Steel (Poke)Ball Run

Chapter 12 – VS THE STAGE ONE FINISHING LINE

:

Lucy Steel excitedly clutched onto the binoculars she had been given. She leaned out the train window and eagerly stared into the distance. Great plumes of white-grey smoke streaked through the air, along the back of the black train that snaked through the countryside. From here, it was hard to witness the intensity of the race.

'They passed the two thousand metre mark.' Lucy sounded breathless; her eyes glittered with awe. 'The train is finally rounding the hill. What's going on? What's happening?'

She was enamoured with the race. Her husband's dream had come to fruition but it was hard to witness from this distance. She glanced at Mr Steel. He was stony-faced but he always put on a facade around the press clustered around them both. She had no doubt he was reverberating with excitement on the inside; like a young boy.

However, around them, everyone else was free with their excitement. Fists pounded and voices were raised.

'He's running on foot? How's that even possible?'

'He's runnin' faster than the mounts!'

The Bouffalant corpse Pocoloco had been riding was shredded as Tauros stood up and launched from it. Its remains, stringy and foul, were flung backwards. The top three positions swerved around, following the fence line and it cured with the countryside. The farmhouse was soon left behind. With the flat ground, no one was afraid to accelerate.

The top three positions were close and tight. Despite all disadvantages, Sandman was making headway on foot and was keeping his first place position close to his heart. His Pokemon had teamed up to keep pace with him. His Miensho and Simipour had hitched a ride with his Flygon and despite the extra weight, Flygon was doing fine. His Cofagrigus and Sigilyph were flying fine with no extra weight. His Pokemon barricaded Sandman's back and put up defences so Pocoloco couldn't easily barge through.

In second position, was of course, Pococloco. He wasn't currently questioning his luck. He was still a tad miffed about Sandman's sudden appearance and the use of the Bouffalant corpse as a toboggan of sorts. However, he had donned quite the poker face. None of this confusion wrought his cocky, if slightly angered, face.

Meanwhile, in third place, Zeppeli was doing valiantly despite the unexpected. He was in their tailwind. All three of them were streaking perfectly along in an assembly line of sorts. Zeppeli was cool and calm. He was collecting ideas and calculations. His Mudsdale was leaning in a tad but he didn't mind. It was all part of his plan to usurp first and second positions.

Zeppeli's Mudsdale lunged forward. It's nose nudged up against one of Tauros' tails. Anything to get close and personal with Pocoloco; to throw him off course. Anything to take him over.

An outcropping of ochre red-brown rock, superficially unconnected to the nearby mountain range, jutted from the grassy plain. It reached out to bumpy and tall, calloused rocks. It obscured the finishing line. It ran parallel to the train tracks.

Sandman swung himself towards those rocks. He easily navigated the new terrain. He hopped through it was insane speeds. As the mounts were forced to take the long way, Sandman took his chances with the outcropping. He and his Pokemon were utterly skilled at navigating it.

'Just look at Sandman go!' yelled Maria. 'Now he's running over those rocks! This downhill race will end soon and the final straight will be seen! Running time has entered seventeen minutes!'

Jaws dropped. Binoculars were clutched in disbelief. The reporters and socialite and gentlemen and everyone else who had boarded Mr Steel's train exchanged all sorts of looks and words. Shock and surprise, being most common.

'A human outrunning both a Tauros and a Mudsdale.. Most mounts in general, eh?' Mr Steel mused as he looked down the dual-barrels of his binoculars. He lowered them and mused to the flabbergasted folk around him.

'Yes, rationally it sounds impossible. But it makes sense when you realise he's going at a thirty kilometres per hour.'

'Hang on a second there, Mr Steel.'

Someone's voice jabbed him with concern and cynicism. Not a combination Mr Steel favoured but one he was familiar with nevertheless. He remained logical, though. He watched with sharp eyes and a grim facial expression. If anything, that utter seriousness concerned the squarish faced man more.

'D-Did you say… thirty?' he asked.

Mr Steel rubbed his chin. 'No, it might be closer to forty kilometres.'

