Chapter 8
Her gaze marveled at the splendor of the ocean vista, which was contrasted with the vivid foliage. Cruise ships and yachts blurred as they sped by. The slight rumble of her limousine was soothing as she continued to observe.
The window reflected her sandy blonde hair, complemented by her glistening pair of gold earrings. A pair of lavender eyes seemed to scrutinize her, reminding her of her obligation.
Palermo sighed.
Regrettably, she'd promised to visit the Pokémon Showcase. Just the thought of watching had slightly soured her mood. Witnessing the slow deterioration of something she had cherished was quite depressing.
Decades ago, she'd fought fiercely for merely one title, but as the competition withered, she'd easily forged a dynasty of multiple titles. Eventually, she retired out of boredom and waited behind the scenes to witness if the newer generations could reach the heights of the past.
Many of her generation had retired or transitioned into the Pokémon Contest scene, which thrived with promising young blood like Wallace.
Palermo longed for the days of the past when she'd competed with her rival, who was known as the Ice Duchess. She was as beautiful and graceful as the snowfall she'd manifested onto the stage. Her platinum hair and iconic lavender gown had enchanted the region with her undisputed beauty. Sadly, she moved to Hoenn after severing ties with her family—one of Kalos' oldest families.
Her assistant's voice snapped her lazy reverie.
"Madame, we're here."
Palermo's expression crumbled as multiple cameras locked onto her window.
Dark shades shielded her eyes.
Her assistant flanked her as they hurried toward the entrance, where her old friend and host of the Pokémon Showcase was awaiting their presence behind the glass door.
"Bonjour!"
Madame Pierre wore a cheeky smile and waved at her. Luckily, her friend ordered the Coumarine staff to deter the wave of pest-like reporters.
"Oh, don't give me that frown," Pierre said, resting her hands on her hips. "It's not my fault that our rivals haven't taught their heirs to continue the arms race to expand the limits of beauty!"
Palermo noticed her flamboyant son behind her.
"It's good to see you, Pierre-"
Her friend instantly hugged her.
"It's good to see you too." Then, Pierre unnessarily added, "Oh, how much I miss your grumpy presence."
A faint frown naturally formed, unbeknownst to herself, proving her friend's point.
"I miss our girl parties."
"We're too old for that."
"Non! Don't say such things," she protested while wiping away an imaginary tear. Pierre recomposed herself and continued, "Come on, let me introduce you to your private accommodation before the theater gets crowded."
Hopefully, it's more interesting this time.
The days had faded seamlessly.
Malva was mindlessly strolling the city's streets. Her attention was drawn to the meticulously crafted limestone exteriors of neighboring buildings embellished with intricate depictions of Xerneas and Yveltal. The aesthetic contrasted heavily with Snowbelle City. She couldn't help but think about Zich, reminiscing about her stay in the wintry city.
Before she'd left, Malva saw a large cartoonish bindle resting on Zich's shoulder. Her rival told her of his impending journey to claim his gym badges, which had excited her throbbing heart. A mental image resurfaced of Zich's warm smile accompanying a lifted pinky, marking the start of a new chapter.
A promise to battle on the largest arena of Kalos.
Looking up, the sky wasn't marred by a single cloud, the golden sunlight spilled through the baby blue sky unhindered, and the modest, dense limestone forest of the city welcomed the comforting warmth.
I wonder what he's doing right now, Malva pondered, maneuvering through the obstacle course of jutting shoulders. He had said something about capturing a particular pokémon in Coumarine City. She soared over Route 21 and he traveled to Route 19, presumably to board a maglev train in Couriway Station's newly assembled fleet.
Malva heard the clamor of noise intensify in the bustling city: humming engines, rumbling footsteps accompanied by conversations, and the loud roar of construction projects in the distance. She wandered aimlessly until a crowd had gathered around a jumbotron that was erected along the walls of a well-known clothing store.
A notable woman bathed in the sudden shower of spotlights and pushed aside her luscious golden hair. She gripped her conspicuously large top hat tightly while gracefully soaring atop Aegislash.
"Bonjour, people of Coumarine City!" Madame Pierre bowed and removed her Klefki mask. "Unlike previous iterations my son shall take over for today's Pokémon Showcase!"
