Story Notes:
If you want to check out the orginal one then check this part out. ( http://agn.ph/fics/viewstory.php?sid=1114 )
...gone.
Po-Lon became entranced as he ran towards the finishing line. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The end of the race seemed to play out in his mind. When he passed the line, the crowd screamed his team's name as well as his. His team was declared the new kings and queen of the game. The gold trophy was set in front of them. Looks of disappointment filled the other teams' faces as Po-Lon and his team claimed their prize. He wanted to become something his father never thought he would be. When he left his family at home to pursue his dream to become a racer he wanted to defy his family bloodline destiny, filled with famed Pokémon martial artists. His dreams of becoming a racing legend seemed to be nothing but a fallacy to them as memories of his father telling him the day he left home that he would be nothing and that he would not amount to anything. Po-Lon began to wish that his father was here to watch him prove him wrong. He wished his whole family was here, but he mostly wanted his father to be there. He wanted them all to be sitting in the front row seeing him run across the line to become the new champion along with his team. He wanted to take the dirt from the footprint that he left near the line, curl it into a ball and shove it down his father's throat. Time seemed to surge forward as Po-Lon and his team was now standing on the top of the three podiums of different levels. In second place were the former champions, Team Thunder. Their faces were sorrowful from losing there championship so quickly. Po-Lon was starting to feel sorry for them. However, they cannot be champions forever. Someone is going to take the reign from time to time. He looked to the right at the third place side to see Team Pyron. The Ninetales and the Charizard were staring straight ahead with blank faces while Flare was glaring at Po-Lon. His eyes were burning fury.
"Who's the noob now," teased Po-Lon with a smirk.
Flare began to growl maliciously towards the Breloom and then suddenly said, "Wake up bitch, this race isn't over yet."
And with that, Po-Lon snapped back to reality. He was now 40 yards away from the line. 40 yards to making his dreams a reality. Then suddenly.
"HEY SHITHEAD!"
The voice came from behind him. At first, he was going to ignore it. But he felt something approaching him. It was a large source of energy, which was generating a large amount of heat. Po-Lon's mind was racing. His body was screaming for him to get away. An unknown fear started to well up inside him. He slowly turned around as he ran. A large symbol made out of fire was accelerating towards him. The symbol was split into five sections. The top part of it was a large vertical line connected to a wide vertical line. Three more lines descended from the horizontal line. One at each end and one in the middle. It was clear as day to Po-Lon what the move was. It was Fire Blast. The move was slightly bigger than Po-Lon. It connected with his body directly, reverberating a loud bang upon contact. The move completely knocked Po-Lon off balance causing him to roll. Some of the Fire Blast contacted with his face, decrementing his vision. He rolled off the ground until he was 10 yards from the goal line. He got back on his feet. He tripped and slid back on his face. He tried again receiving the same result. His vision was blurry. He looked straight ahead of himself. He could see the finish line. 'Come on dammit.' thought Po-Lon. He tried running again, but ended up stumbling. He began to drag his feet towards the finish line. The distance slowly began to close. 8 yards ... 6 yards ... 4 yards. That's when he heard them behind him. He turned around and saw two runners approaching him. He could not see them clearly, but he could tell by the color of their fur that it was Limiter and Flare. They were closing in on him! They're closing in on the finish line; closing in on taking his dream away and making it theirs. 'No!' thought Po-Lon, addressing his attention ahead of him again. His sight was still hindered, but he knew that he was just a few feet away from the finish line. He continued to drag himself towards it. The muscles in his legs ached and burned. The nerves in his legs wailed threats to his brain that they will blow out if he kept moving in this condition. Nevertheless, the threats were ignored. This time he did not have to turn around. He felt the presence of the two racers coming in behind him. His fate was clear to him. But if he was going to lose he was gonna lose swinging. He gathered all the energy in his body towards his right leg. It began to glow green. He then spun around with his right leg outstretched.
"Hurricane Kick!" he screamed.
