Re: Show-Off - Chapter 12 posted!
Sorry this has taken so long. I've been so busy. I'm breaking my tradition of posting when the following chapter is complete. I've done about a third of the next chapter but its shaping up great. This is one of the few two-part contests in the fic.
New character bios are up in The Writer's Lounge - they hint at future appearences and potential plot lines.
Please, as ever, do let me know what you think of the chapter! And remember we ARE nominated for The Silver Pencil Awards. If you think we deserve to win, do cast a vote! Good luck to any of you nominated.
Show-Off
-XII-
Fruit Bug
“And that was the brand new single from the Eevee Sisters,” came a relaxed voice. DJ Mary was sitting at her desk sipping a hot coffee. “It’s called Elemental Love and it‘s released next week. Do text in and let us know what you think; should the Eevee sisters branch into a music career?”
She played a song in the background and continued to talk over it.
“This is Goldenrod Radio and I am DJ Mary, finishing off early today since I am a guest host at the Goldenrod City contest! After Mia Mitchelson’s epic performance at the last contest there has been a definite interest in this next one. This contest features five judges in total, two appeal rounds per coordinator and has reputation for being one of the most difficult in Johto. It’s going to be great seeing all this raw talent come together in a HUGE day.”
Meanwhile, in the Mal Maison hotel, Jake had the radio station on as he sat in the spa bath. He sighed, looking out the partly-frosted glass to the city below and wondering where on earth his Pichu was. While Paras sat in the corner and soaked up the moisture in the air, Wingull perched on the corner of the bath, satisfied.
Milo was already dressed; wearing his new dark jeans with his aquamarine polo shirt over a white tee. He slid his feet into his new designer trainers and looked at himself in the mirror, admiring himself.
“Jake,” he shouted. “Get up. And turn LesboFM off.”
“Milo don’t be an ass,” Jake said, as he wandered into the living room with a towel around his waist.
“You’re not turning into a lesbian, are you?” Milo asked, laughing.
“I actually got on with Mary really well yesterday,” Jake told him.
“Was that when you went off in a strop and hung out with the Witches of Lesbos?” Milo said.
“Yes it was,” Jake replied.
“What was she saying?” Milo said inquisitively. “Is Whitney a complete vegetarian now?”
“She’s gay, if that’s what you mean,” Jake said cattily. “And Whitney said she wouldn’t go back to guys.”
“I did set the standards,” Milo muttered.
“Why are you up so early anyway?” Jake said. He was sat by the phone, about to order breakfast through room service. “You don’t need to be at the contest hall until 11am.”
“I’m going to the Pokemon Fan Club,” Milo replied.
“Oh, yea, the Reclassification stuff,” Jake said. Milo had explained everything to him yesterday following the gym match. Jake seemed nonplussed about Milo’s plight to blow the cover on the Reclassification, instead ordering a chocolate gateaux for breakfast and weeping over a photo of his Pichu.
“Are you coming to see me compete?” Milo asked.
“I’ll watch on TV,” Jake muttered. The entire contest was broadcast across Johto.
Milo was paying particular attention to his appearance today. Medicham was wearing Jake’s preppy skull and bones scarf from the National Park around her forehead, giving her a more authentic, Street-Fighter look. Despite her initial protests, and using telekinesis to bash Milo against a wall, he had ordered Medicham to appeal for one part of the contest. He was to appeal with Ruby, then Medicham, and he would battle with Scyther. They spent yesterday practicing an appeal, which looked great, but Milo had concerns that Medicham would prove a point by ruining it for him.
Ruby was pleased to be the centre of attention again, after being ignored in Eruteak. Jake had bottled a spray he made using Paras’s stun spore and a few chemicals to create a product to use on Ruby’s fur once it was styled; he added a few fruit extracts and some glitter to make Ruby look beautiful. Milo grimly watched as Ruby nuzzled Jake; those two got on very well.
