Steel (Poke)Ball Run

Chapter 8 – VS STAGE ONE

:

September twenty-fifth, 1890, and there were three hours to before the Steel Ball Run race would commence. That would make it about seven a.m but with the atmosphere, the whole region was currently blanketed in, it felt earlier.

On a ranch just south of the Ficapica Beach, Virbank City, a couple of blokes hung out by a tall, wooden fence. They were having a good old yarn together. Old friends, they were. Colleagues too, not to mention. The pair were excited as anything and were talking about the Steel Ball Run.

'Three thousand five hundred.'

'Three thousand five hundred what?'

'The number of participants. It's seven or eight times the amount they were expecting but by the stars, fuck, who hasn't dreamed of being on top of the world? Master Pokemon Trainer and all that jazz?'

'Hey, you reckon that all those of 'em will have a fair start?'

'The start at least. That's why they picked the beach, I heard. But I say? I reckon more than half of 'em will drop out within the week! The week, I tell youse.'

'Nah, more than two thirds, I say.'

The men had a good laugh between themselves but it soon turned dark.

'This ain't a race, mate. It's survival. I mean, only eight of these badges things up for grabs, on top of the distance and terrain. Yeah, it ain't sport, mate.'

These men were workers on a farm which had rented spaces for competitors to race. Among one of the few borrowing their land to camp, was a foreign fellow with long, sandy blonde hair and he was currently sorting through his things. He had yesterday and managed to lighten the load but still, he didn't feel it would be enough so he sorted through again.

He purged his bags of anything useless. He dropped toilet paper and toothbrushes in favour of more natural remedies for his messes; such as leaves and stems respectively. He got rid of books and a pair of scissors; choosing himself and a knife over those respectively. Of course, being a mature man, he did stow away his pink teddy bear for further keeping.

Outside his tent, those ranch workers kept on jabbering and once more, they caught his attention.

'When they pass the Driftveil City area, it'll be less than one-tenth of the way there since they have to cross the mainland too. Maybe two or three hundred from there on out, I say.'

The man gathered up his remaining things, much more satisfied with the weight he was currently carrying. Now, he was to load up his mount, a Mudsdale. As he ventured out, continuing to eavesdrop on those blokes' yarn, something else caught his attention: an abandoned wheelchair lying on its side. It had a bright pink back and was oddly familiar. It rested close to the training arena's fence opposite to where those gossips were chatting.

A handsome Zebstrika zipped around on the inside of the fence but it was chucking up too much dust for it be alone. At its side, dust and dirt flew up in great, wide streaks.

'Hey, look, it's him!'

'The guy who was a famous jockey and Trainer still goin' at it. Kinda pathetic if you ask me. He's gonna kill himself!'

'Wasn't he getting bucked off all through yesterday? I feel sorry for him.'

'Reckons he's gonna enter the race in that condition.'

The works laughed raucously between themselves. The stranger drew nearer and was utterly abhorred by the sight.

The Zebstrika bounded around viciously. Electricity fearsomely crackled down its mane. Beneath its hooves, a blond lad flailed: Johnny Joestar.

The Zebstrika threw Johnny away and he smashed into the fence. He shivered as splinters cascaded over him. His leg was pierced with a stake borne from the smithereens. He was battered and blue and bloody.

The stranger rested his body against the fence; close to where the ranch workers were.

'A piece of wood went through his leg!' worried one of the workers.

'It don't matter; not like he can feel it. He's insane. Says that if anyone tries to stop him, he'll set himself on fire and kill himself.'

The Zebstrika fired off a warning shot of hot electricity. It huffed and snorted. It tore up the ground beneath it as Johnny wriggled away.

'That old Zebstrika there sure has a twisted an' nasty personality. Bloke who sold it to him must've really wanted a quick buck.'

However, it was not to safety that Johnny dragged himself back to. It was straight back to the hooves of the Zebstrika.

'Even if he could get on that creature again, I'm not sure it could go east. But then again… let him do as he wants. Everyone 'round these parts at the moment are after that impossible glory.'

