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Big Battles Mean Big Drama: Team Nocturne versus Team Summit
For Kae.
Hokori manages to line up a match between the Nocturnes and the second-best Senior team in the PCA, the Summits! But problems arise between Weaver and Hokori and to make things worse, the Meanies are in the audience!
Trouble and drama galore as the Nocturnes and Summits clash! Be there! Or else Weaver will beat me...
Hokori manages to line up a match between the Nocturnes and the second-best Senior team in the PCA, the Summits! But problems arise between Weaver and Hokori and to make things worse, the Meanies are in the audience!
Trouble and drama galore as the Nocturnes and Summits clash! Be there! Or else Weaver will beat me...
Category Story / Pokemon
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 65.5 kB
Big Battles Mean Big Drama: Team Nocturne versus Team Summit
&&&
Weaver was spending her off time by herself, which was fairly normal for the loner drowzee. Ishtar had an appointment with the Squirtle boys of Team Shellshock. After an incident involving Weaver and copious amounts of glitter, she resolved to stay far, FAR away from them when they were feeling ‘creative.’
As much as Weaver loved spending time with her significant other, having a few moments to herself was enjoyable too. She closed her eyes. It gave her time to unwind, time to relax…
“WEAVER!” An overly excitable, energy-filled voice called out. Weaver clenched her eyes closed and hoped he’d go away. Maybe he wouldn’t find her…“WEAVER…Hey Weaver there you are!” René beamed as he discovered her hiding her face behind a book. “I’ve got big news!”
Too early in the morning to bother reading René’s mind…or whatever passed for it, Weaver felt obliged to ask. “What? Did you finally manage to work your way up from the training bra to a big girl’s bra?”
“Too mean.” René mumbled. “Hokori’s looking for you. You guys have a match coming up.”
“Hmmm?” Weaver grunted, half-way interested. René turned his back and fluffed his tails in annoyance.
“Of course, if SOME mon can’t bring themselves to be nice and—URK!” René wheezed as he found Weaver’s yo-yo wrapped around him and wound tightly.
“Spill it sunshine.” Weaver ordered.
René grimaced. “All right. The Nocturnes are facing Team Summit.” Weaver blinked, as much as a response as she let herself show.
“They’re the second-highest rated Senior team in the school.” Weaver mused. They were also the team comprised almost entirely of the Student Council members. If Ishtar, Student Council Treasurer, wasn’t with Team Kismet all the Council members would be in the Summits. Still, Ishtar was close to Team Summit and friendly with several of its members.
That would make things…interesting.
“I know.” René nodded, unaware of Weaver’s musings. “Isn’t it cool? When I bumped into her Hokori could hardly stop, she was so happy…and so proud. She’s really worked hard to get you guys this shot.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Weaver deadpanned. “If you don’t believe me all you have to do is ask her.”
René started babbling again but Weaver wasn’t listening. With a flick of her wrist she unwound her yo-yo, which fell back into her palm with a faint slap. This also had the bonus affect of spinning the hapless vulpix away.
Weaver trudged her way out of the library and into the training room Hokori usually had the Nocturnes meet. Sure enough Hokori, Zeke, and Boris were already there and waiting on her. Hokori shot Weaver an annoyed look for being late but didn’t press it.
“Now that we’re all here,” Hokori said glancing slightly in Weaver’s direction. “I think we should start preparing for our match against Team Summit. I want to schedule a series of practice’s before the battle at the end of the week. We’ve all got things that we need to work on so I suggest we get started as soon as possible.”
“Weaver, if you could—”
“I know how to battle, Hokori.” Weaver said bluntly. Hokori glared at her. Boris rolled his eyes upward.
“Here we are going again.” The koffing sighed.
“This is a team, Weaver.” Hokori stressed. “We’ve all got our parts to play—”
“—And I always carry my own weight.” Weaver interjected.
“And that’s saying something!” Zeke sniggered as perched on top of a locker. Everyone ignored him.
“This is an important match!” Hokori said to Weaver, holding onto her temper with both hands. “This is huge! We’ve had to work HARD to get this shot at the second-best Senior team in the school! I’VE had to work hard! I sacrificed a lot to get here Weaver, so did the rest of the team. I’d be nice if you could appreciate that once in a while.”
“Rest assured I will treat this match with all the importance it deserves.” Weaver said as she got up. “I know my own strengths and weaknesses well enough Hokori. I don’t need someone else telling me what they are. I work harder than anyone here always picking up new skills—”
“—which you never bother to TELL me about so we can actually plan on how to make the best use of them!” Hokori exclaimed.
Weaver regarded Hokori steadily. “I can make best use of my attacks MYSELF. Just watch.”
***
The day of the match came. The arena’s seats were packed with students, including friends and well-wishers as well as your more general run of the mill fight enthusiast. The teams took up their positions on opposites side of the arena.
Vice Principle Perjan, his eyes hidden behind his thick glasses walked into the center of the ring, carrying a microphone. “Students! Today we have a very special match between two of the Poke-Combat Academy’s best teams! Please give a big hand to Team Nocturne…” he waited a moment for the cheers and applause to subside. “…And Team Summit!” The accolades redoubled and it took even longer for them to subside.
“For our first match…” Perjan announced. “Rapshad Ezekiel Kroo the Second versus Snoseppe Georgio!”
“Aww right!” The eyeless punk-looking zubat crowed as he flapped into the ring, his large abomasnow opponent, better known as Snowy Gorgeous, approaching from the other side, waving as he did so.
