PSC Tourney Finale: End

by *Miyukitty

"Keep singing."


Jikan's cold voice was barely a whisper, only audible to the stoic Absol beside her. As the amorphous smoke gathered into a massive scythe-like claw and streaked unavoidably toward her, she could have sworn there was a gleam of understanding and subsequent horror in her partner's glazed red eyes, but he did not flinch or falter in his swan song. He was truly her most reliable friend.


The Shadow Claw swept her roughly up into the air, Quipaw pinned right at her side with a yelp. They smashed into the attic wall, their already-battered bodies arching in silent protest at the unforgiving surface. Quipaw had done her best to absorb the worst of the impact, the recoil of which caused her shaggy form to go limp against her trainer. Jikan choked down a sudden swell of despair, feeling the pincers begin to tighten around her wounded torso, and hugged her Mightyena's lolling head against her chest.


They were trapped close to the rafters, high above the scattered resistance forces. Chain was a mere smudge of white surrounded by the billowing clouds of black. His low, piercing howl already had that creeping undertone of a screech, that harsh grating quality that reminded some of nails on a chalkboard, signifying that his song was nearing its inevitable termination. Jikan's darting glance could not discern the smaller Pokemon from this height, but the larger shapes were still recognizable – Arcanine, Venusaur, Metagross, Sceptile – and they were convulsing on the floor, unable to stand under the weight of the Perish Song. The trainers' voices could be faintly heard, a chorus of concern and fear, recoiling from the teeming waves of haze.


But Darkrai still showed no ill effects. His hideous black form was bloated like a feeding tick, the analogy complete as he had to sprout eight stilt-like legs to support his swelled body. The single electric-blue eye seemed to stare right through her, and she tried not to moan aloud at the wave of nausea it inspired. They had failed after all. Here was the Master of Ceremonies, "stronger than ever" as she had prophesied, and the only reason he had not killed them all yet was that he was enjoying their anguish...


As if to drive this point home, the claws flexed tighter around her until she felt the hot trickle of blood leak from behind the bandage on her abdomen. She bared her teeth in a silent grimace of defiance, but there was a haunted look in her eyes, a glassy, hollow quality of resignation that one could attribute to dying prey in a predator's talons. She knew full well that failure meant they would never leave this place.


Quipaw, Chain... they deserved better than suffering this fate along with her. They had done no wrong. At least the rest of her Pokemon were safe with her sister... Oh mercy, her sister, what would Suika do if Jikan vanished? Denial at first, no doubt, when the police determined that the Contest Hall had permanently trapped its occupants in whatever hellish dimension they had been taken to. Faith that would gradually erode, as day after day passed with no news, no sign, nothing. She could only imagine that brave smile beginning to waver, the bright blue eyes losing their light as the sense of loss began to settle over her. Without her big sister to look out for her, that unshakable confidence would surely crumble into despair. She was so much more fragile than she let on... Jikan's disappearance would break her for good.


Jikan felt her shoulders slump, her eyes dully gazing at the nightmare scene below her. She was tired of this. Just let it end. There was nothing more she could do. She could hear the jarring, dissonant final stanza of the Perish Song tearing hoarsely out of Chain's throat, and stared blankly as the distended Darkrai formed another claw with lazy ease, reaching it towards the vulnerable Absol's chest –


"This is our home, not yours, you loathsome monster! Get – ungghhh...!"


The shrill cry ended in a growl of pain, and as the mist ebbed, Jikan found herself staring in surprise at Junction the Ninetales. He had bounded through the doorway and directly into the path of Darkrai's piercing claws, and stood trembling with the black shadows sunken deep beneath his silver fur. A clamor of shocked cries rose from the quartet of judges, the loudest of which came from Zing. Almost simultaneously, a flash of gold hurtled through the air, striking Darkrai right in the eye. His smoky arms dissipated reflexively, tumbling Jikan abruptly to the ground. She was braced for impact, hugging Quipaw's lanky body against her chest, when she landed on something unexpectedly furry...


"You really suck at this hero game, Jinky, way to screw over the good guys," drawled a sarcastic voice that Jikan never expected she would be happy to hear. Junction had led one last wave of reinforcements to the loft battlefield: the four hostage judges that she had risked her life to save.


There was brave Kate with her cheerful Marill, Lazuli; timid Karurie, still limping on her damaged ankles, supported by her fluttering Masquerain, Blitz; scowling Anti, bounding fearlessly into the fray atop the shoulders of her chartreuse Ursaring, Ten; and – accompanied by his stocky Croconaw partner, Steve – standing behind the girls with a sour expression, his once pristine suit tattered and soiled, shifty eyes glancing around for the golden cane he had thrown so impulsively, was Sheepi.


