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[Pokémon] ROOTS // Professorfic

Yuoaman

I don't know who I am either.
4,582
Posts
18
Years
Wow, I'm glad I checked this thread out, it's actually inspiring me to get back to writing my own fan-fic, which I had given up on months ago. The style you are using is actually very organic, and I didn't feel disconnected at any point during the story, which is odd for a fan-fic. The character of Rowan is also someone I can understand, I can't quite like him, but I understand why he acts as he does, and I'm definitely going to enjoy reading his character arc.

Also in the newest chapter:

"This had been his brothers." should be "This had been his brother's."
 
35
Posts
13
Years
  • Seen Jul 3, 2011
Yay, another chapter! I'm glad to see that Mike is finally starting on his journey. I really like how you used the previous few chapters to build up a three-dimensional image of your protagonist; really fleshed him out to the audience before throwing him into his actual adventure. It makes him seem much more real in our minds than, say, a random kid who just woke up with the sun high in the sky, ate breakfast with deep-fried bacon and a glass of full-cream milk, arrived at the Prof's lab late and inexplicably obtained both a Charmander named BlazerFlarerPyroKillerMon and a poor abandoned Eevee named TitusYunaForeva within the space of a single, poorly formatted paragraph. (So I exaggerate a little, but I'm sure you get my point. :P) It makes him seem like a person who we all personally know in some way or another, that gifted yet angsty rebel-without-a-cause, and while we may not yet really like or root for him, at least we can picture him, and in a way, understand him.

One thing that really stood out for me in this chapter is the way you incorporated Mike's backstory so effortlessly and naturally into the narrative flow. The use of his brother's photo album as a narrative device was not necessarily the most original method I've read, but you certainly made it work! I've read hundreds of stories which clumsily insert whole paragraphs of backstory in the middle of nowhere, completely screwing up the flow of action (often using dramatic italics to show that the protagonist is remembering something), and I'm glad you didn't end up resorting to that messy and incredibly lazy method.

Lastly, one more point I really like about your story is how Michael is essentially the same person from chapter to chapter. It may not seem such a big deal, but after seeing countless fanfics featuring schizophrenics as main characters (smart one second, semi-retarded the other, total cowards on Monday, Braveheart on Tuesday, the personification of eternal angstiness in the morning, Jim Carrey mixed with Eddie Murphy on Prozaic in the afternoon... you get my drift), it's inexpressibly refreshing to see evidence that the author has clearly thought through their character's personality beforehand, and has constructed the plot around their traits rather than the other way around.

Well, I figure I've rambled a bit too long, so I'll leave now and wish you luck on the next chapter. Hope you update soon. :)
 

Haruka of Hoenn

Rolling writer
297
Posts
16
Years
Bay: Yup, this chapter's the big turning point of the story. The Turtwig is gonna play a pretty big role, as is the Stunky of course. Thanks for the review!

Yuoaman: Better go on and fix that typo now... Good eye. :P I'm happy you liked my story, and thanks for stopping by.

indinrio: I know perfectly well what you mean. Thank you for the in-depth analysis :P Glad you liked the chapters!

Thank you all for the reviews! See you next chapter.

1 week, as usual.
 

Elite Overlord LeSabre™

On that 'Non stop road'
9,875
Posts
16
Years
Ah, family issues... I've seen it before where one traumatic event can tear a family apart and cause other family members to undergo huge changes in personality (the character Nanaka in the anime "Myself; Yourself" is another great example of this) and it makes sense that losing his father would cause Michael in a way, to lose himself as well and become the person he is now. The thing that I'm looking forward to now is, how will this next chapter in his life change him from the person he is now to the person he will become.

And the Turtwig/Stunky scene was a nice addition, revealing that Turtwig at this point is still willing to help Michael out, unlike Stunky who is (understandably so) terrified of him. Time will tell whether Michael's relationship with both of these Pokemon will improve or get worse.

One thing I can't help but wonder... How is Patricia (that's my mom's name too, lol) reacting to Michael leaving home behind closed doors. I knew she was putting on a brave face as he left, but what's her true reaction to it?

I think it will be very interesting to see Michael's first experiences out on his own and I eagerly await the next chapter :)
 

Haruka of Hoenn

Rolling writer
297
Posts
16
Years
Hey, thanks for stopping by. Your interpretation (and everyone else's, for the matter) of the Stunky+Turtwig scene was correct, though there will be a bit more to it.

And as for Patricia, she'll still be around, but in a more indirect way. The story is told in Michael's point of view, so I won't literally be switching off to her during the story. But she'll still be there... ;)

Thanks for the review!
 

Haruka of Hoenn

Rolling writer
297
Posts
16
Years
Okay, here's five now. It's a bit late because I've been busy with other things, but I hope that doesn't affect the quality in any way... :P

0.5

Jubilife City appeared in stages.

First came the famous ledge, the natural hill that the city stood upon. It raised the downtown above everything else, like a princely estate among cornfields, and as Michael followed the upward slope, he soon found himself a good few meters higher than the land behind him. The structures here were small and plain, things like family-owned businesses and gas stations. The houses were all propped up on stilts that made sure they stood horizontally, but the effect was a drab, rickety look that made it seem like they could collapse at any moment. Few cars lingered here, and the ones that did reflected the washed-out state of everything else. Michael watched as a rusty Oldsmobile passed by, spewing brown exhaust from its tailpipe.

No show, no go... he thought with a snicker.

As he continued farther up, the city grew cleaner, and the roadways smooth. Now he saw billboards with smiling people and pokémon, warmly welcoming him to the downtown and urging him to stop and get a cool haircut. The sidewalk widened, making room for dozens of little stands and booths, where street vendors displayed racks of souvenirs, food, and novelties. The items were all horribly overpriced, yet people gathered around in droves to buy them.

Michael had spent his fair share of time in the downtown, from weekend outings to forced shopping journeys, and countless adventures with his friends. He knew West Jubilife like the back of his hand, but the farther east he went, the more his sense of direction faltered, and the more the buildings and crowds seemed to compress together, forming rivers of congestion.

Most of the people around him were high-school students going wild on their summer break, strolling about the streets while the night was still young. They walked in cliques amid puffs of cigarette smoke and clinking glasses, crowding out the businesspeople to the sides of walkways. Across the street, Michael caught sight of a tall blonde in a knee-length miniskirt. Her arm was draped over the shoulder of an older, muscular guy, but it was safe to look from a distance. She was prettier than most of the girls at his school, who preferred to keep their hair tied and their faces unpainted, or did their makeup to such an extent that their faces seemed like porcelain masks. But this girl was the perfect middle boundary. He could detect a bit of eyeshadow and lipstick, but other than that, she was a natural beauty. Michael's gaze lingered on her as the couple walked, finally turning to enter a pub.

Nice, he thought with a smile. Just ditch Big Nose over there and you'll be swell.

A few minutes later, Michael's gaze found a different girl — a brunette with unbelievably curly hair standing in front of an opened doorway. She was somewhat bigger than the blonde and wore thick-rimmed glasses. He wasn't the type to judge a girl on the fact that she wore glasses (his previous girlfriend had worn them and looked mighty fine) so at first the brunette seemed all right, until he was close enough to read the sign she was holding: "Join the National Science League! Donations accepted inside!"

Michael was instantly reminded of school, and quickened his pace. From then on, he kept his wandering eyes fixed ahead. The cool kids drove cars, anyway.

As he progressed, the cars on the road became shinier and more exquisite, to the point where Michael had to stop to admire them. They glimmered in the light like candy wrappers, their bumpers bearing names like 'Chevrolet' and 'Pontiac'. He must have looked pretty idiotic, standing there with his lips parted, but Michael didn't care.

I'll have one of those someday. The best car there is, and I'll have it.

He made his pledge while eying a red Ford Galaxie. The model was a tribute to the Team Galactic rocket of the same name, and featured a bulky frame with shiny stripes along the side. A man was sitting in the driver's seat, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses and one arm carelessly dangling out over the door. For a moment, Michael imagined himself in his place. It felt good, even though he knew he might never get that much.

No one around him seemed to care that he was carrying a Stunky with him, though on one occasion he thought he heard someone coo, "Aw, look at the cute little trainer!" Michael couldn't see the face behind the voice, so he kept going, his cheeks stinging. The Stunky, meanwhile, was exploring the city in its own mammalian way. It scurried around, eyes blinking, probably also transfixed by the city's beauty. For a brief moment, Michael wondered what it must feel like to be a pokémon, to leave your home and be surrounded by so many unfamiliar things. From inside the cage, the world must have seemed bigger than life. In that sense, they were alike.

After a few more minutes of walking, Michael reached the heart of Central Jubilife. He knew it when he saw the fountain — a magnificent bowl that stood in an open square, shooting out tall plumes of water. The lights around it flashed all sorts of colors, dyeing the streams green, blue, red, and everything else imaginable. The fountain was surrounded by a garden, with vines that reached up to embrace the stone bowl. People sat in benches around it, talking, playfully rocking their feet.

