7 - The Broken Gun
I live a life of conflictions. While most men had put their childhood behind them, found their plot in life, settled down, I was still out adventuring. Grown men's adventures, to be sure: exploring archeological ruins, unearthing ancient Pokémon fossils; raking in mountains of cash as Devon Corp President- one of the silliest, most fun things I've ever done was a PR stunt, filling a swimming pool to the brim with 1P bills and doing backstrokes through it (harder than you'd imagine).
I developed a style of overpowering Pokémon battling that netted me over two thousand wins and not a single "official" loss, en route to a nigh-mythical three world championships. They only hold the World Championship every four years; that's at least twelve years of my life consumed in perfecting my strategic prowess on the battlefield.
Even now, even as the CEO of the Pokémon League and all its stresses and responsibilities, I was pursuing a childish dream. There are so few humans of my caliber, able to rise up and take greatness by the head. I figured, since there's the opportunity, why not give the world a legend?
Someone was there and took notice of what I was doing. Someone who loved what they saw, was irresistibly attracted to the Man of the Century; and yet, also saw the weakness, the runaway pride, the nagging doubts, the humanity in that legend. She recognized in herself the ability to temper that man, bring him down to earth when his ego had rocketed to the heavens, and assuage his fears when his duties had dragged him through hell. It was a perfect match.
It has taken me 42 years for me to realize what is important in life, and at last the urge to settle down has lodged itself in some deep crevice of my mind.
Why then, was I still working at 8:30 PM? Why was I denying myself precious time with my beloved? I was forty-two, for god's sake, how much longer did I think I had on this Earth?! I had had a late start on true love, and I was still squandering away my life on work- work that might as well be called an arrogant bid for popularity!
I gripped the sheets of paper before me, clutching them so tight I might very well rip them in half. My eyes glanced up, to the far wall.
There it is. The reason for my inane, stubborn refusal to quit this job. It's an awkward ornament, completely out-of-place amongst the geodes and thousand-year-old relics adorning the mantle.
A rifle, shattered in two, its shards carefully set on a cloth, in full view of my seat. My daily reminder of why I took this job- why this job is not merely an ego-trip for me- why I'm willing to sacrifice my own happiness for this job- why I come home at 9:00 P.M. every day, and have to see Cynthia's face contort into a forced smile.
It's a reminder of that one day that changed my view of life, and changed the world of Pokémon battling forever.
Five Years Ago
June 7th, 2004
Castelia, Unova
Two-hundred and twenty-four thousand roaring voices joined in great, unharmonious din. The sound had mass, a solidified, amorphous presence that occupied the vast, enclosed volume of the Unova Monarch Coliseum. Nearly a quarter-million human beings were gathered for the singular purpose of witnessing another grand chapter in the history of Pokémon competition. One could not help but feel awed, in a near-religious sense, by the collective soul of humanity pouring out their affection towards one end.
I was only a speck, indistinguishable amongst so many thousands of specks occupying the East Mid-Level Deck. I bathed in the power of our species. I gloried in it.
This was humanity. This was our world.
This was the Pokémon World Championship.
Or, the Semi-Finals, to be precise. Held once every four years, the Championship is the ultimate competition to decide, without fail, the greatest trainer in the world. Trainers were gathered from all over the world; conquering the Elite Four and then becoming a Regional Champion was a requirement for mere consideration for being invited. Once here, the trainers were ranked and seeded, pitted against each other in preliminary pool rounds. The best 224 were divided into groups of 7 and matched in 3-game round robins. The survivors earned the right to the seeded, single-elimination tournament. No bye-games, no play-ins, no title matches; the previous Champion was given no favors. 32 trainers, 5 rounds, and 31 games later, before a crowd of 224,000 and a television audience of 1.3 billion, a new World Champion would be crowned.
This was the second of the two Semi-Final matches. Needless to say, the atmosphere was thunderous. Monarch Coliseum was over-capacity by 4,000 bodies. The Driftveil Stadium Complex would not be ready for another five years. Nimbasa was the entertainment mecca of the region, but quite frankly, it didn't have the finances to support the 500,000 visitors the event would draw, nor could it seat half of those visitors in its largest stadium. Castelia, while strained, was the only logical choice. Half a million would be a bathtub in a lake as far as accommodation saturation went. The megalopolis had the resources, the facilities, the services, and the money to support the endeavor, therefore it got the nod.
