Steel (Poke)Ball Run
Chapter 3 – VS STAGEFRIGHT
It hadn't even started yet and it was already a disaster in the making. Perhaps that was why the press swarmed like flies clustered over steamingly fresh faeces. It was because they were expecting a shit show, perhaps. Either way, it was one servant's duty to inform the fool who started it all of this grim news.
He entered the sitting room where an idle rich man and his child bride lounged. They were people watching by the window; he was sprawled over a chaise lounge and she was kicking her feet from atop a desk.
'Excuse me,' he said, breaking the dulcet reverie of the married couple, 'we've had complaints, Mr Steel.'
Mr Steel grunted. Permission to continue, or so the servant too it.
'The special toilets built on the beach are overflowing with waste. There is a horrible smell and parasites are breeding. A kid even fell into it all. We don't have enough tents. There was a fire earlier which destroyed some of the ones we previously sent for. We don't have enough drinking water. The Orientals are killing the local Lillipup populace for eating meats; as well as any that have had the misfortune of wandering from their Trainers. The Alolans are lying on the beach with their dicks and tits out for all the world to see and this is disturbing others of different nationalities. A Luxray and a Garchomp have reportedly escaped from one Trainer's cages.'
Mr Steel had been listening with a stern expression but that last complaint ticked him off. His old bones rattled as he ceased resting against his chaise lounge. He pointed at the servant and his eyes glinted dangerously from behind his black sunglasses. His wife stiffened by his side.
'What is a ground type doing on the beach anyway? All Pokemon are to be in their PokeBalls; simple as fucking that! Now, understand that these are not my problems - that's why I hired you! Don't bother me with this.'
'But Mr Steel, too many unpredictable events are taking place.'
Mr Steel clicked his tongue. 'Bah, whatever. Add another million PokeYen. Do whatever you can and increase security. Go over budget for all I care. And tell those foreigners, if they have to eat dogs and have their privates out, tell them that I don't care if it's part of their religion or whatever that so long as they are on my beach then my word is law!'
His wife swallowed. Slowly becoming more nervous than she already was. She watched as the servant squirmed. That was a lot of duty thrust upon him.
'Sir, the Steel Ball Run conference is about to start. You really ought to move.' the servant concluded.
'Alright. I'll be there soon.' Mr Steel said.
He gazed thoughtfully out of the window. His wife's eyes followed. From here, they could see the whole stretch of the beach. They could see the azure, rolling waves that foamed madly at their curling crests and the infinite, pale sands and dunes. Or they could if the beach was empty. Countless men and women - Trainers - clustered in makeshift camps along the beach. There was thousands of them and they were all here for one reason. All of them stood around behind the ornate sign with "Steel Ball Run" decorating it as well as some patterns.
These countless people donned the attire appropriate of racers: large brimmed hats and spurs on their boots. They looked fierce and intimidating from afar. All of them had greed and determination in their eyes: apparent even from a distance with how distrusting their demeanour was.
More people continued to file through beneath that sign, Mr Steel observed. He took a breath and his wife drew in nearer. She sat down next to him. He took a deeper breath and levee broke. He began to cry, trembling with fear, and hugged her. He nuzzled against her bosom. She stroked his back and did her best to comfort him.
'What am I gonna do? I'm so scared! What's gonna happen if the race goes baaaaaaad? What if the race falls apart?'
He wept unto her chest. She soothingly hushed him, rocked him as she would a sibling.
'It's alright, Stephen. You've been a promoter for forty years. Believe in yourself; do your best. Everything will be fine, my dear.' she spoke to him softly.
He looked up at her and smiled faintly. 'Alright, my dear, I will do my best.'
She smiled back fondly.
A few minutes later and it was like Mr Steel's bawling had never happened. Not a scant tear upon his face or redness to his eyes. He was professional. Calm. In control. He sat at the middle seat at the conference panel where countless people with eager eyes watched him with questions upon their wagging tongues.
