlily Tourney since she was sixteen, when she'd sat in the Amphitheatre stands with Aunt Immey and watched the now-Arcade Star Dahlia Escarrà take the Championship with a different team in every battle. She'd been listening in 2009 when, to her lasting resentment, Lisa and Valentina Jenny became the first of their clan to win the Tourney. Although, half the time she wouldn't even get to listen to the live coverage, since her mother usually found a long list of chores to keep her occupied when the battle was due to start. So she'd catch up online, and read the articles in the Herald the next morning. Always the Herald – the other broadsheets never covered the Tourney, and when the tabloids did, it was in a 'Top Ten Tigerlily Titties' sort of way.
Well, now it's my turn to feature, I suppose, Eve thought, slipping the cutting into her back pocket. Her stomach felt like an anxious pidgey was fluttering around in it. Now it was the Semi Finals the eyes of the media were on only two battles. There was no room left for mistakes.
What happens if I fail?
Eve sighed, stepping off the escalator into the steamy warmth of the cafeteria, half-full of half-asleep trainers. She fetched breakfast for herself and claimed a seat by the big window overlooking the atrium. Josh had headed out at silly o'clock to buy the best berries from the Underground, promising he'd be back by nine. It was ten past now. Eve pecked unenthusiastically at a croissant for a while, the anxious pidgey refusing to settle.
"Alright, I'll admit it. The choice for breakfast in Goldenrod is worth having," Josh announced, plunking down a bowl of kedgeree and a generous plate of bacon. He was looking markedly unfeminine with hair tied back, unshaven, in his tired old jumper.
"You're late," Eve complained. He didn't seem to notice, pulling off his jumper and dumping it on the tabletop. Eve gave him a reproving look and started to fold it properly.
"Why is this thing so damn heavy?" she exclaimed.
"Well, yeah, it's hundred per cent Mulberryshire wool," he said, as if that were an explanation. "You've never noticed before?"
"… what?"
"Mulberryshire wool. From Mulberryshire mareep. I suppose it's an obscure breed."
"I'd suppose so."
"How'd you think I got away with just bruises after that bitch ninetales attacked me?" Josh said mildly.
"It's like bloody wire!"
"You need strong needles to knit it, I do know that."
"Hm." No room left for mistakes. "Don't forget, Lyra knows Light Screen now, not Reflect."
"Don't you forget, you promised you'll salt the battlefield."
"Yes, yes, I know, I'm starting with Bailey."
"I still say that's a silly name for a forretress."
"Well it's better than your idea, Martello -"
They were interrupted by a couple of passing girls talking Tourney.
"- I know Lovelace/Winters will be the more exciting battle, but I still want to see the other Semi, you know, with the Joy and whatsername."
"What, her battle partner?"
"Yeah, yeah, the forgettable one."
Neither so much as glanced aside, oblivious to both of them.
"Forgettable," Josh repeated, without resentment.
"Honestly. The moment I set foot in a Pokémon Centre I'm scenery," Eve complained. "People see what they want to see."
"Yeah, well. They'll see ye well enough when you win today."
Afterwards Eve couldn't explain why she was suddenly lost for words. It wasn't the first time Josh had said something supportive. But for some reason she didn't know what to say, though she ought to say something. Or do something.
So she compromised by punching him on the arm.
"This Semi Finals battle between the teams of Emily Warbeck and Libby Berkowicz, Evelina Joy and Melissa Evans is about to begin!"
The ebullient mood in the Amphitheatre was electrifying. From the elliptic sweep of the stands brandished Tigerlily flags in orange-and-white rippled and flapped, the cheers of the crowd making Eve's skin tingle like static. Or so it felt. Some of those cheering spectators were cheering for her, it was thrilling. I'd love to get used to this, she thought with a brief shiver. She didn't care that she was sharing the spotlight. From the front row Whitney caught her gaze and waved enthusiastically. Eve raised her fist in a sincere salute – not to the Goldenrod Gym Leader, or even to the Sinnoh Champion, but to Madam Imperial Champion Pemberton, dignified as ever in a brunswick green suit.
Great Rhia of Victory, give me strength, Eve prayed. I don't want to lose in front of Madam Pemberton. The idling scoreboard ran an opening animation – all four of the competitor's Tourney portraits unfurled into view, each one embellished with a fire-orange tigerlily in the corner, subtitled with their names: Warbeck, Berkowicz, Joy, Evans.