Unfortunately little Totodile was slightly upset at not being included; Milo had to explain he needed to show off different Pokemon, but his words had no effect on the Pokemon, who sought comfort in Jake’s arms. Jake fed him some cake and sobbed over Pichu. Milo rolled his eyes; Medicham resented him for making her appeal, Ruby was generally not fond of her current trainer and Totodile felt neglected. All he had left was his slightly timid Scyther, who was scared of him.
“Things used to be so much easier,” Milo said, recalling Totodile and making his way into the city. Jake gave a wailing moan ([I]’Pichu LOVED CONTESTS![’/I]) and Milo left the Hotel. He wandered through the city, enjoying the fresh scent in the air. Goldenrod was quiet, as it was still so early in the morning, but he saw the Magnet Train roar through the tracks high above the roads, presumably sending people to work.
Milo made his way through the city, knowing a quick shortcut near a local bakery. He arrived at the Pokemon Fan Club and knocked on the door. In a small tree in the garden, an ugly Fearow perched, glaring at Milo coldly.
“Yes?” came a voice. The irritably boy from yesterday appeared. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Hey Assy McTwat,” Milo replied. “I have a badge from The Speed Gym.”
He got it out and showed the boy, who took it for a moment and admired it. Milo watched him read the engraving on the back and even trace it with his thin, bony fingers.
“Well done,” he said casually. “The Speed Gym has been a big hit.”
“I know Whitney’s battle style,” Milo said. In actuality, he felt Whitney’s performance yesterday was rather poor.
“While it is very impressive, The Chairman is at the Pokemon Contest today,” explained the boy. “He is one of the five judges.”
“He is?” Milo asked, frowning.
“He is,” the boy replied.
“That’s good,” Milo replied. “Because I’m competing in that later.”
“Great! You can leave,” the boy replied, slamming the door.
“You suit your name,” Milo said to the closed door. “ASSY MCTWAT!”
He turned to walk down the path, making sure Fearow didn’t peck his eyes out.
*
In Kanto, the sun shone brightly and heat pulsated from the fiery entity in the sky. At the beautiful tropical Porta Vista, on the Seafoam Islands, Mia Mitchelson sunned herself in a pearl-white bikini. She was at the Mitchelson villa by the beach; it provided her with the liberty of being out on the edge of the continent in the beautiful ocean air, while keeping away from weirdo’s.
Cleo, one of Mia’s friends, sauntered outside. She had her shades on and was wearing a striking yellow bikini.
“Just had a shower,” she said, letting the warm heat radiate and eradicate the cool droplets of water running down her smooth, tanned legs.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Mia replied lazily.
“Lily has taken the car to Porta Vista, to get some supplies,” Cleo told her. Mia just nodded. Cleo released her Seaking into the pool and let it frolic. Mia’s Chinchou was splashing in puddles while her Togetic flew in the sky happily.
“Hey, Mi!” came a cry. Mia looked to see her fourth friend, Daisy Oak, walk outside. “Come and have a look at this!”
“Daisy I know the toilet flushes automatically,” Mia muttered.
“No! The Goldenrod Contest is on TV!” Daisy said excitedly.
“Isn’t your brother competing?” Cleo asked inquisitively.
“Yea,” Mia replied. Before she knew it, the Pokemon and the other girls raced indoors and planted themselves down at the sofa. Hands on her hips, Mia furrowed her brow. Why were they interested?
“I thought you hated my brother because he never called you back,” Mia said to Cleo.
“He was good in bed though,” Cleo said distractedly.
“Mitchelson’s are,” Mia mused.
“You can’t say you’re not interested to see how this whole thing plays out?” Daisy said coyly. “I mean…if Milo can win the Goldenrod contest, maybe he could give you a run for your money.”
“He’d like to think that,” Mia said coldly. Nevertheless, after a fleeting glance to the sunny day, Mia perched herself in front of the TV.
