Cruise ships had a jail as it turned out. Or brig, since things had dumb names on a ship. It was a single cell, completely blue and covered with thick padding. A single slab of blue cushion hung from the wall atop a metal frame to act as his bed. There was actually a separate room for the toilet, which was novel for a cell, at least. It was not covered in blue padding, which Cashe felt defeated the purpose of his room being padded at all.
It was not long after punching Steven Stone III out that a sailor showed up with a Machoke to escort him to the brig ‘to cool off’. Surprisingly, it was not within the bowels of the ship, but was sequestered away on one of the upper passenger decks, not too far away from a set of stairs that led to the bridge.
His escort, Charlie, was refreshingly casual about the whole situation, more curious about what Cashe thought of the tournament than the circumstances of his detainment, not bothering to take Cashe’s pokeballs from him or even his drink. Charlie had led him into the cell and closed the door behind him. It was padded, like the rest of the room, with a small window so he could see out into the hall.
“You’re a trainer. You battle tomorrow, yeah?” Charlie said through the door.
“Yeah.” Cashe said.
“Know what time?”
“One I think, in the afternoon.” Cashe’s head was still spinning from Mr Maple’s revelation and perhaps the alcohol in his drink, which was still in his hand. The ice in it had long since melted, causing the colors to mix together into a brown slurry. Still tasted good, though.
Charlie nodded, “Someone will be by in the morning then, to bring you there. Might have to bring you back too, depending on what the captain thinks.”
“Right,” Cashe sighed, “That’s fine.”
“Hey, buck up, champ,” Charlie said with a good natured grin, “I’ve got the day off tomorrow, so I’ll cheer you on. You in the stadium for your battle?”
“I think so,” Cashe rubbed his aching head, “Main stage.”
“You’re kidding? You some kind of big shot or something?”
“Or something,” Cashe said with a wry smile.
“Ah. Fighting a big shot then,” Charlie nodded, “I get it. Any idea who that’ll be?”
Cashe’s smile thinned, “Steven Stone III. Not official yet, but he told me he was planning on choosing me with his selection.”
Charlie’s mouth popped open, his face a picture of surprise, “That’s a big shot and a half. You actually met him? What’s he like?”
“Well, I punched him in the face, so I’m going to say he’s a bit of a dick.”
“No shit,” Charlie laughed, “That was Steven Stone III?”
“Yeah.”
Charlie laughed even louder, even his Machoke looked amused, “Well, I think he might regret picking you for his opponent. You gonna win?”
Cashe met Charlie’s eyes with a smirk.
***
The tunnel to the stage was dark, only lit by the flickering fluorescent bulbs that ran in long lines along the ceiling of the metal hallway. It was bare, painted in a fading off-white and only occupied by Cashe and his escorts.
Charlie was there, dressed in his formal blues, having volunteered to be his escort after learning the circumstances of his battle. His second escort, Tommy, was equally laid back and Charlie’s brother. Charlie had had convinced him to volunteer since they would get ‘the best seats in the house’. Both had Machokes and both Machokes held Cashe loosely by his arms as they marched down the hall.
They walked in silence, their footsteps the only sound created by the five of them. Charlie and Tommy couldn’t stop smirking at each other, clearly having a blast at the pantomime. As they neared a set of stairs at the end of the hall, the dull background murmur of the ship was drowned out by a growing fervor of sound. They came to the bottom of the stairs, stopping below a glowing red light attached to the ceiling.
The noise grew, the sound of eight thousand voices rising up and forcing its way through to the tunnel. The dull echo of an announcer reverberated off the walls and through the hall, making his words impossible to comprehend.
“Any minute now,” Charlie muttered.
The light about them turned yellow and the Machoke pulled Cashe to the side of the hall. At the top of the stairs, a pair of doors burst open, filling the hall with light and an explosion of noise. A figure walked through, silhouetted by the harsh light of the day outside the hall.
“-zing battle ladies and gentlemen, as to be expected from the daughter of-”
The doors swung shut, muting the hall once again and cutting off the announcer’s breathless patter. The harsh light of the day gone, the silhouette at the top of the stairs revealed itself as Emilia Oak wearing a fitted, sleeveless runner’s top and a tight pair of cargo pants. It was a much more appropriate outfit for a battle than Cashe’s own rumpled shirt and shorts. She grinned when she saw Cashe pinned against the wall of the tunnel.
“Missed my battle!” She accused, stepping down the stairs.
“Sorry, been a bit tied up.” Cashe said, glancing at his captors, “How’d it go?”
Emilia chuckled at the pun, “Is that a serious question?”
Cashe shook his head, “Not really.”
“They treating you alright?” Emilia nodded to the Machoke holding him in place.
“My idea,” Cashe said. He attempted to shrug, but it was difficult with two Machoke holding him in place, “Taking advantage of the situation.”
"Looks like it,” Emilia smiled, “They’re going to call you romantic and unstable by the end of this.”
“As long as they call me a winner, I don’t care.”