For a moment, Michael listened to the rushing streams.

So this is what freedom feels like. He inhaled, and could almost taste the water through the air. What would Cory and Brendan say?

He stood on the sidewalk for a long while, then gathered his thoughts and pressed on. He crossed another street, keeping himself occupied by glancing at the windows he passed. Among the hair salons, candy shops, and clothing boutiques, his eyes found a bookstore. Its door was bright and new, to his almost comic observation, as if not many people had used it. The store was called Fran's Books. For some reason or another, he saw himself enter.

Inside, the store was clean and quiet, with walls of shelves that reached all the way up to the ceiling. Once the door closed behind him, the sounds of the city vanished, replaced by the buzzing of ceiling lamps.

The only person there was a female clerk, who sat behind a semicircular counter, reading a newspaper. Her area was a little island of light, while in the back room, the bookcases were masked in shadow. When the woman saw Michael, her eyebrows perked in greeting. Her name tag read, simply, 'Fran'.

"Hello," she said. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone this late. I try to save energy this time of year, since not a lot of people come in." She flipped a light switch behind her, and the other room lit up.

"Why not?" asked Michael.

The woman shrugged. "I don't know. Summer, I guess. Everyone's out having fun, going to dances, and I'm the only one sitting inside reading."

"I like books," Michael said. It was true, actually. When he was younger, he sometimes stole Brian's books to keep himself entertained during boring class sessions. But for some reason, his interest had dwindled over the years. Stepping into a bookstore was like stepping back into childhood.

Meanwhile, the clerk smiled. "Good for you. You know, I've been noticing that people who read are less likely to get into trouble."

Michael stifled a laugh. Well that can't be true.

"And they also end up leading better lives," she continued. "These young people... all they care about is self-indulgence. Most of my friends wouldn't take a book into their hands if they were forced to. It's a choice you have to make early on, you know. Pay now, play later, or play now and pay later." She chuckled.

Michael didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

"Sorry, I'm rambling," the woman said. "I work by myself most of the time, so my mind tends to run." She leaned back and took the newspaper back into her hands. "So you wanna have a look around?"

"I guess," Michael said.

The clerk nodded. Her eyes went to the cage. "But be careful with that Stunky of yours. Some of these books are really old."

"Okay."

"Just holler if you need me."

Michael went to the back room and began to pace around, reading the titles that surrounded him. Most of the spines were tattered, their text faded. It occurred to him that this might have been secondhand shop.

Beside him, he felt the Stunky shift around. Michael picked a book from the shelf and turned it over to read the cover. It was a history book of some sort, and its binding was worn from years of being passed along. On the back, Michael saw the price tag — ten dollars. His eyes bulged.

"That's a really old book," said the woman from up front. "It's about ancient pokémon."

"It's expensive," Michael said.

"Like I said, it's old! And it's a special edition that is rarely reprinted nowadays. I actually got it off a—" Her sentence was cut short by a loud rrip. By the time Michael realized what it was, it was too late.

He had lowered his arm without realizing it, letting the bottom corner of the book dip into the cage. The Stunky had locked its jaws around it, soaking the pages with saliva.

"No, no! Bad Stunky!" Michael tried to yank the book loose, but the Stunky's grip was iron. The clerk nearly fell out of her chair. She was at Michael's side in seconds.

"It'll ruin the binding!" she screeched. "Get it off, quick!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" Michael shook the cage violently, bumping it against his knee and the shelves, causing two books to fall to the floor. But the harder he tugged, the stronger the Stunky held.

"Get it off, get it off!" The woman's voice reached a hysterical high. Her hands moved frantically around the cage, fingers poking through the gaps in the bars. Somehow, she managed to reach inside with her thumb and gripped the Stunky's tail.

"No, don't!" Michael began, but before he could finish, a jet of green gas shot out at the woman's face. She let out a yelp and fell backwards, arms flying up. The cloud of stink rose and spread, and Michael backed away with a cringe, eyes watering.

The woman slid down against the shelf and plopped to the floor. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and her mouth was hanging open.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" With one final exertion, Michael pulled the book out of the Stunky's mouth. He held it up to inspect it, but the damage had already been done. The entire bottom half was in ruins, and a page jutted out like a hanging tongue. Teeth marks stood out from where the Stunky had been holding.

The store was silent for a few moments.

"Oh no..." The woman rose slowly to her feet. A muscle beneath her left eye twitched.

In his mind, Michael kicked himself. He hadn't been in the store for five minutes, and already something had gone wrong.

"I'm sorry! It was an accident!" he said. "Here, take your book." He placed it in her shaking hands.

"This... do you know how much this meant to me? Ten entire dollars, wasted..." The woman's eyes were bloodshot from the chemical reaction made by the musk.

"It was the Stunky's fault, not mine!" Michael said.

The clerk cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her hair. "It's okay, I guess it's not your fault. That book was about to fall apart anyway." To his surprise, she began laughing. "Heh! It's sure gonna need some repair."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but whatever it was didn't come out. Instead, her eyes fell on the cage. Her expression softened a little as she kneeled down beside it.

"Oh, you poor thing. You're probably hungry. Is that why you bit my book? Huh, little fella?" The woman placed a hand on the cage, and the Stunky shrank back from it. All of a sudden, she seemed to forget that her favorite book was in ruins and that she smelled like vomit.

"Uh... so, do I have to pay for the book?" Michael asked.

The woman looked back up at him, arching her eyebrows. "Your pokémon looks awfully hungry, kid."

"I... well, yeah, I know, but that's not the—"

The woman rose to her full height, her face towering well above his. "That thing is all skin and bones. Are you sure it's okay?"

Michael nodded. "It's fine."

"It doesn't look too good. Were you gonna take it to a vet?"

Michael shook his head. "No, it's fine, really. So do you want me to pay? I mean, I can if you want me to, whatever."

The woman didn't seem to be hearing him. She looked at the Stunky, frowning.

"Look, I can pay for the book! If you want me to." Michael repeated. The intensity of her gaze was unsettling him.

"Why are you keeping it in a cage like this? Most people just let their pokémon walk on a leash."

Michael exhaled. Why did she keep switching the subject? "I don't know. Okay? This is all I have."

"Where did you get it anyway? Are you a trainer?"

"It's none of your business! And no, I'm not a trainer!" Michael retorted. "If you don't want me to pay, then I'll go." He began to back away, but the woman advanced towards him.

"You know, trainers are the only minors permitted to carry pokémon with them. So if you don't have a trainer card, having that Stunky with you is illegal. Plus, it doesn't appear to be in very good health."

"It's perfectly fine!"

The woman shook her head. "You know, if you're not a trainer and you're not with an adult, I can assume that it's not yours and you're abusing it. That poor pokémon is shaking. Look at it! Does that mean anything to you?"

Michael took a quick peek at the Stunky. Yes it was shaking, but he always thought it was from fright, not hunger. Didn't he feed it earlier? What more could it want?

"I don't care! I mean, just..." Michael groaned, but for some reason the words weren't coming out the way he wanted them to.

The woman's eyes widened. "You don't care?"

Michael pressed his palm to his forehead. "I can pay for the book," he said. "Then I'll leave, okay? I know I'm not a trainer, but I swear, this is my Stunky. I caught him myself and I put him in the cage because if I don't, he'll run away! Okay?"

The woman didn't answer. Her expression was clouded, and she looked down at Michael as if he were some sort of maniac.

"No... just get out of my store," she said slowly.

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because—"

"Just get out! You little monster." The woman stepped past him and went back to her desk. Then she did something that surprised him. She threw the book into the trash can, letting it fall into the scrap like a worthless piece of paper.

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Fine," he murmured. "Buy another one."

By the time he left the store and resumed his walk, the Stunky was growing restless. Michael could feel the vibrations it made as it circled around, and he shook the cage up and down to make it stop.

"Shut up, shut up!" Michael said. "It's all your fault anyway, Skanky. You should be happy if I decide to feed you by next week." The Stunky made no reply. Michael continued down the sidewalk, dodging anyone who got in his way. His mind was churning.

What a moron... How am I a monster? She was the one who tried to butt into my business. Now she can spend her own money to buy another book. What do I care?

But for some reason, he did. What the clerk said had displaced something within him. And no matter how he turned the conversation in his mind, he could wring no other meaning from of her words. Her intention had been very clear — you, Michael Rowan, are a monster for starving the Stunky.

He had been called worse before. So why did this accusation bother him?

Michael kept replaying the previous few minutes in his mind as he walked. He had stopped reading the street signs, and was now wandering aimlessly, with no idea where he even was. He drove himself to such extent that the sounds of the city began echoing strangely in his ears, and some of the signs became blurry to him. On top of it all, he was feeling a painful rumbling at the pit of his stomach. The candy bar from earlier had done nothing to chase away his hunger.

I need some real food... Michael pursed his lips thoughtfully. Looking around, he saw that there were a few restaurants around him, but they were all bars and nightclubs that looked as if they'd offer him a fight before they'd offer him food. He kept walking, till he came across a sign that read 'Joe's Supreme Sandwiches'. Without hesitation, Michael went inside.