'Forty… Is that even possible? Sandman's speed? What the fuck are you talking about? Running one hundred metres in ten seconds would be… thirty-six kilometres an hour! The world record ain't even close to that! Running a long distance marathon in two hours is only twenty-one kilometres per hour!'

Sandman continued racing alongside the mounts. Seemingly effortlessly, he crossed the rocky outcropping. His form was perfect. He was a blur and streak. It was as though he were performing his own version of Quick Attack or Extreme Speed. It was both alarming and intriguing to break all expectations of the perceived, human athletic ability. But first and foremost, above all else, watching Sandman's capabilities drawn out like this was astounding.

'He really is outrunnin' 'em mount 'mons.'

'And the secret is in his running style.' Mr Steel realised. 'It all makes sense. Look at how he's running over those cliffs. I think I can now explain how he's running at these absurd speeds.

'When humans run, there's an impact when the foot hits the ground… the force of that blow knocks the joints and any muscles around the to become fatigued. There isn't a way around it: even the strongest legs will get tired. But, in Sandman's case, when he runs his heel only touches the ground for an instant. That changes the flow of impact! Therefore, that style of running, the flow of impact is redirected to his toes. Then, he kicks off again; using the impact to propel him forward. So, he's able to reduce fatigue and damage whilst recycling the energy to further accelerate himself. This way… his speed increases every time he kicks off the rocks. Understand now?'

There was a moment wherein Maria was the given the information to relay to a wider audience.

'And there ya have it, folks! The secret to Sandman's success: that's how he's going forty kilometres an hour!' Maria yelled.

The crowds continued to observe as Sandman crossed the rocks. His jumps were perfectly executed. His system of running was apparently flawless.

'Hm, and he's probably kicking the ground too, when he hits it. Letting out the energy and reducing the impact again.' Mr Steel mused. 'The longer he's in the air, the more time his muscles get the chance to relax. His heels are probably as smooth and soft as an infant's. Doesn't that make you want to run like that, though? But it's not a style for everyone; requires long legs and unbelievable agility. Wonder where he learned that style, eh? Reckon he learned it from his surroundings or tribe?'

'And now he's climbing the rocks!' Maria howled. 'Using his hands, feet, and all his muscles in his glorious body, he's just like a Liepard, prowling this terrain! He doesn't put any force on his feet as it's much faster here on the rocks!'

Sandman's style of navigating the higher rocks he couldn't leap to was almost bestial. It evoked animalistic inspiration: like it had been perfect for observation. He was so graceful. He was a strong contender for the win after that inglorious leap into the big leagues due to Zeppeli's interference.

'Sandman's style puts the whole Earth on his side! So long as the Steel Ball Run uses land as its stage, we can't predict the outcome even if the mounts are as swift as this man! I am excited to see him in battle: if this keeps up, Sandman may just encounter President Valentine's first state-sanctioned Trainer!' Maria announced.

Meanwhile, in Sandman's shadow, Zeppeli and Pocoloco were locked in their own fierce and gripping race as they sped around the long and boring way. They whipped around the natural curve of the land. Dirt and rock was sent flying in their fearsome rake. They bolted through the land.

Maria, noticing their rivalry, drew attention back to them with a decisive shout.

'After Sandman, it's Pocoloco and only a mount's length away from him is Gyro Zeppeli! The rest of the pack have finished coming downhill! We've run nearly thirteen thousand metres! The wind from Ficapica Ocean is blowing; the wind known as "Santana" is blowing harder now - communications may become disrupted… aaah!' Maria's announcements faded off into a girlish, somewhat terrified scream.

Zeppeli glared ahead. His hair was being battered by both his movements and the wind.

'What the fuck is going on here?' he growled; his voice distorted by all the external influence but he could barely hear himself think.

'He's ahead of me after resting a good thousand metres on that hill… And that running man from the cliff; he took a shortcut. But this stage only has one enemy and that's him. In the forest, the dead Bouffalant, hell… even stopping Mean Streak's trap. That's too many coincidences! Something must be helping him? A Pidgey maybe; up in the air… no, a Pidove? Then again, a long time ago now, I once saw a man in a casino who bet solely on red and won eighteen times with it. But, but that was just luck.'