Johnny didn't even get a chance this time to execute whatever idiotic plan he had concocted. The Zebstrika fired off more electricity and Johnny curled up. It stomped around and at times, caught Johnny beneath it.

The ranch workers screamed and howled for Johnny. The youth was silent even as it looked like he was on the verge of being trampled to death. He was that serious, determined, and stupid.

'Someone stop him or he'll die!'

'I can't watch!'

The stranger looked up; gave his hat a flick so it would sit upwards on the crown of his head. He looked towards the workers.

'You talking to me? I was just looking since he's in my line of sight.' he asked. 'Are you asking for my opinion? If I was to say something like "He'll never ride it… not like that" but on the other hand, if he can then he'll prove he's superhuman.'

Johnny squirmed away from the Zebstrika. It calmed down a little now that he was away from it. He was ragged. Skin in shreds, bruised and battered. It was amazing to think he was breathing at all and yet, that's all his shuddering body was doing. That and seething.

'Sorry to disturb you.'

A voice piped up. It was out of breath too. The stranger looked up and greeted his fellow wayward but soon realised by the garb of this man, he was quite native to the area, or at least the region in general if he was far from home.

'I'd like a place to sign up to the race to.'

'That way.'

'Thanks.'

'My pleasure.'

The Unovan native known as Sandman followed the stranger's directions. A simple point that away but it was a barely built up area. It would be an easy road to follow; just a simple guessing game as to where the clerk would be found but Sandman managed.

He wound up exactly where he needed to be. He threw a pouch beneath the wire. A fat clerk eyed him.

'Hey, don't get me wrong,' he started venomously, 'but you need an entry fee. Not one hundred and twenty, not one thousand and two hundred: but twelve thousand PokeYen. It's not like a man like you has that sort of foreigner's money on him so move along, Isshu-man.'

Sandman stared down the clerk, resolute as steel. Behind him, the competitors who had signed up prior had taken to their mounts and were now moving onwards to the starting line. He had to join them.

He nodded at the Cofagrigus by his side. It chuckled ominously as a cold wind was blown from its mouth. The wind unfurled the package Sandman had placed on the counter and chilled the clerk to the bone. Fortunately, as soon as sunshine began to glint off of what was inside that piece of fabric, the clerk was warmed straight up.

His greedy, beady eyes lit up as he picked up the object inside of it. Thoughts of his sister filled Sandman's mind. The clerk inspected a gorgeous emerald: deep in colour, long and somewhat thick in shape. It was clear and bright. It was a precious heirloom, a keepsake from their parents passed away, that his sister had entrusted him with for this express purpose.

It was a small sacrifice for his greater goal.

The clerk scrutinised it under the glass of a magnifying glass. The pudgy man could not contain his greed as he excitedly hoped for it to be genuine.

'This is…? Is it…? It's real! Covered in sand but real.' the clerk decided with cheer.

'Keep the change.' Sandman cooly replied. 'And just give me the forms I need.'

'Sure thing, sir!'

Sandman kept a nasty insult to fling upon the clerk to himself. He couldn't help but find it insulting that he only got respect in his own land upon flashing such fortune. His Pokemon cooed by his side as he wrote out his information on the papers he was soon given. He had no need for the trinkets that came with these papers though.

'Wait, where's a nose print from your mount, we need it on record - you better hurry up, you're almost out of time.' the clerk worried.

Sandman began to walk away. 'I intend to cross this region on barefoot so there is no need.'

Further down the beach, there was still thirty minutes until the race was to begin. A blank was fired off and scared the Pidove flock that had been lingering around. They fluttered off wildly and then a voice spoke over the speaker system. It was loud and crackly but conveyed the messages clear as a bell.

'Attention all Trainers, the identification numbers we provided you with correspond to a location on the starting line grid. For fairness, please be standing on your corresponding grid location two minutes prior to the beginning of the race at ten a.m. Arriving after will result in penalised and become a false start. And now, after the race mascot, "Mini Ponyta March", and the band performance there will be a ceremonial opening and speech conducted by the director of the race and sponsor of the Steel Ball Run race: Mr Stephen Steel.'

