Steel (Poke)Ball Run

Chapter 13 - VS DISQUALIFICATION

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Maria's voice continued to ring out against the spectator's celebration. She continued with her excited announcements.

'For this win, Gyro Zeppeli will receive one hundred thousand PokeYen! As well as one hundred points, an extra visit to the medical team, and the ability to shave a loss off and re-challenge a Leader for a badge; should someone not swoop in before him!'

Zeppeli cheered and performed like a jester before the crowd. He was thriving vibrantly in the attention. His Mudsdale continued down its victory path: tired as anything but still ambling onward.

'The winner of Stage One is Gyro Zeppeli!' Maria screamed.

The only thing more exciting than Zeppeli's win was those on his tail. The other top Trainers, who had come so close but ultimately never made it, crossed the finish line. Their positions were blink and you miss it. It was that close. There was a pause as they crossed and then Maria announced how they had come.

'In second, the one and only fast runner Sandman! In third, the careless black comet Pocoloco! W-Wait, Diego Brando?'

The developments were dizzyingly fast. Even from her position on high, Maria was having trouble telling who had placed what.

'The judges are discussing it! And so, because of recent developments, there will be a re-shuffle of placements!' Maria was tripping on her words as she received information. 'Please wait a little whilst we verify the evidence we caught on camera. We're going to use the latest technology to determine the true winner of this race. The others approach the goal…'

The other top Trainers and their mounts continued to race until the very end of the road. They crossed beneath the mahogany archway of the church. They passed through and by the end of it, Johnny could have died. He was tired and drained. He had no idea how Zeppeli could celebrate; he was probably faring worse than all of them.

'The Steel Ball Run is using a point system to decide how the non-battling component of this course to decide top scorers. First place is awarded one hundred points. Second gets fifty. Third get forty, and so on. Points are awarded until the twenty-first racer. The goal of the entire race race is, of course, Humilau City. On the way are nine checkpoints.

'At eight of these checkpoints, so from checkpoints here onwards, there will be sanctioned Trainers to battle. These eight Trainers will gift the person who bests them in battle first, a badge. The person who has collected the most of these badges, will be given the opportunity to battle acting Champion, President Valentine. In the event, we have a draw, the two Trainers with four badges each will battle: winner takes all style. That person - should they also beat President Valentine - will become Unova's first Champion.' Maria explained, to fill in time and to inform those who either hadn't heard or hadn't read the SBR Handbook.

The abandoned church had become the grounds for the party of the century. People were celebrating left, right, and centre for they had just witnessed the first stage of Unova's most historic race. The winner's circle, Johnny supposed they were, were being treated to a private function. Meals and drinks were on the house.

Behind him, Pocoloco was fretting about something. Johnny didn't quite get it.

'Why? Why? I'm supposed to be the guy with one in five hundred million luck! Why did I lose to that guy? This just isn't right!' Pocoloco bemoaned himself; haywire as a sketchy music box.

Diego was fuming. He annoyed by Pocoloco's whining about luck but he was mostly infuriated by his own shortcomings. He couldn't believe had been shown-up by two nobodies and a runner. He far outclassed them all and yet, it was not he who had claimed this victory.

'I, Dio…' he grumbled into his balled hand, through gritted teeth, 'so I wasn't first. I'm not first. Fuck. That guy from the country…'

He resolved to show them all up in the battle component of this race.

Sandman was dragging himself to the buffet. He was like a dead man who walked. The clerk from the office, the one which had attempted to dissuade him from joining the race, stood around the table. He called out to Sandman whilst stuffing his face silly.

'Ah, help yourself to the water, man! How about some food? You want some?'

Sandman ignored him. The clerk frowned. Was this really the guy from earlier?

'The food and drinks here are for the participants of the race, you know.' the clerk informed him.

Sandman panted. 'I'll take…' His voice trailed off. He was a wet, hot mess.

The clerk offered a plate of thickly sliced, buttered up Miltank steak and a mug. Sandman grabbed the huge water container behind the clerk and began to chug. He also grabbed the rest of the meat on a bone and took a bite of it. Already, he felt better.

