Chapter 15:

It is the day of my semi-final match with Thomas. I want to focus on the battle ahead, but I can't. I am, as I have been since last night, distracted by Daedalus Marlowe. He is all I can think about. Images of those entrancing green eyes and memories of that wonderful kiss fill my mind at every turn. My heart is conflicted though. I can't figure out if I was swept up in the moment while I was an emotional wreck or if I actually have feelings for him.

I am deep in thought and fiddling with a loose strand of the bandages wrapped around my wrist as I walk down to the entrance hall.

"Hey, watch it," someone snaps at me, "Just because you're a semi-finalist, doesn't mean you own the place."

I blink and the world around me comes back into focus. I have walked into someone because I haven't been looking where I am going. It is Kyle Austin, Rhianne's first round opponent.

"Sorry," I say, "I didn't mean to."

"I'm sure you didn't, Status Psycho," Kyle says bitterly.

My first thought is that Daedalus doesn't treat me like that. I quickly shake off the thought and resume my journey downstairs, leaving Kyle to his own business. I really have to focus now. Daedalus is expecting me to win. If I do have feelings for me, then I have to win if there's any chance he'll return them. That is how I convince myself to think back over the few notes I have made about Thomas. There was little I could take from his quarter final battle as it's difficult to determine a strategy when a trainer is drunk, so I have to settle for working with the few notes I could make watching him win possibly the easiest match of the first round.

All hopes of dispelling thoughts of Daedalus from my mind vanish when I reach the entrance hall. He is one of the first people there, stood on his own against a wall. My arrival doesn't stir him from his self-isolation. Instead, I have to walk over to him. I want to tackle this issue head on.

"About yesterday…" I begin awkwardly. I don't know how to continue though. Daedalus still doesn't acknowledge my existence. It's as though he's staring straight through me.

"Good luck today," he says and walks off to be alone in a different corner.

I am being stupid again. I should have expected that reaction. He is a different person in view of other people to when we've been alone. My attention quickly turns to the other people gathering. It seems everyone is coming along now. A lot of the people who went out in the first round had been absent on previous days, but they have now returned to see the tournament as it reaches the final stages.

As usual, Robin and Elin make their way over to join me. I don't listen to Robin's latest tale, something to do with room service and an undercooked Tauros, I am too distracted. My eyes wander about the entrance hall, landing on Daedalus every so often. Eventually I figure out what's missing. Thomas is the last to arrive. When I see Raymond guiding him, I suspect he's been drinking again. An unpredictable opponent is the last thing I want.

As it turns out, Thomas is actually sober. He walks alongside us as we head to the bus. However, he is preoccupied by his Battle Gear. It looks in better condition than I remember it during his last battle. I then notice he is actually registering his details on it.

"Why have you got a new Battle Gear?" I ask Thomas, much to Robin's annoyance as he has to cut his story short.

"I broke the last one," Thomas says, "Well, I didn't. I was just fiddling with it and couldn't put it back together. Just don't tell the suits that."

"Fiddling?" Elin asks.

"Yeah, taking it apart. Love seeing how this sort of stuff works," Thomas says as he finishes setting up the device, "This thing's got some weird stuff inside, but I'll tell you about that later."

"Weird stuff?" Elin asks. He seems quite curious about it all.

"I said I'd tell you later," Thomas says irritably, "Until then, I'll leave you cheerleaders and Psycho to prepare. You'll need it, trust me."

Thomas strolls off ahead of us and is one of the first people on the bus. He glances back at us with a grin and I glare at him as I have to endure an earful from Robin about how he is not a cheerleader. I spend the short bus journey plotting basic strategies for the Pokémon I know Thomas has. There are things about his team I don't know and there are things about mine he doesn't know, but I don't know whose favour that will work to.

At the stadium, we know the drill by now. Thomas and I split off from the main group and head for the trainers' room. Except this time we are stopped by Raymond who leads us down a different corridor. I ask where we are going, but Raymond doesn't respond until we reach a door and stop.

"Thus far, you have been protected from the media, but as semi-finalists you have a duty to be in the public eye. As such, before your battle, you will face representatives of the media," Raymond explains.

I gulp as Raymond opens the door to reveal a room filled with journalists and photographers. We are told to take seats at a table facing the crowd. Cautiously, I sit down and look to the people in front of me. Cameras flash wildly, constantly taking me by surprise. I look to Thomas. He is a lot more relaxed. He is leaning back in his chair with his feet resting on the table. I spot Raymond in the corner of the room looking unimpressed by Thomas' muddy boots on the white tablecloth.

"How are you two feeling ahead of your battle?" a journalist asks.

