Chapter 9: All Fun and Games

The crowd had only grown larger in the few minutes it took to meet with Dit. A number of pokémon, only some of which Mathew could recognize, were walking about, making small talk. As he followed David around the perimeter of the Waregle, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. What crazy idea could David possibly have planned that would bring so many people to this quiet training facility?

Soon enough, the decidueye slipped into one of the side-rooms used for training. This one seemed to be the smallest of the six, and whatever had been in here before had been emptied out. Instead, a number of chairs had been placed in an orderly fashion — some surrounding a circular table, some against the pink back wall. It was a makeshift break-room — and there were already some people inside.

"Beverly, I sense more newcomers." Before Mathew could even get a look at the pair of pokémon, one of them — a woman with a rather fakely gravelly voice — had already spotted them. Her species had a bold white dress, contrasting her green hair and legs. In her hair was a pair of flat red horns of sorts that reminded him of hairpins. It wasn't exact, but it bore a striking resemblance to a pokémon Mathew did know, Gardevoir…maybe it was a pre-evolution?

"Really? Well I'll be!" Up came a species that, in contrast to the other, Mathew needed no introduction for. The beaver-like bidoof sped towards him and Joey at breakneck pace. With buck teeth that thick, Mathew worried that she'd make a dent in the floor if she tripped. "It's a croc! And a…reptile guy!" she looked to David expectantly.

"Don't you fret, these two are the last pair, so you won't need to wait any longer," David said. He, Jermy, and Demurke stepped back to give Mathew and Joey space. "Please, come welcome Mathew and Joey!" he called out.

"We're back! We're back!" A rabbit with fur resembling a red and black sweatshirt darted into the entrance, wheeling a somewhat small tank of water towards them. In the rabbit's haste, some of the water spilled out of the top and onto the floor, much to the annoyance of the orange fish — the Magikarp — swimming inside. Upon closer inspection, the tank seemed somewhat advanced. There were robotic arms held at its sides, and the bottom of the tank was lined with treads. There was also a compartment between the treads that was holding something Mathew couldn't identify. "Sorry. It took longer than I thought to get the tank all managed."

"Please be more careful with the filter next time…" the fish mumbled as she gave a sweeping look at the group. "So, it seems there is six of us now. Welcome, Mathew, Joey."

Mathew was glad to have his skull mask to hide his confusion. "Um…thanks?" he turned back to David, leaning against the wall. "So who are these guys?"

"Don't ask me!" David replied. "I think it'd be best if you all learned a bit about each other."

"It seems obvious, doesn't it?" The green pokémon said. "We are all recruits seeking to find our place in SEAS' organization."

"...Oh." Mathew was starting to piece together what David had meant by that 'fight for it' comment…

"Yeah!" Beverly said. "My bud and I have been toilin' away over in Skrunco, while Randy and Megan've been livin' over in…where did ya say it was again?"

"It's Cosaline," the rabbit repeated before turning to the cubone. "But yeah, we're all new guys here. You can call me Randy — nice to meet you!" he offered a paw to shake to both Mathew and Joey.

"Wait a darn second," Joey said. "Randy, Megan, Beverly…"

"Kell," the green pokémon piped up.

"Kell, too… Those are all pretty people-like names."

She nodded in response to Joey's remark. "Well, I wasn't always a kirlia, myself."

"Same here!" Beverly added.

"Yep! We're all ex-humans here!" Randy said.

Megan, in contrast, looked at them all with a grimace. It took Mathew a moment to realize why. "Oh my god," he said. "I'm so sorry…"

"Nah." She shook it off. "Don't worry about me. I'll make it. Besides, I'm not the only one here whose choice of species is cursed by irony."

Mathew gasped and recoiled. Why did she have to—?!

"Sorry about that!" Randy came to Megan's rescue, rubbing his head with his left paw. "She likes sounding cool."

"It's fine. It's fine," Mathew forcefully reassured the pair. "Let's just — you know." The cubone tucked himself into one of the empty, plastic chairs. It was cold to the touch.

"Yes, I think that is enough socialization for now," David said. His voice was light but had an air of authority behind it — the decidueye wanted off this topic, too. Thank God.

"But what about…aw." With the conversation already out of his grasp, Joey retreated to another seat. Mathew wished he could apologize again, but he couldn't do it in front of everyone else.

"Anyways! I imagine you all are curious about what all this hubbub is for," David said, moving in front of the room's entrance. "Well, this is all part of…well, a game show, of sorts."

"A game show…?" Not exactly what Mathew was expecting. He was thinking more in the realm of 'trial by combat'. Based on everyone else sharing glances with one another, that seemed to rouse the other groups just as much as him.

"Well, only in some senses! You will be competing against one another in pairs, but your reward won't be any prize money or airtime. Actually, the prize is some much-needed exposure!"

"Oooooh!" Beverly exclaimed. "It's like, a competition for us to strut our stuff!"

