There they were - the last two Pokémon trainers left in the Indigo League. They had one Pokémon left apiece. Ryan's was a Alakazam, but you already knew that. Julia fancied herself a fancy level 58 Starmie. In the stands, vendors wearing bloated, golden Pikachu costumes waded through the pandemonium and chaos, exchanging Poké Dollars for cheap trinkets or low-quality stadium food. They were loud, all of them, loud enough to give one a headache. They were screaming for him to win - some of the spectators, at least. Others chanted Julia's name. Many held up cheap cardboard posters with pictures of Pokémon or useless, encouraging words scrawled in black ink meant to comfort the poor trainers. At least they're excited. This is it!
The boy had to grasp the railings to stop himself from shaking. He could think of nothing but this upcoming battle. He'd never battled a Starmie with his Alakazam before, especially not one that had TMs. He had no idea if Alakazam would be stronger, or if Alakazam generally lose to Starmie. That said, he didn't like that Starmie was part psychic type, for that meant Alakazam's only offensive move would be half as strong as usual.
"Thunder Wave!" Both Ryan's and Julia's voices echoed in unison. She has the same idea, he realized with horror.
The two super fast Pokémon were paralyzed, covered in dancing electricity, and became slow as molasses on a sunday afternoon picnic party. It was the worst sight Ryan had seen since thirty seconds ago.
"The stall party's underway!" Alex's tone sounded celebratory. "But you're in a good position, Ryan. Don't forget to have Alakazam use Recover if he takes a nasty hit!"
"Right. Psychic, buddy!"
"Blizzard!"
Julia's attack found pay dirt. Ryan's Alakazam was paralyzed - he couldn't move. How's that for luck? The ice hit Alakazam severely, sending him limping back, howling out in pain. The people in the stands laughed jubilantly - they could see the end in sight. This was Julia's tournament, after all.
The next Psychic hit, doing some decent damage; Julia's Starmie collapsed afterwards, yellow electric bolts swimming across its body like desperate leeches. It was paralyzed. On the next turn, Ryan's Alakazam recovered half of his health, bringing him back to full strength. Starmie was paralyzed again on the next turn and was unable to perform that Blizzard Julia wanted it to. Okay, maybe I have a little luck.
On the next turn, Alakazam was afflicted by the terrible plague of paralysis. "No!" Ryan sobbed melodramatically. "If only that Psychic had gone through, I know I would have won!"
His mother was screaming something in the background, and judging by the tone of her voice, he had no idea if she was in high or low spirits. It was a crazy mystery that will never be brought up again.
Returning back to the battle, it became apparent that the Starmie had been quite damaged - but with Alakazam's last attack not going through, that allowed Julia's Pokémon to Recover again. Ryan slapped his forehead dramatically. "You weren't kidding about this being a stall party!"
"I like this kinda party!" Logan whistled.
"Froaaa!" the Frodo dobo frog sang from Logan's shoulder.
On the next turn, Alakazam was paralyzed again and the Starmie's Blizzard attack went sailing by Alakazam, painfully inaccurately, especially considering how slow Alakazam had become following the paralysis. The crowd detested that Blizzard missing, raining angry popcorn down upon the girl and her entourage. Up from their seats rose the aristocratically-dressed men and women who gave their loyalty to Julia; in their fine suits and colorful dresses, the group of rich hominids bent down, picked up the popcorn (watch out, it's hot, join the movies!), and started throwing it back at the angry spectators, who just wanted more fights and more general Pokémon mayhem.
Maybe we both just have terrible luck.
During the next round, the two sleek Pokémon traded attacks: Psychic did decent damage, while Blizzard ravaged Alakazam again, taking away about half of his health. This battle will never end, Ryan thought. They're evenly-matched. I have to wait until her Starmie runs out of stamina to do Recover…
Hot wings were being thrown. The crowd was jeering and booing and begging for blood. They want a quick fight, not this. They want to be entertained; they don't want to be forced to think. Well, both trainers wanted to win, not make sure the crowd was having an adequate amount of fun. I guess she doesn't care about putting on a good show after all…
Alakazam shot another burst of indigo energy at Starmie, causing it to fall over. Paralyzed, it could not retaliate. As Alakazam jumped forward to perform the finishing blow on the weary-looking Starmie, he tripped and crumpled onto the ground, electrical energy running up and down his body. Starmie used its next turn to recover its health.