Eve switched her attention to the other side of the Ice field. Warbeck was standing hunched over against the cold, arms neatly folded, eyes closed. Berkowicz positively glittered, gold-blonde locks pooling on her shoulders, golden dress sparkling in the Amphitheatre lights. The effect would have been impressively sexy, were it not spoiled by Berkowicz's permanent wreath of cigarette smoke.
"- ready your pokémon … and begin!"
Eve gave the battlefield a quick assessment – two-thirds of the surface was covered in snow, odd patches of stone-hard dirt showing through. Low shrubs arose from the snow, branches rimed with a hard frost.
"Yeah, get out there Venomoth," Berkowicz sighed. Josh released his magnemite without a word.
"Bailey," Eve yanked the Poké Ball from her chest and whipped it at the middle of the field, "you have the honour!"
Warbeck opened her eyes. A triad of Poké Balls levitated from her pockets, smoothly moving into close orbit around her body. One of them burst open, releasing a flat, round pokémon the colour of verdigris. Ignore that for now.
"You know what to do Bailey!" Eve called. Her forretress gracefully rose on an electromagnetic cushion. She whirled rapidly on her axis, salting the field with hundreds of glistening purple caltrops in pulsing waves. Their opponents declared opening moves, Berkowicz starting with Quiver Dance, Warbeck irritatingly ordering Light Screen. Eve grabbed her Pokédex – a sizzling Charge Beam struck Venomoth's forming Light Screen and smashed it into a flying cloud of sparks and translucent yellow panes, leaving behind a jagged and incomplete screen.
"Bronzor, the Bronze Pokémon. Bronzor -"
"Steel/Psychic-type. Could be a toughie," Eve said. Bailey kept on spinning, now laying down iron-coloured Spikes. Bronzor's sneaky attempt at rebuilding Venomoth's Light Screen did not go unnoticed by Screwball, who unmercifully smashed it a second time.
Berkowicz blew out a plume of smoke. "Venomoth, uh … Silver Wind."
Why the hell does that make sense? Eve thought as silvery grey scales blizzarded down at Bailey – she instinctively stopped laying down Spikes, clanked her shell shut and dropped into the snow with a crunch. The Silver Wind scoured up the powder, scales and snowflakes rising like glitter in a snowglobe. There was an audible 'ahh' of appreciation from the crowd. Eve flicked through her Pokédex after an answer. That would explain it.
"Either Berkowicz is an idiot or the moth has Tinted Lens."
"Damn nuisance," Josh murmured laconically.
"And you can't destroy Light Screen forever."
Josh just shrugged and signed for another Charge Beam – Bronzor managed to dodge it by flipping itself horizontal.
Warbeck obviously had no intention of following Josh's lead. "Bronzor. Skill Swap: Magnemite," she ordered.
I'm not following your lead either. "Pin Missile the pair of them!"
Bailey fired off her arsenal with a concussive bang-whoosh. Two Pins exploded on Bronzor with flashes of greenish-yellow fire and billows of acrid smoke; three sailed right over Venomoth as it fluttered deftly out of the way. Eve realised Warbeck was conferring with Berkowicz, the exploding Pins drowning out their words. One of Warbeck's orbiting Poké Balls abruptly recalled Bronzor -
"Alright Venomoth, Baton Pass out to Marowak," Berkowicz said.
- another released a hypno into the Spikes-free area in the far right of the field, followed by Marowak manifesting a few feet away. Both pokémon visibly flinched from the pain of Toxic Spikes piercing their feet.
"They're paying attention," Josh said. "Don't fill in that Spike gap."
"What?" Eve snapped. Teamwork, Eevee. "Um. Ok. Havoc."
The crowd had quietened down in anticipation of the next skirmish.
"Bailey!" Eve called in ringing tones. She snapped her fingers for emphasis. "Finish it with one salvo! Pin Missile Hypno!"
Bang. Eight Pin Missiles flew up in a high arc, sending a black smear of smoke scudding back over Bailey. The smoke curled slowly in the cold air, staining the snow grey. Warbeck hardly reacted, only watching the ascending Pins glumly.
"Marowak, Focus Energy, boy," Berkowicz said. Josh signalled Screwball to stay high.
