A Champion's Cackle

[Shurtugal]

Note: I aimed to write a short story about a 1000- or so words. It's not a story that really ends, per say, but I'm satisfied with its conclusion.

Please enjoy.

I always wanted to be Pokemon Champion—and now that I've achieved the title, let me be the first one to tell you: being Champion sucks. It's so empty here... what good is this title if you have no one to share it with? I know it's foolish of me to believe this new challenger might be The One, but still—something keeps me hoping. Perhaps today is the day...

A Champion's Cackle

The cackle of my voicemail broke the silence. "Hello? Champion?"

I had always wanted to be Pokemon Champion—funny, how the things we want never end up being as good as we think.

Still, I had been young. I couldn't have known what becoming the Champion would do to me. Though I started late in the game, my momentum built up quick. The first gym leader was a pushover, and so was the second, the third, the fourth… they say I went through the gym circuit at record speed.

And look where I am now: a deadbeat Champion, sitting on his throne chair, ignoring phone calls.

"Mr. Champion… There's a challenger coming your way."

I sat up. How strange. Usually champion runs were televised. Yet the media hasn't covered anything… then again, the last time I had actually checked the news was…

I picked up the phone and spoke. "OK. Send them in." My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. I let the phone drop back on its receiver before listening for a response.

The last challenger I had couldn't get past my first pokemon. But somewhere, deep down, I could feel it: hope. Perhaps it was the lack of media attention, or perhaps my loneliness was making me stupid, but I had a feeling the next challenger would be entertaining.

How stupid of me. I know better than to have high expectations.

Despite knowing this, though, my heart still beats frantically. Emotions never did listen to reason, eh? Guess they'll have to learn the hard way.

Just like the day I became Champion. What a letdown that's been. I'll be the first one to tell you that being Champion sucks. What's good about being number one if you have no one but your team to share it with?

CLANG!

The metal doors slammed against the walls hard. Standing there was a boy who could only be my next challenger. He wore a hat flipped in reverse; spikes of hair could be seen at the top. The baby fat on his chin and his big, innocent blue eyes instantly gave away his physical immaturity. His body was moderately toned, but that's to be expected of a trainer. I'd have to say he was eleven at the oldest.

My expectations came crashing to a halt; or at least, they should have. Immature opponents were usually stupid and void of strategy. Still my expectations held firm. Trainer intuition, perhaps? But I had a feeling he'd offer a sufficient challenge.

"Finally! I've made it to you, Champion!"

I looked up and locked eyes with him. The boy was grinning now, his eyes sparkling with a challenge.

I couldn't help it; I cackled. His enthusiasm was contagious. Perhaps he'd be the one to finally dethrone me.

The boy frowned. He must have thought I was laughing at him, because his next few words came out gruff. "You're going down, Champion. Along my journey I've recruited many loyal, strong, legendary pokemon. Together, we will beat you!"

I reevaluated him. So that's why the media hasn't monitored his climb up to my throne. No one told him he was coming. Trainers with legendary pokemon were usually kept secret… it's the opinion of the League that legendary trainers were put at risk in the public's eye.

What a joke. Any trainer strong enough to handle a legenadary pokemon could handle the public. But I digress…

"So the boy thinks he can beat me?" I grinned at him. "Well, you and your pokemon are welcome to try. Engarde!"

I called out Greninja first. He was agile, which meant he was good for scouting, and scouting was exactly what I needed right now. Would he use his legendary pokemon first? Or would he save it for later?

"Go! Lugia!"

The pokemon that came out was massive and silver. Everything about it was silver; its eyes, its wings (or were those arms? It could probably double-over as both), its tail, its leathery tongue… well, silver-white was probably more accurate. And its stomach had a sea blue color about it.

When it roared, I could swear the ground rumbled from under my feet. I stood up from my chair and looked over to Greninja. Wait for him to come to you. At least, that's what I tried to say with my facial expressions. Greninja nodded; he understood me. After all these years, he understood.

The boy didn't seem to catch on. He snapped a finger. "Lugia! Aeroblast!"

Lugia sucked in a deep breath before protruding a massive burst of air from its mouth. Perhaps it was because of how massive it was, or maybe it was because of how inexperienced the challenger kept it, but Lugia was slow. Greninja had already Shadow Sneaked behind the silver bird, waiting for a command.

"Greninja. Ice Beam."

Challenger looked at Greninja, surprised. Greninja's body turned a chilly-light blue, and shot out the Ice Beam attack. Lugia barely managed to turn its head around before the Ice Beam struck its wings. The silver beast cried out, its bellows shaking the ground once more.

"Steel Wing! Go!"

Lugia's wings hardened. The ice cracked off and it raced toward Greninja. It was then Greninja acted, moving so fast that only an experienced trainer could keep up. A barrage a Double Teams came out; two got struck by the Steel Wings, while the other two fell limply to the ground. Greninja—the real one—was already in the air.