The store consisted of a single room, furnished with a few round tables and a row of booths along the walls. The wallpaper was a dingy yellow, and elevator music crackled over the chatter of seated customers. A glass display beside the front counter showed rows of colorful sandwiches, piled with meat, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, and countless other things. Michael's stomach rumbled again.

He approached the counter, where a man stood, assembling a sub with gloved hands. When Michael stopped by the register, he looked up.

"No pokémon allowed in the restaurant."

Michael tore his eyes from the display and looked down at the Stunky. It was still a bit shaky from the bookstore, and looked ready to pounce. "Sorry. I can't really get rid of it right now."

The clerk sighed. "Whatever. As long as that thing doesn't urinate on my floor. If it does, you're cleaning it up. Understood?"

Michael nodded.

"All right. What will you be having?"

"Can I have the sandwich you're making?"

The clerk shook his head. "Nope. This one's for me. My genius of a manager doesn't give me much time for lunch breaks." He bit off a corner of the sandwich and began to chew. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

"Okay... how much is a beef?"

"Fifty cents."

Michael nodded and dropped his backpack to the floor. He squatted down and began a very long, very awkward search for his money. The clerk didn't complain. He waited for Michael to hand him a dollar bill, then reached into the display to pull out a large sandwich. He slapped it onto a tray and pushed it towards Michael, along with his change.

"Anything to drink?"

"Water."

Michael handed over his change in return for a water bottle, and went to look for an empty table. The café was considerably full for its size. He looked around the room, then suddenly, his eyes locked on a single face, and he recognized the blonde girl he had seen before. She was sitting alone at a booth, absently stirring a cup of tea. Their gazes met for a moment. Before he pulled away, Michael noticed that her eyes were a deep amber.

He turned in the opposite direction and found an empty booth, and slid into the corner until he was well out of sight. He placed the Stunky beneath the table and took a long drink of water. But just as he lifted the sandwich to his mouth, he heard a loud peep from beneath the table.

Some people turned their heads. Michael quickly looked down, and saw that the Stunky had begun to pace around again. He glared at it for a few moments. It gave another squeal. Feeling sorry for it, Michael tore off a bit of his sandwich and tossed it into the cage. The Stunky threw itself upon it, and backed away with it into the darkness. Quiet at last.

He finished his sandwich without any further interruptions, and left the café with a satisfied stomach. He strolled up the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, looking around at the buildings with renewed interest. A large slip of the sky was visible overhead, completely black against the glare of light.

Michael was watching the cars go by when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Excuse me," said a mellow voice. Female.

He turned, and at first he couldn't believe his eyes. The blonde was standing three feet away from him. He could see her features in detail now — thin waist, long nose, pink lips. Freckles. She was definitely older than him, probably by about four years. The oldest girl he had flirted with was one grade above him, but that was nothing compared to this.

The blonde's eyes were narrowed, and she seemed to be in deep thought.

"Uh... hello," Michael said. Oh God, do I have crumbs on my mouth? He casually reached up and wiped it with the back of his hand. It was a stupid move, something a class nerd would have done, but the girl didn't seem to notice.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she said. "I'm sorry, but you look really familiar."

"I saw you... walk into a pub earlier today."

Whatever she was about to say she bit back, giggling. "Uh, no. I don't mean that. From a distance, you looked exactly like someone I know. What's your name?"

"Michael."

The girl's face lit up for a moment, but then the smile vanished. "No, no, I made a mistake. Sorry about that. For a second, you two looked really similar..."

"Who's the guy?"

The girl shook her head dismissively. "Just a friend from Slateport."

"Oh, so you're not from here?"

"No. I live in Hoenn. I'm visiting my cousin for the summer." She crossed her arms. "But he's more interested in the beer quality than the landmarks. He didn't even give me a map."

"Do you need directions or anything?" Michael said immediately. "I'm pretty familiar with this place, so..."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that. I'll only slow you down." Her eyes fell on the cage. "And it looks like you have enough to carry already."

In his mind, Michael winced. "It's okay, I mean, it's not really that heavy."

But the girl shook her head. "It's okay. Honestly, I'll be fine. At any rate, I should be getting back to the pub. My cousin's probably wondering where I am." She gave a smile, and waved. "It was nice meeting you, Michael."

"Nice meeting you too," he began, but stopped. He hadn't even gotten the girl's name. All he could do was watch as her form grew smaller and smaller in the distance, till it was finally swallowed by the crowd.

Michael swallowed. Well don't I have the best luck in the world. He could almost picture his friends laughing at him for passing up such an opportunity.

He continued up the sidewalk sourly, no longer paying attention to where he was going. As the Stunky began to move about again, he felt spite bubble up inside of him.

This thing has cost me my summer, it's cost me my friends, it's cost me my freedom, and now it's cost me a chick. Shit, I hate pokémon!

Michael crossed a few more streets, rounded a few more corners. By the time he reached East Jubilife, his legs were aching and he had to stop at a bench to rest. He heaved himself and his backpack onto the seat and took several deep breaths.

The city had long lost its magic. The lights were giving him a headache, and the car horns blared painfully in his ears. It felt like he had walked a hundred miles. Looking out, Michael could see nothing but buildings, roads, and cars. The city was endless. He would be trapped in here forever, doomed to an eternity of walking, walking, and getting nowhere. He would starve, and his carcass would wash away into the gutters.

Michael took his head into his hands. I'm crazy. I've completely wigged out.

He leaned back into the bench and took a look around. Maybe I can find a hotel or something... I can beg them to let me stay for free... I don't know how, but I'll do it.

Beside him, the Stunky shifted. Michael frowned. I wonder how much someone would pay for a wild Stunky...

The pokémon cocked its head, probably not even aware of its own nose. Michael rolled his eyes.

He could see nothing around him that indicated an inn or hotel of any kind. All he could see were shops, stands, and diners that now seemed to serve no purpose other than taking up space.

He was about to close his eyes in resignation when, at the edge of his vision, he saw something flash. A sign. It was covered in black letters that spelled out something, but he couldn't tell what.

Michael sat up and turned his head around towards the building. It was tall and square, with a giant satellite dish perched on top. The flashing board hung right above the entrance, the text illuminated by a backlight, with dozens of tiny bulbs flashing along its perimeter:

"WELCOME TO THE CITY OF DREAMS! JUBILIFE TELEVISION STATION IS YOUR NUMBER ONE SOURCE FOR ALL THINGS NEW AND CURRENT! TUNE IN EVERY DAY AT 12:00 TO RECEIVE THE LATEST UPDATES ON YOUR FAVORITES... JUKEBOX, THE SPACE RACE, AND MORE!"

Beneath the sign, crowds were pouring in and out of three rotating doors, revealing brief slips of a thriving lobby.

The TV Station! Michael's heart fluttered. I can catch up on The Space Race! Yes!

Without a second to spare, he gathered his things and scrambled to his feet.

"Excuse me, excuse me!" He dodged the passersby and ran up to the street. Taking a brief look both ways, Michael ran across it, eliciting a chorus of angry beeps. Still without stopping, he pushed through one of the doors and stumbled into the lobby.

Inside was a world of noise and lights. The entering crowd trailed off in separate directions, attaching itself to various groups that gathered along the walls, watching stacks of flashing televisions, examining racks of newspapers, or displays of the latest radio models. At the center of the room was a tall, round counter, where three clerks jabbered into telephones. At the very back was a row of elevators, and two staircases that spiraled up to the higher floors.

Michael paused to look around with every step he took, eyes widened, wanting to take as much of it in as possible. His gaze lingered on the TV screens, which came in various sizes, and seemed to be positioned at every corner of the room. They were all showing different channels, but over the cloud of noise the programs were indecipherable. He didn't know which one to go to first.

He searched in earnest for a few moments, before his gaze locked on the biggest group in the entire lobby. It wasn't gathered around a television, however, but in front of a billboard. Michael couldn't see what the people were looking at, but as he approached, he caught bits of their conversation:

"... knew this would happen one day..."

"... Rockets are kicking our asses, that's for sure..."

Michael stopped short. He tried to wheedle his way through, but before he could get to the billboard, his view became blocked by a man's head.

"Excuse me." Michael tapped his shoulder. "I can't see."

The man turned around and scowled. "What's there to see? Haven't you been watching the news?"

"Not really," Michael snapped. "That's why I want to see what this is!"

"Have a good look at it then." The man walked off, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Michael stepped in to take his space, and the crowd closed in around him. The billboard was covered with newspapers and city announcements, but one issue was positioned in the center, the square page unfurled to its full size. Its heading was bigger than all the others, and its ink shone with pride as it boldly declared:


ROCKETS TELL ALL ABOUT NEW SPACE POKÉMON!

