“And now, our second challenger enters the arena!” they began. “From Blackthorn City in Johto, our warrior has an obscure past as well.” The audience buzzed with this revelation. “Also age 19, our opponent has a similarly impressive reputation as that of Stryker. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Shensuke Nagoya!” A dark figure emerged from an entrance on the far side of the arena. Two men accompanied him, one on each side. All three paused before the battle podium, then Nagoya’s friends took his cloak. He wore a traditional, yet modernized Oriental robe with sharp blue designs flowing up the black sides. I was impressed.

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.

Page Three
Page Three

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