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Old July 4th, 2010 (11:51 AM). Edited December 19th, 2012 by IceKing.
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IceKing IceKing is offline
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If you guys like reading battles, this is for you. Fairly straightforward fic presented in several installment about a championship battle. The first fic I ever wrote nearly 6 years ago was this awful one about the silver cup championship battle, and this is a rewrite of it I guess.

Part I

In the center of the arena, the behemoth Snorlax collapsed. Limbs sprawled out, his deafening snores boomed through the arena. Jack, the pokemon’s teenage trainer from Olivine, gritted his teeth, praying his pokemon would wake up in time. He was battling one of his best friends, but she certainly didn’t hold back for friendship sake.

“Persephone, eat that glutton's dreams!” the opposing trainer commanded with a grin. Her name was Ophelia, one of the most ferocious trainers in all of Johto.

Her official battle record was 107-12, but statistics couldn’t begin to reflect her power. She came from a long line of powerful female trainers. Rainey Zaparto, her grandmother, was the first female in the Kanto-Johto Elite Four. Defying stereotypes, Ophelia raised powerhouses rather than the grass and water pokemon other women generally specialized in.

But she made an exception for her Jynx, her very first pokemon. The glacial psychic grinned like her trainer. The feminine pokemon brushed back some of her long blonde hair with a single purple finger and then pointed it at her foe’s head. Her eyes became milky white, and her hair stood on its ends as she burst into a purple aura.

The Snorlax groaned in agony as the Jynx summoned a line of grey matter from his head into hers. His mind couldn’t bear the assault…

“Snorlax is unable to battle! The winner of the round, and proceeding to the Johto Silver Cup Finals is Ophelia Hardwell!”


Moments after Ophelia was declared victorious, the other Semifinal round drew to a close.

“NO! Alakazam!” cried Prava Battacharya, one of the best Psychic trainers in the entire country.

The king of psychics tumbled down in a burst of purple and black. Standing proudly above him, a witch-like shadowy figure cackled and waved her arm around the fallen sage's body, reading his remaining life force.

The Alakazam, covered in residual dark energy, struggled to his knees.

“End him.”

Miles Bloodsworth rarely spoke during a battle. His pokemon were so well trained they often knew what to do without command. But when he did speak, his voice was soft, but cold and deadly. He avoided the glitz and glammer of an elite trainer’s life. He was reclusive, spending most of his time with his pokemon.

His Mismagius cackled again and lifted her arm towards the Alakazam’s heart. A jet of green light flew from her hand and struck its chest.


The psychic fell on his face.

“Alakazam is unable to battle. With an unprecedented three pokemon remaining and going into the finals, the winner of the battle is Miles Bloodsworth!


“To Ophelia!”


“Shut the hell up, you idiots!”

The four friends took a generous swig of their drinks. Ophelia gave a rare smirk as she slammed her bottle onto the bar table. It was packed with tournament contestants, some drinking their sorrows away, some just celebrating the end of another good season.

With her hat and glasses, Ophelia had faded into the background. Now her friends and former competitors, Jack, Whitney and Bugsy, had given her identity away. And the other people in the bar whispered and pointed excitedly.

They finished their Xangoose Islands (although Whitney opted for a glass of milk and stood up. “Let’s blow this joint. I should probably start preparing.”


They headed back to their PokeCenter to get down to business. It was late at night, but they still had plenty of work ahead. Ophelia was joined by her friends (and former opponents) Jack, Whitney, and Bugsy. This was their second time competing in the Silver Cup. The year before, they all lost in the fourth round, finishing in the Sweet 16. But after much hard training, one of their own had a chance of taking first place.

“Oh Ophie! That Bloodsworth creep is a tough one. Still can't believe he got me out round five! He’s a beast,” Bugsy warned as he scanned his laptop through months of data on the psychic trainer.

“I swear to Celebi, if you call me that one more time, I’m going to rip your nuts off with a spoon,” Ophelia growled, trying to read a passage in a book about Paralysis-countering techniques.

