The energy here made him sick.
Anthony clasped both hands over his ears, trying to drown out the crowd and its incessant cheering. Not to mention the announcers booming over the intercom, or the preening of the competing trainers, each strutting about like they were Arceus's gift to the world. The positivity and optimism of the entire spectacle was disgusting, if you asked him. Oh Arceus, were his ears starting to ring already?
His eyes were still glazed over from waking earlier in the day - he was not a morning person, to put it lightly. Even after pounding down three cups of coffee back in the Sleeping Sunkern, he was still struggling to focus on the matches over the weight pressing down on his mind. Still, the caffeine was starting to take effect, if only slowly, and his focus was starting to sharpen. Not that it was hard to be more focused than he was now, mind.
'I wish I could let the others out to watch. I didn't expect it to be so packed, though... I guess dad was right. People really do like their battles.' He let out a groan as the announcer elicited another cheer from the crowd. Despite his headache, however, he managed to push through the fog and see that the first group stage had just been announced. He scanned the screen to see he was to be part of the second set, against one... Herman Wash? 'Never heard of him. Guess I won't get the luxury of preparing ahead of time. Though I suppose that's the point of an amateur tournament...' Some of the people from his hotel were scattered about him in the crowd - it couldn't hurt to see what they knew, right?
"Anybody heard of this Wash guy?"
It wasn't too long before Trevor found someone he knew. That said he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to talk to Harley right then. He felt that she was a little bit too energetic for her own good. Or for his, for that matter. This impression wasn't helped by the smile on her face as she sat next to him. He was starting to get a really bad feeling about this. "I guess this isn't optional anymore, huh?" Still, despite the ominous feeling he was glad to have someone to talk to.
"Well, well, well, fancy meeting you here. Trevor, right? From the Sleeping Sunkern. Gotta match not too long from now. Nervous?"
He found himself mildly surprised she'd actually been listening when he'd told her his name. He couldn't work out whether he thought that was a good thing or not, though.
"A bit." He paused briefly considering how best to phrase it. "There's a shitton of people watching. This is new for me. I don't think I've ever seen this many people together in one place before. And its being broadcast." There was an unspoken worry in his face but he quickly pushed it aside along with his nerves. "Eh, it'll be fine." He emptied his head and let himself relax. If there was one thing Trevor was good at, it was forgetting. He was so good in fact that he sometimes forgot about it.
He glanced at her. If she was feeling nervous she sure as hell wasn't showing it. Was she certain of her win or did she just not care, he wondered.
"So, on a scale from 'no chance in hell' to 'in the bag', where do you think you stack up? I mean, you certainly seem to know what you're doing but there are going to be plenty of others here that do too."
"Do you hear that, trainers?! That's the sound of a roaring crowd, clapping and cheering for you! So, let me delay no further! The day has begun, the matches shall commence! Let... the games... BEGIN!"
The lines that made up Wash's frown were so deep it almost looked like he had the mouth of a ventriloquist dummy. Not unlike Simon the captain found this Calvin Jean Blanc fantastically hateable. Having found his way to the tournament hall Wash had been extremely disappointed at how the contestants were treated. This was an amateur tournament indeed! They expected him to just wait his turn here in the crowd, among the rabble? And speaking of rabble:
"Hey, wish me luck down there, everybody that I barely talked to!"
Who the heck are you? Some lanky guy with his face completely obscured by a scarf had clearly addressed Wash or at least the people near him, but the captain had no idea who he was. The best he could do was give the stranger an uncertain nod.
Are these the kind of people fighting today? He looks like the victim of a clothing store bombing. Wait, how did he know he was up? How am I to know when I'm up?
That question answered itself when Wash noticed several people pointing to and discussing a bracket displayed on a large monitor. After pushing, shoving and cursing his way through the crowd he reached said monitor, not too far from young Anthony who was also just now scanning the bracket for his opponent.
"Anybody heard of this Wash guy?"
"Hey! It's captain Herman Wash, thank you very much!"
Wash was not actually responding to Anthony's query. In truth he hadn't even noticed the lab assistant. No, Wash was simply yelling at the bracket itself now that he had found his name on it. How dare whoever underpaid worker that typed out this bracket not include his full title?
"Who do I talk with to get that changed?"
Harley couldn't stop the chuckle at Trevor's reply.