All eyes wound back to the enigmatic race director. A middle-aged man with an odd pair of glasses and a penchant for wearing green. It had been a long time coming to this day it was finally here.

Around his feet, where he stood on the stage, trinkets were pulled back and forth by unseen crewmen. The trinkets were like a miniature of a carousel. Tiny Ponyta-like dolls with ornate saddles and accessories swarmed at Mr Steel's feet and chased each other until finally being dragged off stage.

Mr Steel raised his arm and then dropped it. Behind him, his wife smiled demurely as she wished only but the best for the beginning of this pursuit. Someone pulled the curtain off of a strange, blue-white rock formation. He cracked a wry grin.

'This ice!' Mr Steel yelled. His voice boomed without the aide of a speaker or similar. 'It has come from far-off Sinnoh. According to scientists, this ice froze over three hundred years ago! We opened a hole in this ice and placed the championship trophy inside. This will be transported to Humilau City via the railroad system. It has been calculated to melt when a sole racer reaches the finishing line. This will be our "Sacred Ice" and will be our Steel Ball Run's race symbol of fight fair and keep moving! It will be our burning desires that melt the ice!'

His wry smile turned awry as he picked at his collar. He grinned like a foolish madman.

'I like to believe with these comments… I have broken the ice. Don't you think?'

He laughed at his own joke. People shook their heads and cursed his name for such a bad gag. His wife giggled and applauded him though and that was enough for him.

People began to chant "Virbank City" and "Humilau City" amid the crowd. Mount Pokemon whined and whinnied. People clapped and laughed. With the stiff proceedings seemingly over, it was time to celebrate the beginning of this momentous race. In a matter of seconds, the atmosphere went from tense to electric.

'The favourite candidates are entering now!' the voice of the speakers announced. No more did their words crackle and sputter through the system. 'There's the cowboy: Mountain Tim! From the Kalosian racing world, aristocrat Diego Brando can be seen! The Hoenn nomad himself, Urmd Abdul entering on the back of a Camerupt! And there's Dot Han from Johto! Only three minutes left to enter your place on the grid; five minutes until the race itself starts!'

At the scraggly end of the grid, a tempestuous Zebstrika came into view.

'Hey look, it's him.'

'He's really lost it after all, pathetic.'

Dragged with his hand through the stirrup, Johnny Joestar and his Zebstrika lined up. By some fluke, an all too familiar stranger looked up and noticed the motley pair. Johnny too bloodied up and infuriated to notice anyone looking at him. As a washed-up jockey and Trainer, he was quite used to cold glares and scathing words. Despite the occasion, today was no different.

Johnny's wrist slipped from the stirrup and he raised himself. His arms did not shake but his breath was hard and ragged. It was hard to imagine anyone racing in such condition but he was determined to. Even his mount took pity on him. His Zebstrika bowed its head to him and licked some flaking blood off his temples.

'Dammit.' he muttered to himself and his Zebstrika reared back.

He turned over and his dull eyes regained light when he made eye contact with the man in the grid square next to him. Johnny smiled. Fate had truly smiled upon him. He'd know those green eyes and brown-blonde hair anywhere, and those ridiculous patches of beard he wore down the side of his face and that holey hat.

'I haven't given up.' Johnny told the man. 'I'll figure out how you do it. That "spin" thing. The truth about those steel PokeBalls. Even if I can't catch up with you after this race starts, someday… dammit.'

The man rested his hand one of the green PokeBalls clipped to his belt. His eyes wandered away from Johnny and he sized up that Zebstrika. It seemed more at peace than it had earlier this morning.

'Choosing that Zebstrika was a good decision for you, I think.' he decided. 'Old Pokemon have more experience. Young ones charge in, guns blazing but old Pokemon - mounts especially - have more wisdom. That'll come in handy in this sort of race.'

Johnny's eyes widened.