Earlier last month, Hoenn's Team Rocket launched an expedition to the moon. And on May 22nd, pictures were released of a new pokémon said to reside in space. It was first discovered in flight around the planet. The pokémon as been named 'Deoxys' by the scientists and, since its discovery, has undergone intensive testing. The Sinnoh Inquirer now brings you the updates directly from Team Rocket's laboratories at the Mossdeep Space Center.

"It's structure is different from anything we've ever seen before," says a spokesperson for Team Rocket. "We don't know a lot about it yet, but if we can find out then it might hold wonders for us."

Deoxys is equipped with many special adaptations that allow it to survive in the harsh environment of space. Current data has shown that it is capable of living entirely without oxygen, instead getting its energy from outside sources, among them cosmic radiation. Deoxys's unique body structure appears to mimic the mechanics of a spacecraft, enabling it to propel itself and change its course of flight. Where exactly this pokémon originated, and whether indeed space is its primary place of dwelling, are questions that still remain to be answered. More pictures will be released during the course of the next few weeks.


The rest of the page was taken up by articles and commentaries on the same topic, and at the bottom was a black-and-white image of the pokémon. Its body was thin and sleek. One of its arms was missing, and instead, two long wires protruded from its shoulder. Its face was round, and two knobs grew on either side of its head.

Michael reeled forward, pressing his hands to the surface of the billboard. "That's it?"

"Hey, move it kid! We can't see!" said someone from behind.

But Michael was too angry to pay attention. He had missed one week of updates, only to see that Sinnoh was behind. And not only behind, but trampled in the dirt. His heart began to pound.

"It's just a stupid pokémon!" he blurted. "It's not that hard to discover; why didn't Team Galactic do it first?"

"They're lazy, that's why!" said a teenage girl beside him. "I swear if, they make us lose..."

"This sucks," Michael said. He let his hands slip from the paper and stepped back.

All around him, the people wore similar bleak expressions. They had likely known for days. Still, some of them were reading the text, their initial disappointment having blown away for a resigned sort of interest. But for Michael, the former was just kicking in.

One older boy scowled. "I can't believe this. The Rockets were always the ones who said that nothing could survive outside the atmosphere. But they made the discovery. If the President said we'd be investigating space, then why are we watching other people do it?"

The girl from before shook her head. "Team Galactic is just full of itself. They're all secretive and glamorous, but apparently they see it as an excuse to sit there and do nothing. If you ask me, we need a company that can keep its promises." With that, she walked away, arms crossed. A few other people broke off from the group, and eventually, Michael did the same.

He walked to the exit in a stupor, gaze lowered to the floor.

Freaking dipsticks... all of them.

He barely noticed when he stepped out onto the street, and when the path ahead of him began to slope downwards. But he saw the buildings become sparser and lower, and the roadways veer off into highway exits, gradually separating the cars from the pedestrians. Soon the swarm of billboards returned, this time with mouths turned down and headings that read: 'LEAVING SO SOON?'.

But to Michael, it was all too easy to ignore. His mind was buzzing.

Team Rocket's a bunch of know-it-alls... Team Galactic sucks. Can't believe I ever rooted for them…

His footsteps were hollow and heavy. As the sounds of the city grew fainter, an iron fence in the distance grew bigger.

Behind it, Route 203 lay in darkness. Michael wondered how comfortable a tree would be. He cringed at the thought, but realized that there was no other choice. Until he found a way to make more money, it would have to do.



//////



There was no guard or gate at the city limit, just a wide, dirt path leading into the wilderness. For a city like Jubilife, such an abrupt exit was both silly and unsettling. But Michael didn't care to ponder it. He stepped through, passing the route sign, letting the lights and sounds fade for the silence.

His field of vision was covered in splotches from where the lights had been, and it took a while to adjust to the darkness. Now that the sky was no longer blocked by skyscrapers, it suddenly unraveled and rolled off into the infinity, laying out a carpet of stars.

As he walked, Michael stared up at them, lost in thought.

Deoxys is out there somewhere ... and God knows what else.

Stupid Team Rocket... gonna beat Sinnoh...

You're a monster, Michael. Monster...


The trees and shrubs around him formed pockets of shadows, and stood out like ghosts on either side of the path. Michael walked for a few minutes, battling his exhaustion, till it grew so strong that it started to weigh down his limbs. He abandoned all reserve, forgetting that he had never set foot in Route 203 and had no idea what lived there, or how big it even was.

Michael veered from the path and sank into the softest-looking grass he saw, right beside a tree. He lowered the cage and backpack beside him and curled up into a comfortable position. Gradually, the lights and sounds rushed away from his memory, the sea of faces blurred, and the sting of his disappointments faded as sleep overtook him.
 
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Elite Overlord LeSabre™

On that 'Non stop road'
9,875
Posts
16
Years
Ooh, very nice :) The descriptions of Jubilife and all the action about town really set the mood :) (But why is it that every time I read one of your chapters I get the urge to go back and spruce up mine?) And as PC's resident old car buff, I was quite pleased with you including mention of real life cars from that era in your story :3

You're a monster, Michael. Monster...
OMG Could Michael actually be feeling this emotion called... regret? In any event, it looks like this could hint at the start of some dramatic character change for him. It looks like it's gonna take some more pushing to get him to change his cold, cruel ways, but everybody's gotta start somewhere, right?

AND ROCKET > GALACTIC (Except in HG/SS due to poor leadership). But the Space Race does have something to do with science, which makes it seem appropriate that Michael is so passionate about it.. I'm just wondering if the two teams' discoveries will play a bigger role than just simply news on the radio and television.

Not much action this chapter, but the inkling of character development and change is there. And I do appreciate the research you're doing of this time period to make the setting more realistic... it definitely shows in this chapter :)

EDIT: Ford Galaxie FTW. That is one big manly mass of real American steel :)
 
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Haruka of Hoenn

Rolling writer
297
Posts
16
Years
Yeah, I know. Regret for Michael Rowan is like... D:

The two teams in the Space Race will play a bigger role, but not in the evil mastermind way. Their discoveries will advance the plot and characters. Not much else I can think of to say... just glad you liked the chapter! See you next time.
 

Octsia101

--> Gardenia101's Alt
6
Posts
13
Years
lol, so Michael is into girls......
I loved the scene at the bookstore; as for the woman running it- I feel bad for her.
 

Haruka of Hoenn

Rolling writer
297
Posts
16
Years
Oh, sorry about that... I was in a bit of a hurry and I forgot :P

I should probably list my PM list in the first post... that'll help me remember. Thanks for reminding me.
 

Haruka of Hoenn

Rolling writer
297
Posts
16
Years
0.6


When Michael eased back into consciousness, the first thing he became aware of was a dull throbbing in his leg. He was leaning against something hard and uneven and... yes, he was sure it was making his back ache. Beneath him, the ground felt shifty and lumpy.


Where am I?


A few patches of light separated themselves from the darkness.


Was it all a dream? Am I back in my room?


His mother's angry face appeared before him, suspended in the oblivion. He had started a fight with her. She had said something to him... and then his anger got the better of him and he replied. She had left his room, and she had been so angry, but then again, hurt.


Ha ha.


He started to clean his room. But his backpack was there too; it was telling him to go.


Ha ha.


His room began to blink with color, and suddenly, it transformed into the Jubilife skyline. He had trudged across an entire city in a single night... and now a fresh jolt of pain squeezed his leg to remind him. He had decided to run away, with nothing but a backpack and a cage carried along with him.



The girl. Now her face popped into view, that slight frown and amber eyes. She had looked at the cage, and said that it was too heavy a burden. She had laughed. Probably should be getting back to her cousin now, yes, he drank too much and would need a ride home. Stupid Stunky. Always there to ruin the day.

Ruined his day. Team Rocket had ruined his day. No more Space Race... Deoxys was watching from up above. Laughing at him. Didn't want to sleep outside, but what choice did he have?


Then, a frozen image of the night sky. He had fallen asleep and the image vanished, replaced by a blank backdrop. The reel had ended.



But the laughter continued.


It had started out as a vague peal, but now it was slowly rising out... like something more than a memory.


Slowly and slowly, the patches of light took form, first into a canopy of trees. Tall, high off the ground. A blend of color became shrubbery, wild and overgrown. No one had stopped to maintain this route in months.


Next came the fence. White, picket maybe. It was broken and in some places the paint was chipped off.


A dirt path somewhere ahead, clean, but covered in footprints that previous travelers had left behind.

On it stood three figures.



First, a bulky frame which became a boy. He wore a baseball cap, and a burnt cigarette dangled in between his lips.

The second, a girl. Not pretty, but confident. Red hair. A nasty look in her eyes.

The third, a scrawny boy. Michael couldn't see his face; it was hidden beneath a sunhat.

They were laughing.


At him.


Michael sat up and opened his eyes all the way.


"Took you long enough, Tree Man!" hooted the boy with the cigarette.

"Did Mommy kick you out of the house or somethin'?" the redhead said, her hands poised on her hips.

"Who are you?" Michael said loudly. He struggled to stand, but his hand slipped on the tree bark and he fell back down. More laughter.