"A bit. There's a shitton of people watching. This is new for me. I don't think I've ever seen this many people together in one place before. And its being broadcast. Eh, it'll be fine.".
"Well, seeing as its a tournament, even an amateur one, of course there are people watching. That's usually what happens when a tournament takes place.", she pointed out with a smirk as she leaned back and relaxed.
What he asked next had her blink.
"So, on a scale from 'no chance in hell' to 'in the bag', where do you think you stack up? I mean, you certainly seem to know what you're doing but there are going to be plenty of others here that do too.".
At that, she had to frown thoughtfully and crossed her legs. "Well, I wouldn't say I know entirely what I'm doing, since really, I am an amateur like the rest of you. I haven't taken on any gyms at all. But really, it's more about being confident, and believing you're going to win. If you, and your Pokemon, keep that mindset, you'd be surprised how far bull-headed stubbornness and determination can get you.", she told him.
Then she shrugged. "Besides, I came here to win. Sure, losing is always a possibility, I have to realize that, but I didn't come here to lose. So, I'm going to do my damnedest, along with my Pokemon, to kick as much ass as I can until I do win. And if I lose, it just means I wasn't trying hard enough, I wasn't training hard enough. Thats it.", the Rocket girl said simply, smiling at him.
"Well, seeing as its a tournament, even an amateur one, of course there are people watching. That's usually what happens when a tournament takes place."
"Sure, losing is always a possibility, I have to realize that, but I didn't come here to lose. So, I'm going to do my damnedest, along with my Pokemon, to kick as much ass as I can until I do win. And if I lose, it just means I wasn't trying hard enough, I wasn't training hard enough. That's it."
"So, what you're trying to say is that you don't know. I know that I have no idea how well I'll do. Not much to do but wait and see."
His train of thought drifted on. He understood what Harley meant, after all that was pretty much how he felt himself. Still, it irked him to hear her say it out loud like that. It sounded a little bit too simple. What else was there to say, though? It felt as though she were missing some vital detail. "Oh, right. Having fun."
"Win or lose, its going to be a good time, I think."
Calvin's antics may have been insipid and some of the spectators a little overzealous but they didn't bother Trevor much. This was a Pokemon Tournament and that was all that mattered. He was just happy to finally compete like this. It dawned on him that he was a real trainer now. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do and grinned at the realization.
The roars from the stadium filtered in through the shut windows, muted, but still strong enough to reach Ty in his bed. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around the room in confusion. Groggily, he yawned and stretched out, then settled back down to sleep. He sure was glad he had nothing to do tod-- Ty's eyes shot open, and he scrambled to find his phone for the time. "Shit, I'm late!" Bolting out of bed and into his day clothes, he brushed his teeth and fixed his hair quickly before sprinting out the door. Looking presentable meant little if you didn't show up in time, but he had certain standards to keep in public. He was down the stairs and out the front door, his stomach complaining loudly at his lack of food. "We can eat later," he convinced himself, forcing himself to ignore all the colorful food stands with their wonderful aromas.
His breath was short by the time he made it in, and his legs were on fire, but he'd made it. He searched the brackets for his name, and sighed in relief to see he was in the second set. He wasn't late, and judging from the lack of battling going on in the fields, he had a bit of time to rest. Ty found a wall to slump against and stared up at the monitors, wondering who all those names he'd seen on the board were. "Trevor Boles, eh?" A frown fixed to his face. He couldn't help but wish he'd gotten the name of the man who had helped him. He'd hate to face him at all, but especially in the first round. Hopefully, that wasn't who he was dealing with.
Everything was just so... loud.
The roar of the crowd, Calvin Jean Blanc's little introduction to the tournament and Vincent's singing. The Wobbuffet leapt at the chance to perform in front of the camera as soon as they had reached Field 3. Mel was just glad they had woken up at the right time and hadn't been late for such an important event. Where Mel was simply satisfied, Vincent was ecstatic, so much so that it was nearly impossible to persuade the little guy to go back into his Poké Ball. Nevertheless, Mel wasn't stupid. She knew that opening with a Wobbuffet was a risky idea, to say the least. That job would be Grimm's.
Still, the battle had yet to start.