'Since I'm now interested in you, I guess I'll give you a hint. You've almost worked it out, after all.'

'Huh?' Johnny grunted. He could feel his arms go weak with relief and disbelief.

The stranger palmed his PokeBall; rocked it forward as though to tease Johnny with what could be.

'If you have the will to get on that Zebstrika of yours, why don't you?'

'What?' Johnny's voice went hoarse.

The stranger beared a ridiculous smile at Johnny. He wore a golden, garish grille across his teeth which became disgustingly illuminated in the sunlight; not to mention the shade of green he used to colour his lips. It was awful. With a chuckle, a horrible noise, he then began to prepare to chuff off; right time as there was another announcement over the speaker system.

'There's two minutes until starting time! Three thousand, six hundred, and fifty-two participants in all! Will each mount entering its position on the starting line grid, we can see the end of the line!'

The stranger turned his head and Johnny's heart stopped. Before the air had been light and celebratory but it was time to get serious. Such a light-hearted seeming announcement had been enough to sour the hearts of all. The true impact of all these people with one goal hit Johnny.

'It's like a whole city! All lined up along this beach… it's an overwhelming scene! This will move beyond the boundaries; beyond the westerlies.

Johnny's mind froze with panic as he attempted to unpack the riddle the stranger had presented. He turned back to his Zebstrika. It looked him in the eye with a gentle gaze; as though awaiting orders.

'H-Hey, lick my face again.' he told it. 'Again, lick my face again, Zebstrika.'

It shook its head, snuffled, but obeyed. It leaned down but Johnny pulled away so he could allow his back to rest against its head. The spin, he told himself, the spin. He willed it and Zebstrika blew hot breaths against his back. He gripped onto the Zebstrika's neck and willed his upper body upwards as Zebstrika pulled itself back up.

His blood rushed as his lungs stopped. His heart thudded in his chest as he watched his legs go over his head. With a plop, he couldn't believe he'd done it. He grabbed onto the reins and landed on the saddle. His mind blanked with disbelief.

The stranger cracked a glance towards Johnny. Half a smile on those ugly green lips of his. Johnny's insatiable curiosity had only just gotten a taste for the true mystery of "the spin" and he needed to know more.

'The Steel Ball Run begins now!' the woman over the speakers announced excitedly.

Seemingly far away from the spectacle of the startling line was Mr Steel and his wife, entertaining guests who lingered. Mr Steel was handing binoculars to anyone who looked interested. His wife remained by his side, silent.

'Ladies and gentlemen from your respective fields,' he declared proudly, 'if you please, would you like to follow along by carriage in that train over there? We have quite the buffet provided; tea, wine, whatever you could desire.'

His wife glanced at the clock tower that studded the middle of the beach; erected purely for this race. But it was not the time she was after. She watched as a firecracker whizzed past. It left an arc of smoke in the air before exploding with a bang. Tiny, pink-red embers almost invisible against the indomitable blue of the sky scattered and disappeared into nothingness.

'The fireworks are up! That's the starting signal! Ten a.m, September twenty-fifth, 1890… the trans-Unova region race, the Steel Ball Run, has finally begun!'

Countless mount Pokemon surged forward. Scraping up dirt, sand, and grass as they began to plough through the beach with their Trainers in tow. The beat of hooves against the ground as deafening and inescapable. Each thud built to something bigger and louder than possible.

The first stage of the Steel Ball Run had begun. It was to consist of fifteen thousand meters.

Hot air balloons brightly coloured like the garb of jesters floated above the racers. They drifted along a calm zephyr. The train circled around. Great puffs of grey smoke burst in hefty puffs from the chimney.

'Over three thousand, six hundred mounts here today and no confusion at the startling line!' the woman over the speaker system commentated.

Each row the grid surged forward like waves unto the sand. Though, that wasn't to say everything was neat and orderly. It was a competition after all. Here and there, a daring and bold few were breaking off from where they had been positioned on the startling line in a brave gambit to get ahead.

'The starting grid stretches over four kilometres.'