He spun around a few times, his body changing into a large green sphere. He felt something come in contact with his leg. It caused him to stop spinning and fall to the ground. He looked around to see what he hit. He saw a red-colored blur lying down a few feet away from him. It had to have been Flare. At that time, one-half of his thoughts screamed out how good it felt to shut up the son of a Bidoof and his cocky ass whist the other half said the ever famous trio of words that were always shortened on sites all over: what the fuck? He slowly began to get up and walked forward a little bit before he stumbled back onto the ground. He heard movements behind him. He turned around to find Flare's blurred body fumbling left and right until he fell down as well. It seems the kick knocked the wind out of him. He also seemed to have lost his sense of balance. Po-Lon turned back around with two yards separating him from the finish line. To his surprise he still had energy to move after using his technique. However, he didn't have enough strength to stand back up. He began to crawl towards the line. He heard something come up and pass him. It was a blue colored so he assumed that it was Hydra. He was mere inches away from the line when he heard something else come behind him. He didn't need to look back to see who was coming. He knew it was Flare. At the speed Flare was coming, Po-Lon wouldn't be able to beat him at a crawl's pace. So now, he had to put all his energy in this one last move. His hunched his legs and pressed his claws into the ground. He pushed off the ground and lunged forward with his left arm outstretched before him. By the time his arm hit the ground and passed the finish line, Flare had passed him. He didn't know whether he made it over the finish line first or if Flare beat him to it. All he knew he that he mad it to the end of the race. He blacked out.
Po-Lon came to with his body lying between Grasslicer and Bayleen. A few Pokémon in medic uniform were picking up some equipment. They began to leave the three grass-type Pokémon. He glanced towards Bayleen as his vision now clear once more. He could see her actual face. Her light yellow eyes were a little watery. The large leaf on top of her head was dropping but rose back up when Po-Lon stared back at her. She was staring at him with a relieved expression on her face.
"First Grasslicer, then you," she said, "You two scared the hell out of me."
"What place did we make?" asked Po-Lon.
"Third," responded Grasslicer. Po-Lon looked towards Grasslicer. "There waiting for us over at the podium. We stayed here to check up on you. We would of have to leave you with the medics if you hadn't woken up now. You think you can walk?"
"Yeah," responded Po-Lon.
He slowly rose up and started walking forward. He stumbled after his third step. Bayleen quickly went to his side and held him up with her body.
"Po-Lon, are you okay?" asked Bayleen with a worried tone.
"Yeah."
"You can't go down there like this. Sit here and wait for you-"
"No. I'm coming. I'm not just gonna sit here and watch. I want to go down there. This is first time something like this has happened to me and I'm not gonna just watch it happen."
"If that's the case," Grasslicer spoke up, "Put him on my back and we'll take him down."
"Hold up! I'm not gonna piggyback ride on your back. I'm no friggin baby you know."
"Look, motherfucker. It's either you ride my back or you sit you ass here. Take it or leave it."
"... Fine," the injured Breloom said, "but I won't like it."
Bayleen used Vine Whip and lifted Po-Lon off the ground and on Grasslicer's back. They began to walk down towards the crowd of Pokémon.
"It was a close one between you and Flare," Grasslicer told Po-Lon, "The timer and video indicated that you beat him by two inches."
"That son of a bitch," growled Po-Lon while tying to get up and ended up falling back down.
"Whoa there, Po-Lon," said Grasslicer, "You forget that same son of a bitch just nailed your ass with a Fire Blast. Keep that up and you'll fall off. You weren't the only one that didn't see that shit coming. That moment is still fucking with my mind."
"Godammit!" exclaimed Po-Lon, "I'm ... sorry guys. It's my fault. If only I-"
"Calm down, Po-Lon," Bayleen spoke up, "It's okay. It's not your fault. It's a race. Anything can happen. And we got third place. That's not so bad."
"But-"
"There was nothing you could do, Po-Lon," said Grasslicer, "Just like Bayleen said. It's a race. Anything can happen. Cursing and complaining about it isn't going to change anything."
That was enough to quiet down the aggravated Breloom. They both stared on as the DJ McSoul announced the winners of the race (After growing tired of waiting for the three of them to come on stage).
"Well at least we can say that we made it to the finals and got Third place, eh?" said Grasslicer.
"We could have gotten First, Grass," Po-Lon glumly said.
"Hey come on, we were able to do things that hundreds of teams weren't able to do, Veterans and Rookies alike."
Po-Lon only let out a "Humph." in how it came to the fact he couldn't have any comeback to such a line.
"Po-Lon," spoke Bayleen, "You have to remember this is our first year. You can't expect to be the champions just like that. We tried our best. We still have next year. We can train until the next season starts and when that happens we'll have another crack at the title."
"... I guess."