Well, the Pokémon battle hadn't started yet but the battle against the ruckus had. At least Vincent enjoyed the publicly, because Mel surely didn't. She wondered if the crowd would quieten down when the match actually started. A headache had already started to annoy her. Of course people liked their Poké Battles, but she couldn't even imagine that the crowd would be this lively. It was quite hard to concentrate here, in the mists of all of the noise. She could feel them as well, all of the eyes were centred on the stage, looking on whoever was there. Mel shrunk under their gaze.
'C'mon, it'll just be for a short while, then it'll be over.' She told herself as she waited for a 'Grace Aldritch' to enter the stage.
Kayla stood at the entrance of Field two and some how over the deafening screams of the crowds and the yelling of Calvin Jean Blanc's speech she should hear the beating of her own heart. She didn't know why she was so nervous, its not like she had never entered a tournament before or failed at them before. In fact every time she had lost in one of the early rounds and had nearly lost King to a vicious trainer who had continued to attack even after King had been knocked out, it was only the timely intervention of the referee and Nurse Joy that King had not been permanently injured.
As if sensing his trainer's distress King appeared in a flash of red light. The Growlithe know what was wrong with his trainer, it happened every time they entered a tournament. She was afraid of losing her pokemon to a malicious trainer and their pokemon. King thought she was being silly. There always was one of those fire headed healers who made him feel better or those sprays that always made him feel as good as new. King did give Kalya credit where credit was due, because despite her fears she kept trying.
Walking behind his trainer, King nudged Kayla through the entrance.
" Growl. Gro. Growlithie. " King looked up at Kayla.
"Your right King. We can't stay here. We have to go and face whatever this tournament throws at us," Kayla said as she strode through the entrance and onto the field.
"Very good then, ladies, gentlemen, and potential trainers of all ages!" Calvin began, his voice squawking out of the speakers all around the stadium. "The moment you've all been waiting for is finally here! Please, turn you attention to the center stage!"
At the announcer's words, show lights sprang to life all across the Pokeathlon Dome, shining down upon the six moderately sized arenas that had been set up in its center. Arranged in two rows of three, the rectangular stages were each lined by a thin barrier with entrances on both of their short sides. Technicians and other employees lurked about in the empty spaces between the six rings, some manning the lights and cameras, some directing trainers, and others just hanging back and enjoying their front-row seats to the coming battles. Raised a few feet off the ground, the stages were clear of any debris or other obstacles; they were only marked by the standard white lines, with the customary Pokeball symbol in their centers.
As twelve trainers, two for each arena, approached their assigned position, the PA system flared to life one more time, blaring the official Indigo League anthem all across the stadium. The crowd, though still noisy, began to calm down as the first round began.
"In the second ring, hailing from Jhoto's own Cherrygrove, we have the marvelous Kayla Denit! Facing off against Victor Matou, coming all the way from Opelucid City, Unova!"
As Kayla and King strolled out onto the field, accompanied by a healthy round of applause for both them and the other trainers, a spotlight began to track their movements. At the same time, at the other end of the arena, a matching spotlight followed their opponent, making it easier to get a good look at his features.
Victor may not have been a tall man, standing just an inch or two higher than Kayla, but the harsh, stark lines of his face and his hard grey eyes, hidden behind a pair of rimless glasses, made him appear larger, somehow. He held himself with a stiff, disciplined air, his shoulders squared and his feet positioned just so. A hint of grey stubble around his cheeks and chin clashed with the uniform look of his dark, carefully styled hair, but for the most part his appearance was immaculate.
For a second or two, the man stood silently, appraising Kayla from across the stage. Then, his eyes traced downwards and glanced at King, as he reached for the Pokeballs belted to his waist. "Kabuto," he said, his voice just as hard as the rest of him, and tossed a red and white sphere towards the center of the arena.
"On Field 3, from Veilstone City, Sinnoh, we have Grace Aldritch! And in the other corner, from Lavender Town, Kanto, we have Melph... Melopom... Melpomene, Melpomene Mallory!"
Paying only the minimal amount of attention to Mel and the antics of her Wobbuffet, Grace proudly stepped onto the stage with a self-satisfied smile on her face, waving a single hand in response to the crowd's applause. A Prinplup waddled along just behind her and to her right, copying its trainer's movements with one of its flippers.