Zeppeli continued to surge ahead. He remained in Pocoloco's wake. It infuriated him to no end. His eyes scanned the horizon for a slip-up; an innocuous moment or anything that he could turn into an opportunity to further himself. So far, it was a pretty airtight race.

'Some kind of Pokemon has to be protecting this guy… I just gotta find it and battle , I can change the flow of luck. And he can screw himself over.' Zeppeli decided, resolute.

ATLiens stowed itself away in Pocoloco's lap. It was quite the free spirit. It half hugged onto his front.

'Hey Pocoloco.' it cooed, almost whined.

Pocoloco kept his eyes in front of him. 'Yeah?'

'I will protect you from everything there is. Alright! So let's keep going ahead, do whatever you like: I will protect you. Keep rushing forward. You've got me and luck on your side so there ain't nothin' to fear.' ATLiens declared. It pawed at Pocoloco with affectionate eyes.

Pocoloco charged forward with newfound tenacity. His Tauros snuffled and grunted. There was a slight pick-up on acceleration but it was mostly performative. It was obvious that he was teetering on the edge of that maximum speed stat. Either way, it annoyed Zeppeli to hell and back. He was left with dust in his hair and eyes.

'My mount has been a sprinter since birth. Even if I can't do anything, I can't stand staring at his ass. Let's go!' Zeppeli's growl turned to a roar.

His Mudsdale leaped forward. Its clunky hooves outstretched; front and back. Ferocity flared in its mud-brown eyes. It was beyond angered. It surged forward and out-raced Tauros. In a beautiful instant, Zeppeli overtook Pocoloco.

Pocoloco stared. Disbelief caused his eyes to pop and mouth to gape. The announcer continued to yell out her commentary.

'He's going! He's overtaken Pocoloco! Gyro Zeppeli had picked up the pace yet again; surprising everyone! He's really moving; he's really out-accelerating a Tauros on a Mudsdale - a Pokemon known as a gentle giant!'

Maria became flustered as she got her facts straight in her head.

'But isn't this a little too soon? Isn't this a little rash; after all, there's still more than fifteen hundred metres; that's yonks away! And the straight way is coming up!' Maria's panic was accentuated by the wind.

Tauros and Mudsdale raced, neck and neck, as their path curved. Zeppeli remained out front. He was brash and confident as Pocoloco did his best to catch up and overcome the initial shock of being overtaken. But with each passing second, the distance between them widened.

They overcame the final curve of the land. Before them, was a wide road. It was dusty and grassy. At the end of that road was a church. By the sides of the road was people. More people than the eye could fully comprehend. They silhouetted each other and made so much waved flags and banners; chanted and stomped their feet. Their excitement reverberated in the air. It charged the mount Pokemon with adrenaline; a final hooray with the end so close but so far at the same time. To the west, the outskirts of Driftveil City could be glimpsed. Mere catches of roofs and buildings; easily overlooked, truth be told.

As the train rounded in, from behind the innumerable crowd of people, Mr Steel couldn't believe his eyes. This was a wonder beyond all wonders. His voice was weak. He was on the verge of tearing up, in all honesty.

'Th-There's so many people. It's unprecedented.' he uttered. He was completely awed. Shocked to the old bone. 'I had no idea.'

Zeppeli lightened up as he basked in the applause; in the atmosphere. He lifted his head slightly from the back of his Mudsdale's neck. His heart skipped a beat. A weak smiled turned to an utter lust for the attention.

As he charged forward, mud and ground broke beneath Mudsdale's hooves. Behind them, Pocoloco clattered behind them. He was in a desperate, last-minute scramble to change the positions once more. Anything to get back to that ever desirable first place.

Overhead, the hot air balloons drifted alongside clouds. The sky was gorgeous. The sunshine borderline celebratory as the sun graced the race with its bright jubilance. That oceanic gust began to die down. It no longer shook Maria's voice.