The Pins arced back down to earth – Marowak broke into a run, whether to get out of the blast zone or to get within attacking distance, Eve wasn't sure – Dead on target, go on, one salvo – hold on, why isn't Warbeck doing anything about it?
"Psybeam."
Hypno calmly raised his pendulum. A ribbon of psychic energy uncoiled from it, flailing madly about like an angry ekans. The flailing ribbon scythed through the air, burning each Pin Missile into a twisted, blackened and useless spine.
Eve screamed in frustration, Smack Down from Marowak whizzing up at Screwball. Josh ordered something in Kalosian – Eve glowered at Hypno advancing gingerly across the icy ground, leaving behind spots of blood in his footprints. Let's see you endure a full bombardment.
"Hypnosis: Forretress," Warbeck ordered coolly.
Hypno's pendulum started to oscillate of its own accord, his low rhythmic chanting almost felt rather than heard. Within five seconds Bailey stopped listening to commands. Within ten she withdrew her siphons and locked her shell down for sleep.
Eve partially suppressed another scream and grabbed another Poké Ball. "Bailey, return. Meowth, you have the honour! Oh, um, Checkmate," she added hastily.
Meowth sidled into the cover of a hoar-frosted bush to Hone Claws, peering suspiciously through the branches at Hypno padding relentlessly across the snow. A Sonic Boom growled by, throwing up a niveous wave as it ploughed through a snowdrift.
"Hypnosis: Meowth," Warbeck ordered with a smile.
"Fine. Flash," Eve parried with a smile of her own. Hypno hooted in distress, his pendulum swinging wildly as he shielded his eyes from the sudden glare.
"Get it," Eve snarled. It was all the instruction Meowth needed. He flowed across the snow like a feline shadow. The Ice field forced him to slow down to short, careful bursts, all claws out for traction. Hypno tried to chase him with Psybeams, looping them over the shrubs and hillocks he was using as cover. Each Psybeam melted a pothole in the snow with a plume of steam. Meowth dashed to the top of a drift, bunched his muscles and leapt at Hypno's head. Unperturbed by the claws aimed at his face he coolly drew his hand back and chopped it forward, throwing a Psycho Cut right at Meowth.
"Watch out!" Eve yelled uselessly. Somehow Meowth managed to twist aside, the Psycho Cut hissing right by his belly, landing behind Hypno with a muffled thump. He wriggled snarling to his feet – Hypno pivoted on the spot, fist swinging, and deftly slugged him with Drain Punch, plunging him right into a snowdrift.
"Oh, gods!" Eve squeaked. With considerable difficulty Meowth dug himself out of the snow. A wave of cheers and applause rose from the stands, Warbeck's supporters hollering encouragement. In the front row Whitney was vivaciously giving her analysis to her apprentices while they simultaneously laughed amongst themselves, happily exaggerating flinches at Meowth's injury.
"She's starting to floun-der!" one of them loudly observed. Try shutting your beak and engaging your brain, Eve thought uncharitably. I'm not trapped yet.
"Well, there's always the clinic, amirite girls?"
Eve had heard that tone before, that smug, knowing, condescending, dismissive tone that inevitably presages a patronising remark. Georgia Lovelace used the same tone that night on Brightwater Mile. Till then it had been a good night on the luminous, exuberant street. Especially in her good mood Eve couldn't help but join in on what should have been a friendly exchange of rivalrous banter. But Lovelace had to take that tone -
"I'm not, uh, sure your lineage is like, applicable here?" Lovelace said, her polite voice redolent with disingenuity. She glanced round at the other Tigerlilies as if to say 'Am I right, girls?'. No-one overtly backed her up, but predictably no-one challenged her either. They all just avoided her glance, tacitly supporting her with smiles.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Eve coldly replied, throwing down her gauntlet.
"No offence, but your family doesn't exactly have a proud tradition of turning out great pokémon trainers," Winters said brusquely.
Is that all they saw her as – Lovelace, Winters, those Goldenrod Gym bitches in the stands? A nurse playing at being a trainer? Lovelace had watched her blaze through the opposition in the Heats and the first compliment, the only compliment she had was 'Nice tits Evelina'! Well she wasn't going to pretend to be someone she wasn't just to fit an image. She wasn't going to stop dyeing her hair or wear coloured contacts or pretend she didn't know how to heal, treat, cure or medicate her own damn pokémon! Her life, her terms.