As she came to a halt on her side of the field, Grace took just a bit longer than necessary to slowly swipe her long blond hair out of her eyes, and winked towards one of the cameras before focusing on her opponent. The young woman had clearly spared no expense for the tournament; she was dressed up in the newest, hippest fashions of the training world, all of it, from her blouse to her shoes, cleaned and polished until it was in prim condition. Her hair fell to nearly halfway down her back and curled up at the last few inches; obviously, it was freshly styled.
Eyeing Mel with just a hint of contempt, the trainer coughed once and said, in a clear, harmonious voice: "Well, Ms. Mallory, shall we get this little show of ours underway then?" Her Prinplup, acting on some cue, marched forward until it stood in the center of the ring, looking just as glamorous as its trainer. "Pri, prinplup!"
"And finally, on Field 6, we have from Blackthorn... City... Huh? My, my... er, right. Introducing Simon Wayne! Opposing him, from Hearthome City, Sinnoh, Ms. Jenny Stewert!"
"All right! I'm here, so I won't tolerate being kept waiting, ya hear me?! Come on out, Jimmy Stewart! You and your heartfelt portrayal of the downtrodden working-class man are no match for a trainer of my caliber!"
"Hey!" A sharp, and most certainly feminine, voice shouted out in response to Simon's taunt. "Who do you think you're calling Jimmy, Simone!"
At the other end of the field, a young, only mildly annoyed, woman began to stalk forward, her curly brown hair bobbing up and down with every step she took. Her mouth set into a thin, theatrical frown, Jenny huffed her way across the stage, marching far past the clearly marked trainer area and up towards Simon himself.
Though she had to physically look up at him, Jenny somehow managed to look down her nose at her opponent. From this distance, it was easy to see that, despite her apparent anger, the girl's eyes were dancing with a certain amount of smirk and enjoyment. She wasn't actually upset with Simon, she was just playing a bit of a game for the crowd.
"The name's Jenny, kid. That's Jay, Eee, En, En, Why," she said, lightly rapping a finger against Simon's forehead with each letter. "Jenny. Got that, Sammy?"
Kayla looked at her opponent's pokemon. She didn't know the pokemon very well. She had seen something like it in the Pewter Museum last time she passed through there. It was a Kabuto if she remembered right and all she knew about it was that it was believed to live in the ocean. Hoping her guess was right she grabbed a ball from her belt and threw it onto the field.
" Lux! Luxio!
"Well, Ms. Mallory, shall we get this little show of ours underway then?"
"Please, just call me Mel." The girl replied, "And - er - sure, let's start." Without a doubt, she had been taken aback by her opponent's entry - that confidence, that style, and that stare. It wouldn't surprise Mel if Grace was one of those professional trainers, though, if she was, what was she doing entering a tournament for amateurs? Probably for either the money or prestige. However, there wasn't much prestige to be gained by beating those below her below. Wait, what was she thinking? Of course Mel wasn't under her level! The battle hadn't even starting yet and that silly girl had thought herself defeated just because of Grace's rather flashy entry. Nah, it wasn't finished yet. Mel returned Vincent to his Poké Ball. The Pokémon finally cooperated, satisfied with singing the official Indigo League anthem along with the PA speakers. With one sure throw, Grimm took his place.
"Grim! Grim!" The Sludge Pokémon eyed up the Pinplup, thinking solely of the treats he would get if he won.
"And now, ladies, gentleman, and trainers of all ages: Let! The matches! Begin!"
DING DING DING
As Kayla's Milan took the field, sparking and ready for battle, Victor gave it a steady, analytic glance. "Mmmph."
Wasting no time nor words, the man quickly relayed a series of orders to his own Pokemon. "Kabuto. Sand Attack, Mud Shot, Sand Attack. Aim for its eyes." The older trainer didn't put any particular emphasis on his words, no aggression or excitement. He simply delivered a few orders. And, by the looks of things, the Kabuto was ready to obey.
"Kaaaaaaa," it hissed, scuttling towards the Luxio with a surprisingly quick pace.
"Please, just call me Mel. And - er - sure, let's start."
"Mmmmm? Oh yes, of course, Ms. Mel, if that is how you'd like to be addressed, do let's." Somehow managing to pronounce Mel's name in the most derisive way possible, Grace allowed her smirk to continue a few moments longer than was absolutely necessary. Then, sweeping her arm out in a grand, imposing gesture, she called in a loud, not-quite regal voice. "Euphemia! Allow us to put on a show for tonight's audience. Strike that Grimer with a Bubblebeam, then move in with Steel Claw! Finally, use a Fury Attack to batter it down!"