*
“Hello coordinators, and welcome to the Goldenrod Contest,” said a rather flamboyant man. “My name is Terry Thompson. I am the ‘Show Runner’. I will be mincing around backstage like a right drama queen! They call me Terry Tantrum around here!”
Milo was bunched together with a huge number of coordinators that were all competing later that day. They were in a sort of conference room, and Terry Thompson was at a podium, wearing a glittery waistcoat over a shirt. He looked to be about forty, with receding hair and a hint of sadness in his otherwise perky face.
“Now with the current situation in Goldenrod City, there have been a number of very scary thefts from potential coordinators. The City Police have installed a very strict security perimeter around the Contest today, which is why you were all given security passes upon entering today. Keep them on you at all times and do not leave the premises. Ok?
“There are two appeal rounds in this contest,” Terry said. “And we have five judges. Instead of being given a score out of ten and getting a total out of thirty, you get a score out of twenty, and receive a score out of 100. This is also what happens under the Grand Festival regulations, so if any of you are competing there later in the year it will be great experience!
“So we have an area backstage called the Green Bar. It’s just a little relaxation area for you all, they sell Panini’s and sandwiches and nice drinks, so you can just chill out and get to know each other. Maybe share tips on coordinating?”
“Those aren’t to share,” came a rude voice. Milo turned to see the boy named Dior from the back of the room. He looked happy at perplexing Terry Thompson.
“Oh really? I thought coordinators were nice,” Terry mused. “I wouldn’t know. My dad made me chase a football career. Then I had a heart attack on the pitch. Now I can‘t run.”
“Is there anything else we need to know?” an irritable woman snapped. She had her young daughter with her, who looked far too dressed up to simply mingle backstage.
“No, no. Your numbers are all given to you and you are free to go. Please enjoy yourself and remember - this is televised!” Terry cried happily.
The coordinators spilled from the room, Milo being elbowed on his way out. He felt like he was at an awards ceremony; the Contest Hall was like a small stadium, and the set and seating was all still being put up by rotund crew members. Terry pranced off delicately as if he were walking on a bed of tortilla chips. Milo saw the frosty looking woman drag her daughter through the crowd.
“Hurry up Tamara! DO YOU WANT TO FAIL!?” came the scathing screech. She was clearly the girl’s mother; very tall, with her skin taut over her sharp features. She was in what looked like a designer yellow tracksuit, but covered in make-up. Her daughter wore a sweet little party dress and had her hair styled intricately.
“No mummy, sorry mummy,” the girl muttered. A slightly lankier, older girl followed the two, lugging a large bag around. She was pale and had scraggly hair.
“Debbie will you hurry up?” the woman snapped.
“Srymmy,” came a mutter. The girl kept her eyes locked to the ground as she followed her mother and sister.
“Oh hello,” the mother said smartly. Milo looked up to see he was being addressed.
“Hi,” he said.
“Competing?” she asked, her eyes scanning Milo’s clothes. “You don’t look like a coordinator.”
“I am,” Milo replied.
“Denise Dwight,” she said coolly, holding a hand out. Milo shook it.
“Milo Mitchelson.”
“Oh I’ve heard of you,” Denise informed him. “Your mother was a famous coordinator. I hope her talent runs in the family.”
“Oh, it does,” Milo replied.
“Yes, well yes, I mean Tamara here is an aspiring coordinator,” Denise explained. The little girl was chewing her security pass. “TAMMY!
“I’m like her stylist,” Denise chuckled.
“Ha.”
“Who are you competing with?” Denise asked rudely.
“You’ll have to wait and find out,” said Milo.
“HA! Oh you are amusing. Oh! You’re serious? Come now, why don’t we share the tools of our trade?” asked Denise.
“You mean your daughter’s trade,” Milo said. “She’s competing.”
“Yes, well yes,” muttered Denise. “Anyway we’ve just been in Violet City. It was fantastic. I don’t suppose you have been there yet?”
“Not yet,” Milo replied.