"We were just watching you sleep like a baby." The redhead made a horrible pouty face. "Poor wittle homeless baby has nowhere to go!"

"He's like one of those bums on the street! Wait 'till he grows a beard!" Once again, the pair tossed back their heads in loud, chest-heaving laughter. Somewhere underneath the noise, Michael heard the short boy's soft voice.

"I think he's one of those cave people," he said, hiding his smile behind his palm.

All of a sudden, the laughter stopped. The boy's companions turned to give him a strange look.

"What are you talking about?" the redhead said. "Cave people live in caves. This guy lives by a tree."

"Yeah, he climbs trees like an Aipom! What with those huge hands of his. He probably has a tail too, but he hides it in his pants," Cigarette Boy said. "Well, Tree Man? Do you climb trees or what?"

Michael didn't answer, still not sure what to make of this. He had fallen asleep in an empty route, and had woken up to find three people standing in front of him. People he didn't even know. They were laughing so carelessly, so mercilessly, just like the so-called bullies at his school did. Only now did it occur to Michael how dorky he must have looked, sitting under a tree like he had nowhere else to go. Like he was a wimp.

Heat rushed to his face. No one laughed at him. Not at Michael Rowan.

Cigarette Boy yawned. "I asked you a question, Tree Man. Do I look like someone you wanna mess with?"

"No," Michael said sharply, voicing the first thing that came to mind. "You look more like a Bidoof to me. What, with your buck teeth and your fat ass. You probably think you're just so cool right now, waving it in my face like a flag."

At first, his statement cast off into silence. No one reacted. Then Michael heard a strange squealing sound, and the short boy erupted in giggles. He doubled over, and his knees sank into the leaves. The redhead rolled her eyes.

Cigarette Boy, however, had flushed a deep red. "Well well well! Looks like we've got us a smartass! Hey Tree Man, didn't your mommy ever teach you about respect?"

"Didn't yours ever teach you not to shove your pimply nose into other people's business?" Michael retorted.

The small boy's laughs increased, but this time they were ignored. Both Cigarette Boy and the redhead were looking at Michael now, their fists clenched. Man, he really knew how to turn the tables.

"I've had enough of your cheek," Cigarette Boy said. "We go to this route every day to practice and we've been doin' it for years. We don't like smartasses, but we take 'em down just as easy. Now look me in the eye, Tree Man, and tell me if you wanna be starting something." He crossed his arms, and waited.

Michael looked at him for a few moments, already beginning to map out a plan of action. Cigarette Boy was leaning slightly to the right, and his arms were slightly lopsided. Uneven weight distribution. One hand curled into a fist, and the other hung limp, as if it belonged to someone else. With the right angle, Michael could probably manage to knock him down. Sure the kid had muscles, but Michael had enough experience to know that size did not always mean strength.

Feeling braver than usual, he rose and cracked his knuckles. "Bring it on."

They seemed surprised by this, but Cigarette Boy's sneer held a hint of satisfaction. He stepped forward and the sunlight caught his arm, underscoring the ripples in his muscles. Michael braced himself against the tree, ready to run, ready to kick, ready for anything...




But to his surprise, the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a pokéball.

"Go!" he said, and a flash of red light illuminated the forest. An Azumarill sprang from the capsule, landing on all fours. Michael was bewildered.

Am I supposed to fight that thing?

He stood there for a few moments, unsure of what to do.

"I'm waiting, Tree Man. Or did all your pokémon run away already?"

A pokémon fight? Michael turned back to his tree. The Stunky was still there, watching curiously through the bars. Its ribcage was showing slightly through its skin. The Azumarill could pin it down in seconds. So the only thing left was... Turtwig.

Michael's heart sank as he went over to his backpack and fingered the pokéball nestled in the pocket. He twisted the knob and watched the Turtwig materialize before him. In the daylight, its blue-green skin seemed even brighter.

On cue, the others began laughing.

"Whoa! What's with its skin?" the redhead exclaimed, her hands pressed to her mouth. "Is it like diseased or something?"

"Doesn't matter," the bulky boy said, crossing his arms. "It's going down! Jaws, use Tackle!"

What am I supposed to do now? Michael thought, resisting the urge to bite his lip.

Several yards away, the Azumarill was preparing for a full-blown attack. It sprinted forward, and a cloud of dirt was raised as it gained speed. Beside him, the Turtwig stood absolutely still.

"Move out of the way!" Michael urged. "Go left! Play chicken! Do something!" The Turtwig turned its head to look at him.

"No! Don't look at me, look at -" But before he could finish his sentence, the Azumarill had collided with the Turtwig, eliciting an audible wham. Their combined momentum left deep skid marks in the dirt. The Azumarill wrestled Turtwig to the ground, where it lay flat on the back of its shell. Its legs moved back and forth, like a dying insect.

Michael gritted his teeth. "Get up!"

The Turtwig began to rock back and forth, but it remained where it was. Finally, Michael bent down and flipped it over onto its feet. The pokémon shook, but held firm. Ovn the other side of the battlefield, the three teenagers were laughing and jeering. Cigarette Boy pumped his fist in the air.

"Finish it off! Use Water Gun!"

Michael slapped his forehead. I lost. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do, and now I lost to them. He took one last look at his Turtwig. The sprout on its head was bent, making the leaves jut out at awkward angles. As he looked at it, he felt something click in his brain.

Grass! Michael drew himself up. Of course! Water can't hurt plants! It can only help them!

He turned back to the Turtwig, his eyes gleaming. "Use a grass attack! Water Gun can't hurt you, you're based on grass!" Michael felt a little silly saying this to a pokémon, but for some odd reason, he could tell that the Turtwig understood.

It threw its head back a little, far enough so a few leaves dislodged from the sprout. At first, Michael didn't know what it was doing. But then, with a single flick, the leaves were sent tearing through the air like razors. Azumarill didn't even have time to move. The leaves seemed to stick to its body, leaving behind traces of red where they touched. The pokémon gave a single cry, then toppled. A tiny cloud of dust billowed around its body.

Michael was dumbstruck.

"What? NO!" Cigarette Boy snarled. His knuckles were white as he raised the pokéball to the Azumarill's body. After its outline faded away, he looked back up at Michael. "You'll be sorry, punk!"

From behind him, the second boy smiled eagerly. "My turn?" Just as he was about to step forward, the redhead shoved him aside.

"No, Henry. It's mine." She withdrew a pokéball of her own. It was covered in stickers. "I'll teach you some manners. Go Timmy!" A lean orange pokémon emerged from her hands, landing in the spot Azumarill had just vacated. Michael immediately recognized it as a Buizel - one of those annoying companions that the school swimming team practiced with. He had always thought that the yellow sacs around their necks looked like shock collars.

The Buizel's tails flicked back and forth as it steadily lowered itself into a crouch. It looked ready to break into a sprint.

"Again! Do the leaf thing again!" Michael said to the Turtwig. For a minute, he thought he saw it smile. Again the Turtwig threw its head back, and sent another series of leaves rushing towards the Buizel. But before they could make contact, the pokémon disappeared in a blur, letting them pass harmlessly to its side. The blur ran in a zigzag, and collided full-force into the Turtwig. The attack raised a cloud of dirt, making Michael cough. When it cleared, he saw that the two pokémon were still wrangling, rolling over and kicking at each other.

"No!" Michael shouted. "Don't be a wimp! Use your surroundings! Knock it off balance!"

"All right! Timmy, use Hydro Pump!" the redhead shouted, her brow furrowed in determination.

Michael closed his eyes for a moment. Hydro... like water! Water again! He looked over to his Turtwig. It was lying on its side, its body bruised and dirty.

"Get up, get up!" Michael bent down and lifted the pokémon to its feet. He looked it in the eye. "I will not lose this! I don't care if it kills you, tear that Buizel's head from its shoulders!"

The Turtwig narrowed its eyes. "Turtur!" it screeched. It threw its head back again, but in the meantime, Buizel was preparing for an attack of its own. Its mouth was wide open, and some sort of liquid was bubbling in its throat. For a minute, Michael wondered if it was about to vomit. But instead, it lifted its face just as a wide jet of water sprayed out of its mouth, like some sort of fire hose.

The water accumulated, then swept the Turtwig away in a torrent. The stream carried it off somewhere behind the bushes. Michael let out a growl. He spun around on his heel, ready to kick the Buizel down himself, but was immediately surprised to find it twitching on the ground with tiny cuts sprinkled along its body.

What the...?

The redhead seemed equally surprised. The corners of her lips were twitching as she slowly approached her pokémon. She maintained silence as she bent down over by the Buizel and returned it back into its pokéball. Then she went over to Michael, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a thin stack of bills. She slapped the money into his hands.

"Ugh. Whatever. Freak." With that, she stormed off towards the open trail. Cigarette Boy was next. He went over to Michael, withdrew a single dollar, and let it fall to the ground.

"Oops." He turned abruptly and went after the redhead. Michael was left standing alone with a bemused expression, a handful of money, and absolutely no idea what had just happened.