"Prin prin!" the Prinplup cooed in reply as it slowly began to advance on Grimm. The water-type didn't simply charge towards its opponent, however; instead it moved forward with smooth, graceful movements, circling side to side as though it were dancing. Still, it was drawing steadily closer to the Grimer, and the air around its beak was growing damper and damper...
The Rocket Girl glanced over at Trevor as he added something with a widening grin.
"Win or lose, its going to be a good time, I think.".
"That's for sure. Looks like the other contenders are stepping up.", she added, sitting up a little more so she could get a good look at the other trainers.
Fahrenheit perked up a little more himself when he realized what was going on, and the two watched closely as the trainers for each field were announced.
While Simon had a slight misunderstanding in name pronunciation with his opponent, the pairs were already shaping up to be somewhat interesting rivalries, Mel Mallory in particular. The town she came from caused Harley to take notice, since she knew that, technically, Lavender Town was supposed to be her hometown, seeing as she was born there. But, her family moved to Hoenn when she was so little, all she could remember of it was... Creepy music that seemed to just be in the air in that town.
Still, her opponent, Grace Aldritch, was shaping up to be a rather derisive bitch. With a small snarl, Harley sat up a little more.
"Kick her uppity ass, Mel! Don't take that kind of shit!", she called out encouragingly, before glancing at the other two.
Simon and Jenny hadn't started yet, while Kayla and Victor weren't wasting any emotion on the fight itself. At least, Victor wasn't.
When Fahrenheit shifted in her lap, she smirked and looked down at him. "Don't worry. We'll be up there before long, and boy will they be in for a surprise with us.", she told him, laughing softly under her breath.
"Kick her uppity ass, Mel! Don't take that kind of shit!"
Mel looked over to the audience, probably just to get away from Miss Aldritch and that smirk. Such language! But what could she expect from someone affiliated with such a notorious group like Team Rocket. Still, encouragement was encouragement. Mel yelled a "Yes!" to her fan - was that the right way to describe it? Anyways, there was no time for dawdling. There was a Pokéman Battle to fight! Since Grace was so kind to reveal her hand first, Mel decided to act on that. It was a strategy lax enough for Grimm, even if the Grimer would do anything for more food. Anything. The Sludge Pokémon looked his Trainer for orders, and Mel wasted no time giving them out. As if to subtly mock Grace's rather overblown style, Mel gave her orders with tight composure.
"Grimm, here are your orders: Harden, a Disable and a Sludge Bomb, if you please." She said.
"The name's Jenny, kid. That's Jay, Eee, En, En, Why," she said, lightly rapping a finger against Simon's forehead with each letter. "Jenny. Got that, Sammy?"
Simon leaned back, playing up his motions for the crowd to see. It only made sense, really. When a man is so bizarre that even his mundane actions are artistically surreal, he almost by necessity will have a gift for acting. He looked concerned, a scrunchy frown on his face. "I don't understand," he said, his masculine voice sounding comically and unfittingly whiny. "Is it Jenny, or Jay-ee-en-en-why? I don't know how to deal with people who can't settle on one name!"
With the delicacy of holding someone else's overused handkerchief, he pressed back against Jenny's forehead with his own finger. "Whoever you are, Mystery Woman, all that matters is I beat you! So go to your corner... box-thing and let's settle this like men! Or... you're a girl, possibly. So let's settle it like girls, then!"
Satisfied with what just might have been an effective taunt in his own perception of reality, Simon marched to his side of the field, plucking a Pokeball off of his belt. He let out a breath of fresh air. Okay, simple stuff. First-grade even. All I have to do is beat this girl, and them I'm practically a shoo-in for the money! I mean, she's a protagonist if I've ever seen one. That devil-may-care attitude, that generic prettiness with wide appeal. I bet her Pokemon are adorable, too. Maybe a little Aipom with its cute widdle tail, or maybe a Pachirisu! Ooh, they're just so cuddly and--wait, what am I DOING?! Focus, Simon, focus! Fight now, snuggle lightning squirrels later!
Out of his stupor, he bent over and took a pitcher's stance, his side lined up with the field. "Okay," he growled. He began whirling his arm up for one hell of a toss. "Here's the wind-up..." he made a full ten rotations with his arm at breakneck speed before lashing outward. "...And the pitch!"