Ryan's voice rose in uncertainty. "Alex, this is impossible!"
"Just keep at it," the Chinese boy said soothingly. "When her Starmie runs out of PP for its moves…"
Another turn passed where both Pokémon rolled about on the ground, paralyzed. This was great entertainment. Ryan thought he noticed Colonel Sanders, aka King Baby, throwing popcorn on the floor for the careless, dirty plebeians who surrounded him like locusts. It was a diabolical plot because no one can resist President Goodshow's Extra Buttery Buttered Popcorn, Esquire. The commoners flung themselves to the cold concrete floors to get a few snip-snip yum-yum bites of the golden kernels.
"Recover!"
"Blizzard!"
Both attacks went through. Ryan's heart was beating hard. Something had to give. Something had to happen. Please, he thought, my Pokémon deserve this. They've trained so hard… Both Pokémon fell over paralyzed again. Man, they're both getting paralyzed way more than 25% of the time. Guess that's just another lie Dex told me.
The cold air reeked of smoke and sugar and sweat and his throat was as dry as the Sahara Desert. The two Pokémon traded a Psychic and a Blizzard. The crowd grew more interested again, as two savage attacks hit the brittle Pokémon and they cried out in pain. You like that, don't you? He glanced around at the crowd, in disbelief at their bloodlust, wondering why no one else was seeing what he was.
Another Psychic hit, doing tremendous damage. Starmie fell, before rising again to hit Alakazam with another Blizzard. The Alakazam was damaged, but not that much - Starmie was much weaker now. Everyone could see it. Ryan could feel this battle was at its end. He took a deep breath and shook uncontrollably, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "That's it, buddy! Finish off Starmie!"
Nobly did Alakazam rush forward again, and painfully did he fall, to wallow in paralysis so unfair and inopportune. Across the stadium, Julia's call of 'Recover!' was answered, and Starmie was restored to good health again. Ryan still didn't understand how they could do little dances and regain their health back. It was like magic.
"I was so close!" Ryan wailed. "If one more Psychic would have gone through…"
Alakazam used Recover; Starmie was paralyzed. What little optimism Ryan had left vanished like the last rays of sunlight in the darkening sky. I'll never be able to do it, he thought. She's too stubborn. I can't defeat this Starmie.
"There, look!" Alex shouted, after the next round. Alakazam had shot a Psychic, once again doing a ton of damage, while Starmie had chosen a Thunderbolt attack. "Starmie's out of power for Blizzard. Now's your chance, Ryan! Thunderbolt shouldn't do much to Alakazam! Now finish her! Do it!" He sounds a lot like Palpatine.
Ryan nodded. He felt his heartbeat rising. He swallowed hard and shouted, "Psychic!"
But on the next turn, Alakazam was hit by the paralysis bug; Starmie shot a wonderfully-powerful Thunderbolt as it danced around the stage with its last bit of energy. The Psi Pokémon took the electric attack poorly, falling over screaming.
"Ooh, that's gotta hurt! Alakazam looks like it's about to faint!" the referee said. Then, he grunted and added, "Starmie doesn't look so hot, either! It's all coming down to this, folks! What a show!"
Or was it? Maybe they'll just be paralyzed for another twenty turns. Or maybe not. Without Blizzard, Starmie looked quite vulnerable to Ryan and Alakazam, so the teal-haired trainer pressed on the attack. This is for the whole tournament, he reminded himself. This is for the Indigo League!
On the next turn, Alakazam was paralyzed and unable to move. Starmie performed a Recover dance. There was so much swag in his moves, I can't even describe it. All looked lost. Alakazam was below half health, Ryan could tell, and Starmie was showing no signs of weakening. Doubt crept into Ryan's mind. "Alex…?"
"Trust me. Recover, and then Psychic until you win!"
Alright. You do know what you're talking about, I guess. "Alakazam, Recover!" Ryan commanded.
"Ala… ka… zam…" Alakazam panted, doing his little dance and bringing himself back to near full health. This is so weird.
Another Thunderbolt followed, bringing the Psychic Pokémon to his knees again. How many crits can she possibly land?