For a minute, it was quiet. A Starly screeched from somewhere overhead.

"Wow..."

The voice nearly made him jump. Michael turned, and saw that the short boy was still there. He had come out from behind a bush, and was looking at Michael with reverence. "I've never seen anyone win against them before. How'd you do it?"

Michael scowled. "You're with them. So beat it, before I kick your ass too!"

The boy shook his head sadly. "They're not really my friends. All they do is take advantage of me. They treat me like dirt."

Michael snorted. I wonder why.

"To tell you the truth," the boy continued, "I'm no good at battling. I always lose. But you're, well... you're amazing."

"Hardly." Michael eyed the bills in his hands. "What's the deal with them giving me money? Did they lose a bet or something?"

The boy eyed him curiously. "What do you mean? That's what all trainers do. It's the code of honor. You lose, you pay money. It's respect."

Michael paused for a moment. "So I can get money for beating people?"

The boy nodded.

A smile spread across Michael's face. "Neat. Well, I gotta go. I'm gonna find my Turtwig and get into some more battles. Later." He turned in the direction of the stream. It was already beginning to dry, but the initial path was still discernable. Turtwig must have landed somewhere in the bushes, if it was even strong enough to hold on.

"Wait." The boy's voice cut him off, just as he took his first step. Michael turned back.

"What?"

"You're going to Oreburgh, right?"

"I don't know. Sure?"

"Can I come with you? I just need to get back to my hotel room." The boy's face reddened. "I don't know a lot of people here and I, well, I don't want to hang around Chester and Veronica anymore. So, if it's okay with you, I mean... the town's really big, and I'm afraid I'll get lost."

Michael stopped for a moment, wondering if he was actually serious. This kid was the furthest thing from cool that he had ever seen. He was almost positive that after only a single day at his school, that boy would be running home in tears. He was probably a kiss up in class, bringing apples to the teachers and actually appreciating them. His mother probably bought him those cargo shorts, saying that they looked 'absolutely precious' on him. His hat made him look like a tour guide, or some sort of zookeeper.

Michael was seconds away from saying all of this, but reason stopped him. It would only be for a few hours. Plus, his arm was tired from carrying the Stunky around.

"Fine," he said. "But you're holding this." Michael went over to the cage and handed it to the boy, who smiled gratefully.

"Thanks! I'm Henry, by the way." He hoisted the cage on his arm like a handbag.

"Michael."

Henry peered inside the cage, tapping it with his finger. The Stunky shrank back. "Where did you get this guy anyway?"

"I caught it, obviously."

"Like... with a pokéball?"

"No, with my hands."

Henry's eyes widened. "Coooool."

Michael turned to face the stream. "I have to find my Turtwig."

"Is that it right there?" Henry pointed. Sure enough, behind a nearby bush, Michael's Turtwig lay in a heap, its front legs gripping a loose branch. Its tongue was hanging out from between its lips and its eyes were closed.

Michael scowled as he approached it. "Come on, get up!" he said. "You can't battle if you're lying around. Lazy." The Turtwig did not move. Michael nudged it with his foot, but it gave no response. He exhaled sharply. "What's with you? Are you dead or something?"

Henry squatted beside the Turtwig. "It's probably just tired. You have to give it a few days to rest."

Michael groaned.

"But," Henry lifted a finger. "There is a faster way."

"And that would be?"

"Just take it to a Pokémon Center."

"A what now?"

"A Pokémon Center. It's like a mini hospital for pokémon. They put your pokéball inside this special heating chamber, and the therapy supposedly makes your pokémon recover from anything."

Michael nodded. "Okay. Where do we find one of those?"

"There's one in Oreburgh Town. It's not too far away from here. And -" Henry leaned in closer. "- they have a Gym!"

Judging by his tone, Michael guessed he was supposed to be excited by this. But all he could manage was a blank look. "What's that?"

Henry's mouth gaped, as if it were the dumbest question in the world. He fought for words for a moment, then finally managed to say, "You're not a trainer, are you?"

Michael froze. "No," he said firmly. "And if you have a problem with that, you can leave."

"So... you're pretending to be a trainer when you're actually not?" Henry's expression was neutral. Michael braced himself.

"What if I am?" he snapped. "Do you want to tell me what's right and what's wrong?"

"No... it's just really... cool. How you don't care or anything." Henry fumbled for words. "I won't tell anyone," he added quickly.

"Whatever."

Henry's face fell. "Well, this stinks. Even non-trainers are better battlers than I am."

"No one sucks that bad, kid."

"Well, I do. I really do. I mean, pokémon won't listen to me, and they're all really slow for some reason..."

"Good luck with that," Michael said. "So how far is Oreburgh?"

"About three miles."

"Then you can lead me there. After that, I'll leave you alone, and you can go back to your hotel room."

"Okay."

"Cool. Let's go." Michael gathered his things and started forward.

For the first time in his life, he heard a beat of footsteps behind him.



//////



He and Henry walked through the remainder of Route 203, neither of them saying much along the way. Through it all, Michael was absorbed in visions of money.

If I could beat everyone in town... I could become the most powerful battler in the world! I'd be rich!

Henry, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the route itself. His eyes never left the tree canopies, and his mouth formed an 'O' whenever he saw a brightly-colored pokémon flick between the branches.

"I wonder how many kinds of pokémon there are..." he said at some point, eyes sparkling.

Michael didn't reply, however. He was too busy mentally constructing the pool in his future home.

When they finally decided to stop and rest, the sun was high overhead and leaves were drooping from the heat. They chose a shady spot underneath an oak tree, where they sat watching the clouds. Michael reached into his backpack and zipped open his snack compartment. He withdrew a chocolate bar and began chewing with closed eyes, savoring the flavor.

"Do you have anything else to eat?"

Michael opened his eyes. Henry was eyeing the bar enviously.

"Uh, do you want some?" He broke off a piece and offered it to him.

Henry shrugged. "I can't. Mom says chocolate's bad for your stomach if you eat it too much."

Michael frowned. "Is your mother here now?"

"No."

"Then take it. Don't be a wimp, she's not gonna come out from behind a tree and spank you." He held up the piece again. Henry laughed a bit, but still didn't take it. "Whatever," Michael popped it into his own mouth.

He threw the remaining wrapper into a separate pocket. Then he took out his notebook and opened it up to a clean page.

Dear Cory and/or Brendan,
Sorry I didn't give you guys any sign that I was running away. It was kind of a last-minute decision. I just want you to know that I'm fine, and I'm about to go to Oreburgh City.


Michael frowned, then scribbled over his lines. What if his mother or someone else got to the letter first? He started again.

To whom it may concern,
DO NOT READ THIS LETTER! FOR MY FRIENDS' EYES ONLY!


Michael crossed it out again, then slumped back against the tree. It would be impossible to write a letter without the possibility of interception. He stopped to think for a minute, when he realized that Henry was peering over his shoulder.

"What'cha writing?" he asked.

Michael shook his head. "Nothing." He tore off the page and threw it into his backpack. He could always start again when Henry wasn't looking.

"Okay." Henry reached into his own tote bag and pulled out a small canister. "Pokémon food," he said to Michael. "Here, I'll give some to your Stunky. It looks awfully hungry." Henry sprinkled some of the contents into the cage, and the Stunky squealed gratefully.

Henry giggled. "You should really let this Stunky out of its cage. It looks like it could be a lot of fun to play with."

"It'll run away," Michael said.

For a minute, he absently watched the Stunky eat. It was eyeing Henry gratefully, and prancing around in circles. Michael's pencil dropped back down onto the paper and began to sketch the spiky outline of its fur. As the pokémon turned, Michael observed the curvature of its cheeks and the shape of its eyes. He did some shading, and added a grassy background. He was no artist, but the final result left him satisfied. He gazed down at it for a few moments, and ended up adding a sun and some clouds.

"Can I ask you something?" Henry said after a while. Michael looked up, and saw that Henry was watching him draw.

"What?"

"Why is your Turtwig differently colored than normal?" Henry pulled on a blade of grass. "Sorry if it's a personal question or something, but I was just curious."

Michael didn't answer. His gaze returned to the paper, and he doodled a quick tree in the landscape.

"It's not the first time I've seen it," Henry said softly.

At this, Michael looked up. "You've seen it before?"

Henry nodded. "My friend had a Zubat that was green. She took it to a bunch of specialists to have it checked out, but they didn't know what was wrong with it. They ran all these tests and drew all kinds of graphs. They wouldn't give it back to her, though, even after she asked. And there were no more like it, so she couldn't get another one."

"That's weird..." Michael said. "Did it ever change color or anything?'

Henry shook his head. "Nope. I was wondering if you knew about it, since you have one of those weird ones."

Michael slapped the page with his palm. "It's stupid how no one knows about any of this. When I asked that Emerson dude about my Turtwig, he just kicked us out. And he's supposed to be the authority on pokémon."

"Wow, that was really mean of him to do that."