Meanwhile, Mr Steel was having the time of his life schmoozing and socializing with the guests who had joined him on the train as well as with the spectators from the crowd. He had Lucy by his side and she was making polite conversation also.

'Okay, all you sponsors, it's the end of the first stage so I've prepared some exquisite and expensive Kalosian champagne for us all. Today's race ends here. We'll camp tonight, the second stage begins tomorrow at ten a.m.' Mr Steel prattled to whoever would listen.

From behind, a seedy man with a spindly moustache approached. He whispered something in Mr Steel's ear; hand clamped over his shoulder. Mr Steel was not alarmed but he did become quite stern. His whole persona altered.

'Mr Steel…' this man whispered. 'I have received information on Zeppeli's background.'

Mr Steel's breath hitched in his throat. He could come up with a thousand stories for this man but there was no point. There was only one truth, after all.

'Immigration had his details. He departed from Cyllage City, Kalos in May and arrived in Unova on May twenty-second.'

'What, he's a foreigner? In mock spirit of the immigration, Kalosians did to Unova, any can participate in this race. Even if they're not a citizen, it's not against the rules but it'd be bad press if such a person ended up Champion; of course, they'd also win citizenship here with it… But what does that make Gyro Zeppeli if he ain't a cowboy or gunman?'

'He's far from either of those things. His ship was neither immigrant ship nor a cargo ship. Zeppeli entered this region on a ship belonging to some Kalosian royal family!'

'Royalty?! So what does that mean?'

'More like a government VIP or just a wealthy person…'

'His racing application was blank. If he a foreigner, here legally and is as valid as any born Unova for the title of Champion, is hiding his background; why don't we just ask him? Then again, if he left it blank, it's likely he won't explain in person either.

'The second stage is the long distance twelve hundred kilometre portion of the race. From the next stage on, we will begin allowing bets to be placed on who will come first in the race component and who will earn the most badges. At the second stage, I've been assured there will be a sanctioned Trainer… we'll allow bets on if that sanctioned Trainer will win or lose the first battle they are engaged in. Unfortunately, I don't know who that Trainer is… Much like we still don't know who Gyro Zeppeli is. Find out more about him, now!' Mr Steel instructed.

It felt like it had been an eternity since the speakers had made noises but now they were making plenty. It would appear that Maria was ready with the judges' deliberation. Her speaker system crackled then there was a pause. People lifted up their heads and waited with much anticipation for Maria's announcement.

'Thank you for waiting folks but the results are in! And I will announce them!' Maria yelled.

Maria's voice was met with a roar of cheer.

'By deliberation, Gyro Zeppeli was in first place but,' Maria's voice turned sharp, 'but he will incur a penalty. Because his Krookodile, nicknamed "Mean Streak", used "Rock Smash" recklessly, Sandman's race was interfered with. Said interference, though unintentional, was decided to be unlawful by the judges. Therefore, he is unable to claim first place.'

Pocoloco and Diego's faces lit up with hope. Johnny was shocked by the announcement but he couldn't exactly call it unfair. It also made him thank his lucky stars that no one had noticed his deliberate rock throwing at Diego during that last point in the race.

'As reported by one of the judges in one of the other hot air balloons that had been following the race, Gyro Zeppeli interrupted the race with his unlawful "Rock Smash". It occurred at the thirteen thousand metre mark. Around the end of the downhill section of the race. So, Gyro Zeppeli has been lowered twenty places in the leaderboards as a penalty. And so, second place will be raised to first.'

Johnny glanced at Gyro. It was hard to tell from a distance, but he was taking the news quite well. He was standing statue stiff, no doubt seething, but at least he wasn't making a scene. He had been in the middle of grooming in Mudsdale.

Sandman smirked into his mug and took another bite of the food he had been given. He was chuffed by the news. He raised his head, half curious though. He knew better than to get his hopes up but he had every right to be confident.

'Rising in the ranks comes… Sandman! That's the decision! Sandman is the winner of the first stage!'

His smirk turned to a smile. There was thunderous applause for him. But unlike Zeppeli, he wasn't a showboat. He'd take this win graciously, secretly.

'He was slowed down at the bridge however since he is the prince of racing and battling in Kalos, he closed the gap before the finish line - as expected! Second will be Dio: Diego Brando! Third will be Pocoloco!'