To his fellow hoity-toity businessmen seated in the carriage, Mr Steel addressed them whilst looking out to the mighty racers.

'Fellow journalists, I will now describe the development of this race and routes.' Mr Steel spoke seriously. 'Between the six thousand kilometers between Virbank City and Humilau City is various terrains that will make crossing the region difficult due to how there are three, distinct prongs of land. Along this six thousand kilometers, I have placed nine official checkpoints. The first of these checkpoints is a church the other side of the mountain range between Virbank City and Driftveil City.

'These checkpoints are areas in which President Valentine has stationed a Trainer of his own choosing to act as "Leader" to guard one of the precious Badges that the competitors are eligible to battle for tokens of victory in order to prove they are the very best.

'During these checkpoints, it will also be necessary for our workers to check for dubious or criminal activity as well as gather information such as race time, battle logs, and, of course, race ranking.

'Anyone who ranks well during stage checks will be presented bonus cash prizes as well as a few battle bonuses. Anyone eligible for such a bonus may receive a "power play" in which they will be permitted to remove one loss from their record or the ability to re-challenge a Leader for a badge, should someone else not win it before them of course. Today, I'm sure all our competitors are drooling over this "power play" bonus.

'It'll be a long two months on the back of a mount. I'm sure such a bonus may come in handy. I think it would be worth trying to break formation over and I suspect any moment now, someone may just try to do that.'

Mr Steel concluded himself with a nod and already, his prediction about a racer drooling over the idea of such a bonus. As the wave of racers thinned out over the span of land, a competitive soul had already broken through. The hot air balloons gyrated around and a woman began to commentate once more.

'Oh! One mount has already jumped ahead of the group! Who is it? Who is it? We're checking the saddle cloths now! He's fast. He's speeding ahead of the over three thousand. What an incredible acceleration! Unbelievable!'

The speaker continued to stall for time until the information she required was acquired.

'The First stage is quickly turning into some unexpected! He's not slowing down! What's the number on the saddle cloth, quick!'

There was a heart-stopping pause and then the sound of breath skittering over a crackly microphone. You could hear the grin the commentator's voice.

'ID B-636. Zeppeli! Incredible! Racing solo! He's trying to make a clean break for that coveted first position to make a gateway for the remaining fifteen thousand meters! Astounding! Racing number B-636 Gyro Zeppeli has left the group!'

Johnny engraved that name into his heart. The stranger was a stranger no more. Now, the whole region knew that man's name.

Meanwhile on the train, Mr Steel and one of his workers thumbed frustratedly through books in search of more information on this "Gyro Zeppeli".

'Who is he?' Mr Steel demanded as his searches came upvnought.

'We don't know. We've got no records of him. He could be a cowboy or a miner.'

Johnny meanwhile was relying on what he could see with his eyes as to who this Zeppeli person was. He was riding a Mudsdale. That made it a Pokemon from Alola and whilst he wasn't sure which island, he was sure it would be one with a lot of rocky grounds as those hooves made it adept for traversing impossibly rough and tough roads. Mudsdale was a species known for its stamina but not it speed but clearly, with the right training it could outrun more popular choices such as Rapidash.

He watched as Zeppeli and his Mudsdale burst away from the city to the east; bordering where the beach was and into the unknown. The ground here was lively with grass but it was yellow in colour. The area had been recently logged; stumps poking out here and there. Cacti, hardy as anything, flourished regardless and looked odd next to the luscious and verdant trees that remained standing. Johnny supposed this might be something akin home for the Mudsdale; hell, even Zeppeli since his origins were unclear compared to his clearly Alolan mount.

Johnny frowned as he came to his conclusions. 'Is he really trying to clear the pack with a beast built for stamina?'

Mudsdale, in Johnny's refined racing opinion, seemed ill suited to Zeppeli's strategy. It wasn't made for out-speeding the pack. Rapidash did that better. Mudsdale and Gogoat, for example, were better for of a more slow and steady wins the race mindset. It was a bad strategy. His Mudsdale would tire out right before the halfway mark of fifteen thousand meters; not to mention the fact that he'd have to keep racing tomorrow and the day after. Such a bodily demand on Mudsdale was unreasonable.