“I said to Tamara, I said it’s a very…fragrant city. What did I say Debbie?”
The pale girl piped up.
“It’s a very fragrant city.”
“That’s right,” Denise replied. “Oh. This is Tamara’s elder sister Deborah. No talent whatsoever. She’ll never be a star. I said to Tamara, I said, she’s just not got the stamina. What did I say Debbie?”
“I just don’t have the stamina,” the girl replied sadly.
“But of course Tamara is viciously talented…she can sing, dance, debate, project her voice, distract, conduct and play the cello,” Denise explained. “Debbie hasn’t the figure to do that. What did I say, Debbie?”
“It‘s my metabolism,” Debbie admitted. Her mother’s eyes widened.
“I DID NOT SAY THAT!” she roared. “God! Come. Tamara needs a power-smoothie before her performance.”
Milo rolled his eyes and grabbed a coffee, watching Denise drag her younger daughter Tamara through the crowd. The exhausted Debbie lugged the huge bag around after them, looking sheepish at speaking up. She turned to look back at Milo, giving a slightly crooked smile.
Milo had decided he was going to use Ruby for the first appeal round since it was important he got past the first stage. Medicham’s appeal would be able to take him into the battle round, he thought. He kept his eyes peeled for the Pokemon Fan Club President, but could not see him anywhere.
“I didn’t realise you were a coordinator,” came Dior’s voice. Milo looked to see him standing across the corridor with his Venonat out. Venonat’s fuzzy purple fur was brushed wildly, giving it a styled, yet ravaged look. It was holding a plump berry in its claws and nibbled it.
“Well I am,” Milo replied.
“How many ribbons do you have?” Dior asked. He wore his same black leather jacket and a white scoop-neck t-shirt underneath. He had various straps and bracelets around one of his wrists and a thick silver chain around his neck.
“One,” Milo replied.
“Same,” Dior muttered. “Goldenrod’s a tough venue though.”
“I’d worry, if I were you,” Milo said.
“Just watch that coffee doesn’t splash onto your face,” Dior replied.
“Just watch I don’t jam your ear stud into your eye,” Milo said.
“Ouch,” Dior simpered. “Very fiery. Well I’m going. I hear Gina Gourmante is competing, and I want to suck up to her.”
He walked off, Venonat plodding along behind him. Milo wondered if Dior would use his Bayleef in the battle portion or not, and whether or not he would end up facing him. This was a much bigger contest than Ecruteak or Olivine, so he wound be facing much fiercer competition.
Soon, Milo was aware that the contest was about to start. Lights dimmed in the backstage corridors and TV screens displayed the audience eagerly sitting in the crowds. This was like being in a small indoor stadium, with the audience on all sides waving banners and cheering.
“Milo!” came a cry. Turning, Milo saw Jake walking through the corridor.
“What are you doing here?” Milo asked. “How did you get in?”
“Oh, well security was really tight, you know, with the thefts and stuff,” Jake replied. “But Gina Gourmante saw me and got me in. It was very kind. Have you seen her? She’s wearing this amazing raspberry-coloured cocktail dress.”
“Lovely,” Milo said. “So you’re not upset?”
“I am,” Jake muttered. “But you need my support. And Pichu might be okay. I might even find him one day.”
“It’s good to be optimistic,” Milo said. “Good on you.”
Backstage, Jake was grooming Ruby as Milo watched the MC introduce the judges. One of them was a Nurse called Joy, who was head of Goldenrod’s largest Pokemoncenter. She was wearing her nurse’s uniform and looked very pleasant. Next was Gregory Goldstein, the mayor of Goldenrod City, who wore a black suit and had his heavy gold chain around his neck. Milo thought he looked very old, and knew that the Goldstein family were very rich. Mia and Milo were educated at the Blackthorn Academy with Gregory’s daughter Gail.
“You went to Blackthorn Academy?” Jake said, sounding highly impressed. “That’s like the most expensive school in the region! Loads of amazing people went there!”