'Wow! There are so many people at the finish line! There's the goal: the abandoned church! There's a giant crowd of spectators both sides of the road! It's really heating up! There's got to be at least ten thousand people here- wait, no! At least twenty thousand people here; that's way more than who was in attendance at the opening ceremony! This is impossible; mind-boggling! There's no way you can count how many people are actually here!' Maria cried out.

The train came to a halt. It gave a final salute to the journey: a high-pitched whistle and a great plume of white-grey smoke.

'D-Did someone call them here?' Mr Steel asked a quiet voice. He was sweating bullets. 'Un-Unbelievable… even I…'

'He will be a hero. The winner of this race - the one who becomes Champion - will become a world-renowned hero; there's no doubt about it!' Lucy gasped; her icy blue eyes widening at the gravity of the situation beyond just the current attendance and whatnot.

'The possibilities are endless! This is what the Steel Ball Run is all about!' Maria yelled.

A herd of mounts cleared the final curve. Soon, they were welcomed warmly into the final stretch. In the thick of it, towards the top though, was Johnny. His expression, thus far, had been stern and tough. However, as he approached the finishing line, such an expression softened.

He ran his hand down his Zebstrika's neck. Its hair was coarse and rife with static but he didn't mind. He sort of liked the texture on his fingertips. His Zebstrika remained unfazed by his affection. It stared forward and kept pace.

'You've run well, old girl...' he praised it. Fondness seeped into his voice; he could help it. 'You've gained a lot of experience from this race. Riding on the rough ground, going across that forest, and rushing downhill with no errors. I'm proud of you. And despite how much you've been sweating.'

'Strika!' his Zebstrika guffawed.

'You're breathing is also in good spirits. We're only forty-to-fifty lengths away. But he, he dashed ahead too early! He'll be tired so let's surprise him… that Gyro Zeppeli!' Johnny enthused.

He didn't know why but he liked the sound of hearing him say that eccentric stranger's name out loud. He liked the way it danced across his tongue. That strange, foreign name.

'You can keep going! Your legs are in perfect shape!' Johnny declared.

Ahead of him, an empty space stretched onwards. At the end of it, was two figures: Gyro Zeppeli and Pocoloco. That space was tantalizing. Perfect for a last minute dash. Johnny and his Zebstrika surged forward but a chilling feeling crept up his spine as he surged onwards. There was a familiar, cold glare piercing the nape of his neck.

Johnny hazarded a glance over his shoulder. Behind him, out of nowhere, came a Sawsbuck and its rider. A Sawsbuck with a distinctive mark upon its forehead; a mark in the shape of a five-pointed star. Upon that Sawsbuck's back was none other than Diego Brando.

Diego had returned. And with a vengeance.

He was boxed in by other riders, fortunately, and Johnny was ahead of the pack. Nevertheless, he was terrified. There was nothing scarier than an enraged Diego. Though he looked calm, a stony face, there was no way in hell that he didn't have a plan.

His Sawsbuck charged valiantly past the other mounts; even past the Rapidash. It simply charged onwards. It shared the same, calculating calm as its Trainer.

'Hang on, what's this? How didn't I notice before?' Maria questioned herself. 'It's shocking indeed! Pulling ahead in the tailing group… he's making his way through! It's simply unbelievable; coming from way behind is Diego "Dio" Brando!'

Johnny growled. He charged out in front, as best as he could, but already Diego was behind him. Diego overtook the last person, the last length, between him and Johnny. His speed was borderline incomprehensible. His Sawsbuck looked elegant despite the strain it was no doubt going through to overtake its competitors.

'DIO!' Maria screamed. 'Pushed behind everyone because of the destruction of the bridge and he's just caught up! How in the world did he gain all that ground he lost?'

Diego sped up again. He barged up to johnny. He put pressure on him. He was basically breathing down Johnny's neck. He and Sawsbuck glared forward. Johnny risked a glance at them both; just enough to assess the situation, a brief scope of it. It wasn't looking good.

'Again, he passes by! Dio is catching up! He's breaking through!' Maria commentated. Her excitement bubbled and fizzed.

Johnny realised something; This guy… he's using that technique.

'He came forward with an air pressure shield.' Johnny growled.

