A/N: I own a copy of at least one game from every Generation, but that's about it.
A few things for these chapters: I am alluding to a certain sport based on the entrances of the trainers during the tournament, and I want you to guess which athletes in question I am alluding to. (Don't worry, answers are at the bottom of the chapter.)
Second, wanna have an idea of what Chip Skarmory sounds like in the booth? He's got the voice of The Announcer from Pokemon Stadium 1 and 2! Good luck not reading his sections in that nameless announcer's breathless voice. (They will be indicated by "*" at the beginning and ending of his section. Think of it as a radio feed)
CHIP
Chip Skarmory, despite his rather lackadaisical approach to dressing, was no slouch when it came to preparation. Though he was a cult hero amongst casual Pokemon battle fans for his exuberant attitude during matches, in reality this was the first time that the powers that be had caved in and given him the assignment of calling the World Tournament. Solo. He hadn't really been able to sleep in the days since his posting of his video blog. The various comments of people already giddy with excitement over what kind of performances they would see and what kind of calls they would hear did nothing to ease his nerves. Thus, though the main events weren't for another few hours, Chip was already at the booth preparing his notes.
The announcer's table was situated right in front of the ring where the match would take place, with a shatterproof glass enclosure to protect the man inside from any collateral damage, especially from Pokemon that liked to use attacks that caused residual damage. Chip tapped the glass in front of him, and shuddered. He didn't care how many times he had been assured that this stuff was strong enough to take punches from a fully-grown and enraged Machamp. All it would take was one direct hit from a Hyper Beam and he was toast. Then again, if he was a sissy he never would have taken this job in the first place.
Confident that the notes he'd compiled and researched for the past few months were set in place, he put on his headset and turned on the same console under the desk at his knees. He heard the pleasant beeping noise to indicate that he was on the air, and then began to speak.
*Good afternoon, ladies and gents! This is Chip Skarmory, coming to you live across the globe from Center Court here at the World Tournament! It is the crown jewel of the battling season, where the best of the best face off against each other to see who will be crowned World Champion?*
Chip grabbed one of the sheets of paper he'd laid out, and as he continued to speak he would occasionally glance at it for reference.
*For those of you unfamiliar with the rules, just a reminder that no Regional Championship titles are at stake here. The only thing that matters is the World Champion Title, which has been held by Lance from Kanto for the past two years. And even then, the only reason he holds the belt is due to the Boy from Mount Silver declining to take part in the last two World Tournaments. So naturally, one of the biggest stories of the tournament is: can Lance legitimately hang onto his belt if faced off against his greatest rival? The last time that they faced each other was ten years ago, folks! And during that battle, Lance was upstaged and cast down by the young man from Pallet Town who has developed a cult-like following from his legions of fans. Needless to say, many analysts have those two in their final bracket.
And speaking of the bracket, the powers that be have divided it like so: the Legend Division has Cynthia Shirona of Sinnoh against Gary Oak of Kanto, as well as Iris of Unova versus the Boy from the Mountain. In the Phenom Division, we have Alder from Unova undertaking his farewell tour from competitive battling against Wallace of Hoenn, as well as Steven Stone of Hoenn against Lance from Kanto.
It's that last match that has a lot buzz gathering. Despite the predictions that Lance will win this round, there has been a steady wave of people who are believing that Steven Stone might have a chance to pull off the greatest upset in tournament history! Stone's record against Lance is currently oh-fer-five, but by no means does that indicate that he should be written off-*
TRODAIRE
Annoyed, Trodaire turned off Chip's commentary from the radio as it turned to analyzing Steven's chances. The Orrean knew that eventually Chip might make an off-handed comment about him, but that wasn't the point. The point was to profile Steven and make him the star. Currently, all anyone had done was make the circumstances of the match itself the true star, not Steven himself. Which Trodaire just didn't think was fair.
It was four hours before the match. Trodaire and Steven's group had arrived in Unova two days prior, to get everyone settled and acclimated to the World Tournament atmosphere with enough time to spare. Sabrina had texted Trodaire that she and her group of friends would be arriving early to wish him luck, because they knew that Steven and his team needed to focus. Trodaire had smiled. They wanted to wish him, the coach of the trainer, luck. That was kind of them, if a little mis-guided. But then again, if it meant seeing Sabrina again…
He was distracted from his thoughts by a buzzing on his PokeGear. Grabbing it, he flipped it open.
Hey
He smiled.
Hey to you too.
…
You nervous?
…
You have no idea.
…
Well, not to be unforgiving, but you had better get that out of your system now. Otherwise, the entrances are gonna give you a heart attack.