"Yes, exactly. This is all about showing the rest of the organization how you perform in high-intensity settings. Do well, and you might leave a great impression!"

So that's David's game, huh? Mathew was intrigued, but also a little on-edge after hearing of this. There was a chance that he and Joey could still prove themselves despite Meowth's meddling, but only a chance. They would have to make themselves look better than these other two teams…

"So, uh," Randy cut in, peering past David. "What's the crowd for?"

Suddenly, Demurke sprung from the wall. "Oh, D-David, can I…?" The decidueye didn't seem to mind. "Since David wanted th-this to feel a little less formal, I helped out b-by spreading the word! That way, it won't just be a-all the…big guys watching. Some o-of the people you might work with can see you for the f-first time!" She took a cursory glance at the crowd behind her, then looked towards Mathew and Joey. "Just try not to…pay any mind to them, o-of course."

Joey piped up next. "This seems dandy and all, but…what is this 'game' of yours gonna be all about?"

Demurke stepped aside so David could answer. "Excellent question! In fact, most of the audience may be wondering that as well. Maybe it'd be more efficient if I did it all at once… Jermy, the mic, please." He gestured to the pikachu.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Jermy said as he left the room. Ten seconds later, he came back carrying a wireless, seemingly electronic microphone with a screen that was currently dark. When the decidueye gripped it in his hand, however, the screen suddenly lit up.

"Goooooood morning!" As he spoke, David's voice boomed through the Waregle. He stepped out into the main room, albeit keeping close enough to the recruits that he could always have an eye on them. Curious, Mathew left his chair and peered out. Turns out there were some speakers hung from the ceiling as well as the lights that he had missed until now. "I'd like to welcome everyone to the Building Bonanza Games, hosted by Emmons Labs! I, David Emmons, will be your announcer for the duration of this event."

"Really? That's the name he's going with?" Megan remarked.

Mathew nodded to himself. "It's a mid-tier name, but I can't deny he's good at selling it." That much was true — David surprisingly had a voice for this.

David continued. "Now, before we get into the thick of it, allow me to explain. Each of our three pairs of employees-to-be is tasked with designing and creating the most efficient, effective, and creative weapon they can think of! At their disposal is any number of items in the boxes you see here — household objects, parts, tools, and even type stones. Our recruits will have about one hour to complete this project, overcoming obstacles as they do so. No direct fighting will be permitted…at least for now."

"Hah?! I'm sorry, did he say we're making a weapon?" Joey asked him.

Despite Joey's nerves, Mathew was unfazed. "Hell yeah." He rubbed his hands together. This was exactly his domain. "Joey, we've got this in the bag."

"Aw, I wouldn't be so sure, hun," Beverly remarked. "I might not look like it, but I'm a bit of an engineer myself. With me as brains and Kelly as brawn, we're gonna craft ourselves the craftiest weapon of all!"

"First off, again, please don't call me Kelly," Kell said. "Second off, when did I become the brawns in this dynamic?"

"It doesn't matter which one of you is brains and which of you is brawn." Beneath his skull, Mathew spread a cocky grin. "We'll still beave your asses at this."

Megan stared at him from inside her tank. "...What?"

"Oh, come on. Beat? Beave, as in beaver?"

"I thought we were done with the puns…" Joey whined.

Whatever useful and informative dialogue David had been sharing with both them and the audience then was completely missed by the recruits as they blabbered. Mathew only returned to attention when the audience suddenly began to applaud. The cubone wasn't sure who it was for…something about the judges? That had interesting implications, considering that Jermy left the side room just then. He walked off to join a floatzel and another pokémon he couldn't see past the crowd. Well, at least we already have one judge on our side… the cubone figured.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce the first pair of lovely contestants for tonight's show," David said. "Spending the last month rising through our programs like loans on a college kid, I present: Beverly Dandy and Kell Roosevelt!"

Mathew couldn't help but notice the stark difference between Beverly and Kell. Beverly was eager to take the stage, waving at the cheering crowd and answering David's inquiries with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, all Kell had to offer was unamused glares and brief remarks. He glanced over at Joey, confident that they would be much more in-sync than such a contrasting duo. They got into some squabbles, sure, but the two of them could work together well, if their teamwork trying to get his backpack in Pawalmtry Forest was any indication. They just had to put their issues aside for a bit. Surely they could do that, right?

"Now, the next group is sure to be a real kicker… and a swimmer. Let's give a big roaring welcome to Randy Belle and Megan Karol!"

Caught off-guard, Randy fumbled with Megan's tank for a bit before finally getting it to wheel forward. "See you guys on the stage!" he told them as he made for David.

"And may the better team win…" Megan added.

As David pressed the second pair, Mathew turned to his teammate. "You ready, Joey?"

The totodile lazily turned a glance to the cubone. "Uh, yeah, sure."

Mathew was surprised to see him so lacking in enthusiasm. Maybe it was the crowd getting to him? "Muster all the charisma you can and follow my lead, and we'll be fine," he encouraged.