Deep down a quiet voice kept saying that someone who truly lived on their own terms would not, could not be provoked by anyone else's idiot opinion and would be happier for it. But it wasn't in her nature to be serene about it. She wanted to win.
Eve could feel the edges of her ears burning. The fluttering pidgey in her stomach seemed to have caught fire and melted into a pool of hot oil.
Somehow she'd lost the initiative. With an expert flick Hypno sent a Psycho Cut skimming gracefully across the snow. A Meowth clone ran right into it and vanished instantly as it cut off his legs. What was left of the Double Team kept trying to harass Hypno – he swiped at the real Meowth with Drain Punch and calmly blasted another clone with a quick Psybeam.
Eve threw a quick scowl at Whitney's consoeurs. This was not normal. Usually Meowth's Double Team at least reset the tempo of the battle, but neither Hypno nor Warbeck had been so much as discomfited. It didn't help that the sodding ice was restricting Meowth's agility.
"Disable it," Warbeck ordered. Hypno oscillated his pendulum meditatively – Meowth scraped to a halt, whiskers flat against his face, then spat a vile curse in revenge for having his Double Team Disabled. A Magnet Bomb explosion flashed in Eve's peripheral vision. Screwball was hovering close to the snow facing Berkowicz's marowak standing his ground forty feet away, wielding his weapon in both hands. That bone club looked like a fearow's ulna – it was three feet long, nearly as long as Marowak was tall. He quickly brought it up and flicked away a Magnet Bomb, which burst behind his head.
"Marowak, quit playing and demolish it!" Berkowicz called.
"Enveloppez-lui avec Bombaiment."
Marowak charged – and Screwball unleashed a torrent of Magnet Bombs, the staccato chink-chink of it rapidly reloading like machine-gun fire. It slowed Marowak's charge down to a walk – he simply and precisely blocked and deflected each Bomb, the intensity of the barrage eclipsing him with flashing steel blue explosions. The instant he was in range Marowak brought his bone club back slightly, hurriedly swung it forwards and snapped back to a defensive guard. In his haste he didn't land a square blow, though it was still powerful enough to slug Screwball into a bush with a cacophonic crackle of breaking branches.
"This isn't working," Josh said.
"No, it's not," Eve admitted. "Meowth, forget Hypno, Water Pulse that marowak! Double Team as soon as you can!"
"Eevee."
"Sorry, sorry. Um, Havoc."
"Psybeam: Meowth," Warbeck ordered. Eve had chosen her strategy well. Almost as soon as Hypno raised his hand a Charge Beam thumped into his pendulum. The string burst into flame and crumbled to ash, the liberated weight dropping smoking into the snow. Josh's mouth curved into a faint smile. Cunning bastard. That's put a stop to Hypnosis.
"Keep Hypno busy, I'm unleashing Meowth," Eve said. "Get your claws into Marowak!"
[I'll slice you yet, cully,] Meowth threatened, throwing Hypno a venomous look. He ran at Marowak just as Screwball loosed a Charge Beam, missed, re-aimed and fired again. Hypno launched a Psybeam to intercept it, and another, and another as Screwball kept up the Charge Beam barrage with a magnemite's robotic patience. Meowth let out a triumphant yell and suddenly exploded into a clowder of Double Team.
"Slash him! Drive him back!" Eve hollered. Come on, if I can just force them apart! Marowak took a guard as the clowder closed in. He thrust at the face of the first clone to attack and feinted at the second, taking a step back as he returned to guard. His club was like an osseous wall, guarding, feinting and threatening – Meowth drove him backwards step-by-step even as Marowak steadily broke apart his Double Team.
I'm going to rip the initiative from you, Eve thought, scowling at Berkowicz glittering on the far side of the field.
"Meowth – return … Bailey, you have the honour," Eve commanded. She deliberately dropped the Ball a yard in front of Josh, about one hundred feet from Marowak. Bailey manifested as still and unresponsive as a lump of iron. Berkowicz obviously realised she was still asleep.
"Whatever. Marowak, demolish the forretress instead," she called, tossing away her cigarette end.
Bailey quietly unlocked her shell. Her siphons slowly extruded from the bellicosal vents. She swivelled in place slightly to focus on the marowak rapidly closing down the distance.
"Take Down, Take Down!" Eve shouted.
"Watch it!" Berkowicz called. Marowak threw himself into a roll – Bailey hurtled past in front of an electromagnetic cushion, bouncing and skipping across the ground.