The two combatants took up their positions. Perjan looked at them. “Ready…begin!”
“Okay little freaky flying dude, I promise this wont hurt…” Snowy grinned as cracked his knuckles. “MUCH!” He launched an Ice Shard attack. Zeke barreled out of its way, cackling.
“Have to do better than that!” He flapped his way up so that he could look down on the abomasnow…that is if he were capable of sight. He extended his wings out and brought them together quickly as he used Air Cutter.
Snowy brought up his arms to protect himself, but still shuddered under the impact. Snowy looked annoyed as he saw tufts of fur severed by the attack and falling to the floor. “If that’s how you want to do it…” He said as he unleashed Icy Wind.
Zeke was buffeted and tossed about by the extreme winds, flapping just to keep his scrawny body in the air. Struggling against the wind, Zeke still managed to fire off a Supersonic attack. Snowy stumbled, disoriented.
Smiling, Zeke dived. Snowy made a fist and nearly took his head off with an Ice Punch, only narrowly missing the zubat. Zeke flew off again. He was getting frustrated. “Hold still!” Snowy snapped as he attacked with Razor Leaf.
Whirling around the snarky zubat grinned. He flapped his wings as hard as he could, creating Gust. The razor-edged leaves Snowy had sent after Zeke wavered and were soon blown away…right back at the surprised looking abomasnow.
“Aw cra—” Snowy had just enough time to say before his own attack struck him, knocking him out. The audience blinked, not expecting things to go down that way.
“Um…the first round goes to Team Nocturne!” Perjan announced, breaking out of his stupor. Scattered applause rang out, soon building as the shock wore off.
Clearly, this wasn’t going to be your run of the mill battle.
Snowy came to about a minute later, rubbing his head. He was undoubtedly a little disappointed about losing but seemed in good spirits when he made his way out of the arena, with Zeke in tow.
“For our next match…” Perjan paused. “Albrecht Arnaaluk versus Dreamweaver Hipnough!”
There was a lot of excited murmuring as much beloved Student Body President Albrecht “Al” Arnaaluk entered the ring from one side…to be met by the much less beloved (though not by René!) Dreamweaver “Weaver” Hipnough student body…tapir.
René cheered loudly when Weaver got into the ring, waving like a goof. Sam wished she had picked a seat somewhere else.
Al caught Weaver’s eye. Weaver nodded so they both understood. Both of them were friends of Ishtar and neither wanted this to turn overtly ugly. Professionalism would rule the day here.
The articuno winked and gave a grin that had just about everyone who saw it sighing in contentment. Al was a dashing and handsome articuno, with good humor and charisma to spare. He bowed to Weaver a noble gesture that would’ve been seen as forced or over the top coming from anyone else.
“Ready…begin!” Perjan shouted.
Al smirked. “Time to bring in the cold!” He unleashed Hail. The entire arena’s temperature dropped as a hailstorm pummeled the arena and Weaver along with it. But the tapir hardly budged. Ishtar was familiar with ice attacks and thanks to her, Weaver was no stranger to them either. Plus it didn’t hurt that she was, hmm, ‘well protected’ from the stinging cold.
After enduring the cold Weaver decided to turn up the heat. Her arm burned with the power of a Fire Punch as she charged across the arena—her heavyset physique belied the fact that she could really move when she wanted to—and introduced her fist to the side of Al’s head.
He stumbled back, shaking his head. Weaver came after him again so Al decided to put some distance between them. Sprouting from his back emerged a beautiful pair of large blue wings. Al flew to the sky where the earthbound drowzee couldn’t reach.
Al smiled. She really was quite good. “But let’s see how she handles this!” He fired Hyper Beam at her. Weaver countered by using a Psybeam. The two attacks collided in midair, exploding on impact.
“Go Weaver!” René cheered from the stands.
Elsewhere in the stands sat another mon who was busy watching the drowzee in awe. Karen Shiitake, a medicham and fellow psychic looked on in amazement as Weaver battled on against the legendary Student Body President. Unlike Karen, Weaver knew what she was about and what she was doing. There was a strength to her that Karen deeply envied.
Oblivious to her thoughts were her fellow Meanies Anthony and Stuart. Anthony was cheering on the chaos and explosions shouting out advice and what HE would do in either Weaver’s or Al’s place to anyone who would listen—which was no one, but that didn’t seem to stop him. Karen tried to avoid looking at Stewart. She really didn’t want to know what he was doing.
Weaver panted. This was a really draining battle and Al wasn’t willing to lie down and be defeated. She shivered from the aftereffects of a Sheer Cold attack. Still swooping above the tapir’s head, he would dart from here to there, sporadically attempting to either dive-bomb Weaver or launch an attack. She tried her best to bring him down and had even managed to strike a more than glancing blow or two when he dived too low. But he still circled over her head like a bird of prey.
Al was panting as he flew overhead. On his last dive-bombing run Weaver managed to hit him with a Thunder Punch, a move he was flat out not expecting. While his last attack, an Ice Beam, had managed to give him some breathing space he still needed to bring this battle to a finish.
An idea struck him. Al pressed her arms and wings to his side and plummeted down at Weaver like a speeding missile, prepared to crash into her head-on. Weaver quickly used Lightscreen to head off the impact she thought was coming. But Al had no intention of smashing into her.