"You guess?" responded Grasslicer, amazed at the response and wanted to put the fire back into his partner. "Motherfucker you guess? You better know. I'm not practicing with someone who's gonna guess he's gonna win! I want someone who knows he's gonna win."
"You doubting me, Grass?" Po-Lon said as the words the Tropius said got under his skin.
"Maybe I am, guesser."
"Then fine! I KNOW we're gonna win next time. I also KNOW that I'm going to kick your ass the moment my body starts working again."
"That's great to hear, you punk-ass motherfucker! But judging from what happened in that race I'm way more resilient than your ass. So if any one is gonna be whupping anybody's ass, it's me."
"Fuck you! I got hit by a Fire Blast."
"Alright boys, play nice," said Bayleen, having enough of the testosterone chatter between teammates.
"Heh, C'mon Bayleen, you know that's how me and Po-Lon have a conversation. I remember you saying we tried our best. I don't know about you, but me and Po-Lon was kicking ass out there."
"Oh I'm soooorrrrrry," said Bayleen in an irritated tone.
"Yeah." said Grasslicer while remembering a moment in the past going on with Po-Lon and a certain mon, "Well anyways I heard you and that Flareon guy was getting into a little 'argument' down there. What's that all about?"
"Man, I don't feel like talking about it." Po-Lon responded with a groan, "All I'll say is that guy's a fucking douche bag."
"People saying that he lost the race cause of you when you hit him with that 'Spinning Hurricane' green shit."
"Yeah?" as Po-Lon felt that he did quite proud of that moment in time. He could still remember how good it felt seeing that red and orange blur fly to the back of the pack.
"Yep! He had just gotten the lead over Limiter when you blasted his ass with it. A lot of people said he would have won the race if it wasn't for you."
"Oohhh!" the mushroom mon said, feeling very gleeful now knowing he foiled the victory for the one he hated most.
"Just thought you would like to know that little fact." Grasslicer said while the crowd stirred.
"Made my day slightly easier."
There was a three level platform on the blue, white-striped podium indicating in height what place a team made. The higher the height, the greater the position: Third place was set at three feet, second place was six, and first place was nine. Each of the three sections was about 15 feet wide so that the full team would be able to stand on them. Team Chlorophyll was in third place, Team Wipeout was in second, and Team Thunder was in first place once again. Team Pyron were sitting a couple of feet away, watching the scene from afar. Team Wipeout had looks of disappointment on their faces. Grasslicer and Bayleen had smiles on their faces, while Po-Lon looked like he was a part of Team Wipeout. Team Pyron stared on with blank faces. All but Flare, His head was bent downwards. Po-Lon stared at his enemy. Just by the look planted on him, he could tell Flare was growling under his breath in boiling anger. Team Thunder was at the top with Boltma was sitting atop Cylinder's shoulders with The Gold CFR Cup within her paws. The CFR Cup was designed like your ordinary trophy: It had wide oval shaped rim top, which descended to a smaller oval-shaped base. It had two long handles on both sides attached to the sides of the top rim and a few inches from the bottom on the trophy. Boltma and Cylinder had joyous expressions on their faces while Limiter had a smirk on his.
"LET'S SHARE ANOTHER ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR RETAINING CHAMPIONS. TEEAAAAMMMM THUUUUNNNNNDDDDEEERRRR!" announced the DJ whilst crowd went ballistic upon hearing the winning team's name.
"You know what!" shouted Grasslicer over the deafening screams, "The more that little shit-head of an announcer talks, the more I want to kill him."
"NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMAN. WE HAVE CONDUCTED AND JUDGED THE RACERS ON THEIR OVERALL PERFORMANCE DURING THE RACE AND HAVE COME TO A FINAL CONCLUSION FOR THE RECIPIENT OF THE MVP AWARD. LET'S GIVE IT UP FOR THIS YEAR'S MOST VALUABLE PLAYER..." The screen changes to show the individual member of the race by team. The graphics altered as soon it came down to one of the three of one of the teams which had surprised many considering the result and then the last change of the screen showed the recipient of the MVP trophy for this year!
"GRRRRRAAAASSSSSLLICEEEEEEERRRRR!"
The attention of all the racers and people in the crowd were on Team Chlorophyll's leader. The Tropius' mouth dropped upon hearing his name.
"Bet you don't wanna kill him now." said Po-Lon.