"It's just grand, isn't it?"
Keido, my colleague and friend, sat beside me. He hadn't been able to secure executive-box-seating, so I volunteered to come out and watch the match with him. We were crowded into the last row, our backs to the wall with the Upper Section hanging directly above us. The two trainers on the field were mere pixels; most everyone around us was paying attention to the courtyard-sized video screen hanging above us. Good thing, too. Even with my off-kilter dress and hat, I was afraid I was going to draw attention to my identity.
I was, after all, the two-time defending World Champion, and had, just this morning, earned my way into the Final Match with a victory over Aliya Morose (Associated Media's Rank #3 in the world). Thankfully, the trainers were lining up and preparing to battle, drawing the crowd's undivided attention and helping me go unnoticed. My conversation with Keido continued while the pair battled to become my future opponent (*coughvictimcough*).
"It's amazing. So many people, all come to see this. It's like… nothing I'd ever seen before."
"Keido, is this your first World Championship?"
"Yeah. It's bigger then I expected."
"I'm surprised. Didn't you compete in 2000?" I asked, mildly surprised.
"Nah, my team wasn't up to par. And I got sidetracked, some crackjob lieutenant had us scouring all over Sinnoh."
"Looker?" I guessed.
"You know the fellow?"
"We've met."
"My condolences," Keido said apologetically, patting my shoulder.
"Hey, they're starting."
Doral Minerva, from the far-away Truembach Region. Ranked #14 in the world by the AM. She let out her signature Pokémon, the very foreign, quadrupedal Electric-Grass Diodefern. Her opponent, #5 ranked Grey Forester, was from Kanto. He led with the blazing canid Arcanine.
"And the Pokémon spring into action!" The announcer broke into full-tilt action mode. "Grey wastes no time in ordering a Crunch attack, while Doral has Diodefern prepare a Thornfield!"
Arcanine, of its own volition, used Flame Charge to avoid the growing mass of thorned vines covering the arena. The Diodefern retreated backwards, but was out-maneuvered. It released Effect Spore, poisoning Arcanine even as the canine chomped down onto its rear hind.
"Who do you want to face?" Keido asked me, pointing between the two trainers.
"Shush! Let them battle and then I'll decide."
"It's not like they'll bring the same Pokémon against you. Aliya didn't use any ghosts against you after she monotyped them against me." Keido had attempted his first foray into the World Championship this year, but had been eliminated early in the group play. I had assumed this was his second foray into the League's highest level, but was mistaken.
"I avenged you, didn't I?" I told him. "Besides, it's less about who they bring to the field, and more about reading their style of battle. See, even now, Doral is very conservative, and prefers to stall. I want to see if she favors pure defense or flow control. I should be able to tell once Grey figures out to switch."
However, Grey was doggedly determined to exploit the favorable type match-up, even if the bark-encrusted Diodefern was proving difficult to burn. His persistence paid off, forcing Doral to retreat first, their encounter leaving the field a giant flaming wreck. Haxorus appeared, in time to take a Crunch attack. Arcanine bit down deeply into its skin.
"Hmm. Fascinating."
"What is?" Keido asked.
I pointed to the Haxorus, now circling and waving its bladed-incisors.
"That Crunch would snap yours or mine arm clean in half. Yet, it doesn't even break the skin of another Pokémon. The same is true for Haxorus: the same ax-swing that might hurt Arcanine a little would decapitate a human. Pokémon are shockingly resilient, don't you think?"
"I knew that. Else, you think it'd be right to have them battle each other, if they got hurt so easily?" Keido mused. He crossed his arms. "Imagine a world where a Fire Blast was as dangerous as TNT. No more battles, no more entertainment, the very fabric of our society falls apart. Besides, not even the strongest Pokémon can seriously injure another in one hit."
"Well, no, there are Pokémon that strong. The Pokémon here are on the fringe," I argued. "Remember Loft? They say he was forced to retire, because his Pokémon could slip up and level a stadium."
"Mmhmm. But his were freaks of nature."
"He only trained them harder than anyone else. I think it could be replicated."
"He was before computers, there's no telling how much of those stories were exaggeration and rumor."
"My point being, Pokémon, in the wrong hands, are dangerous, amazing creatures."
"That they are," Keido finally conceded, growing tired of the debate. "It's up to guys like you and me and Goodshow to keep them out of the wrong hands."