At the last possible moment he opened his wings swooshed just over Weaver’s head. He was so close that he could’ve reached down and grabbed Weaver’s uniform bandana off her head. He snapped around and fired off a Hyper Beam, point blank, into Weaver’s unprotected back.
Caught by surprise Weaver didn’t stand a chance. The Hyper Beam blasted her out of the ring. This match was over.
“And the winner is… Albrecht Arnaaluk!” Perjan announced. Among the cheers and applause, Al made his way over to the downed drowzee who was shaking her head and sitting up.
“You alright?” Al asked with an easy going grin as he offered a hand. Weaver grabbed it as he helped haul her up.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Good match.”
“Good match.” Al echoed as he nodded. “That’s saying the least. You were VERY impressive out there Weaver. Half the senior class couldn’t match your performance. By the time you’re a senior you’ll be ruling the roost…so to speak.” He grinned. “You take care.”
“Same.” Weaver nodded as they both made their way out of the arena.
“Shame she didn’t win.” René sighed. “But I thought she fought excellently! But so did Al.”
“He’s not a bad fighter.” Sam was gracious enough to allow, though not without adding: “For a guy.” She was a believer in the truism that the female was the most dangerous of the species. Of course, she was a mantis. In their primal days, a female mantis would mate with a male mantis…and then bite his head off.
Unsurprisingly, even today scythers and scizors have a low birth rate.
Karen meanwhile was stunned. She was a bit disappointed when Weaver lost but was even more taken aback by how she dealt with the loss. Karen lost so often—that is, always—that it was all she could do not to break down and cry after each defeat heaped on her shoulders. The sense of letting the team down, letting Anthony down…Karen expected Weaver would be upset that she lost. But she wasn’t.
Weaver was calm she was composed. She did her best and had lost. Nothing to be ashamed of. But to Karen it was a revelation.
She was so lost in her ruminations that she didn’t even see the next two opponents get in the arena: Boris Koffinov and Tuscany Plio.
René, for his part, had little to with either of them. Boris was a great stony-faced mon whose entire body-language seemed to say ‘Leave me alone or else.’
Tuscany however was another story. René was usually the type of mon who would try to talk to her. He had a desire to seek out emotionally troubled or broken girls and try to help them. It was, arguably, one of his more feminine traits. Besides the underwear thing.
Tuscany though, he had never gotten anywhere with. Partially because of how little time he had ever been in close proximity to her. But mostly because he could barely make out what Tuscany ever said. Of course he wasn’t missing much by not understanding her; when Tuscany said anything at all, it was seldom pleasant anyway.
When Perjan started the match Tuscany gave a grin that was anything but friendly and pawed the ground with her foot.
She Roared at Boris and used Scary Face…or maybe that was just her default look. It was hard to tell. She charged at Boris, her head lowered and her tusks pointed straight at him.
Boris stepped back and used Smog, blanketing about half the arena with thick purple smoke. Tuscany didn’t quite stop but she did slow a bit as she started coughing. Eventually she had to come to a stop as the air grew thicker and thicker. Her vision swam, fading in and out and eventually going out.
Pumping out some Toxic—if highly volatile—gas, Boris had effectively encased Tuscany in a thick murky cloud. Some in the audience ventured to guess that his strategy was to knock her out with gas attacks. They didn’t see what would come next.
The boar wasn’t the type to easily lay down and quit. Deprived of her vision she still had her fantastic sense of smell. Odor Sleuth let her regain her bearings and find where Boris was, standing just outside the edge of the smog field. Tuscany charged at him. Boris heard more than saw her coming and tried to stop her, or at least slow her, with Flamethrower.
But when the fire attack came into contact with the gas, it combusted. There was a loud, fast flash of heat over which Tuscany’s bellow of rage and pain could be heard. The explosion dissipated most of the gasses, leaving Tuscany once again visible to the audience.
Tuscany breathed heavily, not so much out of strain but out of simmering barely repressed fury. Patches of her fur was charred black by burns and her uniform was liberally coated with soot. But her eyes were afire, brighter and more dangerous than anything Boris had done.
Tuscany was pissed.
She bellowed and charged Boris so quickly that the startled koffing barely had time to move. The enrage mamoswine pummeled Boris with Double Hit. She grabbed his right in one of her massive hands. He feebly tried to pry her hand off but it was futile. Tuscany then grabbed his wrist with her other hand and with quick decisive SNAP! broke Boris’ arm.
The sickening crack echoed across the arena, even as Boris pain-filled wail soon followed. Not yet done, Tuscany tore into Boris pummeling in with all her furious strength, venting her anger on his battered form.
From the sides, Al screamed at her. “Tuscany! STOP! That’s ENOUGH!” The koffing had already been beaten into unconsciousness. But Tuscany didn’t show any sign of stopping until Gweneth calmly said in a low voice.
“Tuscany. Enough.” Panting heavily, Tuscany let go of Boris, letting him collapse onto the ground with a moan.
“The winner is Tuscany Plio.” Perjan said in a subdued voice as Nurse Rocco hurriedly rushed onto the field to ascertain Boris’ condition. He had to be carried out on a stretcher.
Perjan cleared his throat, clearly wanting to move on past the…unpleasantness. “And our final match is…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Gweneth Li versus Hokori!”
The audience hung on the edge of their seats and leaned forward to get a better view. Seeing a ghost battle was always worth watching—save for Anthony’s fights—and Gweneth was scarier than any ghost.