“This kid beat Prava Battacharya with three pokemon left! That’s unheard of in the semifinals! He didn’t even get to use that damn Slowking of his,” Jack muttered. He was disappointed by his earlier loss, but put it aside and devoted all his energy to helping her win the Championship. After all, if she was good enough to beat him, she had to be able to beat anyone.

“Now ya’ll let’s stop freaking Ophelia out, you know she’s good enough to clobber that weirdo,” Whitney said with a grin.

“Let’s stay sportsman-like guys…” Ophelia muttered under her breath. She closed her large book with a sigh and looked at the huge pile of books with disgust. “That’s it, I’m not studying anymore.”

Her friends looked at her in shock, Bugsy opened his mouth to protest, but Ophelia interrupted.

“I nearly lost in Round Four again because I tried to analyze my opponent’s team too much. If there’s one thing I learned this past year: it’s not these that makes or break a big battle,” Ophelia said, gesturing to the books and Bugsy’s laptop. “It’s all about intuition and thinking on your feet. I’m not going to devise any grand strategy in advance. My pokemon are strong. They can do this.”

“Well said, but you really should think about his Slowking…it's slated to win the MVP award for the entire tournament! It’s undefeated you know! But I think I figured out his weakness…apparently—“

“Dude, she’s gone,” Jack interjected with a laugh.


Ophelia went to one of the largest rooms in the PokeCenter where her ten strongest pokemon were waiting, free from their pokeballs. They perked their heads up in excitement. She walked among them and grinned. Her Jynx came up and hugged her as always.

“Guys, this is what these seven years have been leading up to. We’re close to being ranked as the best team in the Johto. We’re already guaranteed a spot in the National Tournament!” She started to touch each of her pokemon individually, ruffling the silly ones’ heads and patting others on the back. She moved toward her Machamp who picked her up and put her on his shoulders.

“We’re so close. I know a lot of people would be grinding your noses to the ground right now. I don’t want to do that. We’ve gotten this far. We’re good enough to take it all. I’m so proud all of you. Now, let’s get a good night of sleep!”


In another room in the PokeCenter, Miles Bloodsworth sat Indian-style with his pokemon. Eyes closed. Dead silence. They were honing their minds and powers for the day ahead of them. Abruptly his eyes shot open, and he stood up. He turned around and gave his team a curt nod before leaving the room.

As he left the room, Ophelia was leaving her room. She paused for a moment and smiled at him. But Miles kept on walking.


“Where’s Ophelia?” screamed Jack.

It was fresh and early at 6 in the morning, and Ophelia was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t entirely surprising; she had the tendency to do things like that.

“I don’t know! When I woke up, she was already gone!” mumbled Whitney, who was still in her pajamas.

“But I need to talk to her! I just read about this perfect ParaFuse strategy that’s bound to…”


Ophelia was in the stadium two hours ahead of time. She sat in a random stadium seat leaning back and resting her legs on the chair ahead. She looked at the thousands of empty seats in the stadium with a half-grin. That grin belied a stomach twisted in knots.

On her lap were ten pokeballs. The whole team. Choosing which six she would take into the final battle was the hardest choice—they all deserved it. After hours of internal turmoil, she thought of the best strategy.

She set aside her Jynx’s pokeball, and lined up her remaining nine.



“Oh my GOD! I’m so excited! This is going to be one of the BEST championship battles EVER!” Heather Bergeron was the organizer of the Silver Cup tournament, which she won five years ago. Although Ophelia and Miles had pretty different personalities, they united in their hatred of Heather.

“You two are two of the BEST trainers I have EVER seen. If only we could have like…joint-champions. Because you two would completely deserve it.”

A vein was slowly throbbing in Ophelia’s temple. Miles continued to stare blankly into space. Ophelia suspected he was able to go deaf at will.