It was a riding technique in which fatigue could be avoided but it was a highly dangerous manoeuvre. For it means to ride directly behind the leading mount, where the wind is completely blocked and since it is blocked, the mount is no longer affected from any air pressure it would have otherwise been exposed to. The fact Diego had pulled it off without error and for a such a long distance - from the bridge to here - truly sang of his amazing skill.

Johnny frowned. Did this mean that Diego also plans to use his mount as a shield?

'Slow Dancer, use Quick Attack: no target, just burst forward.' Johnny instructed; his voice was soft and lost beneath the pounding hooves and other external noises.

His Zebstrika whinnied. It burst forward. Johnny was comforted by confidence as Zebstrika zig-zagged forward and away from Diego. Diego was surprised by the sudden use of a move. Zebstrika left a silvery sort of blur as it sped up unbelievably. Diego could do nothing but watch as Johnny's Zebstrika continued outwards…

And into the distance, and into third place.

'The trailing group is finally arriving!' Maria announced. 'Ooh! They're speeding up! They're no longer holding their Pokemon back; it's truly an all-out battle - is that a Quick Attack I just saw? From Gyro Zeppeli down to the bottom of the range, there's an entire river of riders on the move!'

However, Zeppeli refused to get big-headed from the circumstance as circumstance could change at any second. And he firmly believed that with the checkpoint so close, anyone would be willing to do anything. This was the point in which logic was thrown out the window. He glanced over his shoulder and locked eyes, resolute eyes, with Pocoloco. And, just like he thought, Pocoloco lunged.

'And Pocoloco has just challenged Zeppeli!' Maria commentated.

Zeppeli shrugged it off. 'Doesn't change a thing. This is what I've been expecting since the very beginning of the race!'

'Gyro Zeppeli is twisting around to look at Pocoloco - as though gauging the distance between the two of them! With only a thousand metres to the finishing line; it's as though he's sizing up the distance between himself and the group! Is he anxious or does he think he can afford this?' Maria read the situation from her position in the sky.

The wind picked up. It had a scathing bite to it this time.

'What furious momentum! The shouts from the crowd grow ever stronger; we can't even hear the sound of the arriving train! Cutting through the oceanic wind Santana, the flood of riders drive towards the end goal!' Maria yelled. There was a grin in her voice.

The distance between Johnny and Diego suddenly closed. Diego had caught up. His Sawsbuck rammed against Johnny and his mount but his Zebstrika remained strong. Johnny cursed Diego's name; glared him down as he tried to free himself from the sparking conflict between them.

But every time he tried to outrun Diego, he kept coming back and exploiting the fact that Zebstrika could be used as a windshield. It was almost useless. Diego was too persistent. And with that wind, Johnny was certain that Diego planned to ride it out on Zebstrika's tail until the very end when he could freely burst forward at the last possible metre of the race; or just before.

Johnny gritted his teeth. 'There's no way in hell I'm gonna let Diego win!' he yelled. 'Gyro should already be at his limit! And if anyone is going to beat Gyro Zeppeli…'

Johnny continued to surge forward. His declaration only caught on Diego's ears but his determination shone like a star.

'What?' Diego gawked; he grimaced. 'His mount is… sinking?'

It's true. Zebstrika was sinking into the ground. Its hooves were half buried. Already, Johnny had lost some height on Diego who now stood prouder next to him; against him. Zebstrika skidded along but then bounced back at the last possible moment; amid the pondering.

'It's going to be me: Johnny Joestar!' Johnny declared; top of his lungs and his heart raced uncontrollably.

His Zebstrika's hind legs bucked up. They scraped through the ground and dislodged rocks. Diego shielded his face but it was all he could do in the onslaught as it had caught him off guard. From a cut beneath his eye, he bled. Johnny used to the confusion to get away. His Zebstrika freely charged forward; unhindered by the manoeuvre.

Diego seethed. Johnny's true colours, or at the very least his past, he shone in that moment. It was obvious that he had been a professional jockey once with such an unconventional tactic like that; pulled off effortlessly and at a moment's notice. It left Diego infuriated. He had no idea someone like that had competed outside the traditional Kalosian racing circuit.