'Mr Stephen Steel!' a voice rang out and Mr Steel greeted the man with a nod. 'About the "Steel Ball Race" that begins in two days, you have repeatedly explained this before but given this is Q&A, explain it again for readers across the world!'
The press buzzed. Mr Steel was in no hurry. He didn't care that he had explained it previously before. All for the readers of the world, he supposed. Besides, he and his crew had been anticipating such a question. Before he could speak, someone unfurled a marked map of Unova behind him.
'The Steel Ball Race will start at ten a.m, September twenty-fifth, 1890 on the Ficapica Beach of Virbank City. The goal will be Humilau City, making it mankind's first crossing of Unova by mount - with a twist!
'The route plotted is roughly six thousand kilometres and includes all sorts of terrains. Along this route, eight people will be stationed at different locations. The members of this race will have to battle them in order to earn a token of victory known as a "Badge". The person with either all the badges or the most badges and arrives first automatically 50, 000, 000, 000 PokeYen deposited straight into their bank account! And the right to battle President Funny Valentine and accept the mantle of Unova's first ever Champion and be allowed to instate whomever they wish as their subordinates as the Elite four – should they win, of course!
'Second place will receive 10, 000, 000, 000, third place will receive 100, 000, 000 PokeYen, fourth place will receive 250, 000, and fifth place 120, 000, 000. Read the rulebook for further details.
Mr Steel's voice boomed throughout the audience. Greed ravaged the atmosphere. Photographers dazzled the stony-faced man and other panelists. Mr Steel paused and let the crowd settle once more.
'Let's move onto questions!' he barked.
A different journalist piped up: 'Tell us about the sponsors of this competition!'
A crewman standing behind Mr Steel spoke on his behalf. He had a notepad and in it was a list of sponsors.
'For starters, your news company. Others include respective publishing chains, hotel groups such as Virbank City Beach Hotel, B&C Meat Packing, Winchespin firearm production, Vertical Continental Railroad Corp., and Speedwagon Oil Corp. Many other corporations across Unova have also assisted this competition.'
'Baron Herrison of Kalos Royalty, has announced participation in this competition via a machine called an "automobile".' someone from the mid-section yelled.
'...Er yes, I approved that.' Mr Steel said. 'This race's identity is that of pioneering spirit. A race for the championships… the likes the world has never seen before! Be it with machine or mount, no human has ever raced with such conditions: no rest, seventy to one hundred kilometers per day for a distance of six thousand kilometers just to reach the deadline of Christmas Day; not to mention the challenges along the way, as prepared by President Valentine's chosen Leaders!' Mr Steel announced.
His passion was as fervent as a flame. His eyes lit up like embers. The news reporters were shocked to say the least. He raved like a mad man but his nonsense had them exciting. It would most certainly make for interesting competition.
'Are mount Pokemon even capable of making such distances?' someone inquired from the back.
'We can't predict that.' Mr Steel with a shrug. 'There are records of a Mudsdale who did one-hundred-and-fifty kilometers in a day and it was its rider that died of exhaustion. This was during 1851. Still, to cover the distance sixty-to-eighty days is not nearly as unreasonable as you may believe; though, the switching of mount Pokemon is prohibited. Mount Pokemon are however disqualified from participating in any Leader battles, of course.'
'There are some complaints about the 12, 000 PokeYen entry fee. That's a month salary! You're basically running a moneymaking racket.'
'Not true. For the competitors, we will provide bed and board in many hotels, medical expenses for them and their Pokemon, as well as more food than they can eat. We all supply that. That's where the fee comes from.' Mr Steel explained.
'Given that the race is a sport, are weapons permitted?' another reported inquired, almost shyly as though it were taboo to mention.
Mr Steel grunted and grumbled. 'Hm, the 2nd Amendment permits the right to bear arms. We can't take that away with our rules. One might have to spend time in unsavoury camps here and there; with vagrants and untamed monsters... As long as it is not "criminal behaviour", we don't care. However, they are strictly forbidden once a battle between Pokemon has started. No aiming at the foe or their Pokemon. Simple as that. But overall, the answer is yes. But they are to be provided by oneself.'