Ah, yes. The entrances. A good portion of what made League-sanctioned matches so entertaining was the spectacle that came with them. Sometimes, the matches themselves were dwarfed by the entrance of the trainers involved. Choreographies of music, lighting, and the roar of the crowd served just as much of a psych-out as a well-tuned team, and Steven knew this.
"We need something to show everyone that I'm not afraid of Lance." He had said on the last day they were in Kanto.
"Like what?" Trodaire asked. Steven shrugged.
"It's not the spectacle part: Cynthia has something simple yet powerful for that. I just need a good song to help convey the idea that I think Lance is over-hyped." He said. Trodaire smirked.
"Pretty ballsy of you, bud. Got any ideas?" He asked. At this, Steven fell flat.
"I don't…" He said weakly. Then, there was a chuckle.
"I think I can helps yehs!" Paulie giggled, throwing in an old CD into the CD player that he'd encouraged Trodaire to put in the gym a few weeks prior. The power tool-like squealing of the guitars, coupled with the fiery lyrics and the message behind them, caused both Trodaire and Steven to turn to each other in unison and say:
"That's the one."
Relax, Rina. What's the worst that could happen?
…
CLEARLY you've never seen one of Lance's entrances.
…
What's so special about them?
…
They're scary.
…
Scary? You find them scary?
…
Normally I'd agree with you and chalk it up to me being unreasonable, but Lance…look, put it this way. As awkward as Lance was at that gala a few weeks ago, that's how intimidating he becomes when he enters the ring.
…
Wow. What's the effect on the crowd?
…
Words simply cannot describe it, Trodaire. They go berserk.
…
We'll handle it.
…
I know you will. That's why I'm rooting for you.
…
I thought you were rooting for me for another reason…
…
Shh…we'll talk about that later.
He heard the door open behind him, and saw that a young girl had entered the break room. She was dark-skinned, with a massive head of hair that Trodaire had to give credit to. Keeping all of that upright must take forever in preparation. She glanced over at him and smiled.
"Hi there! You here for one of the battles?" She asked. Trodaire nodded.
"Yeah, I'm here for the last battle of the day." He said. The girl giggled.
"Ooh, the Lance-Steven matchup! That's gonna be a good one!" She said. Trodaire raised an eyebrow.
"You think so? Who you got winning?" He asked. He already knew her answer. It was just a matter of her actually saying it.
The girl paused, and put a finger to her chin in thought.
"Well, I think that Lance is going to win in the end…but I want Steven to win! It'd be so cool for him to get into the semi-finals! Then I might get to go up against him!" That last sentence made Trodaire pause.
"Go up against him?" He asked in confusion. The girl giggled again.
"I'm one of the competitors, silly!" She said. She extended a hand. "Iris, current champion of Unova. Nice to meet you!" She said. Trodaire wordlessly shook her hand, stunned at his bizarre luck at randomly encountering pillars of the battle community left and right throughout his travels to Unova. He half expected the Boy from the Mountain to walk through the door at any moment.
Instead of that happening, what instead happened was Cynthia and Steven walking through the front door. Iris turned to them and waved.
"Hi Mr. Steven! Hi Miss Cynthia!" She said. Cynthia and Steven smiled back.
"Hello to you too, you little champion." Cynthia said warmly. "Ready for your big match-up?" She asked. Iris looked determined.
"You betcha! I'm gonna kick Gary Oak's stupid butt!" She said.
There was an awkward pause. Iris looked around.
"What?" She asked. Cynthia and Steven exchanged a nervous look.
"You…didn't look at the revised card, did you?" Cynthia asked. Trodaire watched in amazement as Iris' excited look turned to worry in a nanosecond.
"No…who did I get matched against?" She asked. Steven sighed.
"You got him." He said. Iris instantly knew who he was talking about.
"NOOOOOOO!" She wailed, tears threatening to form. "I wanted to get through the first round this year! He's gonna roll me up and smoke me like a pipe!" She said despairingly. Trodaire found it remarkable that the girl was barely a teenager and she was already using such a creatively specific simile. He was also confused.
"That's it? You're just gonna act like he's beaten you already?" He asked. Iris looked at him confused. Trodaire's gaze hardened. "That's exactly what he wants you to do!" He said. "You should tell your team to go out there and hit his team as hard as you can! Make him work for every last battle! But whatever you do, don't just give up!" He said. Iris sniffled once.
"You…you think so?" She asked. Trodaire nodded.
"I know so!" He said. At that moment, a League official walked in the room.