“Good,” Emilia nodded, “Catch up later?”
“Yeah, I probably don’t have time now.” As if to emphasize the point, the light above them turned green, “Looks like I’ve got to go.”
Emilia gave him one last smile and stepped out of the way, heading back down the hall so Tommy and Charlie could bring him up.
“Dude, you know Emilia Oak?” Tommy whispered as they climbed the stairs.
“Is that who that was?” Cashe said.
Tommy shook his head, glancing at his brother, “This is gonna be crazy, man.”
Charlie smiled smugly, “Told you.”
The brothers stepped forward, opening the doors. Light washed over Cashe, causing him to squint. The crowd roared at his reveal, screaming their approval, their noise constant and chaotic. Cashe stumbled as the Machoke holding him moved forward before he recovered from the glare.
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“And here he is, folks, Apollo Cashe, Blood Money himself! You’ve heard the rumors and they might be true! He’s being escorted by League security!”
The crowd roared again, this time punctuated with whistles and boos. Cashe frowned, not sure if the announcer was lying to play up the situation or if he were simply uniformed.
“But can our challenger stand up to this vile cretin’s assault? He comes from a family of famous trainers, he’s said to be on the same level as Emilia Oak! You know his name, you’ll love his face, ladies and gentlemen, I give you our challenger, the people’s trainer, STEVEN STONE!”
With the announcement, the world finally came into focus for Cashe. He was at one end of the stadium, elevated and standing on the huge, main battle stage. Around him, the towering stands were filled with people. A huge display hung above the stadium, displaying Cashe as he was dragged across the arena. The audience shouted and bellowed as the doors at the far side of the stadium burst open, revealing the smiling figure of Steven Stone III.
He had dropped the smug exterior and looked the part of a proper trainer. He had a form-fitting unitard on with a pair of well ladened shorts over top of it. A belt of pokeballs wrapped around his waist and a much more moderate pair of sunglasses rested on his face. He waved to the crowd and smiled at the cameras, even greeting a few reporters with blown kisses and corny finger guns. Cashe felt a stir of satisfaction when he saw his smile looked slightly strained, the right side of his jaw swollen and asymmetrical.
The Machoke dragged Cashe to the edge of the battlefield, dumping him on the floor to the cheers of the crowd. Camera's swiveled as Cashe stood, adjusting his rumpled clothes and shaking off imagined dust from his body, presenting for all his worth the air of casual nonchalance.
The Pokemon League official for the match approached Cashe. It was Official Borek, instantly recognizable from his bald head and impressive mustache.
“What’s this?” Borek said once he was close enough for Cache to shake his hand. He had to lean in close in order to be heard and Cashe was able to see his eyes flicker to the Machoke and sailors behind Cashe.
“Got brigged last night,” Cashe said.
“And they dragged you out here?” Borek frowned in disapproval.
“Part of the show,” Cashe said.
Borek nodded, understanding filling his face. No doubt he was used to the theatrics of professional battles. “Okay. Single battle rules. Two pokemon. Substitution counts as a faint. You listen to me under all circumstances, if I rule the fight is over, it’s over. Understand?”
Cashe gave him a curt nod.
“Any questions?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Choose your pokemon now. Wait for my signal to bring it out.”
Cashe nodded again and Official Borek made his way across the battlefield. Cashe felt the pokeballs on his belt. He had briefly looked up Steven Stone III’s trainer profile on the pokenet yesterday after he revealed himself. He had three known pokemon, and it was unlikely he had caught more before the start of the tournament. Meditite, Charcadet, and Pawniard. All were rare pokemon with unknown moves and abilities, and all could present problems for Cashe if chosen as Steven’s lead. Furthermore, he had no idea which two Steven registered as his pokemon for battle in the tournament.
He frowned. Bulbasaur would have a disadvantage with all three pokemon. Charcadet and Meditite had the type advantage over him and Pawniard would be nearly impossible to poison, plus attacks against it wouldn’t be very effective. Mankey it was then. She was naturally faster than all three of Steven’s pokemon and she had a neutral or better matchup against two of the three pokemon.
Cashe gripped her ball and pulled it from his belt, letting it expand to fit his hand. Across the stage, Steven plucked a ball from his belt as well. Official Borek walked to the center of the stage and waved a hand in the air. That was the signal.
Cashe tossed his pokeball forward, unable to help himself, shouting, “Mankey, I choose you!”
Mankey emerged from her ball, landing on the stadium and scuffing the surface nervously as the crowd shouted around her.
“Trainer Apollo is using Mankey as his lead pokemon,” the announcer boomed over the speakers to the cheering crowd, “and it looks like Trainer Steven is not too happy about that.”
It was true. Steven Stone III had a nasty scowl on his face at the sight of Mankey coming out. That could only mean one thing. Cashe grinned as Steven tossed out his own pokeball. A flash of red light slowly coalesced into a small humanoid shape. It stood at height with Mankey, only a foot tall, and looked like a tiny child who had tried to make armor out of his parent’s knife drawer.