Possibly, one of the strongest things that could be said about Gweneth Li was that René—who would eagerly be friends with any girl in school—avoided her like the plague. She fairly permeated uneasiness and disgust: Cold and icy as death and twice as unpleasant. Compared to her, Stella’s sluttiness, Nikki’s bitchiness, Tenebra’s rages, and Nubia’s grope-happy hands seemed positively benign.
Frail and fragile looking, Gweneth didn’t look like someone who belonged in the ring…something the mortality-minded glalie might have agreed with. But she was no pushover. Her ice attacks are incredibly solid, more than enough to make up for her own fragility.
Hokori’s abilities were not to be dismissed either. Being a ghost she was often vexed by physical attacks and like Gwenth attempts to avoid them. Unlike Al and Weaver’s match, there was no warmth between these opponents. Gweneth was simply incapable of it.
“Begin!” Perjan announced.
Hokori’s purple eyes enlarged, her pupils shrinking. She levitated herself off the ground as she readied her attack; her ghostly hair raised and started swaying as if in a non-existent breeze. She then lashed out, shooting a Dark Pulse at Gweneth…who immediately countered with an Ice Beam that met and impacted Hokori’s attack midway between them, in the dead center of the ring.
The attacks glowed and flared as each tried to force its way through the other, neither one making much headway. The audience leapt to their feet and cheered the awesome spectacle, delighted. The cheering died away after a minute or so when the display showed no signs of change. Another minute crawled by. Then two more. Soon five minutes had passed with no apparent change. Neither Hokori nor Gweneth had moved and their attack standoff continued.
This impressive feat, while taxing and requiring incredible strength and endurance from both opponents, did not make for the best of viewing. “Come on…do something already!” Anthony whined loudly from his place in the audience, for once capturing the thoughts of a large chunk of those around him. Of course HE could never have equaled Hokori’s feat if his life had depended on it.
“Wow.” René blinked as the minutes crawled by with neither Gweneth nor Hokori moving an inch, their respective attacks being evenly matched. “They’re good.”
“I think the best fighters are those who don’t rely on their abilities.” Sam shrugged. “I think non-elemental types make for the truest fighters.” She said, being one herself.
“A purist, huh?” René raised a brow at her.
“Look.” Sam snorted. “There are so many ‘fighters’ who just stand back at the edge of the ring and blast away at their opponent by shooting water, breathing fire, farting lightning or whatever it is they do. Few really know how to integrate their abilities in a way that DOESN’T make them a crutch. You know that glalie girl is scared to death of actually having to rely on her own physical strength and mix it up. That’s why she’s made her ice attacks so strong.”
“If you say so.” René said simply not knowledgeable enough to draw that conclusion for himself. “You should like Tuscany then.” René suggested but if anything that observation made the mantis-girl even more disgusted.
“She’s even worse. She’s not a fighter…she’s muscle-bound thug. That might mean she has a career as a bouncer ahead of her, but not a real fighter. A fighter is in control of themselves, mind and body. She’s just a raged filled creature, ruled by her emotions. A throwback.” Sam snorted.
René found that a tad cruel but in large measure accurate. Another ten minutes crawled by leaving the audience bored and Gweneth and Hokori struggling to maintain their strength. Finally, Hokori’s limbs started growing heavy and she had to divide her focus between maintaining her Dark Pulse and fighting her fatigue.
Gweneth ruthlessly exploited Hokori’s growing tiredness. She quickly dropped her Ice Beam attack and out of nowhere attacked with Blizzard. Hokori never saw it coming. Caught by surprise and already tired, she was knocked out of the sky and hit the ground, hard. The battle was over.
“And the winner of today’s match is…” Perjan declared. “Team Summit!”
There was a lot of applause from the audience from the great show. Even the Nocturnes were showered with no little praise.
But there were also recriminations. “Why didn’t you TELL me you knew Thunder Punch?” Hokori demanded of Weaver. “We could’ve developed a better strategy so maybe you could’ve beaten Al and we would’ve gotten a draw…”
“Says the ghost who got beat by the tiny ice chick with the horns.” Weaver snorted. “Hokori, don’t tell me how to fight my battles.”
“Cause you did such a good job at beating him today!” Hokori couldn’t help herself from pointing out.
“You know I deliver more often than anyone else.” Weaver stated flatly, her nose crinkling in annoyance. “Now if you don’t mind, boss,” she stressed the word. “I’m going to find Ishtar. I’ll see you around.”
Hokori’s shoulders slumped, her face a mixture of anger and disappointment. “All that work…”
Meanwhile…
“Pfeh! I could’ve beaten those Summits easy.” Anthony snorted, still in cheerful denial of reality as Team Meanies made their way out.
“I thought they did very well.” Karen spoke up as she turned to watch the Nocturne’s leave. Even in defeat they displayed more dignity and more confidence than she ever did. She thought about mentally reaching out to Weaver but held back. “I can’t…I just can’t.” She whispered to herself. Karen wished she could, but she just didn’t have the courage to reach out and talk to someone to be her friend…let alone a mentor.
René saw all this transpire as he made his own way out. He saw the medicham girl and licked his lips. “I wonder…”
&&&
THE END
All characters (except for René and Sam) are © to Kae
&&&
Weaver was spending her off time by herself, which was fairly normal for the loner drowzee. Ishtar had an appointment with the Squirtle boys of Team Shellshock. After an incident involving Weaver and copious amounts of glitter, she resolved to stay far, FAR away from them when they were feeling ‘creative.’