There was cheer and praise for both Diego and Pocoloco.

Pocoloco whooped. 'I did it! I beat someone like Gyro! Woohoo!'

'Your attention, please… Mountain Tim will place fourth. Our favourite cowboy somehow managed to get his Tauros' nose across the line at the last possible moment! For further details on the leaderboards, we will post the details soon on an announcement board. Thank you for attention. You've been a great audience, signing out is… Maria!'

That composure Johnny had seen earlier in Gyro shifted. He clenched his fist and snarled. His whole body trembled with anger. Even from afar, Johnny could tell a bad decision - one born of consuming rage - was about to take place. However, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't dismount his Zebstrika because it'd be useless crawling towards Zeppeli to stop him. And, given how dark he was in this rage, he was beyond being snapped out of it with words. So, Johnny could only watch.

Mr Steel was being flanked by two young ladies; one an adolescent, the other an adult. One was his wife and the other was Maria, the announcer lady.

Maria guzzled from her cup. 'Ah, how do ya think I went, Mr Steel? Thanks for hiring me again. You'll really help jumpstart my career as an entertainer, thanks for taking on an unknown voice and talent like me.'

'Nonsense, Miss Maria. You sell yourself short.' Mr Steel said.

Zeppeli stomped over to where Mr Steel was socialising. Zeppeli's appearance behind the table was enough to cause strife. Bodyguards stepped in front of Mr Steel. Mr Steel stepped in front of his darling child bride to protect her.

Zeppeli tensely placed a PokeBall on the table. The champagne bottles on the table became like barbed wire; the only thing separating him from them. Mr Steel relaxed. His bodyguards stepped off. For now, Zeppeli meant no harm. His fingers caged the PokeBall he had set down. Beneath his palm, behind his fingers, the PokeBall was set in motion. It began to spin.

Zeppeli bared his teeth. His eyes glinted in the shadows beneath his hat and hair. Though he seethed and clearly had a lot to say, he bit it all back. He did not speak until spoken to. Mr Steel turned to him, cocked his head.

'Mr Zeppeli… do you have something you would like to say? Something to complain about, perhaps?'

'I got nothin' really. I won't talk to you anymore. That was the past. We can't do anything but look forward to tomorrow. I'm here to make myself feel better, that's all. Go enjoy yer champagne.'

Zeppeli ripped his PokeBall from the tablecloth. Johnny sighed. Perhaps he had been wrong about Zeppeli; maybe he had more self-control than his clearly restrained, but bursting at the seams, anger would let on. Either that or something worse than johnny could imagine was about to happen. Zeppeli stormed off.

'Um, weren't you supposed to ask him something… Mr Steel?' the man from earlier whispered to Mr Steel.

Mr Steel panicked; reached his hand across the table, back to Zeppeli.

'W-Wait.' he called out but it was useless.

Zeppeli ignored him.

Mr Steel's hand was directly above one of the champagne bottles that spiked the table. The cork suddenly popped off. Utterly unprompted. The cork missed Mr Steel's nose. His eyes widened. Between his fingers, the fizzy stream of the champagne shot upwards. It was like a waterspout.

The other champagne bottles began to quiver and tremble. They bounced and reverberated. Their corks were shot like bullets every which way. People screamed and protected themselves. Everyone looked a tad silly, cowering in fear from the champagne bottles which were behaving as though possessed.

A cork was launched towards Johnny. It was stray fire. The rest of the bottles had popped off towards the crowd on the other side of the table. Johnny wasn't scared of it. He easily caught it in his hand. It didn't even hurt to catch it.

There was one champagne bottle left. It seemed untouched by the demon that was possessing the rest of them. The man with a spindly moustache reached out for it. Then, the champagne bottle launched its cork. He laughed as it missed his head. He cautiously picked up the now still bottle. He poured it out into a glass for himself. He laughed nervously.

'Haha, didn't spill.' he commented.

The corks which had been launched had not been launched with the intent to hit any people. Instead, they had all barreled into the tank that stood, without notice, behind all the people; on a stand above them all. The corks with insane force puncture the tank and from these holes came great waves of water. Mr Steel and company were drenched.