"Goodshow… ha…" Cue dry laugh.
The Arcanine finally succumbed to the combined damage of the poison and a barrage of Dragon Claws and Dragon Rushes. The crowd was on their feet, excited by the last, chaotic melee of tooth and claw, blazing fur and hardened scale. A cheer went up for the first Knock Out of the match. Doral's fan section was exploding.
"Nuisance," Grey Forester muttered. He gritted his teeth and stared Doral down. His gaze had less than friendly connotations. His hands, shaking, thumbed through his five remaining Pokéballs.
"Scizor!" he called, letting out his best counter to the Dragon-typed Haxorus. The battle quickly recommenced.
Even as I tried to concentrate on the technicalities of the match, I was drawn in by the sheer power displayed by each Pokémon. There was an underlying feeling of worry and stress to my interest. A glance left told me Keido was on edge too. Team Rocket's recent power-bid must've affected our mindset more than I cared to admit. Their vision of competition amounted to little more than uncivilized, cock-fighting gambling rackets. Had they been in charge, there was no knowing how badly things would have turned out. Surely, they would feel no such need for the Alakazam stationed on the field, using its psychic powers to keep the battle within the arena's confines. Heck, they might even want to spice the battlefield up with, say, flamethrowers and buzz-saws.
Doral retreated Haxorus, and began switch-dancing between a Hatchequin and Master Mime. The battle shifted gears, each trainer belting out orders in reaction to one another's words, rather than the realities on the field. They trusted their Pokémon to execute as ordered, and that the opponent would do the same. It was up to the trainer to arrange the tactics to allow his or her Pokémon to succeed. In this, Doral was gaining the upper hand. Her guerilla tactics successfully KO'd Crobat, Scizor, Nidoking, and Rhyperior over the course of twenty minutes. Grey, growing increasingly frustrated, was down to his last Pokémon.
"Is there a mercy rule? Seriously!" a short-shaved man sitting beside us yelled out. The crowd around us voiced similar opinions of the match. It had become one-sided. The public was split between those enjoying the upset, and those wishing for a closer game. Doral was putting on quite the entertaining show, as if toying with her opponent. I caught a couple in front of us saying Mrs. Minerva could actually be favored to win the Final Match against me.
Keido and I couldn't be bothered with Doral's success, however. A knowing glance passed between us.
Grey was unraveling.
As his tactics broke down and his roster depleted, he was being wracked for options. He abandoned good tactics in favor of riskier, more reckless attacks. For instance, his Rhyperior had charged straight in with a Horn Drill, only to miss completely and become victim of a Swagger and Barrier Box. It thrashed about, hurting itself while posing no threat to the Master Mime. At last, exhausted, it was finished off by a middling Psychic attack. The others had fallen to similarly ignominious fates.
Grey Forester- a respected man. Almost uptight, extremely politic around the press. He had the air of a professional's professional, one who treated Pokémon competition like a high-stakes business. His battle style was very much offense-based, preferring to attack fast and hard. He favored close combat situations, and most of his strategy revolved around cornering the opponent and weakening their defenses. He relied on Taunt to counter enemy tricks.
Unfortunately, he matched up badly against Doral's finesse. When Rhyperior went down, he threw his headset across the field in anger, and then bullied away assistants trying to calm him down.
So much ego, so much unreserved pride and entitlement. Here is a man who hates, to his very soul, HATES losing. I recalled the Semi-Finals pregame hype videos. "Perfection". "Machine". "Goliath". Terms used to describe Grey's relentless pursuit of the title. This was the year he was supposed to come into his own, where everything aligned. He was the man who would dethrone Pokémon's Godking; the trainer who could finally end the monotonous reign that was Steven Stone.
He wouldn't even get the chance. Someone else was going to win and go on to challenge me for the title. He couldn't handle that, and it was killing him. He paced the sideline, smarting, silently yelling and cursing the sky. It took an angry confrontation with the official to get him to continue the match. Even then, he was slumped over, a grimace on his face and shaking.
It was ugly. Unsightly.
"I haven't seen such poor sportsmanship… ever." Keido remarked.
"I'm worried," I replied.
"About what?"
"I don't know, exactly."
An assistant offered a new headset to Grey, who ripped it out of the former's hands. He adjusted the set while staring down the major culprit of his undoing, the Master Mime.