As much as Weaver loved spending time with her significant other, having a few moments to herself was enjoyable too. She closed her eyes. It gave her time to unwind, time to relax…
“WEAVER!” An overly excitable, energy-filled voice called out. Weaver clenched her eyes closed and hoped he’d go away. Maybe he wouldn’t find her…“WEAVER…Hey Weaver there you are!” René beamed as he discovered her hiding her face behind a book. “I’ve got big news!”
Too early in the morning to bother reading René’s mind…or whatever passed for it, Weaver felt obliged to ask. “What? Did you finally manage to work your way up from the training bra to a big girl’s bra?”
“Too mean.” René mumbled. “Hokori’s looking for you. You guys have a match coming up.”
“Hmmm?” Weaver grunted, half-way interested. René turned his back and fluffed his tails in annoyance.
“Of course, if SOME mon can’t bring themselves to be nice and—URK!” René wheezed as he found Weaver’s yo-yo wrapped around him and wound tightly.
“Spill it sunshine.” Weaver ordered.
René grimaced. “All right. The Nocturnes are facing Team Summit.” Weaver blinked, as much as a response as she let herself show.
“They’re the second-highest rated Senior team in the school.” Weaver mused. They were also the team comprised almost entirely of the Student Council members. If Ishtar, Student Council Treasurer, wasn’t with Team Kismet all the Council members would be in the Summits. Still, Ishtar was close to Team Summit and friendly with several of its members.
That would make things…interesting.
“I know.” René nodded, unaware of Weaver’s musings. “Isn’t it cool? When I bumped into her Hokori could hardly stop, she was so happy…and so proud. She’s really worked hard to get you guys this shot.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Weaver deadpanned. “If you don’t believe me all you have to do is ask her.”
René started babbling again but Weaver wasn’t listening. With a flick of her wrist she unwound her yo-yo, which fell back into her palm with a faint slap. This also had the bonus affect of spinning the hapless vulpix away.
Weaver trudged her way out of the library and into the training room Hokori usually had the Nocturnes meet. Sure enough Hokori, Zeke, and Boris were already there and waiting on her. Hokori shot Weaver an annoyed look for being late but didn’t press it.
“Now that we’re all here,” Hokori said glancing slightly in Weaver’s direction. “I think we should start preparing for our match against Team Summit. I want to schedule a series of practice’s before the battle at the end of the week. We’ve all got things that we need to work on so I suggest we get started as soon as possible.”
“Weaver, if you could—”
“I know how to battle, Hokori.” Weaver said bluntly. Hokori glared at her. Boris rolled his eyes upward.
“Here we are going again.” The koffing sighed.
“This is a team, Weaver.” Hokori stressed. “We’ve all got our parts to play—”
“—And I always carry my own weight.” Weaver interjected.
“And that’s saying something!” Zeke sniggered as perched on top of a locker. Everyone ignored him.
“This is an important match!” Hokori said to Weaver, holding onto her temper with both hands. “This is huge! We’ve had to work HARD to get this shot at the second-best Senior team in the school! I’VE had to work hard! I sacrificed a lot to get here Weaver, so did the rest of the team. I’d be nice if you could appreciate that once in a while.”
“Rest assured I will treat this match with all the importance it deserves.” Weaver said as she got up. “I know my own strengths and weaknesses well enough Hokori. I don’t need someone else telling me what they are. I work harder than anyone here always picking up new skills—”
“—which you never bother to TELL me about so we can actually plan on how to make the best use of them!” Hokori exclaimed.
Weaver regarded Hokori steadily. “I can make best use of my attacks MYSELF. Just watch.”
***
The day of the match came. The arena’s seats were packed with students, including friends and well-wishers as well as your more general run of the mill fight enthusiast. The teams took up their positions on opposites side of the arena.
Vice Principle Perjan, his eyes hidden behind his thick glasses walked into the center of the ring, carrying a microphone. “Students! Today we have a very special match between two of the Poke-Combat Academy’s best teams! Please give a big hand to Team Nocturne…” he waited a moment for the cheers and applause to subside. “…And Team Summit!” The accolades redoubled and it took even longer for them to subside.
“For our first match…” Perjan announced. “Rapshad Ezekiel Kroo the Second versus Snoseppe Georgio!”
“Aww right!” The eyeless punk-looking zubat crowed as he flapped into the ring, his large abomasnow opponent, better known as Snowy Gorgeous, approaching from the other side, waving as he did so.
The two combatants took up their positions. Perjan looked at them. “Ready…begin!”
“Okay little freaky flying dude, I promise this wont hurt…” Snowy grinned as cracked his knuckles. “MUCH!” He launched an Ice Shard attack. Zeke barreled out of its way, cackling.
“Have to do better than that!” He flapped his way up so that he could look down on the abomasnow…that is if he were capable of sight. He extended his wings out and brought them together quickly as he used Air Cutter.
Snowy brought up his arms to protect himself, but still shuddered under the impact. Snowy looked annoyed as he saw tufts of fur severed by the attack and falling to the floor. “If that’s how you want to do it…” He said as he unleashed Icy Wind.
Zeke was buffeted and tossed about by the extreme winds, flapping just to keep his scrawny body in the air. Struggling against the wind, Zeke still managed to fire off a Supersonic attack. Snowy stumbled, disoriented.
Smiling, Zeke dived. Snowy made a fist and nearly took his head off with an Ice Punch, only narrowly missing the zubat. Zeke flew off again. He was getting frustrated. “Hold still!” Snowy snapped as he attacked with Razor Leaf.