“Gail Goldstein is fairly ugly,” Milo pointed out.
“And?” Jake asked.
“Well I…you know. I don’t really like the ugly,” Milo replied.
“You really are a dick, aren’t you?” Jake pointed out. Milo noticed he was smiling.
The next judge was DJ Mary Moore, who waved to the crowd. She seemed to have a lot of fans, and wore a green turtleneck jumper that clashed horribly with her red hair. Judge number four was the Chairman of the Pokemon Fan Club; the camera showed a cluster of fan club members in the audience wearing Rapidash t-shirts. When the final judge, a retired Gym Leader named Juan was revealed, the attention then turned to the coordinators.
Milo noticed the five judges were sitting in front of the stage this time, and looked as the rules were being explained now. The first round was a standard appeal, and the top coordinators would go on into the second round. Next, coordinators were paired up and had to face off in a contest battle to decide who would go to the next round. Those who proceeded would perform a second appeal using a different Pokemon to their first. The two appeal scores would then be added together and the two highest scoring coordinators would face off in a double battle.
Taking in a deep breath, Milo relaxed as the first coordinator took to the stage. She released a Teddiursa, who began running around crying its name.
“God, what a pathetic appeal,” came a voice. Milo saw Denise Dwight with her daughters, Tamara and Debbie. The woman, in her garish tracksuit, was perched on a step as her daughter stood. “Tamara! Are you ready to practice?”
“One…two…three,” the girl muttered. “On the goo-ood ship, loll-ee-pop…”
Milo watched the girl performed a tap dance as she sang along. The mother glared at her daughter with malice, bringing out a large pot of moisturiser and unscrewing the lid. As Tamara rehearsed, Jake tugged on Milo’s sleeve, possibly also aware that the woman was seemingly entering her daughter into the contest.
“Tuck your arms in!” the woman snapped. She scooped out a generous dollop of moisturiser and let her greedy fingers gorge in the cold, buttery substance. As her hands slipped around each other like amorous serpents, they gleaned with a greasy finish and writhed around with a slurping noise.
“That moisturiser is really expensive,” Jake noted. “Look how much she’s applying!”
“She should at least put some on her face,” Milo hissed back. Jake giggled.
“How am I doing mummy?” Tamara asked. “Tap-tap-tappa…tappa-tappa-tap…”
“Hang on,” the woman said, picking up her phone. “Hello Jeremy DAHLING. Yes. Yes. No! Yes. She’s practicing now. No, she can’t speak.”
“Is it daddy?” the girl asked, walking to her mother.
“KEEP PRACTICING!” bellowed the mother. “Jeremy really, you are distracting our daughter. She’s already slipped from ‘Utterly Fantastic’ to ‘Eye-Gougingly Average’ in my books, and I go easy on the girl! Tamara darling, try the song out. And a-one, and a-two -”
“I wanna be -
Bobby’s Girrrrrl
I wanna be -
Bobby’s Giiiirl
That’s the most important thing to meeeeeee.”
“Oh Jeremy, she sounds wonderful,” the woman said. “I have to go. They’re announcing the scores and I need to see how the judges are judging. And we’re low on that moisturiser I like. Get some.”
“Is it just me, or are some of these coordinators a bit weird?” Milo asked. He said this as the Teddiursa appeal got a measly 20 points out of 100. Next up was a boy whose Machoke picked up one of the judges and twirled him around exotically. Juan looked increasingly frustrated as he flailed against the Machoke’s strong grip, explaining his fear of heights.
“Good going, Machoke!” the coordinator said.
“PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT OR I GUARENTEE YOU WILL GET A ZERO FROM ME!” Juan screamed.
Milo laughed as the Machoke trainer got a very low score. He looked at his number, number five, and realised he was actually going to be on soon. Jake said Ruby was all ready, so Milo recalled her and walked from the relaxation area to the back of the stage.