"Recover!" Ryan bellowed like a real man. Alakazam looked to his trainer, tired and panting, and nodded. He performed a rather avant-garde version of the now-overused Recover dance (his moves would have made Yoko really proud) and restored his health. There was weariness in the old Alakazam's eyes, but respect too. He trusts me. He knows we can win. We will win! "Don't give up, buddy! I know you're tired! You just need to fight a little longer! You can beat that ugly Starmie, I know you can!"
"Alakazam!"
Another Thunderbolt followed; this one barely grazed Alakazam's shoulder, doing minimal damage. The elegantly-mustached muchacho hurled a beam of purple energy at Starmie. To the onlookers' delight, the Psychic hit its mark, and Starmie was dropped down to very low health. Instead of having her Starmie heal, this time, Julia shouted, her voice breaking, "Thunderbolt!"
It was another critical hit, as predictable as Rahul's love of My Little Ponyta. Alakazam cried out and dropped his spoons, leaning forward, sweating, breathing hard. He was tired, too tired. He couldn't keep spamming Recover; he'd soon run out of energy. That health he was getting back didn't seem to be 100% authentic.
Across from Alakazam lay the slumped figure of Starmie, on the stark brown stone floor. The crowd grew impatient and began flinging food again. "Each Pokémon must stand up by the time I count to ten, or I will declare them unable to battle!" the booth referee declared. "One… two… three… four… five…"
"Alakazam, get up! Please!" Ryan's eyes had become wet.
"Stand up, Starmie!" Julia commanded, a bit of worry in her voice. Despite that, her Mysterious Pokémon got to its feet slowly and with a cry.
Alakazam sat there, breathing hard. He looked to Ryan, then to Starmie, then to Ryan again. "Get up, please! Don't give up, Alakazam!"
"Eight… nine…"
"Zam…!"
Alakazam, both spoons in hand, found his feet, and readied another Psychic attack. This time, he would not succumb to paralysis. The golden bolts of electricity spurted around his thin form, but Alakazam paid them no mind. "Psychic attack!"
"Alakazam!" his father's Pokémon shouted in a war cry. Into the air he jumped, charging up his attack.
Julia had called for her Pokémon to perform another Thunderbolt. It was risky, what Ryan was doing. If his Psychic didn't take out Starmie and Alakazam suffered another bout of paralysis next turn… well, he'd lose. But if not…
Alakazam's purple energy glowed in the dying light of day. Between his spoons it materialized like a Haunter, thick and pulsing with light and energy. Ryan could see the smoke rising from the burning energy beam from where he stood. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a desperate lover at the door. Ryan's entire body was covered in sweat. He couldn't hear the crowd at all. Their energy - the way they screamed and swung their arms and threw popcorn and drinks - enveloped him, and he thought of nothing else. They were all cheering his name, at least from behind. Across the stage, Julia's family and friends had risen to their feet again. This is it.
Psychic sailed through the air on a million hopes and submarines. The stadium fell to a hush as the burning attack found its way from Alakazam's spoons to Starmie's blood red gem. The Water/Psychic Pokémon was hit hard, and it flew back to land in the center of the stage in a pile of dust. A few spectators yipped. Most held their breaths. Ryan and Julia stood awkwardly, too afraid to move. In the sky above, a lonely Pidgey danced against the winds. A line judge ran over to Starmie and inspected it for a second. Then, he looked up and spoke into his walkie-talkie very quietly so that no one would hear him.
A moment later, the head referee in the booth returned to the microphone. Growling, he began, "Ahumph, ah, well, it looks like I have confirmation from one of my assistants that Starmie is - indeed and irrevocably - unable to continue battling. I do declare that Ryan from Acapulco has won the match! Congratulations to our new Indigo League Winner!"
He couldn't see. Ryan was on his knees again, tears streaming down his cheeks as hot as life's blood. He was punching the sky like a toddler so much that he could hear the tendons in his shoulders popping and vibrating. All the noise blended together into one uninterrupted, cacophonous cheer. There were lights flashing, and the sparkling of ten thousand cameras made Ryan's eyes spasm and his vision be punctured by a hundred unmoving black dots. Confetti was blowing in the wind. He smelled cotton candy, so sweet he could taste it. Above, fireworks were being lit, red and orange and purple and green in fanning, flaming patterns of Pokémon. My Pokémon, he thought. There's NaVorro… and Myrrah… and Thurnax… The fireworks exploded one after another, showing each of his six Pokémon, finally settling on Alakazam.