Bailey's not fast enough, Eve realised. Take Down would be decisive, she could feel it, if she could somehow pin Marowak's feet in place. The smoky haze from Screwball's patient attacks was creeping over the battlefield like syrup. Evelina Joy, you blockhead, you've forgotten your anvil!
She punched Josh on the arm. "Get Screwball to repeat that Magnet Bomb thing."
Josh gave her a tired look. "What?"
"Please, sweetling, just trust me."
"Fine. Screwball, enveloppez, uh … Ossateur avec Bombaiment."
"Keep on doing that if you like, the same thing's going to happen," Berkowicz insisted. Once again her marowak skilfully blocked Screwball's incessant Magnet Bombs. Eve wasn't going to give Warbeck any time to think -
"Take Down!" she sang out. Bailey wheeled back around, staring inscrutably at Marowak to judge distance. Down slammed her steel shell, with a sudden explosion of movement she charged, carving a sinuous channel in the snow.
"Hypno: um – stop it!" Warbeck yelled. Her pokémon improvised with a wild rain of psychic attacks. Psycho Cuts merely scratched her shell, Psybeams pounded the snow into icy runnels of meltwater. Marowak desperately spared a glance at Bailey – she cannoned into him, flinging him away like a rag doll while Magnet Bombs splashed off her armour.
"Yes!" Eve roared.
The surge of cheering drowned out the referee's ruling. Up on the scoreboard the marowak icon under Berkowicz's portrait went dark. There were yells of 'Cherrygrove! Cherrygrove!' evidently from her fellow townsmen in the stands. Somewhere near the back a group of teenage girls hoisted a six-foot banner: EVELINA NICE KILL!
Eve winked roguishly at Josh. "Someone's getting a reward – hey, what's up?"
Josh tipped his cloche over his forehead, a faintly tense expression on his face. "Headache. Doesn't matter," he said concisely. He took advantage of the lull to sign a few curt orders.
Berkowicz lit up a fresh cigarette, taking a long loving drag heedless of the referee giving her a pointed look. One of his assistants hurried up to issue a warning – with insolent indifference she sent her venomoth back into the battle.
"Trainers ready …" the referee called, "and begin!"
"Quick, Pin Missile Venomoth!" Eve barked.
"Mag-ne-mite!" A bright nimbus of light shone around Screwball, long sparks snapping from his magnets. An expression of dawning horror formed on Warbeck's face as Screwball turned towards Hypno. The Charge Beam seared across the battlefield, detonating with a deep boom and a swelling cloud of black smoke.
"Oh!" the crowd collectively exclaimed, followed by a brief storm of applause. At the same time Bailey launched a wide spread of Pin Missiles at Venomoth. Hardly any of them hit, but they didn't need to.
"Return, Bailey. Well done, girl," Eve said. "Lyra, you have the honour!"
[And the honour is mine!] Lyra yelled happily.
"Hypno: Disable that magnemite!" Warbeck ordered, her composure slipping a little.
"Bring it down, Joy! Bring it down, Joy!"
Hypno hobbled painfully from the smoke, his fur soaked through by snow melted by the heat of the Charge Beam. It's high time you got rid of that hypno, Eevee-girl. Eve assessed him with a professional eye. The poison's sinister effects should be taking hold by now – he was definitely losing macular vision, judging by his poor accuracy with Psycho Cut. After that Charge Beam impact he shouldn't be able to keep battling much longer -
"Well, you heard them!" Eve called. "Bring Hypno down!"
Hypno flung another Psycho Cut at Screwball – Eve heard Josh stifle a cry of pain – just as Lyra pounced on Hypno with fists flying.
"I need a Light Screen," Josh said tersely, under the sound of Hypno failing to fend off Lyra's Comet Punch.
"Lyra, back off and use Light Screen!" Eve immediately called.
Hypno raised his hand for yet another Psycho Cut as Light Screen tessellated together around Lyra and Screwball, and hesitated, swaying slightly. The completed Light Screen flashed and faded away.
Warbeck plucked a Poké Ball out of the air. "Hypno, that's enough. Come back."
That's the last of him, Eve thought judiciously. Even if Warbeck sent Hypno back into battle later he wouldn't last long.
"I doubt Screwball can take another hit," Josh said quietly.
"Alright, just run support and I'll strengthen our lead."