"Aerodactyl!" he cried, letting out his final Pokémon.
"Doral's speed advantage so far won't help her now! Grey's Aerodactyl recently broke the world record for the fastest of its species! But is it strong enough, and does it have the movepool to pull off a miraculous comeback?!" the announcer bellowed. A wave of cries sounded out from the crowd. They cared more for a close match than whoever would win.
"Master Mime, spe-"
"Double-Edge!" Grey ordered in a vicious scream, cutting off his opponent's command. Doral reeled, and began to repeat her command-
Before she could utter another syllable, before Master Mime, having turned its head to its master, could refocus on its opponent, it was over. Aerodactyl whipped past in a sharp arc, having cleaved through its opponent. The crowd gasped.
Blood.
For all their resiliency, Pokémon aren't immune to harm. And with a blindingly fast, strong Pokémon attacking a physically-weak foe at full power- it was not going to leave a mere bruise. Master Mime clutched its abdomen, a six-inch cut gashed horizontally across it.
The scoreboard marked Master Mime down, without even waiting to see if the Pokémon could still fight. That wound was certain to require medical attention, and that automatically disqualified the Pokémon from battle.
Aerodactyl had broken a code. Pokémon should not be attacking so aggressively as to draw blood. But it did. Unfortunately, it was only a gentleman's code, not a legally-binding rule, so Grey was going to get away with it. It makes me sick to the stomach.
"Master Mime is taken down in a single blow! How will Doral respond?"
"Diodefern, go! Vine Wrap, then Thunderwave!"
Aerodactyl didn't even wait for the Pokémon to get its bearings. It zoomed in, delivering a fatal Wing Attack not two seconds after Diodefern materialized. The already-weakened Electric-Grass went down in one blow.
"That's right. This is the way it's supposed to be," Grey muttered through the mic, more to himself than the crowd. "Those who have trained the hardest and who have prepared the hardest and who have become the strongest win. It's the nature of things. I can't be stopped by… cowardly, pissant little tactics. Aerodactyl!" Aerodactyl screeched, causing many audience members to cling to their ears. "Attack! Attack with all you've got! Show them who's the strongest!"
Doral released Haxorus, this time closer to herself. Apparently forewarned, it immediately brandished its blades into the air. Aerodactyl wheeled and dived. Haxorus, holding its ground, warded off the flurry of Crunches, Double-Edges, and Wing Attacks. The heavy ring of bone upon bone rang out, splitting the air. Each time Haxorus parried, Aerodactyl pitched into the air. Haxorus would swipe as fast as it could, faster than the human eye could follow, but it couldn't catch the retreating Aerodactyl.
"Aerodactyl, Earth and Air combo!" Grey ordered.
The flyer dove straight towards its opponent. Its wings flashed forwards, releasing a whirling vortex. The vortex spun around a thin, invisible vertical line, which moved towards Haxorus. An Air Slash. At the same time, Aerodactyl impacted the ground, sending out invisible seismic waves. The ground shivered, indicating an Earthquake attack streaking towards its foe. The combo was perfectly timed: both attacks would reach Haxorus at the same time.
"Split it! Duel Chop!" Doral yelled as soon as she saw Aerodactyl first move. Haxorus braced itself, awaiting the incoming combo attack. At the last moment, it brought down its claws, cracking the ground and sundering the air with a vacuum. Both of Aerodactyl's attacks were disrupted, the waves diverging harmlessly around Haxorus.
Time elapsed since Grey ordered the attack: 3.75 seconds. The speed with which the battle was executed astounded even me.
"Don't let up!" Grey shouted. Aerodactyl was far ahead of its trainer, already gliding low in a circle around Haxorus, just out of reach. Its wingtips slashed at the earth, kicking up rock fragments and jagged spikes. Stone Edges burst, like percussive nails, from the ground, crisscrossing Haxorus' position. It chopped and dodged, but it wasn't able to avoid all of the spikes. Several of them grazed its flank.
"Haxorus!" Doral cried.
Her Pokémon struggled free of the Stone Edge protrusions, though not without taking additional damage.
"Now!" Grey cried.
"Intercept!" Doral countered.