As that happened, Ryan's real Alakazam teleported onto the trainer platform in front of the boy. "Alakazam!" Ryan cried, lunging forward for his Pokébuddy.
"Zam zam Alakazam!" cried the Psi Pokémon, hugging Ryan back.
"This is what we worked for! This is it buddy! We did it! You were great out there… I couldn't have done it without you."
"Alakazam!" Alakazam bellowed, beating his chest like a triumphant gypsy. "Zam zam…"
"Thank you ma'am!" Ryan stood up, his arm wrapped around his Pokémon's neck. The people serenaded him, cheering his name, clapping exuberantly for him. A lump rose in Ryan's throat. This isn't real… this can't be happening. His glee caught in his throat when he noticed Julia on the other platform. Her shoulders had slunk forward; she was watching him. Devastated, no doubt. She won't cry in front of them, though. She won't let them see her weakness. And so she didn't. Julia held her grace, even clapping for him as the referee crafted a sweet soliloquy about that dude named Ryan from Acapulco.
It was surreal, as if he was watching someone else. I didn't win the Indigo League. I couldn't have. This isn't real. Jumping off the trainer platform, Ryan turned to his friends and family. Most of them didn't believe in me at first. His mother was kissing him, her tears falling down her face like gushing waterfalls. Alex and Rahul were saying something, patting him on the back. Logan was whooping and waving about the signature he had gotten from Ryan all those days ago. His newly-hatched Frodo dobo cooed a pleasant, 'Kiieeeeeaaahhhh!' while perched on Ryan's shoulder.
Alakazam stood in front of Ryan, protecting his master. In spite of his wounds and weariness, the Psi Pokémon did not betray a hint a fatigue. There was Ryan's father, wearing dark clothes and an old hat with the Kanto flag on it. His arms were crossed, his beard was long. His skin was ruddy, and his bald head looked like an orange. He wasn't looking at Ryan.
"A lot of people came, huh? Thirty thousand, right?" his father asked stiffly.
"I don't know," Ryan replied breathlessly. The heat was rising in his cheeks.
"More than I remember."
"Yeah, I guess a lot has changed over the years…"
"Competition used to be tougher. They just don't train 'em like they used to…"
The boy felt like his brain had been slapped. Why do you do that? "Did you like the fight?"
Ryan's father shrugged. "Yeah, you did pretty good. I'm proud of you son."
Aren't you mad about Abra? He's right here… he evolved for me, not you. He's a big part of the reason I won. You have to be mad. But Ryan liked this version of his father much better than the angry, bitter one. So he said, as he turned away to the others making conversation behind him, "Thanks, da-"
There she was, like a fairy floating above a firestorm. Her pink hair swayed in the evening's breeze. She was pale, had dark circles beneath her eyes, and looked thinner than the last time he'd seen her. Her makeup was thick and applied clumsily, red and white and black lines and splotches mixed against her light skin: the artificial bleeding into the authentic. Her eyes, pink as new-bloom roses, swam with love and hate and burning envy.
"Hey kid."
Confetti fell around them. Someone had blasted open a cork of orangepagne; they were shouting and partying and laughing and singing. He tasted salt on his lips.
"Kelly."
"You did it." She laughed softly and bit her lip slowly. Ryan's hands were tingling. An itch in his throat made him swallow timidly.
"Th-thanks… did you see the whole thing?"
She nodded. "It's only luck," Kelly said casually, still biting her lip. She stared at him knowingly, and the boy recoiled, shivering. "God Ryan… look at where we are."
"I know." I don't believe it. This is a dream. This can't be right… I'm not the best trainer in Kanto, am I? That can't be right! All his journey, Ryan had been told he was no good. Some of that had been the teasing of friends, but many others had doubted him along the way. Everyone did. Even mom and dad. They didn't want me to become a Pokémon trainer to begin with. "Why don't we blow this joint?" he asked recklessly. "Get away from all the noise and people."
Kelly's smirk formed with tired, worn care. "Don't be silly, kid."