Spotlights pivoted to a figure descending with a spinning cane and landing with a sharp clop. "I'll be your new guide to traverse this beautiful sea of performances, Monsieur Pierre!" Jets of sparks lit around the new figure. "I invite you all at home and the audience to be a part of today's display of beauty!"
I might as well make myself cozy, Malva mused, strolling into a nearby cafe to fill her stomach. And luckily managed to acquire an empty outdoor table to watch three contestants rise from the stage.
"What type of outfit is that?"
"She's definitely going to fall behind the rest."
The crowd erupted in chit-chatter.
Malva furrowed her brow at a particular contestant. The figure's clothing was baggy, and the hood was drawn so tightly that it created a tiny hole that concealed most of the face.
"We'll witness the culmination of elegance, beauty, and inventiveness in ten minutes, revealing the most fashionable pokémon at the pinnacle of style!" Pierre addressed the audience.
Malva watched a similarly aged girl walk across the catwalk with a dressed-up Delcatty. Then, a young woman in a beautiful garment strolled beside her fellow queen, Vespiquen.
"Wow, she's beautiful," said a little girl who sat atop a Rhyhorn beside her parents. "I wonder how the next person is going to top that."
Malva drank her hot beverage when it happened.
"Finally, we have performer Hiver and her Cloyster!"
She spat her drink.
HUH!?
Did I mishear?
Icy wind flowed from the swung door. Then, a black blob in a watery bubble flew toward the camera, revealing Cloyster's smile. Malva watched an icicle gauntlet grip tightly on the doorframe before the entire suit was revealed. A figure encased in icicle armor plates held a menacing greatsword of broken purplish shell fragments.
The knight ordered his watery servant—who resembled a Ghastly—to create a frozen path by levitating across the marble walkway. After that, Hiver swung the greatsword slowly and dramatically, breaking the sheet of ice and kicking up icy particles that glimmered.
No way…
Malva cleaned her mouth.
[ "You'll be one heck of a performer." ]
Her mouth was left open as the scene turned crazier.
The ground below refroze. Hiver ditched his sword with a loud thud. The knight galvanized into action, swiftly skating across the ever-expanding ice. Cloyster flew back to its master and left behind a basketball hoop of ice.
Don't tell me…
Hiver blasted off from a ramp that had developed, heading straight for Cloyster. The bastardized Ghastly flew straight into the airborne knight's grasp; its watery bubble popped and coiled around the armor's brassard as if possessed. Miniature rivers hugged snugly along the armor before stretching outward into a pair of watery blobs.
The water froze completely—its shape resembled wings of diamonds. Twisting his body in the air, Hiver wove Cloyster between his legs. He'd fully extended his arm, drawing a parabola behind him. The audience watched silently in anticipation as Hiver loomed closer to the hoop.
Crack! Crunch!
The slam-dunking knight shattered the icicle hoop and dove through the glistening wreckage. Hiver's knees slid across the lengthy walkway as the sound of cheers and camera shutters rained down on the imposter.
The knight in shiny armor was promoted to an angel as Cloyster made a halo above his helmet. Fragments of light bounced off the miasma of reflective material surrounding him in a rainbowish aura. Hiver flared out his arms to summon a deafening choir from the theater.
Malva watched in awe.
"Incroyable! That's one way to start off the showcase!" Monsieur Pierre's cane tapped the stage as fireworks erupted before pointing to the crowd. "When I give the signal, please light up your glow sticks in the color that corresponds with your choice of who is the crème de la crème!" Monsieur Pierre counted off, "Un, deux, trois!"
Like an ocean, Malva saw a large wave of blue that swept through the crowd to crown their pick.
"The performer who is moving onto the next stage is…"
The results were obvious. Malva looked at the mostly filled hologram key that crowned Hiver.
"Its performer Hiver and her surprising Cloyster!"
Pierre and Zich dap each other up.
What…
They even know each other!?
"You really had your son do all the work."
"What?" she drawled. "I wanted to spend some time together." Pierre scrunched up her face to appear older and added, "Besides, I'm getting way too old for this taxing work."
Palmeros rolled her eyes at her friend's antics before intently looking at the ice trainer.
Interesting…
Ice trainers are as unique as the snowflakes they create.
No two snowflakes are alike.
"Oh, that's the girl my son had recommended," Pierre informed, popping up from behind like a Diglett. "Quite a good candidate for the entertainment industry, if I do say so myself."