Pawniard had blades on both its hands and a third mounted on its helmet. Its armor was spiked with silver blades as well and its skin was red beneath it.
“Oh, Pawniard. That is unfortunate for Trainer Stone,” the announcer said over the speakers, “It looks like Trainer Apollo has the early tactical advantage.”
Borek moved to the side of the stage and fiddled with a device wrapped around his forearm. He raised his hand in the air, drawing the attention of both trainers, and the crowd.
Mankey tensed, turning her focus to the stadium and her opponent. Pawniard lowered itself and raised its knife-like hands. Kadabra at the edge of the stadium raised their hands, a nearly invisible barrier appearing at their fingertips. The noise from the stadium around them disappeared.
“Trainers, prepare for battle,” Official Borek’s voice was clear with the reduced noise, the announcer’s voice dimming to a quiet murmur, the crowd’s jeering all but gone. He swung his hand down, “Fight!”
“Let him come to you,” Cashe murmured to Mankey, “You’re faster, but be careful.”
“Mankey.” Mankey confirmed.
“What’s wrong, Apollo?” Steven taunted from across the stage, “Not so brave now that you can’t sucker punch me?”
“How’s your face?” Cashe said, “I was trying to improve it but I see I’ve failed and only made you uglier.”
Steven snarled as a young reporter laughed and the cameras closed in on his face during the exchange. He pointed at Mankey, “Pawniard, attack. Use Iron Head!”
Pawniard ran across the battlefield, its head beginning to glow with a silver light. The little pokemon was fast, but Mankey was faster.
“Mankey dodge above using acrobatics, don’t let him touch you!”
Mankey ran at Pawniard, jumping into the air just as its head came crashing down. Mankey twisted midair, moving like a high jumper just passing over the tip of Pawniard’s bladed head.
“Mankey, Low Kick!”
Mankey lashed out with her leg, intent on catching Pawniard from behind. It was the only safe way to attack the prickly pokemon, the knives covering its chest, face and arms making an approach from the front nearly impossible.
“Sucker Punch!” Stone shouted.
Pawniard twisted as Mankey attacked, whirling around and moving its legs out of the way from Mankey’s attack at the last moment. Pawniard’s arm glowed with dark energy, its elbow catching Mankey unprepared as it spun around.
The blow landed, slamming into Mankey’s side and tossing her back.
Stone was grinning. Dammit. He baited Cashe in with that. He even hinted he was going to use it.
“Mankey, Spite!” Cashe said.
Mankey got back to her feet and howled at the Pawniard, a dark gray and purple energy emanating from her body, rushing through the air at Pawniard. Pawniard flinched as the energy hit it and it was Cashe’s turn to smile.
Spite didn’t work like it did in the pokemon games. There weren't any power points to get used up. Moves didn’t have limited uses.
But they required energy.
Spite did not lower the power points of a move, but increased the energy needed to use it. A trained pokemon using a low energy move wouldn’t even notice, but with a high energy move like Sucker Punch?
Pawniard probably wouldn’t be able to use it again.
Across the battlefield, Stone grit his teeth, “Take advantage of it standing around, Pawniard, use Swords Dance!”
Pawniard flexed, moving gracefully. Energy collected around it as it moved, closing the distance to Mankey as it did so. It was a sly trick, using the movement of the dance to get in close. Cashe could see the power building in its small body, the air sharpening to the point where it was painful to breathe. Mankey was strong but frail. If she got hit now, she would be out of the fight.
But Cashe’s grin widened, “Mankey, use Encore.”
Cashe wanted to laugh as Steven Stone III’s face went white. Mankey did laugh, an uproarious screeching erupting from her as she clapped her hands together in applause. The noise had an immediate effect. Pawniard’s attention honed in on Mankey and it swelled with pride. It dropped into a second Swords Dance, again moving gracefully, the potent energy around it doubling.
“Snap out of it, Pawniard!” Stone screamed, “It’s a trick!”
Pawniard shook a little at the sound of its trainer’s voice, but Mankey’s screeching overrode Stone immediately, lulling Pawniard into yet another dance.
“Mankey, get behind it! Use Cross Chop.”
Mankey darted around the dancing Pawniard. Steven Stone shouted orders, but they were resolutely ignored.
She closed the distance, her arm glowing with tan energy.
Cross Chop was a wild move, furious and hard to hit. But against a dancing Pawniard who wasn’t even facing the attack, it was harder to miss.
Mankey’s fist slammed down into Pawniard’s back, the devastating fighting type move quadruply effective against the steel and dark type pokemon. Pawniard was tossed across the stadium, crashing in a tangle of limbs into the barriers erected by Kadabra.
Cashe heard the crunch of bones and the snap of steel as the attack landed. Official Borek was running into the battlefield before Pawniard even hit the wall, his arm raised.
“Pawniard is no longer able to battle! Mankey is the winner!”
*****