And yet, Johnny was certain. He was certain this fellow had every right to be confident in his quiet declaration: I got a region to cross, more importantly, a championship to win.

Johnny snuck a glance behind to the right and left. He had to stay focused. In a race like this, entropy was thick and chaos could erupt at any point. If he fell off his mount, he'd fall off it for good and likely wouldn't get off the ground breathing. He had to stay focused. He couldn't analyse Zeppeli's strategy lest he neglect his own which was to stay safe.

Johnny tightened his grip on the reins. He bade his mount onwards. His Zebstrika sped up. Its tail upright as electricity crackled through its mane. The electricity-proof saddle was definitely working. It flicked its ears and they soon went upright.

'Oh no! Due to the group, Pokemon are becoming agitated!' the announcer shrieked.

Johnny didn't dare hazard a glance but he heard a bone-crushingly painful noise behind him. He heard the scrabble of dirt and breaking of the earth. Whines and howls of pain. An utter disaster. It had only been a matter of time and he was chilled to the soul by how close it had been to him and Zebstrika.

'Oh dear! A collision as occurred!' the commentator cried out. 'They're running into each other… It's starting to look a bit more like a race now though! Still, body charging isn't against the rules. Many of these mounts are trained for cattle work and are used to keep Tauros in line so it's allowed. Not to mention, this in itself is sort of like a mass battle too!'

Blood splattered and bones broke. Two Trainers, both on the backs of Rapidash, collided and down went their mounts. Two soon became four as further Trainers who were unable to escape the cluster, a vortex of disaster, crashed into one another. Mounts were flipped and Trainers bucked off. Every noise that emanated from the disaster was enough to turn stomachs.

Johnny and his Zebstrika kept surging forward. Anything to avoid being sucked into the chaos. His mount had better sense than that.

Naturally, from the chaos, other opportunists emerged. Gaining speed on Zeppeli, a challenger appeared from the dust and danger. His appearance got the commentator lady very excited.

'And now, we have someone gaining speed on Gyro Zeppeli! From the group, he's giving great chase! And he's closing in quickly on Gyro Zeppeli!'

Not even a second passed from the commentator's lips when she realised who had claimed the challenger was. It didn't take anyone in the pack to work it out either. Zeppeli was an out of the blue candidate but this person had been a favourite to win the moment he had entered the fray.

'It's Diego Brando! Prince of the Kalosian racing and battling circuit!'

Diego's mount was a Sawsbuck. An unusual choice but not as unusual as some. Definitely more upbeat but the elegant flora it donned upon its antlers was a good fit for someone as pompous as Diego. Not to mention, Sawsbuck had a decent speed stat that outranked Mudsdale. However, Sawsbuck were sprint racers, like what Diego was used to training but it had the potential to be trained to have much stamina.

He masterfully handled reins of his Sawsbuck. It grunted and snorted as it stopped through the empty space between it and its rival Mudsdale. It furiously kicked up grass and dirt under its hooves as it gained on Mudsdale and was set to zip past it and Zeppeli.

'He's closing in on Zeppeli! He's set to take the lead!' the commentator yipped.

It seemed all but certain that Diego was going to overtake Zeppeli's lead but a plume of fire let them both know that there were still plenty of competition gaining on them. Slow and steady but surely picking up pace, a face no one thought would breach the beginning of the race for his strategy was that of patience and better suited to the long haul rather than the quick fight.

'And here comes another favourite for the win, Urmd Abdul the nomad from Hoenn with his faithful Camerupt as his mount!' the Commentator yelled.

'Caaamerupt!' Abdul's Camerupt howled.

'Flamethrower!' Abdul instructed.

What Camerupt lacked in speed as a mount, in made up for in size and weight. It had the capacity to crush anyone who dared to contest it. Sawsbuck being weak to fire types, Diego made the wise decision to steer away from the column of fire spiralling out of Camerupt's blunted toothed maw.