Grasslicer remained silent for a while until he finally realized that this was really happening. "... Well..." Grasslicer began to say, "I guess I'll take the losses then." He finished while going standing up front to receive his prize after placing Po-Lon with Bayleen
"Look at whose guessing now, punk," Po-Lon remarked smugly while watching.
"Shut up." Bayleen said while trying not to spoil the moment for the leader of the group
One of the assistants (a Wigglytuff) walked over to the grass trio to hand the leader his prize. The trophy looked like a miniature silver version of The Gold CFR Cup. It said "MVP" in bold silver colored letters on the front. The other racers looked on from their sides of the podium.
"Awwwww," whined Boltma, "I wanted to win that."
"You can't win everything Boltma," Cylinder and Limiter both said in annoyed voices.
Flare meanwhile looked on as the 'noob' team leader received the prize. A vein started to develop on his forehead. The cocky fire type felt himself burn with fury inside. He was very insulted by the result of the race as it is while he thought back. It was as if it was just last year all over again. That was when they started to give out the MVP trophy. He had been the first recipient of that trophy, proof to the many mon around in the race that he was a "cut" above the other racers: in a league of his own! Now for it that very trophy to be not just taken away from him, but given to a rookie team leader who stole first place from him and his paws was too much for him to bear witness to, going into a charge that surprised his two partners. He felt all of this attack the main thing that made Flare who he was: his pride. The fire within his body was building up in his body until it was too much to contain. He ran off to the podiums and shot a Fire Blast towards the MVP to install upon him the same fate as his teammate that he got struck by earlier that day.
Grasslicer and team barely saw the hellish fire move coming towards them. However when they did, Grasslicer grabbed the assistant in front of him and flew in the air while Bayleen helped Po-Lon get out of the way with Vine Whip while the attack inched by Po-Lon by inches and saw it head into the stands. The other two teams jumped off the podium as well while the attack stormed by which, thankfully, no team member of any team got hurt. The attack struck the podium charring it black. It was slightly damaged at the spot where Team Chlorophyll was standing. The audience near by got out of the way too as the attack hit the stands, leaving black mark of the fire attack, hot but not hot enough to melt any seats but it'll be a while before anyone sat down, unless they liked toasted rumps.
"Hey!" shouted Grasslicer while looking down from his point of view in the sky, "Just what the fuck is your problem, man?"
"You!" yelled Flare as his eyes turned Zangoose red, "All of you losers coming here and disgracing this fucking racing event."
"Well that's pretty harsh. We just got here. No need to go fire starter in this bitch." Grasslicer commented to him as he lands, giving the assistant a chance to run for it.
"Do you think this is fucking funny?"
"No ... Maybe."
"Listen very closely, you walking monkey vendor," the Flareon resumes as he felt his body growing hotter as he got the starting charge set up for another Fire Blast "You and your team deserve only to be called one thing: the biggest piles of worthless shits to ever enter this circuit! People like you hold back the ones who actually have talent. You're just a bunch of loose luggage here just to fill in the gaps. For anyone on your pathetic team to even be able to breathe on a trophy such as MVP is an insult to the entire sport! You, the vine bitch, and the walking mushroom should be in the hall of rejects and losers!"
"Walking monkey vendor? Oh, the bananas..." the team leader said with a sweat-drop before going back to glancing at the runner of team Pyron, "Well fuck you too, you walking red powder puff. You should spend less time cursing and more time putting on make up since I wiped my ass with leaves tougher than you."
Flare let out another growl as fire began to spout out his mouth. He went to charge at the mon when a bunch of light yellow tails wrapped around him and his mouth. It was Vulca which tightened her tails around Flare like restraints and tugged him from the area as he struggled within her grasp. Volcan followed the two while shaking his head, clearly knowing this'll be remembered as long as the eon's carrier kept going in the race.
"Well that went lovely..." said Grasslicer.
"I swear, Grass," Po-Lon spoke up as it's safe to speak without the worry of being roasted, "The next time I see him I'll beat the shit out of his ass."
"Oh don't worry bout that man."
"W-What are you talking bout?" Po-Lon said with his face in a state of shock. "That mon sent a fucking Fire Blast at you and almost did it again!"
"You know why he did that? Because he's a spoiled bitch who can't take it if he can't get what he wants."
"What?" the Breloom asked with the look of confusion on him, no Confuse Ray required.