Between the stray rocks and exhaustion, disaster began to brew further down the pack. Mounts refused to go forward whilst others spiralled out of control. Some mounts were flipped and others collapsed where they had once run. All of these individual disasters became more as they combined. A pile-up was bound to occur within seconds of it all.

'All of the mounts are exhausted!' Maria yelled; some sympathy dripped into her voice. 'Oh no! Some are collapsing; others are on the verge, leaning. They've all run fourteen thousand metres, non-stop! Their level of concentration was at max for the full of this race! All of the Pokemon on this field are already at their limits; some are refusing to press onwards! The goal is gain ground from here on out!'

Zeppeli's Mudsdale was drenched with sweat. It practically blew out steam from its nostrils but nevertheless, it charged onwards. Too stubborn for defeat, apparently. Pocoloco was hot on Zeppeli's heels; his Tauros was a little better for wear thanks to that time it had spent recuperating on the back of that dead Bouffalant. But even then, that energy it had regained would amount to little at this very last stretch in stage one.

The top four competitors were fairly streamlined. There was an ever decreasing distance between them all; no matter how hard they tried to avoid it. At the back of this line, Diego observed. As much as he hated it, he would acknowledge skill meant little in this final part of the race. From here on out, it would be based on leg power.

However, in second position, Pocoloco happened upon a different strategy. Or at least, he's assuming it's a strategy to maximise his luck.

ATLiens clambered onto his back. 'Hey, Pocoloco, go left?' it advised.

'Huh? But why?' he asked.

'Just go left already! Go around to the left of him.' ATLiens insisted.

'O-Okay but Hey Ya is at is limits too.' Pocoloco pointed out but upon remembering his luck, he soon changed his tune. 'But, I'm a lucky guy, right? I'm promised that, right? So, I can do anything I want!'

'That's right, Pocoloco! Say "Yo, yo, yo" - just like that!' ATLiens said.

Tauros sped out to the left. Pocoloco lifted his head. He looked to be in a state of disbelief and exhaustion but nevertheless, he did as his mysterious partner Pokemon had advised. As he began to overtake Zeppeli, he began to whoop and holler.

'Yo! Yo! Yo!' Pocoloco shouted; almost in rhythm to the beat of his Tauros' hooves.

Zeppeli glared, bewildered to the noise, and turned his head. His eyes widened as he watched Pocoloco attempt to overtake him. But, to his right, he was ignorant of a big shake-up to the leaderboards.

'And here's Sandman coming down the cliffs! And he rejoins as the leader of the group!' Maria yelled.

From the right, it was truly unbelievable, Sandman skidded down the last of the rocks and it was as if he had appeared from thin air. Hot on his feet, he sped further down the last stretch of stage one. He was determined as all hell.

'With his muscles nearly exploding, Sandman is back! He's ahead of Gyro Zeppeli and taken the mantle of first position in this unpredictable race! He's about eight lengths ahead! And he's successfully rejoined whilst going for the goal! He's going at least forty kilometres per hour! Is this man really running? But there are no more short-cuts! Sandman! Can he hold his own up against all these faster-than-humans mount Pokemon until the goal? Can he pull away?' Maria commentated.

Sandman, head down, charged forward. It was nigh reckless. His skin glistened with sweat and a possible sunburn. He was like a train: he charged forward, huffing and puffing, without question.

Meanwhile, shoved to fifth place, Diego decided to make his next move.

'And now Dio's out! Dio has jumped out now! There's about three hundred metres 'til the goal! Dio's at such an amazing race!' Maria yelled.

There really was no predicting this race.

Diego's Sawsbuck powerfully surged forward. Diego was silent but his determination was like a deafening roar. Quickly, it lined up closely with Johnny's Zebstrika. Sawsbuck's nose practically touching Zebstrika's spiked tail as whipped towards Diego's space. The mounts were, essentially, running parallel to each other but there was a slight, diagonal shift to their positions.