'Like I said folks, this is basically a mass Pokemon battle. Anything goes!' the commentator reminded the spectators.

'Again, Flamethrower!' Abdul barked.

Zeppeli was feeling a bit braver. His Mudsdale could, obviously, resist fire type attacks and outclassed it as far as offensive stats went however, it was heavier and taller than Camerupt which might turn to an advantage. Zeppeli and Mudsdale attempted to charge onwards but that second blast from a Flamethrower attacker was enough to spook Mudsdale and singe its tail, giving Abdul an opportunity to fiercely seize.

'And he charges past!'

Zeppeli's Mudsdale whinnied as it gave Camerupt room, a bit of reluctance as it bucked back. Zeppeli rode the motion and made sure to hang on tight. Once settled, Mudsdale was fine and had a new, competitive spirit aflame within in it. Energy quickly burst out around it and seemed that Mudsdale's defence had gone up thanks to being hit by that second Flamethrower.

From afar, from way back in Johny's position, it was apparent what Abdul's strategy was. It was all out force. It was being the square peg in the circular hole. He would use his Camerupt's size and weight as advantageously as he could. Crushing the smaller and light mounters underfoot but spooking anything scarcely larger. It was reckless but impressive.

Abdul and his Camerupt finally barged past Zeppeli. They galloped along as fast they could go; no doubt tremendous stamina backing up that forceful play. Zeppeli's Mudsdale, though recovered from its encounter with flames, had lost speed and distance. Diego, having played it cautiously, was now rearing up close to Zeppeli and was now going to create opportunity from the confusion among the top three positions. His small and sly Sawsbuck perfect for such mischief.

In the distance, barely anything at all, there was a copse of thin trees coming up. Zeppeli had noticed. Mudsdale's girth, being taller but somewhat lean, would fit through them without trouble. Abdul's Camerupt, on the other hand, being quite wide would have to bowl them over to get through and that would be a fair bit of trouble for such a tankard of a mount; potentially causing it to lose speed.

Zeppeli unhooked one of his strange steel PokeBalls from his belt. It wasn't an illegal move per se but it would come with a high risk. He flicked his wrist forward and his PokeBall spun out oddly.

'Oh? What's this? Zeppeli is bringing in a new Pokemon into the battle; who will he choose?' the commentator yelled. 'Again, not against the rules so long as it hasn't been registered as a mount! Truly a free-for-all battle, folks!'

'Go, go, Problem Child!' Zeppeli called out.

The PokeBall flung open and a Bibarel burst forth from the strange light.

'Biba!' it yelled.

Johnny kept his eyes peeled. Again, he had noticed that there was a strange technique to Zeppeli's throwing and he was certain that some sort of influence, genuine influence, over the Pokemon's power in battle. He squinted. It was hard to tell from a distance but he was certain.

The Bibarel - Problem Child, Zeppeli had called it - seemed to emanate a strange aura. It circled and spiralled danced. It was hard to see because it was opaque but it was definitely spinning. However, it was blink and you miss it. Johnny got a speck of dust in his eyes and then, when he regained proper vision, it was gone. No auras, nothing special: just a regular old Bibarel. Or at least it would be if it wasn't owned by the enigmatic Zeppeli. Johnny swallowed. Waited. Hoped. He knew he'd see another sign of it, the spin, if he just waited and hoped.

'Use Surf!' Zeppeli screamed.

Johnny leaned in. He grappled with his reins. Zebstrika attempted to speed up. He needed to be just a little closer so he could see what would happen properly. But, if he was lucky, then maybe the spectacle wouldn't need close attention and would be larger than life.

Bibarel opened its jaw wide as it ran past Mudsdale; attempting to keep pace with it and its trainer. There was a determined gleam in its eyes. It yipped and yapped. Behind it, from seemingly nowhere, it drew forth water. Bigger than a tidal wave, it seemed. The water curled and foamed, behaved as though it were part of the ocean but it was stranger than that.