He looked over to me for a split second. I winked. Then I witnessed, grinning, as Greninja delivered a powerful hydro pump from above. Lugia was pushed back into the ground, but judging by its cries, we were only making it angry. We had yet to do any real damage.

Laughter. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. Here I was actually trying to win a match, and I was going nowhere fast. If things continue like this, Greninja's going to tire out easily.

The boy seemed annoyed by my laughter. If only he knew how happy I was. Today might be the day. Today, I might actually lose.

And the best part of it was that I wasn't scared in the slightest. I was thrilled.

I almost felt sorry for the kid. If he beats me, then he'll have to know what it's like. The emptiness, the lack of challenge, the boredom, the loneliness.

I almost called out to warn him, to tell him to leave while he could. But I didn't. Instead I could only shake my head and smile.

Today, I might actually lose. Today, I might actually be set free.

 

[Creepychu]

The cackle of my voicemail broke the silence. "Hello? Champion?"

Unless the champion actually set his voicemail alert to a manic cackle or something, that should probably be 'crackle'.

Given his boredom, I could totally see him actually turning his voicemail alert to a manic cackle though.

And look where I am now: a deadbeat Champion, sitting on his throne chair, ignoring phone calls.

To be honest, this one line sums up the champion's position effectively enough that it almost makes the preceding paragraph unnecessary. It's concise and evocative, and I'd consider finding a way to work it in with the 'I always dreamed of being a pokémon champion' part without that paragraph between them getting in the way.

I sat up. How strange. Usually champion runs were televised. Yet the media hasn't covered anything… then again, the last time I had actually checked the news was…

Your working with past tense and 'the media', even as the nebulous media entity, is a plural of 'medium', so that should certainly not be 'hasn't'.

The last challenger I had couldn't get past my first pokemon. But somewhere, deep down, I could feel it: hope. Perhaps it was the lack of media attention, or perhaps my loneliness was making me stupid, but I had a feeling the next challenger would be entertaining.

According to the preceding paragraph, the champion's voice sounded hollow even to himself, implying that he was not at all interested in the challenger, yet this paragraph seems to contradict that. If this surprise challenger has sparked a hint of excitement in him, shouldn't you convey that in how he responds to it as well?

I reevaluated him. So that's why the media hasn't monitored his climb up to my throne. No one told him he was coming. Trainers with legendary pokemon were usually kept secret… it's the opinion of the League that legendary trainers were put at risk in the public's eye.

See the previous comment about the media.

What a joke. Any trainer strong enough to handle a legenadary pokemon could handle the public. But I digress…

Typo.

"So the boy thinks he can beat me?" I grinned at him. "Well, you and your pokemon are welcome to try. Engarde!"

Needs a space there. 'En garde' is a phrase; not a word.

Challenger looked at Greninja, surprised. Greninja's body turned a chilly-light blue, and shot out the Ice Beam attack. Lugia barely managed to turn its head around before the Ice Beam struck its wings. The silver beast cried out, its bellows shaking the ground once more.

Unless the boy's name actually is Challenger, that should be 'The challenger'.

He looked over to me for a split second. I winked. Then I witnessed, grinning, as Greninja delivered a powerful hydro pump from above. Lugia was pushed back into the ground, but judging by its cries, we were only making it angry. We had yet to do any real damage.

The verb 'witness' is dependent on having an object to witness, which this phrase lacks. It kinda seems like you used a thesaurus to replace 'watch' here and it just didn't work out. 'watched' would be a far better fit.

Laughter. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. Here I was actually trying to win a match, and I was going nowhere fast. If things continue like this, Greninja's going to tire out easily.

Shifting tenses again.

I almost felt sorry for the kid. If he beats me, then he'll have to know what it's like. The emptiness, the lack of challenge, the boredom, the loneliness.

And again.


On the whole, I think you have a solid enough premise for a short piece like this, and contrary to what you said I'd say that ending note is conclusion enough since this is very much a character-centric story and the champion's sense of impending release caps off his arc nicely enough. That being said, I think you could be making better use of the space than you currently are, especially since you're restricting yourself to a tight word limit. You spend a lot of time on detailing Lugia's appearance, for instance, even though in reality it has very little bearing on the central thrust of your story. Similarly, you spend a lot of narrative space early on on having the champion tell us how bored and fed up he is even though you are already shoving it pretty effectively with the way he's trying to wait out the phone call for instance. In terms of bringing his character across, I think it'd be more interesting if you went into a bit more detail into the process of his boredom and how he tried to cope with it when it first started setting in. Did he redecorate the champion's room? Did he try to chat up the assistant? Did he pace around counting ceiling tiles? What I'm getting at is that given his personality, there must have been some kind of mid-point between him being an active, enthusiastic trainer and him being a resigned couch-potato slouched in his regal throne and I think that showing more of that progression to us would bring across his isolation and frustration more effectively. Focusing more on the interplay of emotions between the champion and the challenger during the battle could also be another way to squeeze in more characterization into the action.

It's a decent effort overall, but it could use more polish to make it shine.