'And there's another mount lined up with Dio's Sawsbuck! No, wait! It's pulled ahead of Dio!' Maria announced.

Johnny focused his energy and continued on. He drifted away from Diego and revealed him all to all the air pressure and wind present. No longer could he get away with that strategy; at least for now, if he didn't try anything strange.

'But there's no saddlecloth! It's an anonymous rider out there! They're attacking Gyro Zeppeli from seven lengths away… now only five lengths! Gyro Zeppeli is not losing any of his pace whilst chasing Sandman! But the trailers are burning with a truly competitive spirit! And Pocoloco is trying to pass from the left!' Maria announced.

Zeppeli had his head down and was ignoring the strange competitors around him. Pocoloco had veered out to the left and was using it as an opportunity to overtake Zeppeli. ATLiens, for now, had slunk back into its PokeBall, for now.

'Four riders are about to attack the leading Sandman! Gyro Zeppeli is about three lengths away from him!' Maria commentated.

Sandman, furious as the devil, continued to charge on the best he could upon his two legs. Behind him, he had his land-based Pokemon, Simipour and Mienshao, guard him against any assault on foot. Overhead, his Flygon, Cofagrigus, and Sigilyph flew above him and watched over, benevolent but ultimately uninvolved until necessary.

The other top Trainers raced behind the miniature blockade. Each burned with their own, competitive spirit. They each lusted for victory and dreamed for the win. They all waited for their chance to strike. That chance was ever encroaching. Their determination burst to life like a ravaging inferno; from the sidelines, they were quite the terrifying force to watch.

'The four mounted Trainers are all lined up on Sandman's tail!'

And Sandman could feel it all. Their glares, rife with their own goals and determinations, pierced Sandman. It pierced him as real as an arrowhead would. He gritted his teeth and continued forward. Yet, his thoughts remained somewhere far beyond this race; to the desert, he had once called home. He thought of his sister and her smile. He had no homeland to return which was why he could continue forth. For the spirits of his ancestors and the lives of his own alive today, he would run. He would continue forth. The commentator's voice echoed in his head.

'All lined up! All lined up! They're all lined up!'

Out of fear for their own health, his Simipour and Mienshao were now racing by his side. They glanced at him, a touch apologetic because they couldn't protect him from here, but he didn't blame them. The mounts, tall and heavy, loomed over Sandman. From beneath those powerful creatures, from right before their hooves, Sandman launched himself.

'Please give me your strength and courage!' he yelled out to his ancestors' spirits in the hopes they were watching this wayward son of theirs.

His voice was strong and resounded past the thundering hooves. A final burst of energy replenished Sandman as he charged forward as fast as any Rapidash. Despite it all, he continued onwards. He continued past his heavy body and fatigue. He dashed forward despite the exhaustion. He made great distance too; despite the disadvantage.

'All the mounts are lined up side by side! And Sandman speeds up once again! And now Dio's coming out! Wait, Gyro is slightly ahead! There's one hundred metres left! Who will end up in first place? It's too close to tell at this point!' Maria shouted.

The top five competitors, streaked with sweat and some with blood, continued onwards. It was beyond valiant. Their actions spoke volumes of their gallant effort and of their dreams.

'It's become a fierce battlefield!' Maria shrieked.

ATLiens popped out of its PokeBall discretely. It wound around Pocoloco once more. Pocoloco had already grown far too used to its over-affectionate actions. He rode, unaffected, by ATLiens' appearance. Then, it began to continue whispering advice into his ear.

'Okay Pocoloco,' it began as it scanned their surroundings, 'don't hold back any! You're good! This is good: you'll be the winner! Just ride up there; there's a dead tree buried in the ground - now go straight at it and leave the rest to me!'

Pocoloco obeyed the advice. He had Tauros charge straight at it. ATLiens snickered and the orbs on its palms began to light up. The tree shifted, rose closer to the top of the ground where it was slightly more visible than before. Tauros bounded it up to it and bounced off of it. A peculiar, pink-purple light encased Tauros and Pocoloco. It furthered their jump and Pocoloco landed in first place.

'What's this…? Pocoloco jumped?' Maria sounded gobsmacked.