"And for our final set of contestants," David's voice boomed into the side room, snatching away the focus of the conversation. "...we have our prestigious underdogs, Joey Johdaile…and Mathew 'Magician' Walker!"

The audience roared with cheer. That rush of adrenaline from all the lights, the adoring fans, the tryhard hosts… It reminded Mathew of the side gig he had previously casted aside. This was it — time to prove once again that he could handle a crowd!

"Hello everybody!" Mathew exclaimed with a passionate boom as he confidently made his way in. His walk turned into a little jig, and he began to scat a little jingle — his jingle, the one he put on for an ad that got himself on the map years ago.

Joey looked at him, bewildered. "Mathew, what the heck are you—"

"Joey, work with me here," he hissed. Admittedly, it was a pretty odd attention grabber, but their alternative was a boring entrance, and that wouldn't make them the cut. Joey got the picture and played along, improvising some pep in his step along with a few waves.

They made their way towards David, who was standing closer to the audience. "Well, look who had enough coffee this morning!" he remarked, prompting a few chuckles from some members of the crowd. He leaned down so that he was closer to their level. "But really, what has you two in such a good mood?" he turned the mic their way.

Immediately, Mathew seized the opportunity. "Well, Mr. Emmons, what isn't there to like about today?" He paused for the briefest of moments to determine what to say next. "An excellent event, excellent competition, and an excellent crowd… We've got a whole menagerie!"

There was a glint in the decidueye's glare. He could see what Mathew was trying to do here — and he was liking it. "Isn't that just wonderful!" he said. "Now, why don't you two tell the audience a bit about yourselves?" David ushered the mic towards him, so he would speak first.

"A bit?" Mathew said. "Gee, David, it's hard to capture me in just a bit. I'm a studied engineer, a guitarist, apparently a pretty good marketer, and one hell of a survivalist."

David answered him with a laugh. "That's right! Any of the recruits and employees here who know a thing or two about Earth should know that Mr. Walker has a lot of experience under his belt!" He moved the mic to Joey. "And what about you, Mr. Johdaile?"

Mathew turned and…oh, no. Joey was wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open as the mic approached. The totodile pleadingly looked to Mathew. He felt bad, but what was he supposed to do? The only person who could sell Joey was Joey. "I…" Joey mumbled, his mind clearly churning as he searched for anything he knew about himself. "I…like…cowboys?"

The audience met him with laughter. Not the sort that David prompted — this laughter was aimed at Joey, not with Joey.

David was quick to try salvaging the situation. "Cowboys! C'mon, who doesn't love cowboys? They wear cool hats, they have lassos…" Unfortunately, it did not take him long to run out of material. "Anyways! On to the last question: do you two have anything to say to your opponents before the game?" The decidueye rushed to put Mathew back on the mic.

"Well—" Mathew was about to give a more serious answer, but he caught himself. He recalled a joke that he had made once as a kid that he didn't remember the context to, but he'd been pocketing for years now. If he sprung it now, he had a chance to really sell the charismatic character he was playing. However, to make this work, at least one of Beverly, Kell, Randy, and Megan had to know a very outdated reference. If they were anything like Joey, their knowledge bank would be spotty…

…You know what? Screw it. He'd already been silent at the mic long enough. He should at least give it a shot. He reached for it, but David refused to give it up, so he just leaned in. "I have just one question for you. Do you like waffles?"

Mathew was met with a confused audience. Past some murmuring, he swore he could hear ORB saying "Wow, he's really pulling from half a century's worth of internet culture for this one."

Then, despite the odds, a miracle happened. From Randy's voice came a familiar answer. "Yeah…I like waffles?"

Mathew continued. "Do you like pancakes?"

Randy proceeded to take yet more of his bait. "Yeah, I like pancakes…"

"Do you surrender?"

"Yeah, I — wait. Wait!" Randy panicked as he realized how he had set him up.

The audience burst into chatter, both confused and amused. Next to the rabbit, Megan sank to the bottom of her tank, trying and failing to dissociate from this ridiculous situation. Mathew cackled — he had very clearly proven his ability to get into the other contestants' heads.

"Wow! Psychological warfare and we haven't even started yet! And using references to things I don't understand whatsoever, no less," David commented. While the crowd was busy, he very quickly moved the mic to Joey. "And you?" he said quietly.

Joey seemed to get what David was doing here. "Oh! Good luck, have fun."

"Yes, yes, yes," he said, drawing none of the dazed crowd's attention to the totodile's simple response. "Alright!" Only now did he take back control of the room's focus. "That is the last of our teams of participants, which means it's time to get to the game! Give me just a moment to put everyone in position." When David said that, he meant it literally, immediately airlifting Kell with his talons. Mathew could only watch as the protesting kirlia was placed down some distance away from the boxes in the middle of the room, followed by a much more eager Beverly. When it came to the next team, David gripped on to the open edge of Megan's tank and dragged it to where he wanted it to go. Randy followed next to it, not needing to be guided, but for the sake of theatrics, the decidueye picked him up and moved him a couple inches over anyway.