"Kid? Kid?! I'm not a kid!" Ryan retorted. "I just won the Indigo League. Come on, Kelly, you know I…"
"I know," she murmured sadly, pulling him closer. For a moment, all he saw was her face, all the makeup and powder and flesh. She smelled of lime and guava, and her lips were puffed out…
And then someone grabbed Ryan by the shoulder and spun him around. It was an incredibly ancient old man in a faded formal shirt and khaki pants. "Hey Ryan, congratulations!" he said, slapping the boy on the shoulder. "I always knew you'd win the whole thing."
That's Charles Goodshow… the president of the Indigo League…! He's so puny-looking, and I bet he's really old, but man, he can sure hit hard. "Uh, thanks, sir. I really appreciate it."
Charles Goodshow licked his lips and looked around quickly. "Now, has anyone told you your first duty as the Indigo League Winner, Ryan?"
"No sir."
"Good. Well, let me be the first to congratulate you for winning our single-elimination tournament, Ryan," the man continued. He motioned for the boy to follow him over to a nearby door. "You and Julia put on a good show! But now it's time for you to face the Elite 4, and, if you get past them, the Kanto League Champion."
"Who're they?"
Mr. Goodshow cleared his throat. "Some of the strongest Pokémon trainers in Kanto. You will have to face them all in a row, without resting your Pokémon. You may use potions in between battles, but nothing else. You cannot switch out the six Pokémon you used in this match. Do you understand, Ryan?"
"Yeah, but wait…" Ryan replied, looking over his shoulder for his family and friends. They were a ways back, still clapping and whooping and celebrating. A warm feeling spread in the boy's chest. Kelly… he thought for a moment, but then he shook his head to clear his thoughts. I have to stay focused now. It's not over yet. But afterwards… "Can't I heal my Pokémon before you take me to the Elite 4? I mean, I just won a six-on-six battle against another trainer! Five of my Pokémon have fainted. How is that fair?"
"Yes, you can do that," Mr. Goodshow agreed. "So come on, let's hurry. This will take several hours. Better get started now."
And off the old man sped, through the door, into the darkness.
"Hey, wait up!" Ryan shouted in surprise. Looking back to his friends and family, he gave them two peace signs (make love not war) and ran off after the Indigo League president, into the darkness that awaited him, and him alone.
The Indigo Plateau mansion was luxurious and clean as the backside of a trombone. He hadn't seen much of it yet, for he was in the mansion's own Pokémon Center, waiting for his six Pokébuddies to be healed. This is crazy. The Elite 4 gets their own Pokémon Center.
He kept his mind off that day's events by being interviewed by the guileless Cheesesteak Jimmy's. Cheesesteak was a beat reporter if there ever was one, as valuable as a halfpile of dirt. He asked Ryan how the boy felt, if he wanted to thank anyone, and what he was going to do with the money… the standard questions. Ryan blew through the answers in a daze, and when it was over, he didn't remember what he had told the bloke.
He was also interviewed by Freddy Bob Jr., who is a real great guy, and Ryan gave him the inside scoop on how he had evolved his Dragonite. Ryan's tip for other trainers out there, just like him, watching the program, was to just get captured by the Painted Dragons and have your Dragonair break out of its cage to save you. Of course, this would only work if all of your other Pokémon had fainted or were stolen too. That was the most surefire way of evolving a Dragonair into a Dragonite, in Ryan's estimation.
It didn't feel that much different now that he was the Indigo League Winner. He sat in a chair, watched TV, ate a cold sandwich, read some magazines, and waited for his Pokémon to be returned to him by Indigo Plateau Nurse Joy (she was definitely in the top one thousand Nurse Joys). To be honest, Ryan was a little shell-shocked. His mind was racing, buzzing, and ringing like a bell. He could hardly remember the battle.
Charles Goodshow came slinking in a few minutes later, as Ryan leaned back on a couch and watched Cheesesteak Jimmy's interview of him play on repeat. Man I look good, he thought.
"Hey Ryan," the Indigo League president sighed, sitting down next to him on a plush cushion. He was wearing a ragged purple hat on backwards. "How are you feeling?"
"Alright." The boy didn't let the man see that he was still shaking, that the anxiety and adrenaline hadn't lessened up much since the end of the match. "I guess it's still a little surreal…"
"Haha, yeah, that's what they all say." The president slapped him on the back again. "If you had to describe how you felt when your Alakazam beat that Starmie, what would you say?"