Whirling around the snarky zubat grinned. He flapped his wings as hard as he could, creating Gust. The razor-edged leaves Snowy had sent after Zeke wavered and were soon blown away…right back at the surprised looking abomasnow.
“Aw cra—” Snowy had just enough time to say before his own attack struck him, knocking him out. The audience blinked, not expecting things to go down that way.
“Um…the first round goes to Team Nocturne!” Perjan announced, breaking out of his stupor. Scattered applause rang out, soon building as the shock wore off.
Clearly, this wasn’t going to be your run of the mill battle.
Snowy came to about a minute later, rubbing his head. He was undoubtedly a little disappointed about losing but seemed in good spirits when he made his way out of the arena, with Zeke in tow.
“For our next match…” Perjan paused. “Albrecht Arnaaluk versus Dreamweaver Hipnough!”
There was a lot of excited murmuring as much beloved Student Body President Albrecht “Al” Arnaaluk entered the ring from one side…to be met by the much less beloved (though not by René!) Dreamweaver “Weaver” Hipnough student body…tapir.
René cheered loudly when Weaver got into the ring, waving like a goof. Sam wished she had picked a seat somewhere else.
Al caught Weaver’s eye. Weaver nodded so they both understood. Both of them were friends of Ishtar and neither wanted this to turn overtly ugly. Professionalism would rule the day here.
The articuno winked and gave a grin that had just about everyone who saw it sighing in contentment. Al was a dashing and handsome articuno, with good humor and charisma to spare. He bowed to Weaver a noble gesture that would’ve been seen as forced or over the top coming from anyone else.
“Ready…begin!” Perjan shouted.
Al smirked. “Time to bring in the cold!” He unleashed Hail. The entire arena’s temperature dropped as a hailstorm pummeled the arena and Weaver along with it. But the tapir hardly budged. Ishtar was familiar with ice attacks and thanks to her, Weaver was no stranger to them either. Plus it didn’t hurt that she was, hmm, ‘well protected’ from the stinging cold.
After enduring the cold Weaver decided to turn up the heat. Her arm burned with the power of a Fire Punch as she charged across the arena—her heavyset physique belied the fact that she could really move when she wanted to—and introduced her fist to the side of Al’s head.
He stumbled back, shaking his head. Weaver came after him again so Al decided to put some distance between them. Sprouting from his back emerged a beautiful pair of large blue wings. Al flew to the sky where the earthbound drowzee couldn’t reach.
Al smiled. She really was quite good. “But let’s see how she handles this!” He fired Hyper Beam at her. Weaver countered by using a Psybeam. The two attacks collided in midair, exploding on impact.
“Go Weaver!” René cheered from the stands.
Elsewhere in the stands sat another mon who was busy watching the drowzee in awe. Karen Shiitake, a medicham and fellow psychic looked on in amazement as Weaver battled on against the legendary Student Body President. Unlike Karen, Weaver knew what she was about and what she was doing. There was a strength to her that Karen deeply envied.
Oblivious to her thoughts were her fellow Meanies Anthony and Stuart. Anthony was cheering on the chaos and explosions shouting out advice and what HE would do in either Weaver’s or Al’s place to anyone who would listen—which was no one, but that didn’t seem to stop him. Karen tried to avoid looking at Stewart. She really didn’t want to know what he was doing.
Weaver panted. This was a really draining battle and Al wasn’t willing to lie down and be defeated. She shivered from the aftereffects of a Sheer Cold attack. Still swooping above the tapir’s head, he would dart from here to there, sporadically attempting to either dive-bomb Weaver or launch an attack. She tried her best to bring him down and had even managed to strike a more than glancing blow or two when he dived too low. But he still circled over her head like a bird of prey.
Al was panting as he flew overhead. On his last dive-bombing run Weaver managed to hit him with a Thunder Punch, a move he was flat out not expecting. While his last attack, an Ice Beam, had managed to give him some breathing space he still needed to bring this battle to a finish.
An idea struck him. Al pressed her arms and wings to his side and plummeted down at Weaver like a speeding missile, prepared to crash into her head-on. Weaver quickly used Lightscreen to head off the impact she thought was coming. But Al had no intention of smashing into her.
At the last possible moment he opened his wings swooshed just over Weaver’s head. He was so close that he could’ve reached down and grabbed Weaver’s uniform bandana off her head. He snapped around and fired off a Hyper Beam, point blank, into Weaver’s unprotected back.
Caught by surprise Weaver didn’t stand a chance. The Hyper Beam blasted her out of the ring. This match was over.
“And the winner is… Albrecht Arnaaluk!” Perjan announced. Among the cheers and applause, Al made his way over to the downed drowzee who was shaking her head and sitting up.
“You alright?” Al asked with an easy going grin as he offered a hand. Weaver grabbed it as he helped haul her up.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Good match.”
“Good match.” Al echoed as he nodded. “That’s saying the least. You were VERY impressive out there Weaver. Half the senior class couldn’t match your performance. By the time you’re a senior you’ll be ruling the roost…so to speak.” He grinned. “You take care.”
“Same.” Weaver nodded as they both made their way out of the arena.
“Shame she didn’t win.” René sighed. “But I thought she fought excellently! But so did Al.”