"Dang, David's got a grip stronger than a lasso made of boa constrictors," Joey muttered as the two watched Randy slide a lid out of the bottom compartment of the fish tank and placed it over Megan.

"I've had a few years to practice," he said as he grabbed hold of both him and Mathew at the same time. For a few seconds, Mathew was suspended in the air, his tie flapping all around. He took a moment to study the playing field before he was brought back to the floor.

Each of the boxes he had eyed before seemed to be filled with different sets of objects. One box gleamed and glistened off the lights above, filled with a number of metal parts made to be screwed, bolted, and perhaps even welded together. Another box was filled to the brim with the tools to assemble said parts — screwdrivers, hammers, what looked like a blowtorch…ooooh, was that a nail gun?

Mathew shook his head to refocus. When he did, three familiar boxes stuck out to him. Placed rather closely to each other was a box with a colorful array of type stones, a box storing copious amounts of chalk sticks, and a box full of innocent household objects like a chair, a flashlight, a basketball, and more. He recalled the tool David had made two days ago using those items — with only a bugle horn, a gem, and some chalk, he had made a respectable weapon in its own right. If Mathew replicated that, he and Joey would have a competent weapon in no time!

David brought them both to the floor. All three of the teams now formed a triangle surrounding the chalk circle. "Let's get this show on the road!" He exclaimed into the mic, setting himself down in the surrounding crowd. Mathew and Joey readied for action. "Start moving on go. Three… Two… One… Go!"

"C'mon!" With no time to explain, the cubone led Joey towards the trio of boxes. He leapt towards the type stone box first, pulling out the first object he got his hands on: a deep purple gem. "Type stone!" He tossed the stone to Joey and made for the next box and grabbed chalk. "Chalk!" He did the same for the chalk, and then…

…Where did the third box go? Mathew swore it had been to his left just a second before.

"Lookin' for this?" The taunting voice of Beverly drew Mathew's attention to one hell of a sight. A pinkish glow came from beneath the third box as it was dragged along the ground by a psychic force — Kell's force.

"What?!" Mathew gaped. "There's no way that that's allowed — hey!" The chalk box was pulled away right in front of him.

"It's not a direct attack, isn't it?" Kell pointed out. "By the way, you might want to take a step to the right." Mathew flinched and followed the advice as he felt the type stone box push up against his tail. Kell pushed it towards Beverly and kept the others for herself, bringing them around her one by one. She gave an order to the bidoof that Mathew couldn't hear past David's flavorful commentary on the current situation. With no way to stop them, the cubone was helpless to watch as she seized control of the entire set.

"Dang it, we were too slow!" Randy came up to him and Joey, pulling Megan's tank behind him. "Now what are we supposed to do?!"

"Yeah, looking pretty shitty on our end, too." Mathew held up the type stone and chalk — both worthless without anything to imbue.

Megan stared down the third pair as Beverly patiently rummaged through the boxes, taking whatever she wanted at her own leisure. "Despite our breakfast food-related transgressions, it seems that a truce might be in order between the four of us."

"Maybe if we charge at her from every angle…!" As the rabbit ran around to the other end of their hoard, it was apparent that he was quite fired up over this — literally. The first few steps he took left behind small flames on the floor.

"Randy, be a little more careful!" Megan moved to knock off her lid, but Joey was on dousing duty before her. Thanks to the training sessions with David and the Pick-it Up Club, the totodile was able to fire a small Water Gun attack from his maw, launching streams of water that could easily extinguish the sparks, leaving only small black scorch marks.

"Sorry!" Randy didn't let the apology slow him down, leaping for one box. Kell moved it out of his way, causing him to faceplant. Mathew, quickly followed by Joey, both made for boxes themselves, but she didn't give them an inch, shoving aside one box to move the other with it.

"If you think I can't pay attention to two directions at once, I have bad news for you," the kirlia remarked.

Megan was not impressed. "Oh, these psychic types…"

Mathew began to panic. They must have already wasted at least two minutes dealing with Kell's nonsense. How could they even begin to build like this? They needed a new plan, and fast. He and Joey weren't going to do much, but Randy seemed a little more experienced. He called for the rabbit to meet with him behind Megan's tank, leaving the other two to distract Beverly and Kell. Asking them about their plans seemed to do the trick…

"Okay, I don't know a lot about rabbit," Mathew said. "Just, like, start naming things off and we'll see what we can do with it."

"Um, sure! Well, besides fire moves, I can make fire if I get angry and run around… I have thick fur so I don't get cold all that much… I'm gonna evolve into a cinderace soon—"

"Wait. You evolve into cinderace?"

"...Yeah, I'm a raboot."

"You're kidding!" That rabbit looked like a soccer player, and this rabbit looked like an emo! How could one possibly evolve into the other? Mathew tried to ignore that — the logic didn't have to make sense. What mattered was that now he knew… "So you've gotta have a nasty kick, right?"