Are you interviewing me too? I bet he has a secret voice recorder in his pocket. "I guess, it was just relief," the boy whispered. "A moment of triumph, and…"
"Just a moment?" Mr. Goodshow's eyes twinkled.
"Yeah…" Ryan sighed, bowing his head. "For now."
"Cheer up, Ryan," Mr. Goodshow said, standing. "You won the Indigo League! Only one person does that every year!"
"And how many of them beat the Elite 4 and champion?"
"Oh, about five percent," the elderly gentleman guessed. "It doesn't happen often. Our current champion has held that position for years!"
"Wow…" the boy murmured. "I-I don't have a chance, do I?"
"Oh, you might," the man replied. "Your team - and Julia's too, to be frank - has been the best I've seen in a long time."
The boy clasped his hands together."Yeah, wow… well, this has all been one crazy ride."
"And you're not done yet!" the old man grinned. Not done yet, Ryan thought cheerlessly. But the roots of the trees grow deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones, yada yada yada. I've heard this all before.
"Yeah… I've been thinking about these upcoming battles, and well, when exactly am I getting my cash prize for winning the tournament?"
Mr. Goodshow looked taken aback. "Uh… after your battles in this mansion conclude. The closing ceremonies will be held tomorrow…"
"But I'm broke," Ryan complained, "and I need to buy some potions for my Pokémon! I don't have enough for four more battles before facing the champion!"
"Eh, that's too bad then," the old man said. "It doesn't matter, I suppose. Don't worry about it. Plenty of champions have come storming through without using even one potion. If your Pokémon are strong, you should be fine." Slapping Ryan on the back, he pointed to the counter, where a Chansey was walking to, a tray of Poké Balls in its hands. "Come on, Ryan. It's time."
He stood up and followed Mr. Goodshow to the counter. The Chansey rang the bell joyfully and handed Ryan over his Poké Balls. They were warm to the touch. No Nurse Joy. That's a bad omen.
He followed the man out of the empty Poké Center, down the long marble halls of the Indigo Plateau mansion. The floors were dark, the air stale and thin. A few lights were on, but many were not, giving the place a creepy, abandoned feeling. Ryan's heartbeats thumped in his throat with every step that echoed through that desolate palace. This is where the Indigo League Champion lives. If I beat him…
"Oh look, there's a picture of Sir William Raz'bry," President Goodshow said suddenly, pointing to a painting on the wall.
It was faded and covered in dust, but Ryan could tell that it was a picture of a young boy with short, spiky black hair and a cheeky smile on his face. He was holding up a huge trophy and smiling widely. "Who's that?"
"The first Indigo League Champion. He won the inaugural tournament more than a hundred years ago!"
"Wow. What team did he use?"
The man scratched his chin dramatically. "Hmm… I believe he was the one who used six Chansey."
"Six?!"
"Yeah, that's right. Ah, I remember it now. We put a species limit on tournament teams afterwards because of how unstoppable he had been."
Ryan's voice was echoing too. "That's crazy… I mean, Chansey are so rare in the wild." I've only ever seen one… the one Logan convinced to join him. And I'm still not sure that was a wild Chansey…
"That they are, my boy! Just think, a team of six Dragonite… a team of six Gyarados… why, the winner each year would be the kid who caught the rarest Pokémon, not the most skilled combatant! It was a problem we addressed very early on."
They strode down that hallway, pictures on either side of them. There were not many - perhaps twenty or thirty - but they were the total number of Indigo League Champions, left to rule over the region for their years in service. That's so cool. They were the highest-ranking trainers in the land. And they're just kids, he saw. All the paintings and photographs are of boys and girls around my age…
"Ah, there's Timothy Timbucket Inyawabi," Goodshow pointed out. "He won by Surfing his Nidoking to victory. He only used the one Pokémon the whole tournament."
"Dang, son!"
"And there's Melissa the Cabbage O'Leary. She beat all competition - back when it was a 32-entrant tournament - with a Magikarp and a Zubat, and nothing else."
"Wow, the competition must've been pretty bad that year."
