Second Round
[Forward-dated to Saturday night.]
What a peculiar predicament.
He was aware that was an understatement, but then, he was an understated sort of person. At least, the side of him underneath his projected persona. One had to be, to survive as he had in the dregs of society and still rise back to the top, unscarred. His days of association with those of ill repute were long past, a brief chapter of his life that he had discarded like an unwanted hand. Yet during that period of time... Gambling wasn't the only sin he had encountered. Underneath the shiny facade of the League and the Gyms, there was a separate world. One where battles didn't solely take place between Pokemon, one where Tabunne was nowhere to be found when your Pokemon was on the verge of death. There was a reason places like Celestial Tower existed. There was a reason Alder had spent years of his life seeking answers.
Why did he train the Dark type? All strategies were just. All strategies were fair. If you lost, all you could do was understand your shortcomings, overcome them, and return to attain victory. That was the meaning of all battle. That was the meaning of becoming the Champion.
.......He turns the photograph of his Pokemon over and over in his hands, barely even glancing down as he takes sip after sip from his wine. He listens in on every conversation, he hears the resounding cries of those who believe in absolute good, he hears the disdainful taunts of those who assign no value whatsoever to life.
By day's end, he has progressed to brandy. By the next day, vodka. And by nighttime, after returning home from a trip downtown, after quietly making a few inquiries from the drones, he has made his decision.
In a place where death held no sway... What was stopping him from aiming to become the very best? Like no one was, is, or ever would be.
[action, for Finland]
[It is nearing midnight as Saturday comes to a close. At 336 Brady Lane, the residents may receive a rude-wake up call - not a knock on the door, but the sound of a gunshot, ringing out through the air. Grimsley's voice follows shortly after, and though his words come loosely and improperly enunciated, they are spoken with every semblance of the confidence borne of being one of the greatest Pokemon trainers in the world.]
Tino Väinämöinen...
I'm afraid I must request the presence of your good self outside. Immediately. Though, perhaps, we have not yet locked eyes, I regret to say that I must challenge you to a battle, nonetheless. For the sake of what I value most, of all I have left to value . . .
Retrieve your firearm.
We shall do battle.
What a peculiar predicament.
He was aware that was an understatement, but then, he was an understated sort of person. At least, the side of him underneath his projected persona. One had to be, to survive as he had in the dregs of society and still rise back to the top, unscarred. His days of association with those of ill repute were long past, a brief chapter of his life that he had discarded like an unwanted hand. Yet during that period of time... Gambling wasn't the only sin he had encountered. Underneath the shiny facade of the League and the Gyms, there was a separate world. One where battles didn't solely take place between Pokemon, one where Tabunne was nowhere to be found when your Pokemon was on the verge of death. There was a reason places like Celestial Tower existed. There was a reason Alder had spent years of his life seeking answers.
Why did he train the Dark type? All strategies were just. All strategies were fair. If you lost, all you could do was understand your shortcomings, overcome them, and return to attain victory. That was the meaning of all battle. That was the meaning of becoming the Champion.
.......He turns the photograph of his Pokemon over and over in his hands, barely even glancing down as he takes sip after sip from his wine. He listens in on every conversation, he hears the resounding cries of those who believe in absolute good, he hears the disdainful taunts of those who assign no value whatsoever to life.
By day's end, he has progressed to brandy. By the next day, vodka. And by nighttime, after returning home from a trip downtown, after quietly making a few inquiries from the drones, he has made his decision.
In a place where death held no sway... What was stopping him from aiming to become the very best? Like no one was, is, or ever would be.
[action, for Finland]
[It is nearing midnight as Saturday comes to a close. At 336 Brady Lane, the residents may receive a rude-wake up call - not a knock on the door, but the sound of a gunshot, ringing out through the air. Grimsley's voice follows shortly after, and though his words come loosely and improperly enunciated, they are spoken with every semblance of the confidence borne of being one of the greatest Pokemon trainers in the world.]
Tino Väinämöinen...
I'm afraid I must request the presence of your good self outside. Immediately. Though, perhaps, we have not yet locked eyes, I regret to say that I must challenge you to a battle, nonetheless. For the sake of what I value most, of all I have left to value . . .
Retrieve your firearm.
We shall do battle.