"Yep! There was this one time where Megan needed to get out of the pond super fast, so I just went in and kicked her out!"

That gave him an idea. "Randy, do that to me right now," he said before briefly explaining, "If you launch me over Megan's tank, we might be able to catch them off guard and steal some back."

Randy didn't seem so sure. "Uh, you sure about that? You might get—"

"Nah." He knocked on the side of his skull mask. "I've got protection. I'll be fine."

"Okay, your choice…" The two got into position. Some paces away from the tank, Mathew curled up into a ball, Randy walked himself back, and…!

"...So I'm figurin' this little weapon will come out just fi—what the heck?!"

Beverly's cry came too late. By the time the others had noticed the cubone cascading through the air, he had already tumbled into a box's side. Wasting no time, he grabbed it, clutched it to his chest, and started running. Mathew felt some pressure from Kell's attempt to take it back, but her psychokinesis wasn't strong enough to wrest it from his grip. "Box!" he shouted in victory.

"Double box!" Randy had taken advantage of the distraction to steal another box from the hoarding team. The four made a beeline for the other end of the circle.

"And would you look at that!" David exclaimed. "With some quick thinking, the other two teams have taken some of the parts back for themselves! But will it be enough to build something proper in fifty six minutes…?"

"Hang on a minute," Kell started to complain. "Randy kicked Mathew to do that, right? I thought fighting was banned."

David winked. "Not exactly a fight if they both agreed to a single kick in the back, don't you think?"

Mathew was happy to hear the two grumbling behind them.

Once they were confident that they were out of the range of Kell's psychokinetic abilities, the two groups set down their spoils. "Alright, so we got…" Randy's joy from their successful steal slowly faded. "A bunch of screwdrivers? And a crappy magnet?" He presented both of these. "What are we supposed to do with this?"

Mathew, meanwhile, was just as unsatisfied. "Damnit. I could've sworn I grabbed the right one…" The cubone was met with a number of metal and paper scraps. Now that he was getting a closer look, there also seemed to be a bucket of pencils and some full blank sheets of paper mixed in there as well. All great things to have, but it wasn't what he was really looking for.

"Well, looks like we've gotta—"

"Now, let's pause for a minute," Megan finally piped up, using a mechanism in the machine to raise one of the arms and grab attention. "Randy, I am not sure if we should be relying this much on the other team to succeed. Remember, the ultimate purpose of this game is to demonstrate our best and most unique abilities. We cannot do so if we are standing in the shadow of others."

"...Are you sure about that?" Joey asked. "I reckon a company would prefer we show off our good teamwork skills."

"If working with the opponent is an aspect the judges are looking for, then we've surely already proven our competence. It would make sense to impress with our other traits now."

Randy pondered this. "Well…I'm not really sure how much I can do on my own, but I think you're right, Megan. We'll get this one on our own. Let's go!" He charged off, leaving Megan to roll after him.

As he and Joey were left to their own devices, Mathew began contemplating what Megan had said. The ultimate purpose of this game…

Now that he was thinking about it, why was he going for the inanimate objects box, anyway? It was surely the quickest and most effective method to making a weapon, thanks to the functional benefits of type stones, but was doing this fast what these judges were actually looking for? Surely not Mr. 'You have to take a five-minute break my way' over there — he'd want him to do it right!

"Okay, Joey, new plan," Mathew turned and told him.

Joey seemed confused. "We had an old plan?"

"Yeah, but—" Eh, that's what he gets for not explaining his idea before he ran off. "Well, we've got a plan that both of us can do now." He pulled two pencils and some paper. "Want to help me come up with a weapon from scratch?"

"Pulling into the ten-minute mark, our teams seem to be well under-way!" David remarked. "To my right, Beverly and Kell seem to be finalizing their plan and design, readying to use the resources they claimed right at the start of the game. To my left, Randy and Megan are looking for a speedy comeback to compensate for the lost time. Fittingly, Mathew and Joey are right in the middle…"

Hey, aren't you on our side? Why the hell are you making us sound like we're middle-of-the-road?! Mathew wanted to tell David. Fortunately, a shift of his already-irritated glare seemed to do the trick. The decidueye did not move from his odd position, with a wide stance and spread wings that blocked his view of the audience, but his commentary did shift focus.

In Mathew's hand was a sketch he made of the concept the two of them had worked on over the past couple of minutes. Thanks to his lessons on the subject, Mathew had caught that imbued poison type stones could create both generators of toxic fumes and coats of poison lacing. This had given him an idea: a small pistol with a tiny bayonet that could both fire a cloud of poison and pierce for a controlled insertion. Since the energy from these stones seemed to automatically adapt to the object, like how the bugle horn only fired leaves when blowing into it, assembling the weapon would be as easy as putting together a barrel, a trigger with a guard, a grip, and a blade, and the imbuing process would do the rest of the work for them.