The third act was a mildly interesting appeal involving a Skarmory; the trainer had it unleash a swift and whirlwind combo to hurtle the stars through the air, before it used air cutter to chase and slash apart the projectiles. It made Milo uncomfortable seeing a similar appeal to his own but, after appeal number four, he took a deep breath and walked onto the stage.
“Our fifth coordinator…please welcome Milo Mitchelson!” cried the MC. Applause rang out as Milo stepped onto the stage, gripping Ruby’s Pokeball. The stage was so much longer and wider; Milo was fully aware of the applause dying down as he walked to the centre spot. Clearing his throat, he arched his arm back and summoned Ruby. Bursting from her Pokeball she landed softly on the arena and stood for the judges attention. They seemed impressed by her beautiful appearance.
“Start off with a swift attack!” Milo ordered. Nodding, she blasted a flurry of spinning golden stars through the air. Milo saw the judges look slightly uninterested in another swift appeal. “Then use fire spin!”
As her jaws were swathed in curling flames, Ruby unleashed a spinning jet that hit the ground and whipped up in the centre of the arena. As gold and scarlet burned passionately, embers launched from the vortex and danced to the ground. The swift stars hurtled around the blistering fire attack.
Milo recalled battling Mia on Pua Samoa, and her recently evolved Ninetales’ use of Will-O-Wisp; lavender and periwinkle coloured flames that caused serious burns. In the heat of the moment, Milo deduced the flames she created were hotter, and burned brighter, causing their colour.
“Ruby concentrate on burning hotter flames,” Milo said. “Like a Will-O-Wisp.”
Ruby clenched her jaws and summoned fire. She spent longer swirling the flames around her body, perhaps to let the heat rise. Milo also knew fire Pokemon could adjust their body temperature, so Ruby was perhaps raising that, too. Suddenly she let out a roar and a hearty blast of blue fireballs exploded into the fire spin. Streaks of blue and purple melded among the attack and gave it a haunting look.
“Now go in for extreme speed!” Milo shouted. In a blur Ruby sped into the attack, bursting from the other end as flames trailed past her body. Swift stars sped behind her and the fiery twister lost its shape and faded into the atmosphere. Ruby used a thunder fang to send sparks coursing across her fangs as her entire back half was cloaked in stirring flames. She posed to the crowd, who applauded wildly. Embers danced around her.
“Thank you Milo!” cried the MC. “Now for the Judges scores!”
“A brilliant appeal,” said the Nurse. “It was a beautiful mix of colour. I give you 16/20.”
“Very solid,” Gregory Goldstein declared. “15/20.”
“I don’t think you had control over the fire,” Mary said coldly. “That, for me, highlighted a serious problem with the appeal. I’m giving you 9/20.”
Milo’s heart sank at the unfair score from the scathing DJ. She folded her arms coolly and leant back in her chair as Milo did the maths in his head. Luckily, he was saved by the next judge.
“Arcanine!” moaned the Chairman of the Fan Club. “Beautiful! Regal! Amazing…soft…wild…19/20!”
“Thanks!” Milo said. Mary looked as if she had chewed a wasp.
“As an ex-water Gym Leader, I like to incorporate style and sophistication into my battles,” Juan said, in a slightly French accent. Milo wondered if Gina would try and pick up tips on how to sound French, or even if Juan was similarly putting this dialect on. “So there are many water appeals I find dull and lifeless. Instead, I was met with a grand display of fire and theatrics; it was very well executed. I loved the juxtaposition between Arcanine’s elegance and ferociousness. I give you 17/20.”
“That gives Milo a total of 76 out of 100!” the MC announced. Milo received a rapturous applause and left the stage with Ruby. As he walked into the relaxation area Jake was clapping happily. Milo walked over, but found Jake was congratulating Ruby’s efforts more than his.
“Weren’t you just great?” Jake said, scratching her ear. Ruby closed her eyes and moaned softly.
“Creep,” Milo replied.
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