I tapped the sleek headset on my ear to ensure it was activated, then looked down at Jack and nodded once. He gave me a thumbs-up and withdrew a long, thin aluminum cylinder from the side of the podium. Unscrewing it, he tossed the cap on the ground and slid a four-foot pole wrapped in a thin blue cloth from the tubing. Jack quickly unfurled it and hoisted the rod proudly. A striking vision spread into the air. Our flag, the ebony profile of Articuno on a field of azure with crimson streaks, flapped in the rising wind. Jack and I burst into a simultaneous, roaring war cry, with Heather joining a moment later. My blue and red face paint was waterproof, so I didn’t worry about it washing away in the slowly increasing rain. Jack wore a red stripe running down the right side of his face, and Heather wore blue chrome. A triangle of paint began at the side of her jaw and tapered off toward her nose on the right side, and on the other, a similar triangle sharply bent into a spike running across her eye up to the hairline. We roared defiantly at Nagoya and his team, who initiated a ritual of their own.
His two cohorts removed a tube and withdrew their own flag. They deftly unwound it and planted it firmly in the ground. The flag was a deep black, surrounding a round object in the center. It was a large, ragged blue circle containing a smaller concentric one. Light and dark waves of color spread through the design. The logo was disturbingly familiar. The answer was right there—I just couldn’t find it.
I stared down Nagoya through the thin curtain of rain. He was a shadowy figure standing above the layer of mist. His men turned to him as he bowed respectfully to me. I saluted him. Time to fight.

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