Before she knew how to react, the warm thing that had broken her fall wriggled out from beneath her, whiskery face alight with a cheeky grin. "Tagg! And – Snap! You two came for me too...!" Jikan's loyal Floatzel and Mudkip nuzzled against her, and a slow sensation of warmth spread through her, hope filtering though the numbed surrender. This wasn't over after all.


The moment could not last long, however, as they all heard the dull thud of Junction's body slumping to the floor. Anti, astride her lumbering bear partner, just reached the center of the room before the recovered Darkrai bowled them aside with a gust of Ominous Wind, sending them crashing into the quartet of judges. There was a crazed look in the single eye, a sudden wildness and desperation that Jikan recognized. Perish Song was working.


Chain was still standing, but it was evidently through sheer willpower alone. His lithe body was seizing in paroxysms of pain and exhaustion, the whites of his eyes all that was visible. Blood spattered from his parted jaws, adding a sick gurgling sound to the ragged dirge he was struggling breathlessly to continue. The Pokemon that had protected him previously had already shut down, their colorful bodies limp and lost amidst the black fog. Lazuli, Snap, and Steve scampered to his side, the three small water-types bracing themselves against their friend's trembling legs, trying to keep him from collapsing.


Darkrai was now visibly affected by the martyr, his nebulous form ebbing and flowing uncontrollably, unable to concentrate on holding one shape or size. He tried to exude the nightmarish smoke of his Dark Void ability, but it fluxed into a wave of Dark Pulse, which evaporated into a shimmering Night Shade, the negative energy continuously shifting throughout the hazy attic.


The people in the room – trainers, coordinators, hostages, judges – all surged forward as one, determination a sharp contrast on their haggard faces, and stood between the pitch-black specter and the remaining Pokemon. They began to shout their defiance, demanding that the being give up, perish, leave them forever, or set them free, whatever thought was dearest to them.


Jikan lay her hand on her Absol's horn, kneeling beside him as she had done at the start of his requiem. Burying her face in the thick fur of his white mane, she murmured faintly, "Thank you... thank you for always keeping me safe...my partner."


Chain's voice cracked and fell silent, his knees buckling as he succumbed to the fatigue. Simultaneously, Darkrai's wildly tracking eye went dim, and the purple and black fog that had so wholly enveloped the attic dispersed into nothing. The amorphous form began to condense into a smaller, simpler shape; the true form that he had revealed beneath the illusions, the actual Darkrai. The unconscious being drifted slowly to the floor of the attic, just as the first rays of sunlight began to stream through the cracked and dusty window. Jikan caught her Absol before he crumpled, twisting her fingers in his ruff to pull him close to her, and disregarding the blood that spattered onto her torn white shirt. He had done it after all.


A cheer rose from the tired contestants, many of whom hugged each other and danced for joy. Isaac began scurrying about with his first aid kit and his beloved Gulpin, attempting to treat Karurie's chemical burns, Sandy's broken ankle, Jena's concussion, and Athens' gunshot wounds all at once, as well as reviving some of the battered Pokemon. BBC stood wary guard over the unconscious Darkrai, ignoring the harassing rants of finalist Calli, who was threatening to sue the establishment for every charge she could think of. Anne Louise found herself tackled to the floor by an enthusiastic Oliver, as well as the rest of her Pokemon crew. An air of relief had settled into the formerly gloomy and foreboding loft, as though dawn had finally broken over the endless night.


Jikan raised her eyes to seek out Zing, whom she found cradling Junction's head in her lap. There was an odd symmetry between the two young women. The heroic Ninetales had been gored deeply by the shadowy attack, but appeared to still be breathing. Jikan found the pouch of supplies Isaac had handed her earlier still wrapped in the bandanna hanging from her belt, and tugged it free, tossing lightly towards the judge and her mascot. "The powder will stop the bleeding," she called in a low voice, startling Zing from her reverie. "He'll probably get scars from this... but I bet you could hide them with a scarf. Preferably one as flamboyant as possible."


A wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she turned away, slowly and achingly rising to her feet. Her whole back was a mess of bruises from all the falling and crashing into things, and it felt like she hadn't eaten anything in a year. Her trembling fingers found the Pokeballs for Chain and Quipaw, and she quietly returned them to their sanctuaries, letting them rest for the time being. They had definitely earned it. Snap and Tagg had come here of their own accord and therefore she didn't have the means to recall them, but she made a subtle signal with her hand, and the two water-types immediately bounded to her side.


Glancing back at Zing, she called over her shoulder, "Please... take Rakayni back to where you found him. Don't destroy him for something that wasn't his fault." But she did not wait to hear the host's answer, and slipped away from the celebration, the first to leave the attic she had unlocked.


