#auskosten

Wenn du gut bist

Wenn du gut bist in dem, was du tust, löst du Konkurrenz aus, ganz automatisch. Aber auch nur, wenn du gut bist. Die Inkompetenz kannst du ganz für dich alleine haben, und den damit einhergehenden Misserfolg zur Gänze alleine auskosten. Dr. Dr. Immanuel Fruhmann – Center for Philosophy and Political Art –

Twenty seconds on the clock. The points flashed by as the double Boomburst’s glow dissipated. Rhapsodie lay by his feet, her nine tails curled against her flank, and Atonality hovered weakly at her side. Franz gritted his teeth as he saw the gap between their point levels. To lose like this–against Eduard Hanslick, no less?

No, he wouldn’t, he just had to–

But if it missed–

Fifteen on the clock. He had to improvise.

“Let’s try something new,” he said, and then looked back to his Pokémon. “Rhapsodie, hold your fire. Atonality, use Gyro Ball!”

The claydol began to spin, its body glowing silver as it whirled about with the speed of its master’s cadenzas. Rhapsodie stood, snarling at the exhausted pair across from her as her teammate shot toward them. The ninetales glanced back at her master, curls of fire steaming from her jaws, ready to leap into the fray.

“Now! Fire Spin around Atonality!”

Instantly she understood. A spiraling burst of flame shot from her mouth, wrapping the claydol round, hurtling toward the other side with the same impossible speed. At Hanslick’s command his noivern launched the exploud at them, one hammer-arm raised to pummel the dual onslaught–and then the dragon steeled its wings, ready to launch after its partner–

The last of the flame escaped the ninetales’ jaws, snapping off the fire spin like a cord. Atonality slammed into the opposing team, to all eyes a meteor, its iron-fire shine like a sun–the rivals skidded in the dust, nearly knocking their master over, but still he stood, eyes darting upward, aching to see the result–

Zero seconds on the clock. One Coordinator had lost his points. And the other stood victorious, his green eyes flashing hellfire as the stage burned before him.

He thought he’d seen the other man’s face in the audience, a famous, shining face in the top box of the stadium–a face that captivated a much different stage, one Franz had his eyes trained on as well. 

Usually he paid the audience no mind, but today he’d almost let his concentration slip. The blond mane that didn’t give a care, the bright eyes, the easy smile and the blissful laugh–all of it he saw in that man, who had to be the same as the Pokémusical star he thought so highly of. And the man’s Pokémon–flawless, virtuosic, effortlessly graceful as they cavorted in perfect time to the music. The way they knew their music–yes, that was what he loved most about them. Not even Franz’s Pokémon could claim to have the music inside of them like that.

When he saw Wolfgang standing in front of him, he knew their meeting was no accident. He was waiting there for him. He’d come specifically for Franz, and now he wanted the honor of a talk–a star-to-star heart-to-heart, perhaps, and a congratulation on his last-minute victory. A boon for him, and surely for the paparazzi as well.