The weapon-making process was going swimmingly…up until somebody waited to voice his concerns with his idea until after he had finalized his sketch. "Seriously, Joey, you agreed to all this not five minutes ago!" Mathew said to him as he let David do his thing.

"Well, yeah, I know, but…I've been thinking. Ain't a gun gonna look… kind of silly, being carried around by a pokémon?" Joey asked. "I mean, I know a move called Water Gun and I don't really need a pistol."

"Of course it'd look silly to a pokémon, Joey — they don't know what real guns are! That's why it'd catch them by surprise!" Mathew explained, somewhat exasperated.

Joey seemed to take a few seconds — Mathew figured to find something else to complain about. "...I reckon a weapon this small would barely fit in the hands of folks like David. Wouldn't it be better to make something any ol' schmuck could use?"

"Oh my god." The faultiness in Joey's logic was starting to piss him off. "It's a prototype. If it only works for us, it isn't gonna be a big deal. I'm sure the judges over there won't mind if it's not a fully finished product in an hour." He sighed, waving the sketch in front of Joey's maw. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Beverly, his equal, chatting passionately with Kell, laying out multiple sheets of paper on the floor to demonstrate their tool. "Joey, I already finished this and everything. Redoing it would waste time. Can we please just agree to the gun?"

"It's just…I don't know! Something about it just doesn't feel right."

"Well feelings aren't going to get us anywhere! I'm pretty sure I'm the one with the degree here, so I would know, don't you think?"

Joey seemed on the cusp of firing back with some retort, but thankfully, he kept it to himself.

Mathew gave a sweeping look to the audience around him. Far in the back, he could see Jermy and two taller figures staring at him. They couldn't afford to look like they were goofing off. "I'm gonna give you ten more seconds," he asserted. "If you can't give me a new idea instead of poking at an idea that's already done, then we're going to do the gun."

Joey would only let five seconds pass before giving in. "Alright…gun it is."

Things had gotten intense, going into the twenty-five minute mark as announced by David. The pen-and-paper phase had long since ended, and now each of the teams were hard at work with their projects.

Randy and Megan were basically washed out, from what Mathew could see — with her tank only being able to do so much and his intelligence only going so far, the two hadn't been able to commit to anything greater than the cubone's original plan. In Randy's hands was a basketball, coated an icy blue by the haze surrounding it. Each time the raboot bounced it, the ball left a tiny coat of ice on the floor. It was cute, but much too easy and impractical — not to mention how poor the two just standing around with a "finished" product must make them look to the judges.

Now, the real threat was the other engineer in the room, paired with the psychic. Every time Mathew looked their way, they seemed to be going back and forth between their imbuing circle and their boxes, linking up more and more poles of wood and iron. He wasn't sure what their plan was, but whatever they were planning to put on top of that stand was bound to look impressive.

Which means Mathew…would have to…gah! Dammit! He had screwed up with this handheld deep hole drill. He knew that spinning this steel cylinder manually was going to be a hack job compared to the equipment back at home, but he couldn't accept a hole that looked this bad, even if he didn't have to worry about firing a solid object through it. "Joey!" he exclaimed, putting the cylinder aside and reaching an arm towards him. "Can you get me another steel cylinder?" Two seconds passed. "Joey!"

"I hear you, I hear you!" The totodile was digging through the tools box again. "What kind of steel cylinder are you talking about? These big ones or these little ones?"

Mathew groaned. "The inch-and-a-quarter rod. The one I showed you just two minutes ago. There's like three of them in there."

"Well, sorry, they all kinda look the same to me!" Joey planted a rod into Mathew's extended hand.

"Wh—Joey, the other cylinder! This one is too big!" Mathew couldn't understand it. He had given Joey the simpler part of the job: hand him the equipment and objects he needed to make each part, and hold on to the parts that were already finished, which so far was only the core, the blade, and the storage compartment for the stone. Yet somehow, Joey couldn't seem to hold on to any of the things he told him. Where the hell was his brain right now? This was embarrassing — the whole judge panel was watching them bumble around.

Grimacing, Joey took it back and gave him another one. "Is this the right rod this time?"

"Yes, Joey, thank you," he snapped, grabbing it for himself. "Please remember the parts I tell you about next time."

Joey didn't seem to take that well. "It ain't easy to keep up with all this when the time limit's making you snappier than a rattlesnake snacking on a mouse."

"Yeah, it's almost like making a gun takes a lot of time," he remarked. "Time that we can't afford many screwups with. I thought you said you liked cowboys — surely you should know a thing or two about how guns are made!"

Joey shrugged. "Maybe if I remembered where I learned to like cowboys from… And why you'd know how to make a gun," he mumbled snidely.

Mathew scoffed. "Oh, fuck off. We're not doing this in front of a crowd." Desperate, he tried tuning Joey out and focusing aligning the cylinder with the drill. At this point, Mathew would've preferred that 'fight for it' comment to be literal. It was becoming far too apparent that David, Demurke, and whoever else they had gotten to help them had scrambled together some scrap, grabbed right off random conveyor belts, and called it a day. No wonder Randy and Megan had taken the 'easy path' — this game was devoid of any actual professionalism.

