Showdown in Big Strange

As Dennis charged closer, he lifted off his fore legs and ran on his hind legs, flailing his fore legs at Charizard hoping to hit him on the head, or the shoulder, or the other shoulder, or the chest, or the whatchamacallit on his howdoyousayit. All the while, Fluffy was laughing at how stupid Dennis looked.

Blinking a little, Charizard took a few steps back. That was another move he had never seen before. It was also very, very weird. The dragon wanted to laugh but he was in the middle of a battle. Maybe he'd laugh about it later.

Getting kicked (punched?) in the face with a hoof didn't sound too appealing to our favorite Pokemon. His quick mind ran through a number of moves before deciding on his best bet. He summoned the fire within him. He could feel it in his gut. He tugged on it like a thread and pulled it across his body. Soon, his entire form was cloaked in flames. Flare Blitz always hurt like a son-of-a-gun but Charizard didn't let it show. As fire spiralled around him, Charizard charged forth. He went to grab the flailing hooves. If he caught even one of them, or even came in physical contact with the Giraffurret, the flames would spread.

His mouth opened and he uttered a guttural roar. For his trainer. And, maybe deep down inside, his dignity.

One of Dennis' hooves was grabbed by the flaming Charizard and he caught on fire himself. Dennis started flailing around, making whatever sound it is that giraffes make.

Half out of panic, half out of trying to attack back, Dennis swung his head and neck at the Charizard, Fluffy flying off into a pile of trash that put out his flames.

Emi stood as tall as her small frame would allow when her name was called for the next match. Being the second fight meant that she would be able prove herself as a serious contender early on. Maybe then the crowd would bestow the Samurai of Justice with  respect she deserved  instead of treating her like some sort of play thing, but then again isn't every competitor here purely for the crowd's amusement? No matter what the contestants  received as compensation, prize fighting is always about what the fans take away from the experience. She had already accepted the grisly reality that she was currently fighting not for justice but the amusement of others on the condition the her wish would be fulfilled when she one. Even the most noble of heroes are entitled to be selfish once in a blue moon.
 
 
Sunflower signaled her out from across the stadium. Beaming with pride she held her chin up high waiting for the proper acknowledgement Sunflower had failed to give at the opening ceremonies. Then she was with another rainbow. Again with the rainbows, the deranged vegetable had some sick obsession with them. Emi had seen more rainbows in her day long stay at big strange then all the New York Pride Parades of her life time had to offer. Then to make matters worse she began to sing that infernal song. With the devastating blow to her self esteem Emi almost completely lost her bearings. She trembled violently in a bubbling mix of embarrassment and seething rage. It was cruel and so unfair. Why couldn't she pick on the Michael Jackson wannabe instead. This treatment was the polar opposite of what she had wanted.
 
 
In that moment she was so tempted storm off where she could scream and throw things without judging eyes, but she had left behind she childish endeavors long ago. Instead she took a deep breath, and released all her frustrations in a steady stream of air from her nose. On the surface she looked calm and ready for battle, soon that expression would sink all the way through her being. That was the way of the samurai. She walked away with grace and pride to find a adequate  vantage point. From the top of the stands she scrutinized the arena. The magnification and various sensors in her helmet allowed her to see the entire field in perfect detail and she mapped the layouts and contents of the buildings. She could even see through to the elaborate drainage system that ran underneath and the working water lines the attached to the hydrant. By time the starting rainbow would flash across the sky she will have a perfect mental map of the battlegrounds.

Alistair simply strolled out into the arena, not caring who he fought. All he had to do was blast these poor mother fudgers with lightning and that prize would be his! In fact that's just what he did. A random person in the crowd looked at him wrong and ten seconds later he was writhing on the ground, his brain nothing more than fried mush. The Ruby on his cane glinted evily as he spun it around, then leaned on it. "Sooo.. where' this fabulous little teddy bear? Backing out of the fight already?"

Charizard blinked in confusion as the outrage wore off. He stumbled out of the arena, barely realizing that he had won. The human words announced overhead were nothing but muffled garble as he leaned against a wall. His head was spinning and he could have sworn he saw little chickens flying around him. He swatted them absentmindedly with his large claws.

With one hand on the wall, he somehow navigated his way through the corridor. He heard a few congratulations (of course, he didn't know that word at all so it just sounded strange to him) and people kept on patting his shoulder or his back. One actually touched his injured wing. Charizard was sure he could still smell the piss that came from that man as the dragon snapped at his face. The pain helped Charizard snap out of confusion, though, and for that he was grateful.

No longer leaning on the wall for support, the wounded Pokemon stomped his way down the corridors. He wanted to get back to the arena as quickly as possible but he wanted to find a medical center first. Once again, maybe if he spoke Human he would have realized the man touched his wing to examine it and heal him. Unfortunately, our misguided friend had no idea where he was or what he was doing and he wound up hopelessly lost.

Charizard harrumphed, which was more like a low growl to human ears, and leaned his back against the wall. The vibrations of the clapping massaged his aching wing. He crossed his arms and bowed his head, waiting for inspiration (or maybe a map).

The detail that went into the arena was astounding. The people of Big Strange had left no resources untapped in recreating a metropolitan environment.  Both buildings were fully furnished, with working water and electric,  they were even complete with central air. It was as though Sunflower had somehow plucked a block straight out of Manhattan.  A horrifying possibility dawned on Emi as the possibility of the absurd thought dawned on her. To comfort herself, she reflected back, digging through archives of the uncountable  settings of her heroic adventures. These buildings were entirely unique, or at least modeled based on a place she had never been.


As the battle grew nearer she fell into the warrior's trance, a meditative state that dated back to ancient times and was passed down to her by  the previous Samurai of Justice, a fellow crime fighter and undoubtedly  the greatest swordsman to ever live in her mind.  In this state body, soul, and machine all aligned for one purpose. In actuality, the full effect could take hold in seconds, but the feeling was so comforting she usually held on to it minutes before going on her nightly patrols.


Emi was not summoned to the arena by the five minute bell, but the loud crack of lightning. In an instant replay she traced the bolt back to its source of origin and to the victim. An innocent man lied dying on the stadium floor wreathing in pain as the remnants of life left his body. This Alistair fellow had just made a grievous error. He had revealed some of his talents to her before the fight had even started, where she had purposely concealed hers. More importantly, he had unwittingly changed the rules of the exchange. She was no longer competing in a silly game show to achieve her own selfish goals, this was real now, she was once again fighting for justice. There would be no holding back. At the start of the tournament Sunflower  had promised all the contestants would leave with their lives, but this sudden surge of motivation would test the upmost limits of her abilities to keep that promise. There was a reason she didn't have as long a list of villians in her rogue's gallery as most, when she dealt with them, she dealt with them permanently. It was bad for public relations, but her extreme methods ultimately proved to serve the greater good, and were eventually embraced by others.


Immediately after passing under the arched entrance to the arena Ursa Minor leaped at the skyscraper nearest to her. She crashed through a window panel on the seventh story and entered a diving roll that brought her to her feet halfway across the room. As she rose she brushed her right hand against the thermostat and elevator controls in a seemingly clumsy fashion. She took her stance, perfectly guarded from every angle, her many mentors had trained her well. Although she had just entered the arena for the first time, it was already as familiar as her own home. Not even the designer of this place could rival her intimacy with its layout, and she had chosen her starting point perfectly. Baring any hidden, and miraculously undetectable cameras she was completely out of the view of both her adversary and the spectators. It would force the man to blindly come in after her, in the most favorable setting imaginable, while she could perfectly view the entire scene through an array of visual inputs that would baffle lesser minds.

Locked at the request of the owner.