"Don't be rash. We're only in the first stage."
"Uh-huh, sure. Your eyes are already gleaming in interest," she spoke teasingly, nudging her shoulder.
Am I?
Palmero subtly rubbed her face; regrettably, she turned to the side and saw Pierre's triumphant smirk. Her friend lifted up a wine glass. "Come on."
And naturally she caved in.
Clink.
Admittedly, the performances had been good so far, but that was to be expected and the bare minimum in such a competition.
"And now the time has come for our last performer," the host said, sweeping his hand theatrically, "Welcome, Hiver and her pokémon!"
The ice trainer's turn had arrived.
A bicorne of a bygone era was adorned to complement the girl's already absurd attire, which was unfit for such a competition. The trainer's pokémon was a Cryogonal, Cloyster, and Mr. Rime with a matching hat.
Hiver swung out her arms and was engulfed by a howling blizzard, freezing portions of the ceiling.
Palmero was quite surprised at the trainer's output.
Her and the audience were patiently waiting for what's to come. Hopefully, this wasn't the girl's entire performance…
"!!!"
An unexpected sight greeted her raised eyebrows.
Susususu—!
The looming shadow of an enormous warship drew closer by the second, a sight no visitor within Coumarine Theater would ever forget.
A three-masted warship emerged from the dense blizzard, grand and frigid, an awe-inspiring sight of its angular icy hull slicing across the mist. The sails fluttered with whimsical aurora lights, illuminating the theater's seats. The ship rumbled in activity as Mr. Rime's clones were its sailors.
Hiver spun Cryogonal like the ship's helm. The ice-type's chain-like limbs were disassembled into ice spheres. Palermo saw the "sailors" deliver these spherical objects toward the gun deck. The warship began its broadside by launching frozen cannonballs to detonate overhead.
And the ship kept sailing…
"Is it going to stop?" Palermo murmured with a hint of worry, watching signs of panic spread across the rows of people as the ship closed in. "Pierre…!"
"Anistar's barrier specialists are already on standby," Pierre said nonchalantly with arms behind her back as she closed in. "Wow…"
The ship's hull glowed with psychic energy.
It started to fly…
Rows of people urgently ducked beneath the keel.
Like a missed uppercut, the flying ship's trajectory skimmed past the dress circle of the theater, then the upper circle, before looming toward the gallery and her VIP room.
"Madame… Madame Palermo?!" The voice of her assistant, filled with a mixture of disbelief and fear, broke the nervous lull between herself and Pierre.
Pierre appeared detached from the world around her, her hand flattened against the freezing window, ready to see this sight until the end.
The awe-inspiring ship made its ascension toward the raised gallery. Palermo should've shuddered at the impending danger, but a humorous sight greeted her. The ship's figurehead was an ice sculpture with Cloyster as its head. The pokémon was grinning smugly as it showed off its chiseled abs made of packed ice.
Her booth was flanked by the shrill screams of terrified people.
However, the anticipated catastrophic collision did not occur. The enormous ship shattered into a cloud of infinitesimal fragments to pepper her reinforced window.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Cloyster's watery figure grotesquely expanded. Water tentacles burst from the enlarged bubble. Mr. Rime was seized by one of its whip-like appendages, and before he was swung, he spewed a feeble flame onto her window, melting the frost. With Mr. Rime still in custody, Cloyster spun wildly in circles. Palermo saw streaks of fire glide across the audience like wavy ribbons as the crowd cheered.
Hiver landed on the stage after riding a spinning Cryogonal. She turned her back to the crowd and swung her thumbs over her shoulders, showing off a jacket—worn like a cape—bearing the insignia of Snowbelle City. Her remaining pokémon appeared in a flash. Mr. Rime dizzily stood by his trainer's side with a spinning Cloyster on his finger. All the while, Cryogonal crossed its chain-like limbs to bask in the photo shoot.
The audience boomed.
"Hiver! Hiver! Hiver! Hiver!"
Palermo couldn't help but genuinely clap in applause.
She had made up her mind and walked to the exit with one thought in mind.
Recruitment.
"Where are you going?" Pierre cheekily inquired.
"I don't like admitting when you're right, but I'm interested," she said, pushing aside the guarded door.