"He's aggravated because he didn't win and then I get this MVP trophy. He shoots a Fire Blast and tries to start Armageddon. He's the type who must always be in the spotlight. If he loses even once in anything, it's the end of the world. Quite frankly, I hate people like that! People like that fail on their own most of the time. We don't need to worry ourselves with him since if he keeps acting like then he'll only hold his team back."
Silence. Uneasy, thoughtful silence.
"Wow, Grass!" exclaimed Bayleen in awe, "I never figured you for a person with a philosophical view."
"He was just that easy to read." Grasslicer then looked at Po-Lon. "You know something Po-Lon?"
"What?" asked Po-Lon.
"You were right. The Flareon is a fucking douche bag."
The two mon laughed it up a bit as Bayleen soon chuckled from how true it was when she realized it. The race might be over for the trio but the adventures just got off the starting line!
Stay tuned race fans!
"Who's the noob now," teased Po-Lon with a smirk.
Flare began to growl maliciously towards the Breloom and then suddenly said, "Wake up bitch, this race isn't over yet."
And with that, Po-Lon snapped back to reality. He was now 40 yards away from the line. 40 yards to making his dreams a reality. Then suddenly.
"HEY SHITHEAD!"
The voice came from behind him. At first, he was going to ignore it. But he felt something approaching him. It was a large source of energy, which was generating a large amount of heat. Po-Lon's mind was racing. His body was screaming for him to get away. An unknown fear started to well up inside him. He slowly turned around as he ran. A large symbol made out of fire was accelerating towards him. The symbol was split into five sections. The top part of it was a large vertical line connected to a wide vertical line. Three more lines descended from the horizontal line. One at each end and one in the middle. It was clear as day to Po-Lon what the move was. It was Fire Blast. The move was slightly bigger than Po-Lon. It connected with his body directly, reverberating a loud bang upon contact. The move completely knocked Po-Lon off balance causing him to roll. Some of the Fire Blast contacted with his face, decrementing his vision. He rolled off the ground until he was 10 yards from the goal line. He got back on his feet. He tripped and slid back on his face. He tried again receiving the same result. His vision was blurry. He looked straight ahead of himself. He could see the finish line. 'Come on dammit.' thought Po-Lon. He tried running again, but ended up stumbling. He began to drag his feet towards the finish line. The distance slowly began to close. 8 yards ... 6 yards ... 4 yards. That's when he heard them behind him. He turned around and saw two runners approaching him. He could not see them clearly, but he could tell by the color of their fur that it was Limiter and Flare. They were closing in on him! They're closing in on the finish line; closing in on taking his dream away and making it theirs. 'No!' thought Po-Lon, addressing his attention ahead of him again. His sight was still hindered, but he knew that he was just a few feet away from the finish line. He continued to drag himself towards it. The muscles in his legs ached and burned. The nerves in his legs wailed threats to his brain that they will blow out if he kept moving in this condition. Nevertheless, the threats were ignored. This time he did not have to turn around. He felt the presence of the two racers coming in behind him. His fate was clear to him. But if he was going to lose he was gonna lose swinging. He gathered all the energy in his body towards his right leg. It began to glow green. He then spun around with his right leg outstretched.
"Hurricane Kick!" he screamed.
He spun around a few times, his body changing into a large green sphere. He felt something come in contact with his leg. It caused him to stop spinning and fall to the ground. He looked around to see what he hit. He saw a red-colored blur lying down a few feet away from him. It had to have been Flare. At that time, one-half of his thoughts screamed out how good it felt to shut up the son of a Bidoof and his cocky ass whist the other half said the ever famous trio of words that were always shortened on sites all over: what the fuck? He slowly began to get up and walked forward a little bit before he stumbled back onto the ground. He heard movements behind him. He turned around to find Flare's blurred body fumbling left and right until he fell down as well. It seems the kick knocked the wind out of him. He also seemed to have lost his sense of balance. Po-Lon turned back around with two yards separating him from the finish line. To his surprise he still had energy to move after using his technique. However, he didn't have enough strength to stand back up. He began to crawl towards the line. He heard something come up and pass him. It was a blue colored so he assumed that it was Hydra. He was mere inches away from the line when he heard something else come behind him. He didn't need to look back to see who was coming. He knew it was Flare. At the speed Flare was coming, Po-Lon wouldn't be able to beat him at a crawl's pace. So now, he had to put all his energy in this one last move. His hunched his legs and pressed his claws into the ground. He pushed off the ground and lunged forward with his left arm outstretched before him. By the time his arm hit the ground and passed the finish line, Flare had passed him. He didn't know whether he made it over the finish line first or if Flare beat him to it. All he knew he that he mad it to the end of the race. He blacked out.