"He's probably just too lazy to do his homework. I bet that the answer is sitting right there in one of his books, but he can't be bothered to look because he's too busy trying to quit smoking." Michael spat, and shoved his notebook back into his backpack. "Anyway, I'm not just gonna sit here all day. You ready to go?"

"All right." Henry stood, and began to gather his things.

Michael urged his heavy limbs to move back onto the path. Up ahead, he could see the beginnings of a strange rock formation. Branches obscured his view, but he was fairly certain that there was a sign hanging over it.

"There's Oreburgh Gate," Henry explained. "It's the only public entrance to the city."

Beyond that, Michael could see the hazy outline of the Coronet mountain range. Its jagged pattern stretched across the horizon, from the region's southern shores to its snowy northern valleys. The sun rested atop a blunt peak, illuminating the land on the other side. He exhaled slowly. For the first time, the world seemed like such a big place.

"Well, we're not gonna get there by just looking at it," Michael said after a while. "Let's go." Michael started forward. From behind, he heard the beat of Henry's footsteps as he rushed to keep up.

The Oreburgh Gate didn't have any doors. Its floor wasn't paved, and flickering ceiling lamps served as the lighting. The air inside was hot and thin. There were a few people here as well, cooing to wailing children and using pay phones. The lamps casted unnatural shadows on their faces, making them look demented.

"My gosh, it's like a cave in here," Michael shuddered.

Henry let out a dry cough. "Yeah. I hope the city isn't this bad."

It wasn't. The first thing Michael noticed when they stepped out into the light was how brown everything was. The roads, the buildings, and even people's clothes had that same dusty shade. Unlike Jubilife, there were no flashing lights or advertisements to be seen. The closest thing to technology was the complex system of pulleys that circulated the town, transporting rocks of various sizes. Michael's eyes traced the maze and quickly found its starting point - a large opening in the ground on the far side of the city. Like Jubilife, it was buzzing with activity. But this town was like a tiny ant colony - small, but hardworking. Everyone here seemed like family, instead of just a bunch of strangers gathered in one spot.

"I always liked this place," Henry finally said, inhaling.

"So where's the Pokémon Center?"

"It's a bit further in. I'll show you."

Henry led him in a winding path, crossing intersections and sharply rounding corners. During a span of five minutes, Michael went through at least seven different visualizations of what the building might look like. Would there be a line? Would it cost him money? Would it be like one of those fancy clubs that never let anybody inside?

Just when Michael thought his head would explode, Henry stopped and pointed. "Look!"

In front of them was an ordinary-looking building, with shining windows and a bright red roof. A pokéball was painted on its door, but apart from that, it was nothing special.

On the inside, Pokémon Center resembled a laundromat. The walls and floor were white, and were lined with strange machines. Michael watched as a woman placed three pokéballs onto a metal tray and closed the lid. Her machine glowed red for about a minute, then she withdrew the pokéballs and put them back into her purse.

"Here, I'll show you how to use it." Henry pulled him over to an unoccupied machine and repeated the process. It hummed, displaying a constant temperature of 102 degrees Fahrenheit. Minutes later, Turtwig's pokéball came back out. It felt warm in Michael's hands.

"That's it?"

Henry smiled. "Yup. Turtwig's as good as new."

Michael found it hard to believe that, but decided to take Henry's word for it. "Well, okay. Thanks, I guess." There was a pause. Henry began to rock back and forth, eyes drifting towards the ceiling.

"So... are there any good places to battle, or is everything just lumped together here?" Michael asked.

Henry clicked his tongue. "Well, there's a park at the center of town. I can show you that too. A lot of trainers come there to practice, but..."

"But what?"

"The people there are really mean." Henry looked down at his shoes. "They... they like to make fun of people, let's just say."

Michael let out a groan. What was this kid, six? "I think I'll be fine."

Henry shook his head. "No it's not a good idea! Trust me. They'll pick on you, just like Chester and Veronica did."

Michael laughed. "You actually think I was afraid of your little dweeb friends? Let me clue you in on something. I was the coolest guy in my school. No one picked on me, because they all respected me. So I'm the last person you should be worrying about when it comes to those sissies."

"But those kids are all bad!" Henry persisted. "They smoke and stuff!"

"Just because someone smokes doesn't mean they're bad. My brother... he smoked, and he was the best person I ever knew." He looked at Henry again. "So are you gonna take me there, or am I gonna have to find my own way?"

"Well... okay. But we can't stay long, okay?" Henry pleaded. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Yeah sure whatever. Let's go."

They left the Pokémon Center. Henry led him through several more streets, until they came across a large square clearing. The entire city ran around it, branching off into a bunch of little dirt paths that led to the park. Some kids were here already, sitting on benches and under trees. And although he searched, Michael saw only one boy who was smoking.

"Well, here we are!" Henry said. "Who do you want to battle first?"

Michael took a look around. He saw one girl sitting on a swing set stroking a Piplup, and a boy by the fence playing with his Machop. Neither of them looked like they could take a hit, much less pay a good amount. He walked past them. The other kids either didn't have pokémon with them, or turned away when he approached.

Michael continued through the park, and stopped when he reached a tall white fence. A group of five boys was leaning against it, talking slowly and casually.

"They look like a good group," Michael said. "What if I beat them five to one? How cool would that be?"

Henry, however, was shaking. "Oh no..." He reached up to bite his nail.

"What?"

"You see those boys over there?" He pointed to the group. Someone had told a joke, and now they were all laughing heartily. Michael instantly thought of his friends, and felt a pang of guilt.

"They're the ones who make fun of me," Henry said, keeping his voice low.

"And what am I supposed to do about it? You have to stick up for yourself."

"Yeah, but -"

"Yo, it's Henry!"

Michael looked up. One of the boys had noticed them, and was slowly coming their way. The gang trailed behind in a semicircle of grins. Henry seemed to shrink in their presence.

"So who's your friend?" said the first boy. He looked over to Michael, giving him a quick once-over. Michael did the same. He noticed that the kid was wearing a Team Galactic shirt.

"You got a name?"

"Michael. Michael Rowan," he said simply, hands in his pockets. The boy nodded.

"What you doing hanging around a wimp like him for?" He jerked his thumb in Henry's direction.

"He's showing me around town." Michael nodded towards his shirt. "Been watching the Space Race lately?"

The boy grinned. "Yeah. Team Galactic is boss, man."

"Did you see those shots of Deoxys?"

"Yeah yeah, nothing special. If you ask me, the Rockets are just desperate for an excuse to beat us."

"Agreed," Michael said. "It's pathetic, really."

"Yeah and for all we know, they could've faked it. Why, we could take a picture of Henry's face and say it's an alien species."

Michael began to laugh.

"What do you want from us, Mack?" Henry finally said.

The boy turned back to Henry, his smile fading. "Not feeling too brave without those friends of yours covering your ass, are you? Is that why you brought Michael along? Think you can scare us away?" The rest of the gang began to chuckle.

"It's... it's not like that..." Henry looked down again, and began drawing circles in the dirt.

"You need to learn respect, little punk. Don't think I'll forget what you tried to do to us."

When Henry lifted his face again, his cheeks were red. "Let's leave, Michael."

"Mike can do whatever he wants, right? He's a cool head."

Henry tapped Michael on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go!"

"Hey, why don't you leave the kid alone and let him do what he wants?" The boy turned again to Michael. "You can hang out here if you want, Michael. You can help us maintain order in the park. Too many wimps like him, if you ask me. How about it?" The boy extended a hand. His arm was covered in dirt, leaves, and bruises.

But before Michael could reply, he felt something jerk his arm forward. All at once, the gang groaned. It took a few seconds to realize what was happening. Henry had grabbed him by the arm and was stomping down the path, like a mother would do to her child. Michael felt his face redden as he struggled to pry his fingers off.

"Shit! Henry, let go! What the hell are you doing?"

"Those kids are mean, and I don't want to be around them."

"So?" Michael looked back over his shoulder. The gang was shouting something over to them, but he couldn't hear what it was. They were already nearing the exit. "Man, why do you have to be such a -"

"Wimp? Dweeb? Nerd?" Henry sighed and dropped his hand. "Everyone's so mean to me here!" His voice cracked, and his eyes filled with tears. Pretty soon, they were spilling down his cheeks.

Michael gritted his teeth. "Stop crying. It's embarrassing."

"I don't care!" he shouted, voice hoarse. "I'm sick of everyone treating me like this! It's not fair! Everyone does it! It's everywhere I go, and I don't know why!" He was seconds away from stomping his foot, but before he could, Michael grabbed his shoulders.

"Listen to me, people are only gonna laugh harder when they see you cry! So shut up!" Michael shook him a little, and Henry quieted down.

"I'm sorry!" He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Those kids just annoy me so much! They're the reason I hate coming here."

"Fine. Is there another place I can go to battle without having you scream in my face?"

"T-the Gym, but..."

"Now what?"

"I'm not good for that either!"

"Hang on, hang on. What is a Gym, exactly? Tell me."

Henry sniffed again. "Not... not a lot of trainers want to do it. It's for the topest of the top. They say it's hard like crazy."

