From: Adrian Tymes <wingcat@pacbell.net> Subject: [PW!][LEAGUE] Oil's Well That Ends...well... Date: Saturday, December 04, 1999 5:00 PM [Just thought I'd contribute a little background...] "Up next, an old grudge match: Irt Redshi versus Leslie Name! These two trainers have fought in exhibition matches before, although neither one has yet to qualify for a badge. Both trainers have instead been training their pokemon just for this fight; League officials granted their request to be matched up in the first round. They have agreed to waive use of the trainers' boxes, and instead are climbing out onto the Water Field to be in the arena with their pokemon." On the two largest platforms, an average-looking guy stared daggers at an equally average-looking girl. At any other time, they could have blended into any crowd, but one could not miss the looks of pure venom these two traded. Their looks and the announcer's voice were the only hints of emotion in the stadium, though: the program had billed this as "the most boring first round match", and most of the spectators were eager only for this match to be over so some exciting competition could replace it. A few snores could even be heard from the audience, though they sounded as fake as the announcer's excitement. "So, Dirt," the female finally spoke. "Ready to lose?" "Ready when you are, Less." "I caught this one just to beat you. GO, METAPOD!" "Yeah, well I knew you'd find some way to lose to this. GO, MAGIKARP!" Shell and fish exchanged glances. Neither one moved from its spot. "Aww, c'mon, Magikarp! Splash it or something." "Harden, Metapod! Trick it into bashing its head out so I can teach Dirt a lesson!" Neither pokemon would obey. Magikarp lazily swam around the pool, while Metapod turned its softest spot towards its "opponent". "This is humiliating, folks! Two of the most docile pokemon known, and neither one will listen to its trainer!" The announcer looked to the judge, wondering what was taking so long to declare mutual disqualification. And saw nothing. "What's this? The judge appears to have left the arena! And now some black substance is covering the water." Eventually, Irt raised the Magikarp's pokeball and one other. "Alright, if you won't fight, then I choose-" *FWOOSH* From one of the side doors to the arena, a Fire Blast soared into the pool, setting the oil ablaze instantly. This got the announcer's attention, and the audience's. "Hold on folks, the authorities have been notified. Looks like the Water Field has just become the Fire Field. But it looks like the trainers want to keep fighting!" Irt glared at Leslie. "I should've known you'd try something like this." "ME?!?" His gaze was returned with equal hatred. "It's just like you to pull something like this to win a match. Have you no honor?" The Magikarp looked to its trainer, hoping in vain that it would be recalled from the flames, but to no avail. It ducked underwater, then jacknifed and shot out, snagging the Metapod (whom Leslie had kicked to another platform when it snuggled her leg to get away from the heat) and landing outside...where it and its passenger promptly got snatched up by a pair of people in white uniforms with prominent Rs. By this point, the audience was on its feet, gasps and murmurs of shock rolling through the stadium. A few of those on the lower rows were forming a chain to lower themselves into the arena, while some of the audience in the nosebleed seats were actually applauding. "It's Team Rocket to the rescue?!? Or maybe not..." Four more smiliarly-clad individuals leapt through the flames onto Irt's and Leslie's platforms. Two of them restrained the trainers, while the others snatched the poke balls from their belts. The restrainers then threw Irt and Leslie towards each other; they quickly sank into the fire beneath their mid-arena point of impact. All six Rockets wasted no time leaving, barely eluding the first of the descending audience by tossing the bound and gagged judge at them, then slamming the entry door in their would-be pursuers' faces. "And Team Rocket gets away. As for the trainers, it looks like...there's nothing left to save..." Stunned silence lasted for a few minutes, until the local fire crew finally arrived and sent multiple Whirlwinds to snuff out the fire and suck off the oil. Some distance away, six Rocket uniforms were cast to the air in unison, their former wearers quickly doffing grey robes. Several strategic cuts, application of blood from six recently "dissapeared" trainers, and a teleport later, all that remained to indicate their presence were the mangled uniforms and a message in red: "The League does not appreciate interlopers". The ranks of Doppler's minions grew by twelve that night.