“So remember that this is going to be your standard 6-on-6 battle. The rules and limits that governed your quarter and semifinal rounds are GONE, GONE, GONE! Anything goes! Well, within reason. Nevertheless, it’s a true test of your skill!”

Heather gave an excited squeal and pulled out some brochures from her pocket.

“So let me remind you what the perks of winning are! Not only do BOTH of you get to represent Johto in the National Tournament—but the Champion gets a full-ride scholarship to the PokeUniversity. 9 out of 10 of the past champions, myself included, have gone on to be members of the Elite Pokemon Trainers League. You get $10,000 in prize money, a full special pokeball set courtesy of our dear Kurt, a special pass that allows you in areas restricted only to the best pokemon trainers in the world—it’s all right here in this brochure that I made—see look!”

They were gone.


It was the perfect morning for a battle. Cloudy but warm. Every seat in the stadium that Ophelia spent the morning gazing at was filled with locals, citizens from all over Johto (and even other regions), and some of the most notable people in the Pokemon World: Professor Oak and Elm, all 8 Johto gym leaders, heads of different battle leagues and research organizations, and it was even rumored members of the Elite Four were watching.

Ophelia and Miles entered their respective booths at either end of the stadium. The referee got into the center of the arena holding both a red and blue flag. The massive black speakers mounted on the different corners of the stadium boomed.

“Good morning, Johto! This is Buena from Station 10.5, and today I will be your commentator for the Championship Battle of the Silver Cup Tournament.”

She was immediately drowned out by the raucous cheers of the crowd. They were antsy to watch a good battle.

“On the West Side we have Ophelia Hardwell of Goldenrod City. The granddaughter of former Elite Four member Rainey Zaparto and honored by Trainer Monthly for Johto's most powerhouse team!”

More cheers, the loudest coming from the West Dugout where Jack, Whitney and Bugsy watched Ophelia.

“On the East Side, we have Miles Bloodsworth of Ecruteak City. Although he’s a quiet one, he made history when he was admitted into the Psychic Academy at the age of twelve! His Slowking is the only undefeated pokemon in this entire league!”

Although the cheers were a lot softer, a large section of the stadium applauded gently in unison.

“Let the battle begin!”

“Pinsir! Go!” cried Ophelia.

“Qwilfish, begin,” said Miles.


The field was a vast, rocky circle shaped like a pokeball, with a small pool in the center. A beam of white light materialized in the center of the pool. A volleyball-sized blue and white fish pokemon bobbed up and down in the blue tides. Jagged points with venom dripping at their ends jutted out from every inch of the Qwilfish’s body.

Near the pool, Ophelia’s Pinsir emerged, a menacing brown insect with two large spiked horns that clicked together threateningly. His eyes locked with his opponent’s and they both growled and hissed at each other—attempting to out intimidate each other. The Pinsir's mouth frothed, jagged teeth clicking each other.

“Mark your territory,” Miles ordered.

“Dodge with Swords Dance!” retorted Ophelia.

With a deep gulp, Qwilfish swallowed dozens of gallons of water and inflated ten times his size. He bobbed back and forth until his mouth faced the bottom of the pool. Water exploded from his throat at seventy miles an hour, and the force sent hundreds of venomous needles rocketing from his body all over the stadium field.

The Pinsir leaped around the stadium, twirling and pirouetting his arms and horns as he fled the barrage of toxic spikes. It would almost look like ballet, except performed by a terrifying bug pokemon. After a minute, the Qwilfish returned to normal size and the Pinsir landed on safe ground, glistening with boosted power.

Ophelia’s brow furrowed as she noticed the entire stadium field saturated in sharp, poisonous needles. This made moving around a lot more challenging. But as she tried to plan her next move, the Qwilfish attacked.

It inflated with water again and fired a jet of water right at the Pinsir’s chest. The beast instinctively leaped out of the way, landing on a particularly sharp needle. He keeled over in pain, but he had no time to wince.

“Get ‘em in the water! There’s no poison in there!” Ophelia shouted.