"Five minutes to your battles, Ladies Iris and Cynthia!" He said, and then disappeared as soon as he had entered. Cynthia turned to Steven and smiled.
"That's my cue. I'll see you on the other side." She said. She kissed him on the cheek (Iris made a face), and then walked through the tunnel towards her battle court. She had been assigned one of the side courts, and judging from the roar of the crowd in the distance, Alder's match against Wallace had just ended. That meant that Iris would soon be taking the ring against the Boy. That left Center Court, the MAIN EVENT as Chip Skarmory had breathlessly put it earlier in the day, open for Steven and Trodaire. Both girls had left, and that left the two men sitting in the break room. Highlights of the Alder-Wallace match were playing on a TV in the background (Alder had won, though that wasn't really a surprise), but neither of them was watching. They were both sitting on the couch in the break room, silently staring at the wall.
"So, this is it." Trodaire said.
"Yup." Came Steven's reply.
"Five hard months." Trodaire continued.
"All of it boils down to this." Steven finished.
"Did you send in the instructions for your entrance?" Trodaire asked. Steven nodded.
"Yeah. The guy thought that it was a little bit simplistic for the World Tournament." He said. Trodaire snorted.
"We're not going for fancy-pants. We're hyping the crowd, we're establishing you as the fearless challenger, and we'll let Lance come out with the goofy pyrotechnics or whatever the hell he has." At this, Steven laughed. "What?" Trodaire asked.
"Trodaire, you are in for one hell of a whirl when Lance steps out onto the ring." Steven said. "The pop he's gonna get from the crowd is gonna be out of this world."
Trodaire didn't say anything, but instead silently went to work calming his nerves.
SABRINA
"OW! Hey, stop!"
"Quit squirming, this'll only take a minute!"
"That's what you said for Erika, and it took you a half hour to fix her hair!"
"My face feels sweaty…"
"Stop complaining, Erika!"
"Don't be so mean, Misty!"
"Don't be so NOSY, Janine!"
"Don't be so RUDE, Misty!"
"QUIET." Sabrina finally shouted in her amplified voice, the stress having broken her patience. The quartet of them, Janine, Misty, Erika and Sabrina were sitting in a Unova hotel room four hours before the big match getting ready, and it was already suiting up to be a disaster. Misty had insisted on dying everyone's hair with streaks of silver ("Cuz silver is the color of Steel, DUH!" Misty had said when questioned), and that had taken forever. Erika had brought streamers, though none of them could figure out when they would light the things. (Janine thought before Steven ran out, while Misty argued for after). And Sabrina had brought ear plugs, knowing that eventually this set-up was going to lead to a silly squabble. She sighed heavily.
"Guys, is all of this stuff really that necessary?" She was met with an in-unison shout of YES from all three girls, and sighed again. She really hoped that Trodaire was doing ok. She let her mind wander and began to daydream, of Steven pulling off a miracle upset, of people going berserk and storming the ring, of her and Trodaire getting caught up in the flurry of people and being next to each other, of sharing a kiss at Center Court…
She shook that last one out of her head. He needed to focus, and if he needed to focus then so did she. So with a deep breath, she went back to trying to deal with her rapidly thinning patience for her three rather juvenile friends.
THREE HOURS LATER
There was one hour left. One hour before the beginning of the end. During the break, Trodaire and Steven had gotten to watching the TV in the corner of the room to watch the battle between Cynthia and Gary (There had been no cable feed for the battle between Iris and the Boy from the Mountain, though they heard that he had beaten all of her Pokemon without losing a single one of his). They had cheered with each and every moment that went in Cynthia's favor, and were ecstatic that she had pulled off the win. The flabbergasted look on Gary Oak's face just sealed the deal. Steven had let his three guys out to stretch their legs and try to loosen up, but there was to be no other forms of preparation. Once they hit the ring, any "coaching" went out the window and was replaced with "whatever you remember, that's what you do."
"Penny for your thoughts." Steven said after another twenty minutes of silence. Trodaire shrugged.
"What more is there to say? What more is there that we can train? We're as ready as we're ever going to be, Steven. And all we can do is hope that that's good enough." He said. He was surprised to feel Steven's arm clap him on the shoulder.
"Win or lose, it's been awesome Trodaire. I'm glad to have you as my friend." Steven said. Trodaire smiled.
"Glad to call you mine, Steven." He said.
And so it went, until the same official told them that it was time to get ready for their entrance to Center Court. They looked at each other, nodded in determination, and followed the man to their stations for the entrance.
For five months, they had been building hurting bombs.
Now, it was time to launch them.