“He’s not a bad fighter.” Sam was gracious enough to allow, though not without adding: “For a guy.” She was a believer in the truism that the female was the most dangerous of the species. Of course, she was a mantis. In their primal days, a female mantis would mate with a male mantis…and then bite his head off.
Unsurprisingly, even today scythers and scizors have a low birth rate.
Karen meanwhile was stunned. She was a bit disappointed when Weaver lost but was even more taken aback by how she dealt with the loss. Karen lost so often—that is, always—that it was all she could do not to break down and cry after each defeat heaped on her shoulders. The sense of letting the team down, letting Anthony down…Karen expected Weaver would be upset that she lost. But she wasn’t.
Weaver was calm she was composed. She did her best and had lost. Nothing to be ashamed of. But to Karen it was a revelation.
She was so lost in her ruminations that she didn’t even see the next two opponents get in the arena: Boris Koffinov and Tuscany Plio.
René, for his part, had little to with either of them. Boris was a great stony-faced mon whose entire body-language seemed to say ‘Leave me alone or else.’
Tuscany however was another story. René was usually the type of mon who would try to talk to her. He had a desire to seek out emotionally troubled or broken girls and try to help them. It was, arguably, one of his more feminine traits. Besides the underwear thing.
Tuscany though, he had never gotten anywhere with. Partially because of how little time he had ever been in close proximity to her. But mostly because he could barely make out what Tuscany ever said. Of course he wasn’t missing much by not understanding her; when Tuscany said anything at all, it was seldom pleasant anyway.
When Perjan started the match Tuscany gave a grin that was anything but friendly and pawed the ground with her foot.
She Roared at Boris and used Scary Face…or maybe that was just her default look. It was hard to tell. She charged at Boris, her head lowered and her tusks pointed straight at him.
Boris stepped back and used Smog, blanketing about half the arena with thick purple smoke. Tuscany didn’t quite stop but she did slow a bit as she started coughing. Eventually she had to come to a stop as the air grew thicker and thicker. Her vision swam, fading in and out and eventually going out.
Pumping out some Toxic—if highly volatile—gas, Boris had effectively encased Tuscany in a thick murky cloud. Some in the audience ventured to guess that his strategy was to knock her out with gas attacks. They didn’t see what would come next.
The boar wasn’t the type to easily lay down and quit. Deprived of her vision she still had her fantastic sense of smell. Odor Sleuth let her regain her bearings and find where Boris was, standing just outside the edge of the smog field. Tuscany charged at him. Boris heard more than saw her coming and tried to stop her, or at least slow her, with Flamethrower.
But when the fire attack came into contact with the gas, it combusted. There was a loud, fast flash of heat over which Tuscany’s bellow of rage and pain could be heard. The explosion dissipated most of the gasses, leaving Tuscany once again visible to the audience.
Tuscany breathed heavily, not so much out of strain but out of simmering barely repressed fury. Patches of her fur was charred black by burns and her uniform was liberally coated with soot. But her eyes were afire, brighter and more dangerous than anything Boris had done.
Tuscany was pissed.
She bellowed and charged Boris so quickly that the startled koffing barely had time to move. The enrage mamoswine pummeled Boris with Double Hit. She grabbed his right in one of her massive hands. He feebly tried to pry her hand off but it was futile. Tuscany then grabbed his wrist with her other hand and with quick decisive SNAP! broke Boris’ arm.
The sickening crack echoed across the arena, even as Boris pain-filled wail soon followed. Not yet done, Tuscany tore into Boris pummeling in with all her furious strength, venting her anger on his battered form.
From the sides, Al screamed at her. “Tuscany! STOP! That’s ENOUGH!” The koffing had already been beaten into unconsciousness. But Tuscany didn’t show any sign of stopping until Gweneth calmly said in a low voice.
“Tuscany. Enough.” Panting heavily, Tuscany let go of Boris, letting him collapse onto the ground with a moan.
“The winner is Tuscany Plio.” Perjan said in a subdued voice as Nurse Rocco hurriedly rushed onto the field to ascertain Boris’ condition. He had to be carried out on a stretcher.
Perjan cleared his throat, clearly wanting to move on past the…unpleasantness. “And our final match is…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Gweneth Li versus Hokori!”
The audience hung on the edge of their seats and leaned forward to get a better view. Seeing a ghost battle was always worth watching—save for Anthony’s fights—and Gweneth was scarier than any ghost.
Possibly, one of the strongest things that could be said about Gweneth Li was that René—who would eagerly be friends with any girl in school—avoided her like the plague. She fairly permeated uneasiness and disgust: Cold and icy as death and twice as unpleasant. Compared to her, Stella’s sluttiness, Nikki’s bitchiness, Tenebra’s rages, and Nubia’s grope-happy hands seemed positively benign.
Frail and fragile looking, Gweneth didn’t look like someone who belonged in the ring…something the mortality-minded glalie might have agreed with. But she was no pushover. Her ice attacks are incredibly solid, more than enough to make up for her own fragility.
Hokori’s abilities were not to be dismissed either. Being a ghost she was often vexed by physical attacks and like Gwenth attempts to avoid them. Unlike Al and Weaver’s match, there was no warmth between these opponents. Gweneth was simply incapable of it.
“Begin!” Perjan announced.
Hokori’s purple eyes enlarged, her pupils shrinking. She levitated herself off the ground as she readied her attack; her ghostly hair raised and started swaying as if in a non-existent breeze. She then lashed out, shooting a Dark Pulse at Gweneth…who immediately countered with an Ice Beam that met and impacted Hokori’s attack midway between them, in the dead center of the ring.