She traversed the labyrinth of hallways when a loud ruckus bounced off the walls, grabbing her attention.
"We're eating good tonight." A boy had his arm slung around Mr. Rime's shoulder. "Tell em to bring me my motherfukin money!" The two happily skipped across an empty hallway.
"Hello, do you know where the dressing room is?"
The worker looked up at her with a sweaty red face with soaked white hair. "Over there, then take a left," he informed, pointing directly behind him.
"Thank you."
"No problem, ma'am."
The duo continued to skip past her.
"Revives are on me, bud!"
Palermo stifled a laugh, shaking her head at the worker's antics. He probably won a bet or something akin to that.
Upon arriving, she saw the door sign, "Dressing Room," confirmed its correctness, and waited patiently on a bench. The familiar creaks signaled the departure of individuals, and she heard the faintest of whimpers. As many dejected performers crossed her line of sight, she'd invited them for consolation and provided sound advice.
Time ticked down.
The ice trainer was nowhere to be seen.
She is already gone, isn't she…
Zich greedily smelled the fresh bills, ignorant of his appearance. His iconic white hair looked like a drenched towel.
"Hello, Hiver." Malva's inquisitive tone brokered no room for escape.
"Heh-eh… H-Hello, Malva," he stuttered, carefully placing the money back into the briefcase. "I didn't expect you to pick up so fast."
"I always do unless you call at midnight, you night owl."
Zich gasped, "Says you." His expression signaled an offended look. "Aren't you the one watching videos and movies at 2 or 3 in the morning," he retaliated.
"Nuh, uh… Mrs. Hiver," she spoke in a smug tone.
Zich winced and turned silent, turning his head away from the camera.
"It's heartbreaking for a winner of the Princess key to not recognize her only fan," she drawled, exaggeratedly resting a hand atop her forehead. She also added a fake whimper to reinforce her facade. "Oh, my heart aches, you big meanie."
"Diantha would be embarrassed at your piss poor performance," he countered.
Malva gasped, "W-what did you say? Besides, you don't even know her."
His hand became a phone.
"Ring-ring. Hi, Diantha, sorry for the interruption," Zich momentarily paused, taking a glimpse of her. "Can you do me a favor and call your best friend and teach her the fundamentals?" Zich glanced at his fingers like a manicurist on the phone. "Mhmm… that's what I'm saying—click!—See, Malva."
Malva rolled her eyes. "I don't think I was that bad."
"So, what were we talking about again?"
Perfect, Malva thought, excitedly rubbed her hands together.
She grinned evilly while repeatedly clicking her pen. "Interview time. Now spill it," she gushed, flipping through her notebook.
He gave a bombastic side-eye. "Of course, I should've expected this. Fine, what's the first question."
"I'll be easy on you. Out of curiosity, why did you join the Pokémon Showcase."
"I lost a bet."
"…"
"Huh?"
"Wuh?"
"Was it Pierre?" she asked, tilting her head while tapping her chin with the back of her pen.
"Oh, no, no, no, much worse." Zich's expression crumbled.
Who could it be?
"Let's just say this prick looks like a shiny Larvesta."
Huh? What is that suppose to mean?
"Expound, maybe?"
"Nope," he crossed his arms into an X. "I won't budge on this one, please," his tone emphasized the last portion of his statement.
"Okay," she drawled in disappointment. "I'll relent."
Seriously... a shiny Larvesta?
"We've just received a report from Coumarine City that a mysterious trainer is fighting the Alpha Variant: Dhelmise in the "Boneyard" formerly known as the battle of Azure Bay."
Who would be foolish enough to tackle such a task, Malva thought, taking a bite of her food.
Rumors of Galar's fallen admiral had possessed it.
An infamous image of Dhelmise flashed on the screen, its hivemind of seaweed and phantom tendrils entwining itself with the rusted wreckage of fallen battleships. Malva watched the resurrected battleship lurch across the bay. The ship's main battery consisted of nine colossal guns, which were luckily out of commission. A pod of whales desperately fled from the scene, and a giant bull Wailord charged headfirst into the ship.
"Hey kid! Evacuate, now!" a marine shouted aboard a speed boat flanked by a Gyarados.
Zich wore a bicorne and posed with a brass telescope atop his Lapras. "Come to Papa! My future airship!"
Malva choked on her food.
Again!?