CHIP
The stands were absolutely jam-packed. They'd filled up about an hour and a half ago, and for the past twenty minutes or so Chip had been taking pictures with some of the fans and/or signing autographs. Each and every time, Chip had asked them who they thought was going to win the fight. Roughly eighty to ninety percent of them said Lance. That didn't really surprise him. He lost count of the number of Dragonite T-Shirts on little kids in the stands, and even on some adults. He glanced at the jumbotrons at both ends of the ring and gazed down the walkways that came from each of them. Steven would come out to his left and would be first, while Lance would come out to his right and be last. Chip could hardly contain his excitement when he saw that the countdown was to one minute, and hastily turned on his headset.
*Gooooooood evening ladies and gentlemen! This is Chip Skarmory and we are live around the world here at Center Court at the Pokemon World Tournament! I'm sitting here at courtside ready for the entrances of our two combatants, Lance from Kanto and Steven Stone of Hoenn, and I have to say that the roof is ready to blow OFF of this place! We are standing room only here at Center Court, and the crowd has begun the countdown! Ten seconds left before the entrance of the challenger! Nine, eight seconds left! Seven! Six!*
"FIVE!"
"FOUR!"
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"
There was a buzzer noise that echoed throughout the arena, and the crowd fell silent. And then it happened.
First, silence. And then, a rush of static. Followed by an absolutely metal guitar line. The jumbotron to the left began to show a high-speed montage of sparks, flames and steel apparatus being constructed. As the drums and the rest of the band kicked in, the lyrics rocked the stadium as the crowd went nuts.
Look in my eyyyyyyes, what do you see?
THE CULT OF PERSONALITY!
*And there's Steven Stone making his entrance!*
Amidst a shooting off of fireworks from the base of the jumbotron, Steven Stone sprinted down the walkway towards the platform where he would be commanding his team. He stood there at the end of the walkway, basking in the flashing lights of countless cameras and the roars of the crowd, before throwing up one arm and waving to his fans.
I know your anngeeeerr!
I know your dreeeams!
I've been everything you wanna be!
Ohhh, I'm THE CULT OF PERSONALITY!
*Steven Stone has pulled out all of the stops in making this entrance, ladies and gentlemen! It's a head-banging entrance and I can't help but rock out along with the audience! Oh yeah!*
Like Dragon Riders! Flying high to see!
IIIIIII'm The CULT OF PERSONALITY!
THE CULT OF PERSONALITY!
THE CULT OF PERSONAAAAALITYY!
*Oh my, ladies and gentlemen, Steven Stone is setting a message with this song! He is sending a direct message to the man he is going up against and the very lineage that he represents! It is sending chills down my spine!*
Neon Lights! Nobel Prize!
When a mirror speaks, the reflection LIIIIEEES!
You won't have to folloowww meeeee!
Only YOU, can set. You. Freeeeeee!
*But where is Steven's team? He hasn't shown he has his Pokeballs and-wait a second, he's pointing to the screen entrance from whence he came and-OH MY GOODNESS, THERE THEY ARE!*
As the crowd went nuts, the three Pokemon that Steven had chosen raced out from the sparkling fireworks and streamers to join their master. And in the middle of them, leading the charge with a look of exuberance and determination on his face, was Trodaire Phoenix.
*And what a class move by Steven Stone! His team has run out to meet him led by the man that Steven Stone has entrusted his title hopes towards: the young "trainer of Champions," Trodaire Phoenix! And Steven and Trodaire are going through a complex handshake maneuver, followed by a jumping chest-bump! BOOM! And Trodaire has sprinted off to the side of Steven's platform where he can bark encouragement to his boss. Wow, what a way to introduce the challenger, Steven Stone of Hoenn!*
The music trailed off. The only sound was the cheering of the crowd. Then the two jumbotrons began a countdown that the crowd once again eagerly joined in.
"FIVE!"
"FOUR!"
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"
But when it hit zero, no buzzer noise went off.
Instead, the arena plunged into darkness.
The crowd let out a terrified/exhilarated scream, and continued to bristle with excitement. From his post to Steven's side, Trodaire was confused. What was going on here? Wasn't Lance supposed to be making his entrance-
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a roar. But not just any roar. Very few people had ever been lucky enough to see this elusive creature, let alone catch a glimpse of it. But the Dragon Clan were no ordinary people. They had befriended this creature, and had captured an audio recording of its prideful roar. A roar that filled the stadium and sent the crowd into a near rabid-frenzy.
Rayquaza.
Then, just as soon as its roar echoed through the stadium, it was gone. In its place, there was a haunting, druidic singing that filled the air.