'Tell us about some of the favourites to win in this competition!'
That got the crowd excited. Everyone had their own idea as to who was their ideal Champion, their ideal Pokemon master. This was to be a person to represent Unova on the global stage, they couldn't just be anyone and yet, there was no limit on country of origin for Unova was, supposedly, a united front welcoming anyone and everyone.
'Mountain Tim, home grown from Unova's very own Driftveil City; he's quite the looker. His ace Pokemon is nicknamed "Oh Lonesome Me" and is a mighty fine Simisage specimen; rumour has it that it displays a hidden ability.
'From abroad, we have three hot favourites. Firstly, mounted on the back of a Camerupt is Hoenn native, Urmd Abdul. He has tempered himself and his team in unforgivable mountain range of Mt Chimney, the flaming Fiery Path, and in the scorched deserts of Route 111.
'Secondly, there is the equestrian master from the mid east: Johtoan native, Dot Han. Supposedly a member of the bloodline that conquered the Johto-Kanto regions centuries ago! He prides himself on having Pokemon only native to Johto.
'Third, the man who is last but not least, is a genius jockey from Kalos: Diego Brando, commonly named as "Dio". Despite being of low birth, his hard work in the Battle chateau has earned him many ranks and his work with mounted Pokemon is comparable to none; however, he may have a cross-country weakness undiscovered until now. Only time will tell. He runs a very peculiar team; only the rarest of the rare suits a man like him so he battles with many pseudo-legendary Pokemon as well as restored fossils!'
'Hang on, why're there so many favourites from overseas? Shouldn't our first Champion be someone born and bred in Unova?' an outraged reported cried from the middle of the pack.
'Wrong!' Mr Steel bellowed. 'Kalosian people brought themselves here in 1607 to colonise the land, land they believed to have belonged to no one because they did not respect the customs of the native Unovans. However, through adversity, Unova has grown to become united: hence, Unova! A new unification! It would be un-Unovan to dissallow our brothers and sisters from overseas to not compete since only the Isshu folk are truly born and bred here; the rest of us have merely sought home here out of hope and adventure. Therefore, the Steel Ball Run will permit entrance from all nationalities!'
No one protested Mr Steel's interpretation of Unova's birth as a nation.
'The distance is tremendous… If no one gets to the finish line before the deadline, what happens then? What happens to Unova's first Champion?' a petrified reporter from the back corner yelled; his voice trembled. 'That'd make this competition a failure. The sponsors would be furious. And there will be a lack of trust in future competitions such as these to garner a Champion, what happens then? How will you take responsibility for such foolishness?'
'I might be eliminated.' Mr Steel said grimly.
His darling child bride lifted her head, worried but she also seemed calm.
'Huh?' the reporter blinked.
'That was a joke.' Mr Steel informed his audience.
His wife breathed a sigh of relief.
'Listen closely! Failure is… forgetting the pioneer spirit and forgoing the challenge and hardship. We will have a Champion, I am certain. In this race, there will be countless adventurers and whilst one may rise above the rest, there will be no failure! Failure is only forgetting the adventure, the journey and all it brings! The "Steel Ball Run" will be a challenge the likes of the world has never seen before!' Mr Steel bellowed.
Applause resounded through the luxuriant room. Flashes of photography went off. The reporters were satisfied with such an answer; even though it evaded the question. With it, the Q&A was brought to a halt but the panel remained seated until there was one reporter.
He drew closer with a whisper. His eyes dark and glinting. He licked his lips.
'One more question.' he begged even though he was about to be chased off by the hired help. 'Is the person behind you your wife? I've heard she is fourteen.'
Mr Steel whinnied like a Zebstrika with repulsion. 'That has nothing to do with this race. This interview is over.'
His wife was not fourteen. She was fifteen. She was to turn sixteen on Christmas Day.
:
AN
Aged up Lucy for plot reasons. You'll thank me waaayyy later.
Also, I'm a little dumb with money so if that's inconsistent let me know because I'm trying to convert it to PokeYen by adding random zeroes.