The attacks glowed and flared as each tried to force its way through the other, neither one making much headway. The audience leapt to their feet and cheered the awesome spectacle, delighted. The cheering died away after a minute or so when the display showed no signs of change. Another minute crawled by. Then two more. Soon five minutes had passed with no apparent change. Neither Hokori nor Gweneth had moved and their attack standoff continued.
This impressive feat, while taxing and requiring incredible strength and endurance from both opponents, did not make for the best of viewing. “Come on…do something already!” Anthony whined loudly from his place in the audience, for once capturing the thoughts of a large chunk of those around him. Of course HE could never have equaled Hokori’s feat if his life had depended on it.
“Wow.” René blinked as the minutes crawled by with neither Gweneth nor Hokori moving an inch, their respective attacks being evenly matched. “They’re good.”
“I think the best fighters are those who don’t rely on their abilities.” Sam shrugged. “I think non-elemental types make for the truest fighters.” She said, being one herself.
“A purist, huh?” René raised a brow at her.
“Look.” Sam snorted. “There are so many ‘fighters’ who just stand back at the edge of the ring and blast away at their opponent by shooting water, breathing fire, farting lightning or whatever it is they do. Few really know how to integrate their abilities in a way that DOESN’T make them a crutch. You know that glalie girl is scared to death of actually having to rely on her own physical strength and mix it up. That’s why she’s made her ice attacks so strong.”
“If you say so.” René said simply not knowledgeable enough to draw that conclusion for himself. “You should like Tuscany then.” René suggested but if anything that observation made the mantis-girl even more disgusted.
“She’s even worse. She’s not a fighter…she’s muscle-bound thug. That might mean she has a career as a bouncer ahead of her, but not a real fighter. A fighter is in control of themselves, mind and body. She’s just a raged filled creature, ruled by her emotions. A throwback.” Sam snorted.
René found that a tad cruel but in large measure accurate. Another ten minutes crawled by leaving the audience bored and Gweneth and Hokori struggling to maintain their strength. Finally, Hokori’s limbs started growing heavy and she had to divide her focus between maintaining her Dark Pulse and fighting her fatigue.
Gweneth ruthlessly exploited Hokori’s growing tiredness. She quickly dropped her Ice Beam attack and out of nowhere attacked with Blizzard. Hokori never saw it coming. Caught by surprise and already tired, she was knocked out of the sky and hit the ground, hard. The battle was over.
“And the winner of today’s match is…” Perjan declared. “Team Summit!”
There was a lot of applause from the audience from the great show. Even the Nocturnes were showered with no little praise.
But there were also recriminations. “Why didn’t you TELL me you knew Thunder Punch?” Hokori demanded of Weaver. “We could’ve developed a better strategy so maybe you could’ve beaten Al and we would’ve gotten a draw…”
“Says the ghost who got beat by the tiny ice chick with the horns.” Weaver snorted. “Hokori, don’t tell me how to fight my battles.”
“Cause you did such a good job at beating him today!” Hokori couldn’t help herself from pointing out.
“You know I deliver more often than anyone else.” Weaver stated flatly, her nose crinkling in annoyance. “Now if you don’t mind, boss,” she stressed the word. “I’m going to find Ishtar. I’ll see you around.”
Hokori’s shoulders slumped, her face a mixture of anger and disappointment. “All that work…”
Meanwhile…
“Pfeh! I could’ve beaten those Summits easy.” Anthony snorted, still in cheerful denial of reality as Team Meanies made their way out.
“I thought they did very well.” Karen spoke up as she turned to watch the Nocturne’s leave. Even in defeat they displayed more dignity and more confidence than she ever did. She thought about mentally reaching out to Weaver but held back. “I can’t…I just can’t.” She whispered to herself. Karen wished she could, but she just didn’t have the courage to reach out and talk to someone to be her friend…let alone a mentor.
René saw all this transpire as he made his own way out. He saw the medicham girl and licked his lips. “I wonder…”
&&&
THE END
All characters (except for René and Sam) are © to Kae
I would guess it would depend. If it were deliberate or completely unneccesary i would imagine yes, but if it happens as part of normal combat, possibly not. As it is Tuscany just has a very rough fighting style, so I imagine it could be referee's discretion. Apparently Perjan decided on a "let 'em fight" philosophy this time around.
At this point, Tuscany sneezing could merit her a disqualification. The admins have thrown up their hands. Let the boar fight. But, if Tuscany had continued to beat Boris long after he lost consciousness, she WOULD have been disqualified. If Perjan lets the Jets get away with half the stuff they demand, I'm sure he can handle the Summits. ;>
Favorite line: <…to be met by the much less beloved (though not by René!) Dreamweaver “Weaver” Hipnough student body…tapir.> ;D
Well done, Rene. Thank you very much for the expo, and for the competent handling of the Summits (I know we don't have much to work with yet). And to everyone else, I will at some point put all of this in order. ;>
Well done, Rene. Thank you very much for the expo, and for the competent handling of the Summits (I know we don't have much to work with yet). And to everyone else, I will at some point put all of this in order. ;>
Looking at the setup, I was feeling sorry for Zeke, since Ice > Flying, but if you think about, Snowy's Grass type as well, meaning that both of Zeke's type have the advantage over that (not to mention is Ice's resistant to ANYTHING but itself). I guess Snowy's not all that bright, either. ;)
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