Between this mess of a weapon, the time limit, the judging eyes of the crowd, and Joey choosing now, of all times, to be a hard-ass, Mathew felt like he was going to blow a gasket. At least this is as bad as it gets…

At about forty-five minutes into the game, it got worse.

"It's the moment you've all been waiting for…" David said, hyping up the crowd. "Iiiiiiiiiit's the attack phase! Direct attacks are now legal!"

"What?!" Mathew began to panic. "Shit!"

Though he had been working hard to finish as quickly as possible, the gun was not yet finished. A finished, albeit shabby barrel had been welded to the core at its back and to the blade at its top, and a grip had been made, but the two parts still needed to be combined, not to mention imbued to the stone. Mathew tried to pick up the pace, but welding was no quick task, especially with what he'd been given. He had to get this done, not just to meet the deadline, but to avoid what was soon coming next. Surely, as soon as somebody finished their weapon, they would be smart enough to try to destroy the work of those who aren't—

"Mathew!"

For the first time today, Joey proved himself helpful to Mathew. The cubone had just enough time to grab the gun parts and leap away from the fiery attack lobbed his way. There was an almost eager roar from the audience at the passing of this first missed blow — it must have been the most interesting thing they've seen since Kell's box strategy.

Mathew stumbled to his feet. "Hey! I thought we had a truce, asshole!" he exclaimed. He probably should be lighter with his tone around a crowd, but by this point Mathew barely cared.

"That truce ended some time ago," Megan, rolling up next to the raboot with the icy basketball in one of her tank's arms, reminded him. "And even if it hadn't, we would need to find some way to impress the judges. We aren't stupid — we know we're behind."

Right. They finished their joke of a weapon a long time ago… That had slipped Mathew's mind, as most things seemed to do when he was riled up. "Well, if you want to go catch up, why don't you go wreck Beverly and Kell's turret or whatever? It'd probably — gah!" Mathew couldn't finish his sentences with a rabbit going for roundhouse kicks right to his head. He managed to dodge one, but the second hit him on the side, rattling his mask. In retaliation, Mathew pushed Randy away while his foot was still off the ground, toppling him over.

"Mathew!" Joey said again. "What should I do?"

I don't know, which one of us has super-effective attacks? Mathew held his tongue. Considering Joey had been stumbling around for the past hour like a drunken man at midnight, maybe it'd be better if he stay out of it and not screw things up. Instead, he used the brief reprieve to firmly chuck the gun parts towards Joey. "Don't let him mess with these!" he ordered. Joey caught them and held them to his chest.

Turning away from Randy quickly proved to be a mistake. All it took was the searing pain of an Ember spat against his back to remind Mathew of how his last fights had ended. He was going to feel terrible after this, but he was not letting him break this gun.

The cubone charged at the rising raboot, hoping to ram into his chest with his hefty skull mask. Mathew made contact, but Randy's stance proved too firm to knock over this time. He felt Randy clutch the horns of his mask as if he were a raging bull, leaving him unable to move away from the prompt knee to the chest. Mathew doubled over, finding no breath with which to scream in frustration.

Fucking hell! he wanted to cry out as he straightened up and swung with his club. Randy crouched down and leapt high into the air, far out of his reach.

This asshole is relentless, the weapon isn't finished… He brought up his club to block, preventing Randy from hammering down from above. Unfortunately, Randy decided to bounce over him instead, landing a punch to his already seared back.

Joey isn't helping, David's making a show out of this… Mathew spun around widely, striking Randy in the process. He grunted in pain, but it did little to stop his onslaught. Randy's entire body caught aflame, and he leapt towards Mathew, scorching his front as much as the floor beneath him. He wailed in pain.

Jermy, Demurke, and the others didn't teach me nearly enough to win a fight…! As if this battle couldn't go any more poorly, Megan used some controls at the bottom of her tank to fling the basketball towards Randy. He wasted no time catching it and throwing it right at Mathew. The cubone felt an immense chill overtake his right arm as it was coated in ice where the ball made contact. In seconds he was losing feeling, weakening his grip on the club.

And the worst part is… Weakly, he assumed a stance as Randy went in for yet another attack. I have to do all this shit to get some peace and quiet because of crap that's not even my fault—!

"Y'all cut this crap out right now!"

Randy came to a stop as he eyed Joey, his expression becoming nervous. "Oh shoot…!"

"Joey, what the hell are you…?!" Mathew's question died upon seeing him. The totodile was carefully gripping both halves of the gun, holding them together as if they were one. At this distance, it looked like Joey was holding a fully functional weapon that could fire bullets…and he was pointing it straight at Megan's tank.

"Take another step and your fish friend's gonna be flopping around on the ground," Joey said, trying to sound intimidating.

The crowd dulled into a murmur. Even David stayed quiet, letting his bluff play out. Mathew nodded to him in affirmation — this was good. Great, even.