Po-Lon came to with his body lying between Grasslicer and Bayleen. A few Pokémon in medic uniform were picking up some equipment. They began to leave the three grass-type Pokémon. He glanced towards Bayleen as his vision now clear once more. He could see her actual face. Her light yellow eyes were a little watery. The large leaf on top of her head was dropping but rose back up when Po-Lon stared back at her. She was staring at him with a relieved expression on her face.
"First Grasslicer, then you," she said, "You two scared the hell out of me."
"What place did we make?" asked Po-Lon.
"Third," responded Grasslicer. Po-Lon looked towards Grasslicer. "There waiting for us over at the podium. We stayed here to check up on you. We would of have to leave you with the medics if you hadn't woken up now. You think you can walk?"
"Yeah," responded Po-Lon.
He slowly rose up and started walking forward. He stumbled after his third step. Bayleen quickly went to his side and held him up with her body.
"Po-Lon, are you okay?" asked Bayleen with a worried tone.
"Yeah."
"You can't go down there like this. Sit here and wait for you-"
"No. I'm coming. I'm not just gonna sit here and watch. I want to go down there. This is first time something like this has happened to me and I'm not gonna just watch it happen."
"If that's the case," Grasslicer spoke up, "Put him on my back and we'll take him down."
"Hold up! I'm not gonna piggyback ride on your back. I'm no friggin baby you know."
"Look, motherfucker. It's either you ride my back or you sit you ass here. Take it or leave it."
"... Fine," the injured Breloom said, "but I won't like it."
Bayleen used Vine Whip and lifted Po-Lon off the ground and on Grasslicer's back. They began to walk down towards the crowd of Pokémon.
"It was a close one between you and Flare," Grasslicer told Po-Lon, "The timer and video indicated that you beat him by two inches."
"That son of a bitch," growled Po-Lon while tying to get up and ended up falling back down.
"Whoa there, Po-Lon," said Grasslicer, "You forget that same son of a bitch just nailed your ass with a Fire Blast. Keep that up and you'll fall off. You weren't the only one that didn't see that shit coming. That moment is still fucking with my mind."
"Godammit!" exclaimed Po-Lon, "I'm ... sorry guys. It's my fault. If only I-"
"Calm down, Po-Lon," Bayleen spoke up, "It's okay. It's not your fault. It's a race. Anything can happen. And we got third place. That's not so bad."
"But-"
"There was nothing you could do, Po-Lon," said Grasslicer, "Just like Bayleen said. It's a race. Anything can happen. Cursing and complaining about it isn't going to change anything."
That was enough to quiet down the aggravated Breloom. They both stared on as the DJ McSoul announced the winners of the race (After growing tired of waiting for the three of them to come on stage).
"Well at least we can say that we made it to the finals and got Third place, eh?" said Grasslicer.
"We could have gotten First, Grass," Po-Lon glumly said.
"Hey come on, we were able to do things that hundreds of teams weren't able to do, Veterans and Rookies alike."
Po-Lon only let out a "Humph." in how it came to the fact he couldn't have any comeback to such a line.
"Po-Lon," spoke Bayleen, "You have to remember this is our first year. You can't expect to be the champions just like that. We tried our best. We still have next year. We can train until the next season starts and when that happens we'll have another crack at the title."
"... I guess."
"You guess?" responded Grasslicer, amazed at the response and wanted to put the fire back into his partner. "Motherfucker you guess? You better know. I'm not practicing with someone who's gonna guess he's gonna win! I want someone who knows he's gonna win."
"You doubting me, Grass?" Po-Lon said as the words the Tropius said got under his skin.
"Maybe I am, guesser."
"Then fine! I KNOW we're gonna win next time. I also KNOW that I'm going to kick your ass the moment my body starts working again."
"That's great to hear, you punk-ass motherfucker! But judging from what happened in that race I'm way more resilient than your ass. So if any one is gonna be whupping anybody's ass, it's me."
"Fuck you! I got hit by a Fire Blast."
"Alright boys, play nice," said Bayleen, having enough of the testosterone chatter between teammates.