'I feel a little better now. Hey, you, you wanna come with me? To the next stage? Johnny Joestar…?'

Zeppeli's voice, a tad musical but mostly strong, pierced Johnny's thoughts. He turned his head. He couldn't help but get all his hopes up with the offer. He hoped that he didn't look like a child on Christmas though; that'd just be a tad embarrassing but goodness gracious… There was something about the way Zeppeli said his name, it was kind of intoxicating.

Johnny cocked a casual smile. He gripped tighter onto that cork in his hand.

'Of course.' he replied, as cool and strong as he could muster. He struck half a pose to show off his arm muscles. 'I'll show you what my team and I can do.'

'That's good. Lesson two will be to work those muscles of yours. We're gonna have to completely change how you throw out your Pokeballs; of course, I haven't seen you do it but I'll assume you do it like most folks.' Zeppeli said.

Zeppeli grabbed his right arm with his left hand. He grunted as he twisted it around but he didn't seem to be in much pain; if any.

'You ready? For example, if I grab your wrist like this… holding the wrist tightly like this… the muscle will automatically bend. It just knows to do that. The flesh instinctively protects the body by wounding the muscle. And that's nature for you.' Zeppeli began to explain.

Johnny was a tad confused as to how this would correlate to throwing PokeBalls but he listened intently. He watched as Zeppeli's arm twitched slightly and made mental notes of the anatomy of it.

Zeppeli let himself go and exhaled softly. He unclipped a PokeBall from one of his straps. Johnny figured this would be the part which makes sense. He balanced the PokeBall on his forearm. As it spun, the skin around it became ringed; like concentric circles. It wasn't entirely unlike a ripple. The flesh was more solid than liquid, after all.

'However, these steel PokeBalls, they won't let you do that. Only on the skin. Control the skin! If the skin is under unusual conditions, the muscles won't act upon it. Apply that to your Pokemon, and already they get a buff across all their stats since it's something like a massage. Next up, would be the delivery: swinging outwards rather over or under arm or however you may do it.' Zeppeli explained. 'Hang on, you've still got that cork, don't you. Why don't you give it a try using that? Just the first bit. If your not scared of course.'

Johnny gingerly revealed in his hand. The cork on his palm was erratic at first but it did begin moving. It was as though he were moving its psychically, with his mind, but that wasn't the case. He was definitely manipulating it through touch. However, it was difficult to control. He was nowhere near as masterful as Zeppeli.

The cork jerked upwards and hit Johnny's Zebstrika's shoulder. His Zebstrika seemed unfazed but it blinked, shook its head, and seemed to have one stat randomly raised. The cork manipulated the flesh and Zebstrika reared upwards. Johnny was bucked off but not like normal.

He was, unwittingly, turned through the air. He hadn't moved so much as a muscle in his arm and yet he had rolled through the air. He made a few startlED noises and landed on his knees and palms. Otherwise, he was fine.

Zeppeli laughed raucously. 'Now that's how you get off a horse.'

Johnny huffed and sat up; turned himself around so he could face Zeppeli. Zeppeli then continued his lecture now that his student was sitting at full attention. He felt like a real teacher now.

'If I had to guess, I'd say that Zebstrika's attack stat reacted slightly to your cork there. But that wasn't its muscle reacting upon it. It won't let you do that if you have a weapon. The spinning itself is the weapon. But, doing that through a PokeBall… well, you've seen the results.' Zeppeli explained.

He returned his PokeBall to its holster. He smiled, smug. He held out his free hand.

'So, I guess I should officially welcome you to my tutelage, Johnny Joestar.'

'A pleasure, Gyro Zeppeli.'

The two shook on it. Satisfied with the agreement they had come to.

'So, the next stage is crossing a forest with a distance of twelve hundred kilometers. It looks tough. Not to mention our good friend - the President's chosen Trainer is waiting in there somewhere… probably, from what I've heard. But let's finish it, the whole race, together: one-two. Me in first, of course. And I'll take five of the badges, I'll let you have three. What do you say?'

'Sounds good, Gyro.'

Johnny smiled. Gyro spoke a strange medium between serious and joking but he could get used to it. He liked that plan a lot. He didn't want the Championship, after all.