The crowd burst into an unparalleled cacophony. Children sat transfixed while their parents cheered in appreciation and horror. Lengthy banners wavered in the stands while dedicated fans hoisted signs and battle flags. I finally began to listen to the announcer again. “…and with an unbelievable surprise attack, Gyarados has completely eliminated Danvers’ final Pokemon! Venomoth is down for the count!”

I looked over and saw a bewildered referee raise a red flag in his hand. The final light beneath Danver’s photo on the scoreboard disappeared. His entire half of the display was replaced with a congratulation message. I looked across the arena, around Leviathan’s poised body, and saw my opponent slumped down in his battle platform. I felt sorry for him, and quickly commanded my Pokemon to release ‘Venomy.’ Leviathan bent down and opened its maw, dropping the desiccated moth onto the sand. Danvers recalled the warrior and rushed off to the Emergency Pokemon Center.

Feeling an intense moment of personal satisfaction, I praised Leviathan and replaced it in its Ultra Ball. I slowly descended from the platform and turned to Heather and Jack. Over the tremendous noise of the crowd, Jack ran up to me and shook my hand. “Man,” he said, “that was hella cool!” I laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Jack.” I replied. “Thanks for being here.” I walked over to Heather on her Rapidash. I helped her down, and she recalled it into her Pokeball. She kissed me, and I felt like nothing had gone wrong in the past month. Everything was perfect. The audience was on their feet and thrilled, we were all happy, and nobody noticed the lone, dark figure ominously standing near the immense blaze of the Flame of Moltres stadium torch. He was hidden from view by the glare and his black combat gear. If I had seen him, I might have been able to read the three white letters on his tactical vest: ‘PRI.’

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