And Johnny could see it.

Even in this Surf, he could see it. He could see the Spin. He had to strain his eyes and hope for anything that he wasn't being clouded by misguided hope first but he could see it.

The water curled and coiled unnaturally. It behaved more like a whirlpool on its side. It was imbued with some sort of peculiar spin. It was undebatable. That was, until, it came and crashed.

The water spread as far as it could reach with its single crash that Bibarel commanded. It soaked the land and turned it into a muddy entry hazard. Mudsdale charged on through it, despite having taken damage from its ally - and its defence increased again. Camerupt was utterly swamped by the attack, however, and had taken the four times water weakness damage it was susceptible to.

The water batted at the trees in the distance. It was not strong enough to knock it down but it was strong enough to layer the distance in waist height water. At least until it magically dried up, anyway but given how it was trying to stretch out as thin as it could go. Slowly petering out.

'Water hazard, oh no! This could go anyway, folks! But let's not count Diego out either!' the commentator yelled.

Diego was placing a lot of trust in his Sawsbuck's agility. He swung out away from the chaos and began to dash for the thicker part of the grove. He was aiming for where the trees were tightly packed but his lithe Sawsbuck might just be able to make it through the copse without issue.

Abdul tugged on his Camerupt's reins. He attempted to manoeuvre away from the deeper depths of the Surf. Camerupt, lacking agility, floundered in the water and tried to disobey its Trainer's orders.

Zeppeli grinned to himself. 'Return, Problem Child.' he instructed.

'Biba!'

In a flash, seemingly taken by slipping circles, Zeppeli's Bibarel was returned to its PokeBall. Soon, it was safely stowed away but Zeppeli got up a little bit. He leaned down over his Mudsdale's mane and prepared himself for a bit of contact and roughhousing between his mount and Abdul's.

Mudsdale ploughed forward and crashed into Camerupt. Abdul screamed a wobbly scream as his Camerupt lost footing in the slick mud. The water continued to thin out. Zeppeli made it past without issue but the same was not to be said about Abdul.

The water completely dried up. Mud remained in the waste. However, because the water had cleared up though, a small ridge was revealed along the grove. Zeppeli and his Mudsdale jumped it. They made it past the trees beautifully and practically soared over the ridge. Abdul was not as fortunate.

His Camerupt bumbled through its movements, horribly slowed. His Camerupt blustered over the ridge and collapsed under its own weight and at the worst possible location too. Rising from the shadows of the ridge, in the shade of the trees, a thicket of cacti had grown. The Camerupt, and Abdul, were quickly ensnared by the fleshy and prickly chunks.

With a final heave and a sputtering honk, Camerupt's eyes began to spin. It was unable to continue.

'It's a fall, it's a collapse! Camerupt has fainted! Abdul is no longer in the running! Did he not notice the cacti for the water or for the trees? Who knows but his Camerupt has fainted, that's for sure. I can't believe it: a fan favourite, down and out already! Urmd Abdul is out!' the commentator yelled.

Zeppeli charged onwards. The distance between him and the other racers continued to widen. He chuckled to himself.

'Nyo, ho, ho, I'm going to be the one who claims this stage's power play.' he mused to himself.

Johnny and Zebstrika surged forth. They were keeping in the top mid-section of the pack, now. A safe position, all things considered as they were gradually thinning out for all sorts of reasons; though not any as exciting as what was happening between the top three.

He passed the grove and looked at Abdul. He was an utter mess. He was caked in mud and needles, for one. The cacti were all chopped up and crumpled thanks to him. Johnny couldn't help but admire the strategy Gyro had employed there. Especially since he was now home safe.

Johnny stared ahead. He watched as the cowboy on a Mudsdale continued onwards. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened there. Water hazards caused by Surf didn't normally linger that long but moreover, how had Gyro known that the cacti was there in the first place? No one else had seen it.

The commentary continued from above; presumably from one of the bright and vivacious hot air balloons.

'What a start to the Steel Ball Run this has been! One of the fan favourites has been eliminated!'