"Oh yeah, it was. I don't know why…" The president put his hand over his mouth and let out a muffled scream. "O-oh… I remember why."
But he never told Ryan why. "Cool, and such."
The president nodded in agreement. "Ah, and there's Ja'Crispy Vulcano, who befriended a mythical Mew fifty years ago and used it to win the tournament. It was a legendary run, the stuff of my dreams, truly!"
Mew? "Was it blue?"
"A shiny Mew? Oh heavens no, I don't believe any of those exist in the wild. Ryan, don't be beyond ridiculous!"
You would know. "Right."
"Ah, and there is my favorite champion ever! A woman named Jennifer Bohlmann who won with her shiny Raichu more than a decade ago! What a fighting spirit she had! A truly intelligent, yet empathetic warrior. She took my breath away. My goodness gracious, son."
"Hang on… a shiny Raichu?" Does that mean…?
"Yeah, why you so fixated on the shinies, boy?!" Goodshow growled, shoving Ryan along. "Move your feet, kid, we ain't got time for shinies now!"
As they moved on, the hallway widened, and torches lined the walls. There were no pictures here. The two kept on a brisk pace.
"Were any of the past champions like me?" he asked. "I mean, were their Pokémon around as powerful as mine?"
Charles Goodshow cackled mightily. "Oh yes, especially the early ones! You could have beat them all, I'm sure of it! These past few years… trainers have been getting smarter and their Pokémon stronger, and now here we are. Ten years ago, I'm sure you would have won this tournament easily, Ryan."
"Dang, that's crazy."
"Ah, here we are," the president murmured, bringing Ryan to a large open hall. In the center, a massive blue jade fountain was trickling water pleasantly. A large, smoothed-out gemstone hung from the ceiling, milk white and pulsating with light. "That's the Heart of a Fallen Star," he gestured to the hanging gem. "And one day, we will forge Dawn from its core, to face against the Great Other and his Cold Host in the Long Night."
"Okay, sir, yeah, that sounds really c-cool." Oh great, now he's going crazy on me too!
The president stopped at the base of the fountain and sat. Exhaling deeply, he grunted, "This is it. The four doors on either side will lead you to the Elite 4 members…" He pointed to each door. There were guards standing at attention beside each thirty-foot tall marble gateway and symbols hanging above each one: one for Bug type; one for Fighting type; one for Ice type; and one for Ghost type. "Each one specializes in a single Pokémon type, so prepare yourself adequately before passing through each door. Once you are inside, you may not exit until you have either won or lost the Pokémon battle against that Elite 4 member. You may challenge them in any order. Do you understand, Ryan?"
"Yes, sir."
"The rules for these battles are the same as the three six-on-six battles you participated in during the Indigo League finals. Do you remember those rules?"
"Yes sir."
"Good." President Goodshow sprung up with sudden energy. "Remember, you can only attempt to put one Pokémon to sleep per battle."
"Right."
"Good luck, Ryan," the old man said, smiling warmly. "There aren't any crowds down here, nobody here to cheer you on, but don't forget that these fights are just as important as the previous ones. You may be alone, but you have your Pokémon, and your wits. Try your best to defeat everyone you can."
"I will," the boy promised. "I'll be the next Indigo League Champion." For Kelly, he thought madly, his heart pumping like a gong. I'll become champion for her.
And so President Goodshow excused himself and walked on back down the derelict marble halls, laughing quietly to himself. But in the dead air of that forgotten mansion, his chuckling echoed and danced across the room around Ryan, and the boy felt his cheeks flushing hot again.
His eyes found the door with the Bug type symbol over it. He counted the potions in his backpack again - three max revives, two full heals, a couple lesser heals and PP restores… nothing else. I have to sweep. I have to destroy my foes, if I want to have a chance against the champion. I need all six of my Pokémon at full health to fight him.
Ryan swallowed and took out his Poké Ball. He knew there was one Pokémon on his team who could sweep the Bug type specialist. He came, he saw, he conquered. And so will I.
Ryan walked up to the guard patrolling in front of that door. The man opened the thick stone door and let the boy in with polite gestures and sycophantic words. Ryan inhaled sharply, raised his Poké Ball, and swam into the darkness.