"Heh, C'mon Bayleen, you know that's how me and Po-Lon have a conversation. I remember you saying we tried our best. I don't know about you, but me and Po-Lon was kicking ass out there."
"Oh I'm soooorrrrrry," said Bayleen in an irritated tone.
"Yeah." said Grasslicer while remembering a moment in the past going on with Po-Lon and a certain mon, "Well anyways I heard you and that Flareon guy was getting into a little 'argument' down there. What's that all about?"
"Man, I don't feel like talking about it." Po-Lon responded with a groan, "All I'll say is that guy's a fucking douche bag."
"People saying that he lost the race cause of you when you hit him with that 'Spinning Hurricane' green shit."
"Yeah?" as Po-Lon felt that he did quite proud of that moment in time. He could still remember how good it felt seeing that red and orange blur fly to the back of the pack.
"Yep! He had just gotten the lead over Limiter when you blasted his ass with it. A lot of people said he would have won the race if it wasn't for you."
"Oohhh!" the mushroom mon said, feeling very gleeful now knowing he foiled the victory for the one he hated most.
"Just thought you would like to know that little fact." Grasslicer said while the crowd stirred.
"Made my day slightly easier."
There was a three level platform on the blue, white-striped podium indicating in height what place a team made. The higher the height, the greater the position: Third place was set at three feet, second place was six, and first place was nine. Each of the three sections was about 15 feet wide so that the full team would be able to stand on them. Team Chlorophyll was in third place, Team Wipeout was in second, and Team Thunder was in first place once again. Team Pyron were sitting a couple of feet away, watching the scene from afar. Team Wipeout had looks of disappointment on their faces. Grasslicer and Bayleen had smiles on their faces, while Po-Lon looked like he was a part of Team Wipeout. Team Pyron stared on with blank faces. All but Flare, His head was bent downwards. Po-Lon stared at his enemy. Just by the look planted on him, he could tell Flare was growling under his breath in boiling anger. Team Thunder was at the top with Boltma was sitting atop Cylinder's shoulders with The Gold CFR Cup within her paws. The CFR Cup was designed like your ordinary trophy: It had wide oval shaped rim top, which descended to a smaller oval-shaped base. It had two long handles on both sides attached to the sides of the top rim and a few inches from the bottom on the trophy. Boltma and Cylinder had joyous expressions on their faces while Limiter had a smirk on his.
"LET'S SHARE ANOTHER ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR RETAINING CHAMPIONS. TEEAAAAMMMM THUUUUNNNNNDDDDEEERRRR!" announced the DJ whilst crowd went ballistic upon hearing the winning team's name.
"You know what!" shouted Grasslicer over the deafening screams, "The more that little shit-head of an announcer talks, the more I want to kill him."
"NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMAN. WE HAVE CONDUCTED AND JUDGED THE RACERS ON THEIR OVERALL PERFORMANCE DURING THE RACE AND HAVE COME TO A FINAL CONCLUSION FOR THE RECIPIENT OF THE MVP AWARD. LET'S GIVE IT UP FOR THIS YEAR'S MOST VALUABLE PLAYER..." The screen changes to show the individual member of the race by team. The graphics altered as soon it came down to one of the three of one of the teams which had surprised many considering the result and then the last change of the screen showed the recipient of the MVP trophy for this year!
"GRRRRRAAAASSSSSLLICEEEEEEERRRRR!"
The attention of all the racers and people in the crowd were on Team Chlorophyll's leader. The Tropius' mouth dropped upon hearing his name.
"Bet you don't wanna kill him now." said Po-Lon.
Grasslicer remained silent for a while until he finally realized that this was really happening. "... Well..." Grasslicer began to say, "I guess I'll take the losses then." He finished while going standing up front to receive his prize after placing Po-Lon with Bayleen
"Look at whose guessing now, punk," Po-Lon remarked smugly while watching.
"Shut up." Bayleen said while trying not to spoil the moment for the leader of the group
One of the assistants (a Wigglytuff) walked over to the grass trio to hand the leader his prize. The trophy looked like a miniature silver version of The Gold CFR Cup. It said "MVP" in bold silver colored letters on the front. The other racers looked on from their sides of the podium.
"Awwwww," whined Boltma, "I wanted to win that."
"You can't win everything Boltma," Cylinder and Limiter both said in annoyed voices.