Pinsir jumped high and dove down towards his rapidly deflating opponent. He caught the fish in between his spiky horns and squeezed. The poisonous fish cried in pain, but exploded with a deep purple ink. Pinsir immediately relented, thrashing wildly in the now toxic water. The Qwilfish rammed the bug repeatedly, recovering quickly from the attack.

“Uh-oh! Ophelia is in trouble! The entire stadium is covered in poisonous traps, perhaps it’s time for her to call it quits!”

“Get him out of the water!”

The Pinsir gritted his teeth, and as the Qwilfish went into tackle him once again, the Pinsir grabbed the Qwilfish by its tail. He whipped it above the water, swung it around in circles and threw it onto the field.

The fish flailed as it landed on the field, gasping for oxygen. Pinsir leaped onto a needle-free patch of ground, hacking and coughing clumps of purple poison from his stomach.

Miles Bloodsworth stared blankly at his suffering pokemon with no response. The Pinsir dove in for the final blow.

“Qwilfish is unable to battle! Pinsir is the victor!”

Miles recalled his pokemon and sent out another without a single thought or hesitation.

The light materialized directly above the pool. At first, there was nothing except a large black shadow on the water's surface. Then, the shadow rose and formed into a black witch-like ghost.


“This is unexpected! Miles has sent out one of his most powerful pokemon already—a Mismagius that won him the Semifinals!”


The ghost floated higher into the air and glared at Pinsir, wincing in pain from the poison swimming in his blood. He had nowhere to move because of the toxic spikes covering the stadium. His opponent didn’t have to worry about them.

Before Ophelia could even act, Miles knew what she wanted to do.

“Keep him here.”

The Mismagius’s eyes turned large and white, and Pinsir glowed white too. The Mean Look had trapped him. Ophelia could not call him back. He was the perfect target.

“Pinsir, Earthquake!”

Pinsir held its fists high into the air and used every drop of power he had left as he punched the ground. Soon, the entire field shook ominously: the water from the pool splashed like waves; weak parts of the field broke open. While all this happened, the Mismagius simply floated in the air and laughed, unfazed by the ground attack.

“The attack had no effect on Mismagius! OH! I see what she did! The Pinsir is now able to move around in the cracks of the stadium that are completely spike-free!”

And Pinsir started to jumped, gaining in on the ghost that continued to eye him eerily. Finally, he lunged with his horns ready to cut her in two. But Mismagius vanished into a puff of black air, and Pinsir landed on his belly, right into a pile of spiky needles.

As he rose in agony, the Mismagius reappeared in front of him. Her eyes became yellow this time, and a glistening golden sphere appeared in front of her. With a nod of her head, the sphere flew right into the Pinsir’s chest. The bug flew back, landing on another pile of sharp needles.

“Pinsir’s attack missed—but Mismagius got him square in the chest with a Power Gem! Oh Ophelia trained this Pinsir to be a trooper, he’s standing up and he’s ready for more!”

He huffed and puffed, drained from the poisoning and repeated assaults.

“Pinsir, use the field again, Rock Slide!”

With considerably less power than his Earthquake, Pinsir slammed the ground around him with powerful brute force. Four large chunks of the field hurled towards the ghost whose eyes turned bright green. Out of nowhere, a flurry of leaves, tinged pink, appeared around Mismagius. She nodded her head again and the leaves shot towards the rocks, slicing each of them in half.

Pinsir gave a look of horror and disbelief before falling to his hands and knees. He gave a great gasp for air and collapsed, succumbing to the poison.

“Pinsir is unable to battle! Mismagius is the winner!”

“Pinsir couldn't land a single blow on his opponent. And Ms. Hardwell still has to deal with a field completely covered in poison! Can she get herself out of this rut?”

“Oh you betcha,” Ophelia mumbled sarcastically as she grabbed her next pokeball.
__________________ writingness has changed since my last siggy. That is all.
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