"Okay! Okay!" he exclaimed. "I'll back off. Just…don't hurt Megan, alright?" Randy took several slow paces away from Mathew, almost stepping on the loose basketball in the process. Taking advantage of the respite, Mathew moved his club into his left hand and used the sharp end to chip away at the block formed around his arm. Some strikes later, the ice fell from his arm and shattered on the floor. He flexed his mitt-like hand, miffed but satisfied for the moment.

Megan stared at the barrel pointed her direction with…almost disappointment. "How tragic." Suddenly, she pivoted towards Mathew with an unfittingly sagely tone. "With what little my gaps in memory let me know about you, I thought you were a preacher of peace and kindness in uncertainty. I thought that, after what happened, you would've kept trying. Unfortunately, it seems…"

Mathew's mind tuned out the drivel that was Megan's monolog as he was overtaken by that same memory from before.

"I am trying, Mark! I am trying with everything I have to make things better for the both of us!"

"Then why do you keep yelling?!"

There was something within him at that moment — something deep — that Megan had just snapped. That desire to be civil and nice…that part of him that restrained him when faced with these sorts of situations…Mathew could almost hear it break under the pressure of both his past and his stress. And left in its place was only pure, unbridled rage.

At almost lightning speed, he sprung towards Megan and, with his left hand, swung with all of his might, aiming to crack her right back. The magikarp stared back at him, mortified — between them now was a large, firm crack.

"You want to say that again?"

Megan didn't even get a chance to reply — already he was turning around, knowing the godforsaken rabbit was going to come to her defense. Seeing him scooping at the ground, he turned his weapon to the other end and pointed it straight forward. When Randy threw, Mathew jabbed, poking a hole right into the icy basketball. It hung onto the sharp end of his club like a coat on a rack, deflating in seconds.

"Gah!" Randy exclaimed in panic. Mathew flung the hunk of rubber away, turning it back around as he ignited himself once more. They charged at each other, but he was faster, swinging directly at the raboot's face. The hit was clean enough to make him stumble.

He could see it all now — Randy was tired from fighting so hard, but he was only just getting started, pulling from reserves of strength he didn't even know he had. Good — he wanted to take this kid down.

He lurched forward, bashing him with his armored snout, following up with swings to the chest. Randy tried to escape, but there was none to be found — Mathew just grabbed his lengthy, floppy ear and pulled him right back. Firmly in his grip, he whirled him around. He planted his feet firmly and held him forward like a meat shield. "Joey. Water Gun. Now."

Joey complied. A torrent of water burst onto the fire type, causing him to wail in pain. "Okay! I'm sorry! Trucies! Trucies!" he begged.

"You're calling trucies now?" Mathew seethed. "Haven't you been following the plot?" He turned himself, keeping Randy to his back. "Traitors get what they fucking deserve." In one swift motion, he threw Randy over his shoulder. He yelled and crashed to the ground, after which he groaned and did not get up.

"Geez, look at that, Kelly. What kind of good worker goes bonkers that fast…?"

Mathew turned towards the other team, the one who thought they could get out of this if they just stayed quiet. A ridiculously long-looking javelin had been attached to Beverly using some wrap. One look and the cubone felt confident he could break it. "You bitch! This is all I have left…and you want to ruin this for me…" He wasted no time in charging at them.

"Kell, I think I ticked him off!" Beverly cried.

"You think?!" A glow came over the javelin as the very annoyed Kell aligned her focus. She moved something along the side of the javelin that Mathew didn't care enough to know the purpose of. He swung at the blade of the javelin, but Beverly leapt back and left Mathew with only air to hit. She dropped her stance and pointed the javelin right towards him. Suddenly, the weapon began to surge with static before concentrating at the tip and firing straight at him…and promptly bounced right off of him.

Beverly gasped. "Kell!"

"Sorry, wrong type!" She used her power to flip a switch on the side again.

Mathew tried to use the opportunity to get another blow, but he quickly found his chest poked and prodded as Beverly made jab after jab. "Ha! Ain't this a page from your book, Mathew?" In tandem, she turned and whacked Mathew from the side, making him stumble. To finish it off, the javelin now became damp, channeling a water attack she wasted no time unleashing upon the cubone.

Mathew screamed, tumbling onto his back. The familiar, searing pain of the watery attack overcame his whole body. It wasn't enough to stop him. He got to his feet and—

BOOM.

Whatever psychic ability Kell had just unleashed upon him, it was rather explosive. Mathew was sent cascading across the circle. That…might be enough. Everything ached. His arms, his legs, his hands, his head…all of it came crashing over him at the same time. He had pushed himself to his limit, beyond his limit, and had still met crushing defeat.

But the worst part? It wasn't even the attack that did him in. With trembling hands and knees, the cubone had shocked the audience, rebuilding his stance. Legs, lower back, upper back, neck…

That was when the dizziness kicked in. It was the last thing he felt before everything went dark.