Haxorus judged as best it could, and spin-jumped forward, head over feet. Its tail swung downwards, landing exactly where Aerodactyl was headed-
-but the creature changed direction at the literal last tenth-second. Haxorus' battering-ram-tail gashed the earth-
-and was instantly whipped sideways, counter-counter-attacking the incoming Aerodactyl-
-only to be blocked by another Stone Edge. Aerodactyl spun in an impossibly tight circle, avoiding the secondary swing of Haxorus' incisors. Grey's Pokémon barrel-rolled, coming back for a third and final pass.
"Ooooh!" The crowd gasped as Aerodactyl's claws took a hold of Haxorus' skull and slammed it into the dirt. It followed up with a pair of Wing Attacks for good measure, before retreating from the flailing arm claws of its wounded opponent. This engagement had finished within 3.5 seconds. Too fast for even the trainers to give input; the Pokémon were relying on their own instincts.
"Aerodactyl! Finish it! Hyper Beam!"
"AEEERRAAAAAAWWW!" Particles of intense, white-hot energy filled Aerodactyl's mouth. It soared overhead, well out of reach of Haxorus, who was still struggling to its feet.
"Recall!"
The field erupted into a billowing ash cloud. Bits of large rubble were flung through the air, threatening to pelt the audience before being intercepted by the League's Alakazam.
From the rising smoke, a figure emerged. Grey squinted, before taking a step back in disbelief. Aerodactyl screeched in rage.
The Ghost-Psychic type, an eerie puppet-like creature native to the Truembach region, Hatchequin, had been switched in the second before Hyper Beam erupted. Aerodactyl's attack and the subsequent explosion had passed harmlessly through it.
"Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT! CRUNCH!" Hatchequin lay down a Reflect before being exchanged for yet another Pokémon, Conkeldur. The brutish Fighting-type took the Crunch on its right forearm, gritting through the pain, and nailed Aerodactyl across the head with its left fist. Aerodactyl reeled backwards, not feeling pain so much as concussive stupefaction. It became incensed. Its eyes glared at Conkeldur, and one could imagine a crimson hue coloring their pupils.
"Air and Fire!"
Another combo, this time Air Cutter and Fire Fang. Conkeldur was exchanged for Haxorus, who resisted the combo easily enough.
Hyper Beam fell upon Hatchequin. Stone Edge was broken apart by Haxorus' Earthquake.
"Doral… what are you doing?" I thought out loud. "Are you not capable of finishing this?!"
She either couldn't, or didn't want to. Her Pokémon never took the offensive. Every time Aerodactyl lined up for another onslaught, she switched to an appropriate counter. Grey and his Pokémon could make no headway- and with each failure to land a blow, the pair of them descended further into chaotic rage.
"Earth and Fire!" Grey ordered. Aerodactyl roared, ignoring its trainer. It whisked through the air, trying to faze the Hatchequin with a Wing Attack. A 45° angle Reflect allowed the Hatchequin to dodge the attack and safely switch into Haxorus again.
Similar results followed on the next switch.
"Aerodactyl is… blinded by rage," Keido observed. He was gripping the armrests of his seat, and white in the face. I nodded, also stuck in a state of fearful tension.
"Aerodactyl?! AERODACTYL! FINISH IT ALREADY! BEAT HER OR GO DOWN ALREADY!" Mr. Forester raged.
His Pokémon Screeched- an actual attack, but directed at its owner. Grey fell to his knees, deafened.
This was getting bad. Doral's face appeared on the screen, and it became apparent why she wasn't ordering her Pokémon to finish the match: she was afraid. She wasn't daring to expose her Pokémon to the mad creature's assaults. As evidence, an Air Cutter cracked the ground, slicing well past the dodging Haxorus and nearly to the edge of the arena. Alakazam's temple bulged, barely containing the violence. Yet, given the chance, the newly switched in Conkeldur never struck out, but only backed itself into a defensive position.
Even Grey, now unable to control his Aerodactyl, was lit up with an unholy mixture of fear and livid rage. He whipped out his pokeball and attempted to recall the out-of-control Pokémon.
What came next…
A Hyper Beam, aimed directly at Grey, from his own Pokémon, dispersed the pokeball's capture-beam and crashed upon the human in a brilliant explosion.
"ZAM!"
The Alakazam, perched upon a dais in the north-central perimeter, had its arm crossed in a gesture of psychic warding. It took all it had to hold the Hyper Beam from annihilating Grey.
Conkeldur, finally seeing an opening, barged forward. Too slow, just as Doral feared.