"'Ey, Ryan," Jun Baba-o said happily. He sat perched in a tree in the room at the end of the hall. There was a little garden in the room that sweltered and felt humid as a North Carolina forest. Around him, a dense, moist, but petite forest grew. It looked like one big bush to Ryan, and that made him hate it.
No way. "Oh, hi Jun. I didn't know you were in the Elite 4!"
He nodded. "Huh! Yer da Indigo League Winner, eh? Dat's crazy, low brah."
"I know."
"You here ta challenge me, 'ey brah?"
"Yep."
"You wanna be da champ?"
"That's right."
The tattoos on Jun Baba-o's face rippled and danced when he guffawed. "Alright, good, good. I always wanted a new champion. You can use six Pokémon if ya still got 'em, but I'll use five, eh?"
Ryan smiled, in spite of the anxiety he was feeling. "Ye-yeah… you're my first opponent, Jun."
"Oh! Okay den, brah! Let's go!"
"Aegon, I choose you!"
Ryan's Charizard appeared in Jun's bush, flapping his wings expectedly and spitting flames from the end of his long blood-orange snout. There to face him was a sinister-looking Scyther, as pale as the Heart of a Fallen Star. If this goes as planned, he shouldn't get hit even once.
"Aw… come on, brah! No fair, you use fire!"
Ryan chuckled. "Fire Blast it, Aegon!"
"Yo, gimmie dat Swords Dance!" Jun cried hopefully.
The Mantis Pokémon felt that fire, and how quickly he fell! Screaming, rolling in the bush, he set several bushes, flowers, and blades of grass aflame. Several Chansey swarmed out from suddenly-open doors in the wall, spraying fire extinguishers like those things cost a million Poké Dollars apiece. When they were done, they scattered back into the holes in the walls, and Jun returned his cooked mantis.
"Go, Beedrill!"
"Fire Blast!"
Down went Beedrill, in smoking flames. Jun grunted a mean grunt and threw his next Poké Ball. "Go, Pinsir! Pinch dat sucka, eyoooo waaah?!"
"Fire Blast." Ryan's posture slouched, and he stood there as elegantly as a Pokémas elf.
Pinsir ran at Ryan's hovering Aegon, and Aegon smoked that noob. Down he went, his shell be cookin', y'all. It was really spectacular, you had to see it to believe it.
"'Eyy brah, what you do?!" Jun complained. "Dat fire got power! Dat fire be smokin', eh brah?!"
"Feel it." Ryan's eyes swam with dragonflame. He felt warm, his cheeks flushed, his posture high and cold. This is good. This is very good.
Jun's next Pokémon, a measly Parasect (a Pokémon that is, undeniably, hot garbage) took about 468% damage from the fourth Fire blast (no misses yet, thank RNGsus), and that little one went flying back to the sounds of grand harpsichords and flying cupid, it was such a dainty bug.
"Hmmm… I see. Dis is how it must be," Jun grunted earnestly. "Scyther, you go, brah! Let's make dis sucka like die 'n go dead, come, come join me!"
"Scyther Scyyyyyy!"
"Jun, I think you know what time this is," Ryan said, stepping forward. "Right, Aegon?" He patted his Charizard's back, causing Aegon to puff flames of orange and yellow.
"Oh awoo!" The portly fellow bellowed in awe. His mohawk looked really sweet too. "Feel dat fire, eh brah?!"
"Just so."
Aegon released a fifth flame, and let's be real, it could have missed. If this game was simmed, probably one of the Fire Blasts woulda missed, and someone woulda done pitiful damage to Aegon, but we don't need that jive nonsense, and Aegon's gotta get that perfect sweep, ya know? That Fire Blast didn't miss. It hit Scyther, the Second of His Name and sent him up in flames and sailing back into its owner's Poké Ball. It was grand. That was awesome. That wasn't so bad.
Jun bowed graciously. "Well done brah, see ya on da otha side, eh?"
"See ya, brah."
Ryan ran outta there like a meerkat on the open prairie. One Elite 4 member had been vanquished rather easily. Three more remained… and then the champion. That was it; those were the only ones Ryan had left to fight. They weren't going to be as hard as Julia or Awabi, or maybe even Ivy, he realized. He could do this. I will, he thought in determination, as he ran off towards the next door of his choosing - the one he knew it must be… for Spectre's sake, at least.