"Bronzor, appear," Warbeck said, levitating Bronzor's Poké Ball back into orbit just as Bronzor levitated into position.
[Am I getting the moth?] Lyra called.
"Cut it down!" Eve answered.
The Air Cutter hit Venomoth right in the thorax and neatly split the exoskeleton – it fluttered madly for a moment, Bronzor raising a Light Screen a couple of seconds too late.
"Hey, get it together. And Silver Wind," Berkowicz said. Venomoth's slow, strong wing beats drove down Silver Wind in powerful pulses. Lyra escaped from under it by quickly ascending to match Venomoth's altitude. It responded by ascending further, racing Lyra in a battle for height.
"Cage. Cage-Éclair: Venomoth," Josh said haltingly. A crackling snarl of red-and-blue electricity arched from Screwball to Venomoth. It spasmed jerkily and tumbled to the ground amid the tangled lightning.
"Bronzor, Reflect," Warbeck ordered over Berkowicz's violent cursing.
Light Screen and Reflect. One step forward, one step back, Eve thought with a frustrated sigh. Can't get around it, can't break it down. Can't give up.
Nobody said this would be easy. Lyra's body language was taut, focused and eager. Eve sent her back into the fray with Air Cutter followed by Comet Punch. The combat devolved into a dogged battle of attrition, Eve and Lyra battling to find a decisive opening. Warbeck started to use Bronzor as a shield, physically getting in the way of Air Cutter. Light Screen cancelled out Tinted Lens; Venomoth Quiver Danced to try and regain the upper hand. Almost as soon as Berkowicz struggled to build Venomoth up than Josh struggled to break it down with Eerie Impulses and Metal Sound.
A tired and battered Lyra circled at about twenty feet, deliberately keeping Venomoth at a lower altitude. This was not Eve's way of battling. She didn't like being locked into endurance matches, battling her pokémon into exhaustion. But Meowth couldn't do a lot to two airborne pokémon and she didn't want to waste Bailey's endurance against Tinted Lens. Eve pulled a face, came to a decision, and punched Josh's arm.
"I'm going to attack as soon as their Reflect falls," she said. He gave a shallow nod.
"Lyra, keep your distance for now!" Eve called, watching intently. Berkowicz, frowning suspiciously, had Venomoth bust a Quiver Dance whilst neither of them were attacking. Any moment now – there. There, the faint blue shimmer of Reflect falling.
"Now, Comet Punch!"
[Yea-heh-eeah!] Lyra whooped, dropping into a dive.
"Block that!" Warbeck commanded.
"Rayon Chargé: Bronzor."
The Charge Beam flicked Bronzor away like a twopence piece. Lyra crashed into Venomoth like a scarlet bullet, passion overriding her weariness. Venomoth fought back vigorously, their mid-air combat turning into a chaotic blur of smashed Reflect hexes and glowing Light Screens, changing so fast even the Pokédex couldn't make sense of it: "Confusion – Comet Punch, a Nor- Giga Drain -"
[Bloody! Give! In!] Lyra buzzed in fury. She dropped away from Venomoth to get her bearings – immediately a Charge Beam narrowly missed Venomoth.
Berkowicz blew out an angry stream of smoke. "Deal with that magnemite."
A blue glow seized Screwball – it let out a strangled "Magnemite!" before Confusion slammed him into the frozen ground. There was a distinct crunch of shattering ice.
"K-O! K-O! K-O!"
"Magnemite is unable to battle!" the referee confirmed to a chorus of cheers. Josh recalled Screwball, murmuring thanks to it through the Ball. He visibly hesitated, tipping his hat over his eyes to hide his pained frown.
"Er … um," he began, fiddling indecisively with his bag.
"You ok sweetling?"
"Hang on … got it. Ivysaur, battle's on."
"Begin!" called the referee.
"Anvil," Eve said instinctively. "Lyra, let's finish what we started -"
"That's enough, Venomoth," Berkowicz interrupted. "Baton Pass to Corsola."
Bitch. That's just what I would do. Eve sighed in what she hoped was an irritable way. The hot oil of her fury had cooled. They just wouldn't break! It was like trying to batter down a brick wall with a plastic hammer. She was holding on to the slimmest of leads; she was pretty sure Josh's headache was burning through his concentration.
The nerves were scratching to be let back in.
What happens if I fail?