ATLiens disappeared into its PokeBall again. It was quite pleased by its display of Psychic.

Once again, Pocoloco had stunned the entire race. Disbelief and anger rippled through the faces of johnny, Diego, and Zeppeli. The spectators went wild. They were ravenous for this sort of heart-pounding unpredictability.

'It's a dead tree! He ran into the dead tree and used it as a sort of springboard for his Tauros!' Maria explained, astounded.

Even Pocoloco was surprised by his success. ATLiens was the best thing to have happened to him. He would never have thought of doing that because it wasn't covered by the fortune teller lady's prediction. He continued to surge on ahead.

'And now he's ahead of the rest! He slipped out! Wait, uh, what?' Maria messed up her announcements as she watched the next breakneck-paced development of the race in utter confusion.

Pocoloco had surged out ahead of Sandman. Sandman had dipped diagonally so he wouldn't get landed on by Tauros. But now, out of seeming nowhere and all impossibility and exhaustion, Gyro Zeppeli had surged forward. It was unbelievable.

His mount still had enough energy to overtake Pocoloco this late in the race. It had burst forth, tongue lolling outside its mouth. It continued forward. Zeppeli was utterly ruthless.

Pocoloco gawked. He couldn't believe it. His eyebrows arched upwards as he watched Zeppeli's Mudsdale's tail wag in front of him.

'No, wait, that's wrong: it's not Pocoloco who had slipped out in front!' Maria yelled.

No matter how Pocoloco rationalised it, it made no sense. He had supreme luck on his side. He had ATLiens on his side. There was no way Zeppeli had the leg power to have pulled off such a feat in this part of the race. Zeppeli's been on his tail close as anything since the downhill stint. Not to mention, he was flogging it hard just a moment again. It was impossible.

Sandman and his Pokemon were being boxed in by the riders. Pocoloco was slowly drifting behind. His own hubris clouding his current judgements so he was slipping back. The trailing pack of the top riders quickly grew ever more tightly crowded. Too many people and Pokemon in the one area.

Zeppeli twisted around. A Zebstrika caught his eye and Johnny leaned out. He met Zeppeli's eyes. Johnny was awed at how close and far he was from this eccentric stranger. He was flashed a goofy, golden grin.

'I'm impressed, Johnny Joestar.' Zeppeli addressed him. 'I'm amazed.'

Johnny swallowed. His stomach knotted. It was even better, the other way around: hearing Zeppeli say his name.

'You did well to catch up on me. By the way, kid… you ever been on a ship? I have, once. Did you know the more headwinds that a sailing vessel gets in its sails, the faster it will go? And this headwind, Santana, was there to help my Mudsdale from the very start.' he bragged.

His cloak curled back. He moved his hand. Johnny looked carefully at this form and he could see it. He could see the evocation of a sailing ship in the silhouette of Zeppeli and his mouth. More importantly, Johnny could see that he had two his stranger, green PokeBalls anchored at the bottom of his cloak. They spun.

'This guy… what's he talking about?' Pocoloco asked.

Sandman and Diego, meanwhile, had a visceral reaction to Zeppeli's little speech to Johnny. Their fury over his ingenuity enraged them both to the point of disbelief.

'And he's passing right through! He's passing right through! He's closed in on the goal!' screamed Maria.

Zeppeli lifted himself from his mount. He raised his arm, a closed fist, through the air. He bathed in adoration. He became swollen with victory and glory. The crowd welcomed with cheery ordinance beyond compare. Zeppeli effortlessly crossed the finish line. He grinned that golden grin of his. He breathed heavily and his Mudsdale came to an ambling halt further down, past that beautiful finishing line.

'GYRO ZEPPELI IS IN FIRST!' Maria's voice boomed through the crowd, as amplified by both her Noibat and Loudred. 'It's a sweeping win with a five-length lead! What a strong showing from the start! And the crown king of the First Stage is now Gyro Zeppeli! He'll be a hot favourite for the position of Champion - if he can collect those badges, of course! Gyro Zeppeli with a running time of eighteen minutes and seven seconds!'