Jikan found herself stumbling a little as she walked down the empty corridors, bleary-eyed and dizzy. With natural light illuminating the hallways, nothing seemed as eerie or dangerous as it had been under the reign of the Black Tourney. Instead, with the cracked floor tiles, damaged walls, broken windows – it had the air of an abandoned old house, dilapidated and sad. It would take a lot of work for the Super Contest Hall to be repaired and back to its former glory. Jikan had no intention of helping them fix it.


She had done her part. Let the conspirators reap the whirlwind they had sown. Maybe she would come back once they had it back to normal. She'd think about it. She finally found the front doors, the heavy chains that had kept them locked now strewn about the floor. Her Floatzel darted forward to open the door for her, recognizing how very worn out her trainer was, and nudged Mudkip to let her pass ahead of them.


Jikan barely noticed her Pokemon accommodating her, and managed the first step out into the sunlight before retching. If there had been any contents at all in her stomach, she would have vomited them all over the pavement; as it was, she doubled over and violently dry-heaved, her whole body shuddering with the effort. She was so weak. She had given in to anger, to despair, to every negative emotion there was. She had almost died several times, almost gotten her Pokemon killed several times, and all because of her own folly.


She should never have come to this place, thinking she had the fortitude to survive where others could not. What arrogance could have possibly possessed her to risk her life for these strangers? Was she really that desperate to prove herself? Because if so, all she had proven was that she was still relying on the help of others, and still hurting everyone around her. Chain, Quipaw, Snap, Tagg, Mizu and Mordred, her Pokemon – and most of all Suika, her sister – were the things she lived for, and existed to protect. And she had foolishly risked it all for nothing.


"Being happy makes you sick to your stomach? No wonder you're such a killjoy."


The sarcastic voice behind her made her flinch, but she did not straighten or turn around. Instead she sank weakly to her knees, clutching the stab wound on her abdomen. She heard footsteps as Supreme Judge Sheepi exited the contest hall and walked around her, his Croconaw followed closely by Snap and Tagg. "You might want to drag your sorry carcass behind the hedges, eyesore, the rest of the contestants aren't far behind me," he muttered after a moment, motioning towards the gardens along the path with his gold-capped cane. Jikan hesitated for a moment, then nodded, struggling mutely to her feet again to take cover.


Sheepi stood idly by the bushes, picking his teeth and pretending not to be useful as he blocked Jikan from view. As the people came streaming out onto the lawn, laughing and crying, calling loved ones on their Pokegear, or cheering as loudly as they could, they attracted the attention of the news reporters and police that had begun to give up on the mysterious missing persons case. Soon the TV crews for Sinnoh News Now were swarming the path, seeking interviews and calling in an ambulance for the wounded. Once there was enough commotion that no one would notice her, Jikan leaned heavily on her Floatzel to stand up, prepared to slink back into anonymity.


"...Really? Where do you think you're going, bodyguard, aren't you supposed to protect me from the paparazzi? After how many times I risked my neck to save you, too, me and Steve battling as your tag team partners – you should be paying me! In fact, you owe me for dry-cleaning this suit, too, I was very clear to you that it was Poke-Armani and I didn't see you make a single attempt to keep it clean. Not to mention you abandoning me with that lame drama queen fox who insisted on teleporting all over the building to release prisoners, when we very clearly stated we wanted to go to the kitchen and nowhere else. You're the worst bodyguard ever! I don't know why I ever hired you, you're worse at security than drunken Chief. And you're still wearing that hideous excuse for an outfit, even though I expressly told you it would look nicer if you crawled inside a garbage can and cut holes for your arms and legs – "


As Sheepi ranted on and on about nonsense, as he seemed to do so frequently, Jikan felt a rare smile creeping onto her face. It almost seemed like he was trying to cheer her up, in his own abusive and melodramatic way. It still made her feel sick that she had nearly gotten everyone killed due to her risky strategy – and poor Chain would need such a long recovery – but perhaps it really had been the only way. They would never know now. And no one would ever know she had been here. Avoid the media, recover, move on. She certainly wouldn't tell Suika she had been involved in a hostage situation... but she would try to be there for her sister more, visit more often, and maybe avoid risks like this again. She had come too close to ruining everything. If anything, this tournament had taught her a lesson in the dangers of arrogance.


She raised her hand to cut Sheepi off, and he feigned indignance, raising his eyebrows to stare imperiously down at her.


"Sheepi... you... I'll see you around," she managed to mumble, a faint blush creeping into her pale cheeks before she scooped Snap up in her arms and hurried off the lawn. That was one reason to return to the contest hall after all this commotion blew over. Perhaps she had made some acquaintances here that were worth visiting again.