Aerodactyl flipped skyward to dodge the Drain Punch, and immediately earthwards, crashing into Conkeldur's back. It gripped the foe in its claws and spun around, violently throwing Conkeldur to the ground. Seconds passed, but it did not pick itself up. Another beam bore down upon it.
It's already fainted. This Hyper Beam might seriously injure it! What is Grey thinking?!
He's not thinking, he's not even in control anymore. He's cowering there on his hands and knees.
"Shit."
"I know." Keido and I rose as one.
The Alakazam lit up, psychic energy coalescing and dispersing off its brow. It was at its limit, harming itself to put a Light Screen up between the Hyper Beam and Conkeldur.
"That's enough!" Doral unleashed all three of her remaining Pokémon at once. Officials began rushing towards the field.
"Trainer, recall your Pokémon!" the ref pleaded.
Grey shivered, not listening.
"It's no use," he was saying, though no one heard him.
Aerodactyl wheeled skyward. No Pokémon should be able to fire consecutive Hyper Beams without resting, but Aerodactyl did so. Undoubtedly, it was suicide; its own cells would be breaking down from the strain of boundless energy being released through them.
Aerodactyl let loose another Air Cutter at the unconscious form of Conkeldur. Alakazam was fairly radiating life-energy now. The Air Cutters bounced off an invisible shield, barely blocked by Alakazam's efforts.
Aerodactyl sniffed, looking to its prey, and then to the glowing Psychic type. Comprehension lit up in its eyes.
"No."
The flying fossil screeched, piercing the air. It vanished in a flurry of vision-distorting gales.
I was staring right at the spot, and to this day, that .04 seconds will always haunt me-
Alakazam's head, decapitated from its body, spiraling through the air.
It was a single, murderous Double-Edge attack.
"Arceus- no," I whispered.
Everything seemed to slow down. The following minute seemed suspended, crystal clear, yet impossible to control or comprehend. Like an old, black and white abstract movie.
Doral's Pokémon formed a barrier between themselves and their fallen comrade. Aerodactyl roared, letting off another Air Cutter, damaging Haxorus but not fatally. It was unable to finish off its chosen adversary.
Aerodactyl screeched. It roared. It hounded the air with its terrible, terrible cry.
And then, in its ultimate frustration, it let loose a Hyper Beam into the stands. The beam zigzagged its way across the crowd, leaving behind a blinding white fireball.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Eight times it fired randomly, blindly, aiming for anything that moved.
Its own cries were now eclipsed by the screams of humans. Two-hundred-thousand people yelled in panic, cowered, stampeded. Dazed figures, blood dripping from their brows, stumbled out from the smoke.
Keido bounded across seat-tops, headed towards the nearest impact. He stopped before one of the injured, at a complete loss on how to tend to their grievous wound.
I rushed, as if driven by some surreal and compelling force, to the forward balcony.
People were everywhere. People were screaming in my face. Men were jumping up in their seats. Women covered their eyes and mouths. Children stared blankly at their parents. Babies were crying. I remember that, vividly: a child of no more than two years wriggling in its stroller, bawling its lungs out.
League Officials scrambled about, most unsure of what to do. Dots of the blue uniform stood out everywhere, swamped, uselessly struggling against the tide of the crowd.
I reached the edge of the balcony and looked down upon the field.
Aerodactyl, at last reaching its limit, had landed upon the square. Enfeebled, it still growled and snapped. Grey, its master, was slowly reaching for his pokeball. Aerodactyl must've seen him, must've comprehended, and began crawling, haltingly, towards the man. It was frightening, being able to so instinctually read the murderous intent in the Pokémon's every sound, every movement.
I reached for my pokeball. I could end this. I could use my Pokémon…
CHT-CHT.
A ratcheting sound came from my immediate right. I jerked my head in that direction.
A security officer stood overlooking the balcony, fifteen feet away. My eyes widened as I realized what he was doing.
"N-!"
BANG!
The rifle exploded, louder than the Pokémon, louder than the crowd, loud enough to echo across the whole of the arena.
Aerodactyl flopped to the earth like a limp rag.
124 people.
Human beings.
Wives, children, sons.
Doctors, iron molders, daycare workers.
Happy faces, innocent hearts, normal individuals, the same as you and I, the same as one's family, friends, gathered by luck, chance, purpose, to this spot, on this day, only wanting to enjoy a Pokémon battle.
124.
Dead.