"I'm fine because I've got this and Psycho's a nervous wreck," Thomas says bluntly, "Next question."

I open my mouth to try and respond to that, but very little comes out and what does is drowned out by journalists bombarding us with more questions.

"How do you feel about being so close to the title of World Champion?"

"Thomas, are you drunk?"

"Holly, are you really a psychopath?"

"How do you rate the Battle Gears?"

The relentless bombardment of questions is getting out of hand. There is no order. I don't know what to do. Even Thomas is stumped at this point. Raymond has to step in and call for the journalists to ask one at a time. Obviously, this doesn't work. The media are hounds, they will stop at nothing to make sure their question is the one that gets answered so they have a story.

"How much of an impact have the Battle Gears had so far in the tournament?" one journalist manages to ask. Raymond steps in again to make sure that no one else asks anything until the question is answered.

"To be honest, a lot of the information isn't of much use. They're things that often come as instinct to trainers. Perhaps people could come up with strategies that do utilise the information, but we all have our own established battle styles and aren't going to risk changing them at such short notice," I say carefully, I don't want to anger the tournament organisers but want to answer truthfully, "The team selection process has been massive though. It has probably changed the outcomes of several battles. The health bars are surprisingly useful. I was training yesterday without the Battle Gear and realised the difference between making estimates and knowing the full extent."

Raymond looks to me and nods approvingly. I don't think I've said too much wrong against Elder Industries and I've given the press something to work with. Everyone wins. The press conference continues with some structure. Thomas answers a few questions rather bluntly while I try to be a little more insightful.

Much to our relief, Raymond eventually calls an end to our meeting with the media and leads us away. We are sent to the trainers' room to await our battle. I lean against a wall and curse the media under my breath. They have completely thrown off my mental preparations. That was unexpected and unwanted. Thomas doesn't seem too bothered by it though. I envy him. How can he be so relaxed and confident? Of course, it's because he knows I'm not.

Now I feel the writing is definitely on the wall for my run in the competition. There is a psychological aspect that I had no idea about. Thomas knows all about it. He used it to his advantage against Daedalus. He took out a tough opponent by knocking him off guard with his drunken antics. Now he's planning to take me out by trying to crush my confidence and I think it is working.

When the time comes, we head out to the tunnel and wait for our call. Neither of us say anything. I just feel awkward around Thomas now. I used to quite like him, but now things are different. We are opponents and Daedalus has convinced me there is a reason to beat him outside my own ambition.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the first semi-final!" the announcer declares over the speakers, "Fighting for a place in the Ten Million Match, your favourite Twitter trends, the Status Psycho, Holly Wexler, and the Hangover Hero, Thomas Byrne!"

We step out into an explosion of noise. I have come a long way in just two rounds. The atmosphere has grown with every round. Thomas looks like he's taking in all in and drawing strength from it. I just have to tell myself it's all a trick to try and demoralise me. He's just as nervous as I am. Yes, that must be it.

We take our places at either end of the battlefield. The stadium's staff have done an excellent job in repairing the battlefield after Mark completely destroyed it yesterday. There are still a few visible weak spots but I doubt they will influence our battle much. The referee instructs us to activate our Battle Gears and we do so.

When I am faced with the teams, it is not a question of which Pokémon do I bring anymore. Now we just have to choose the one we will start with. This is a whole different selection process. Do you pick what might have a chance against anything or do you try to predict your opponent's first choice? I slam a finger down on the screen to make my selection and block out any doubts.

I grab the appropriate Poké Ball and hold it out at arm's length. I am ready. Thomas flicks his first Poké Ball into the air and catches it with the other hand. Cool, calm and confident. I intend to wipe that smirk off his face by the end of the battle.

"Begin!" the referee calls out.

"Go, Magcargo!"

"Go, Sylux!"

I am somewhat surprised by Thomas' first choice. A Heatmor is not something I expected to face at this tournament, not least at this stage. After facing Elin's Palpitoad though, I know not to underestimate anything. This is top level competition. I am facing Thomas for a reason.

"Magcargo, Yawn," I say to start the battle.

"Taunt," Thomas counters.

Heatmor waves at Magcargo, gesturing for it to go for it, and laughs mockingly. This visibly angers my Pokémon. When Magcargo stretches its mouth open wide, I expect a loud yawn. Instead, fire pours out and streams directly at Heatmor.

"No!" I cry out.

It is too late though. Thomas laughs as his Heatmor sucks in the fire. It chuckles and snorts out a few flames. Heatmor now has Magcargo's fire powering it up. I knew not to underestimate it before. Now, I know that I am in trouble.