He released, letting his Pokeball sail over the battlefield, cracking open above and dropping a heavy load of white light. It crashed to the ground and kicked up dust as it settled into its physical form. A mighty Tauros, scraping its hooves upon the battlefield. Maximum Bison was about to go to war.
"All-hall-righty, Maximum Bison, show Johnny what muscle is all about!"
Euphemia, Grace's Prinplup, made her way across the battlefield with a surprising amount of speed and dexterity; it was barely a few seconds before Grimm was within her range. Letting out a shrill "Prrrrrrrrrin!", the water-type opened its beak and unleashed a barrage of bubbles towards the Sludge Pokemon. And for a bunch of bubbles, they packed a surprising amount of force, slamming into the Grimer like a torrent of liquid punches.
However, aside from some minor discomfort, it didn't look like Grimm was too badly off. Shaking off the force of the attack, the poison-type Pokemon shuddered, the outer-layer of his viscous body tightening slightly and developing a shiny veneer. Just in time for Euphemia's claws to slam into him and all but bounce off, barely leaving a dent in his new armor.
"Oh ho ho!" Wattson chuckled merrily over the speaker system. "Did you two see that? Looks like Ms. Mallory's got a good sense of strategy! She took that first attack so she could strengthen her defense for the next few! Oh ho, nicely played!"
As the Prinplup circled around, Grimm turned to face her and unleashed a blinding flash of light. Across the field, Grace started biting her lower lip; her Pokemon had just lost access to a fourth of her moveset. Maybe not the strongest fourth, but still...
Undeterred, Euphemia launched herself towards Grimm again, a slight hiss escaping her beak as she pecked the poison-type. Once, twice, three times the Prinplip attacked the Grimer. But, what with Grimm's higher defense, a good chunk of the possible damage couldn't get through, and the water-type began to back away to await Grace's next command. Grimm wasn't done just yet, however, and vomited up a large ball of slime at the retreating penguin. Euphemia was splattered with the acidic substance and squawked out in pain as the muck burned into her. Working quickly, the Pokemon scrapped most of the offending gunk off her body as quick as she could; it hurt, quite clearly, but it didn't look there would be any on-going effects.
Though it was obvious that her Pokemon had come out on the losing end of that exchange, Grace didn't seem to be too bothered by it. Sweeping her arm out dramatically, the trainer shouted out encouragement to her partner: "That's alright, Euphemia, you're doing marvelous! Use a Rain Dance, and then attack with Bubble Beam, twice!"
"I don't understand. Is it Jenny, or Jay-ee-en-en-why? I don't know how to deal with people who can't settle on one name!"
Jenny, her lips already spread to undoubtedly unleash another retort, paused for a moment to simply stare at Simon. She blinked. Once. Then, lifting a hand to massage her brow, she shook her head mournfully. "Dear Arceus, they paired me up with a stupid one.
"Look, buddy, don't think about it too hard, alright? Just head back over to your corner and let's-"
However, whatever Jenny was about to say was interrupted when Simon started poking her in the forehead. "Whoever you are, Mystery Woman, all that matters is I beat you! So go to your corner... box-thing and let's settle this like men! Or... you're a girl, possibly. So let's settle it like girls, then!"
As Simon started back towards his side of the arena, Jenny stared after him, her expression a mixture of confusion, annoyance, and befuddlement. Her mouth opened, then closed without saying anything. Lifting a finger, the young woman tried again, but apparently couldn't find the words she was looking for. Flustered, she glared daggers at Simon's back for an instant, before dropping her arm and huffing back to her corner.
However, when she saw her opponent's first fighter, the girl's anger seemed to evaporate. She didn't even react to being called Johnny as she reached down to her belt, plucking one of her Pokeballs, a standard red and white one, from its spot. "Alright, fine, Sandy. If you want to play ball..."
Cranking her arm back, Jenny spread her lips in a wide grin, one easily visible even from the stands. "Then let's play ball!" With a grunt, the trainer hurled the Pokeball forward, straight towards the center of the stage. The sphere snapped open, unleashing a flash of white light that quickly solidified into a a simian silhouette.
"Alright, Sun," Jenny called, settling her body into a bouncy, fluid stance, "let's kick his ass! Mach Punch into a Brick Break, then Brick Break it again! C'mon, you got this!"