*What on earth is going ON here?*
From the depths of the jumbotron emerged seven figures. Six of them were hooded in thick robes, each carrying a long and burning torch with flame. There were three on each side, clearly making a tunnel. Other than the ultraviolet light emitting from below the walkway, their flame was the only thing that illuminated the stadium save for random camera flashes. And walking in the middle of the tunnel, holding a belt of Pokeballs high for all to see.
*Oh my Arceus on high, it's Clair! Clair is walking out in the middle of this surreal procession, as smoke fills the air and the flames burn brightly! What is going on?*
Clair reached the end of the walkway, holding the belt high. She stared through the ethereal smoke and flame with nothing but contempt for the two men that her cousin was facing, before pivoting and turning her back to them. She continued to hold the belt high. The Dragon acolytes in their robes had finished their procession, and had turned to face one another across the line. Three acolytes on each side, holding their torches low like a tunnel of hellish flame. Trodaire could fee his heart beating in wild anticipation.
*BWONG*
If the crowd had gone crazy during Steven's entrance, they proceeded to go absolutely insane at this noise. A gong, striking a note like that from the pits of hell.
*BWONG*
The sound of a hellish organ and the haunting wails of women, a clap of thunder in the background. All in the background of that Arceus-damned gong. It was all rising to a crescendo, and now the crowd's screaming had reached a fever pitch. Trodaire looked down the way and saw why.
*Oh my Arceus!*
For though the far jumbotron had gone completely unnervingly white with static, there was a figure that stood at its base. Illuminated by the pale glow, it looked like a shadowy silhouette. But there was no mistake. As the music came together for the chorus, Lance had arrived.
It was the sound of a funeral march from hell, with the trumpets and organ combining for a disturbingly awesome and beautiful sound while an electric guitar softly played power chords in the background. It was haunting. It was mighty. It was perfect for the entrance of the Crown Jewel of the Dragon Clan.
Lance walked slow. Unnervingly slow. Each step seemed in perfect choreography with the music. He no longer looked like the unassuming and nervous man that had spoken at the gala those months ago at the Indigo Plateau. Here he was a titan, and all the world was his witness to greatness. Trodaire had to remind himself to breathe. As Lance walked through the tunnel of fire, each pair of Acolytes lifted their flames as if to signify him worthy of their passage. Lance reached the end of the line as the music began to fade.
*BWONG*
Only it was clear that it was just getting ready to rise again. Clair and Lance stared at each other for a few moments.
*BWONG*
At the second ringing of the bell, they nodded in unison and Clair handed him the belt. He lightly weighed it in his hand, before smirking and climbing up the steps to his platform as the music hit its crescendo one last time. He stood there, silently and menacingly, all the confidence and power in the world on his side.
And it was in that moment that Trodaire realized what Sabrina had been talking about when she said that he was the one they all feared. And then he realized another thing:
He didn't give a flying shit.
"BRING IT IN!" He shouted to the three Pokemon next to him. As the music died down and Steven and Lance continued their glaring contest, Trodaire rallied the troops.
"Listen to me!" He said. "We've been working too damned hard to let something like that get to us! Now hear this! Armaldo, you're gonna wake this crowd up and wake that damned Dragon Master up by picking up his Haxorus and by ARCEUS you are gonna plant him in the ground like a tree! Excadrill, you are gonna ride and break a Dragon and you KNOW it! And you, Aggron, tonight you end the legend of the Dragonite. Rock em on three! One! Two! Three!"
"Armaldo."
"Driiiilll!"
"AGGRON!"
*And the atmosphere of this place has mellowed slightly after those incredible entrances by both Steven and Lance. The head referee has come out and laid the ground rules for both fighters. Steven and Lance have chosen their starting Pokemon and-LADIES AND GENTLEMEN HERE WE GO!*
"Go, Armaldo!"
"Go, Haxorus."
It had begun.
A/N: In case you couldn't tell, that whole chapter was a long love letter to the grandiose entrances of Professional Wrestling in the WWE. Other than changing up one line of the song, Cult of Personality is the entrance music for…CM Punk. Except Steven isn't a grand-standing $$hole like he is. While Lance's music? His is that of Mark Caloway, AKA THE UNDERTAKER. Rather symbolic, no?
If you want a better idea of the atmosphere in which Lance made his entrance, simply Youtube Wrestlemania 20-Kane vs The Undertaker. You won't be disappointed.
Ok, folks. Enough silly filler and "plot." Now it's time for the MAIN EVENT! Armaldo versus Haxorus! Who will strike first? Who will win the battle, Steven or Lance? Find out on the next heart-pounding chapter of THE FIGHT CLUB.