Flare meanwhile looked on as the 'noob' team leader received the prize. A vein started to develop on his forehead. The cocky fire type felt himself burn with fury inside. He was very insulted by the result of the race as it is while he thought back. It was as if it was just last year all over again. That was when they started to give out the MVP trophy. He had been the first recipient of that trophy, proof to the many mon around in the race that he was a "cut" above the other racers: in a league of his own! Now for it that very trophy to be not just taken away from him, but given to a rookie team leader who stole first place from him and his paws was too much for him to bear witness to, going into a charge that surprised his two partners. He felt all of this attack the main thing that made Flare who he was: his pride. The fire within his body was building up in his body until it was too much to contain. He ran off to the podiums and shot a Fire Blast towards the MVP to install upon him the same fate as his teammate that he got struck by earlier that day.
Grasslicer and team barely saw the hellish fire move coming towards them. However when they did, Grasslicer grabbed the assistant in front of him and flew in the air while Bayleen helped Po-Lon get out of the way with Vine Whip while the attack inched by Po-Lon by inches and saw it head into the stands. The other two teams jumped off the podium as well while the attack stormed by which, thankfully, no team member of any team got hurt. The attack struck the podium charring it black. It was slightly damaged at the spot where Team Chlorophyll was standing. The audience near by got out of the way too as the attack hit the stands, leaving black mark of the fire attack, hot but not hot enough to melt any seats but it'll be a while before anyone sat down, unless they liked toasted rumps.
"Hey!" shouted Grasslicer while looking down from his point of view in the sky, "Just what the fuck is your problem, man?"
"You!" yelled Flare as his eyes turned Zangoose red, "All of you losers coming here and disgracing this fucking racing event."
"Well that's pretty harsh. We just got here. No need to go fire starter in this bitch." Grasslicer commented to him as he lands, giving the assistant a chance to run for it.
"Do you think this is fucking funny?"
"No ... Maybe."
"Listen very closely, you walking monkey vendor," the Flareon resumes as he felt his body growing hotter as he got the starting charge set up for another Fire Blast "You and your team deserve only to be called one thing: the biggest piles of worthless shits to ever enter this circuit! People like you hold back the ones who actually have talent. You're just a bunch of loose luggage here just to fill in the gaps. For anyone on your pathetic team to even be able to breathe on a trophy such as MVP is an insult to the entire sport! You, the vine bitch, and the walking mushroom should be in the hall of rejects and losers!"
"Walking monkey vendor? Oh, the bananas..." the team leader said with a sweat-drop before going back to glancing at the runner of team Pyron, "Well fuck you too, you walking red powder puff. You should spend less time cursing and more time putting on make up since I wiped my ass with leaves tougher than you."
Flare let out another growl as fire began to spout out his mouth. He went to charge at the mon when a bunch of light yellow tails wrapped around him and his mouth. It was Vulca which tightened her tails around Flare like restraints and tugged him from the area as he struggled within her grasp. Volcan followed the two while shaking his head, clearly knowing this'll be remembered as long as the eon's carrier kept going in the race.
"Well that went lovely..." said Grasslicer.
"I swear, Grass," Po-Lon spoke up as it's safe to speak without the worry of being roasted, "The next time I see him I'll beat the shit out of his ass."
"Oh don't worry bout that man."
"W-What are you talking bout?" Po-Lon said with his face in a state of shock. "That mon sent a fucking Fire Blast at you and almost did it again!"
"You know why he did that? Because he's a spoiled bitch who can't take it if he can't get what he wants."
"What?" the Breloom asked with the look of confusion on him, no Confuse Ray required.
"He's aggravated because he didn't win and then I get this MVP trophy. He shoots a Fire Blast and tries to start Armageddon. He's the type who must always be in the spotlight. If he loses even once in anything, it's the end of the world. Quite frankly, I hate people like that! People like that fail on their own most of the time. We don't need to worry ourselves with him since if he keeps acting like then he'll only hold his team back."
Silence. Uneasy, thoughtful silence.
"Wow, Grass!" exclaimed Bayleen in awe, "I never figured you for a person with a philosophical view."
"He was just that easy to read." Grasslicer then looked at Po-Lon. "You know something Po-Lon?"
"What?" asked Po-Lon.
"You were right. The Flareon is a fucking douche bag."
The two mon laughed it up a bit as Bayleen soon chuckled from how true it was when she realized it. The race might be over for the trio but the adventures just got off the starting line!
Stay tuned race fans!