"Do they give money?"

"Yeah..."

"Then let's check it out."

"Wait, I don't want to go there either," Henry said.

"Ugh. Why not?"

"Because I always lose!" A fresh stream of tears fell from his eyes. "I'm not good at anything!"

Michael sighed. "Give it another shot, okay? We'll go together."

"No! I won't!"

"You're acting like a little kid."

"But I know I'll lose!"

"Then you'll really lose! But if you're certain that you're gonna win, then you'll win."

"But it doesn't work like that for me! You don't know what it's like to have every single person you talk to laugh at you! You don't know what it's like!"

"Oh God, I am so sick of your sob stories! You're so damn soft!" Michael gave him a sharp punch in the shoulder. Henry staggered back, wincing with pain. "There's always gonna be some kid out there who has it worse than you do. But that kid isn't crying about it. He's fighting the world and making something out of himself. I'm giving you a choice. Today. Are you gonna be a closet wimp, or are you gonna do your own thinking?"

Henry pondered this for a moment, wiping his nose of his sleeve. "Okay... Fine."

"Good."

Henry looked up at Michael with watery eyes, and smiled. "Thanks for that."

"For what?"

"For calming me down. You're a good friend."

This caught Michael off guard. He stepped back a little, and looked at Henry curiously. "Okay. Uh... thanks."

They left the park in silence. Michael's mind was churning. First his teacher had put him down. Then his mother had left him, dropping off the face of the Earth. Then a bookstore clerk had called him a monster. Then a pair of kids had laughed at him for sleeping under a tree.

Then out of the blue came Henry, the kid who wore a sunhat, almost a foot shorter than him, the pinnacle of middle-school nerdiness, and the first kid who had ever called Michael Rowan a good friend.
 
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Elite Overlord LeSabre™

On that 'Non stop road'
9,875
Posts
16
Years
Probably the only issue I had with the chapter was that Michael seemed to win his battles a bit too easily... especially a Turtwig with very little battle experience taking down a fully evolved Azumarill with a nickname that really doesn't suit it (I would have expected Jaws to be the name of a Totodile or something lol) However, I do realize that you're trying to show that exploiting type weaknesses is a new and mostly unknown tactic, so I guess I can let it slide.

It's quite interesting how Michael and new tag-along Henry have such differing personalities (kinda like a certain math and car obsessed girl and her younger sister that we know and love xD) and I think it'll be fun seeing Michael's brash attitude clash with Henry's more timid one.

Ah, the lure of cash. The inspiration for trainers and fraud artists alike. :) Not that Michael's gonna be the next Bernie Madoff or anything, but I do find it amusing how his whole motivation at this point is the cold hard cash xD

If the last chapter showed Michael's first step toward changing his cold attitude, then this one shows the second step by taking Henry under his wing. As well as his first taste of using type to his advantage. I can already see hints of a researcher in him, and I'm looking forward to seeing how he further develops, as the first Gym looms on the horizon....
 

Gardenia101

Official Lurker
583
Posts
13
Years
Probably the only issue I had with the chapter was that Michael seemed to win his battles a bit too easily... especially a Turtwig with very little battle experience taking down a fully evolved Azumarill with a nickname that really doesn't suit it (I would have expected Jaws to be the name of a Totodile or something lol) However, I do realize that you're trying to show that exploiting type weaknesses is a new and mostly unknown tactic, so I guess I can let it slide.

It's quite interesting how Michael and new tag-along Henry have such differing personalities (kinda like a certain math and car obsessed girl and her younger sister that we know and love xD) and I think it'll be fun seeing Michael's brash attitude clash with Henry's more timid one.

Ah, the lure of cash. The inspiration for trainers and fraud artists alike. :) Not that Michael's gonna be the next Bernie Madoff or anything, but I do find it amusing how his whole motivation at this point is the cold hard cash xD

If the last chapter showed Michael's first step toward changing his cold attitude, then this one shows the second step by taking Henry under his wing. As well as his first taste of using type to his advantage. I can already see hints of a researcher in him, and I'm looking forward to seeing how he further develops, as the first Gym looms on the horizon....
Well, I'm pretty sure there's something special aout that Turtwig.... Other than being shiny.
but I could be wrong
 

Haruka of Hoenn

Rolling writer
297
Posts
16
Years
Sorry, I can't find a lot of time to post anymore. Thank you both for the reviews, LeSabre and Gardenia! I'd give you both more detailed replies, but I'm a bit short on time. I appreciate you both for stopping by, and I hope you'll like seven!


0.7

"... so there are eight Gyms all over Sinnoh, and one leader for each Gym. Those trainers are really good, and you get a badge for each one you beat," Henry was saying, as they walked down Helix Avenue. It was a pretty busy road, full of pedestrians and hikers carrying shovels, but according to Henry, it was the fastest route to the Gym. During the past five minutes, he had covered the basics of the Gym's operation, all the trainers that would be there, and told Michael more about the worldwide competition that they called the Pokémon League. Apparently each country had its own, though each circuit was united under one logo.

"And who's the leader for this town?" Michael asked.

"Byron. I've battled him before, and he's really good. That's kinda how I got stuck with Chester and Veronica. They both won the Oreburgh Gym, and I'm the only one who lost."

"Okay, and let's say I beat all the Gyms. Then what happens?"

"Well, you can go to the Elite Four. They're the four most powerful trainers in the region. And after you've beaten them, well, if you get lucky enough, you get a shot at the most powerful one. The champion."

"And after that?"

Henry's growing smile faded for a moment. "I don't know. I don't think anyone's won before. They say you get a plaque, and your name goes down in a place called the Hall of Fame. Oh, and there's a money prize too."

Instantly, Michael leaned in. "How much?"

"Fifty thousand dollars."

Michael felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. "Fifty thousand dollars... is there an age limit?"

"I don't think so."

Michael beamed, and looked up towards the sky. It was a clear summer blue.

Fifty thousand... imagine if I won! I'd be the most powerful person in Sinnoh! I'll never have to count my money again.

Indeed, it would be rather fitting if he left his home as a poor, homeless drifter, and eventually found riches on his travels. It would be the perfect success story, something that would inspire people to write books and even movies. Michael turned back to Henry, and saw that he had been looking up as well.

"I'm gonna take the Gym challenge," Michael said.

Henry's face fell. "Wow. I bet you have what it takes, though. You look like it. But me, I stink. I want to sign up for a rematch, but I don't think I'll make it."

Michael grumbled. "My God, you're so fricking depressed. You're never gonna get anywhere, you know that?"

"But it's true! He knocked my team out flat."

"So try again and kick his ass this time."

"I guess..." Henry said, without enthusiasm. They continued walking, and now, Michael could see a large brick building up ahead. It was bordered by shrubs, which hid a thinning lawn. They neared it, and Michael could see a sign that jutted out of the soil: 'Oreburgh City Gym. Leader - Byron.'

"That's it?" he said. "That's the Gym?"

Henry looked up. "Yeah."

"Not too big on advertising, are they?"

"They don't have to be. Just being the first Gym of the League makes it popular."

The path that led up to the building wasn't paved. Now, Michael could see the sign in detail. Its surface was dented slightly, and there was a smaller inscription underneath the text: "I rock this town!" He chuckled to himself.

"So how do we do this; do I just walk in and say I want a battle?"

"Pretty much," Henry nodded.

Michael stepped forward and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

"Hello?" he called. His hand fell down to the doorknob, and he gave it a turn. It wasn't locked. He opened the door slowly and stepped in.

Inside, the ceiling was high and the floor was covered with tumble mats. Small, square windows lined the walls, giving light to the room. It was spacious, clearly designed for a large event, but today the benches that lined the walls were empty. The only other people there were a young man and woman, both standing in the center. The man was reading something on a clipboard, dressed plainly in a polo shirt and pants. The woman stood behind him, humming, with her arms draped over his shoulders. They were so caught up in their task that they didn't notice when the door slammed, and the two new arrivals stepped into the room.

"...so they want me to give ten percent of my profits towards the new museum, and in return they'll give me free advertising," said the man, scratching his chin. "What do you think?"

The woman laughed loudly. "Oh, they've been asking that for months now! Can't you just say no already and stop playing nice?"

Michael raised an eyebrow. A puzzled look had crossed Henry's face as well. He was about to back away when the man suddenly looked up.

"Uh, hello. Can I help you?"

"We're, uh-"

The man snapped his fingers. "Oh, right, right, you're trainers! Sorry for not recognizing you, I'm really busy today. Are you here to schedule a battle?"

"Yeah," Michael said.

The man nodded. "Okay. I'll put you on the waiting list." He flipped back a few pages and drew a pen from his pocket.

"Wait a minute, there's a waiting list?"

He smiled. "Well, this is a popular Gym. A lot of people are waiting to get their first badge."

"Especially since the Gym leader is so handsome!" The woman smiled, tilting his face toward hers.

"So, both of you want a battle?"

Michael stole a sideways glance. Henry shrugged, biting his lip. "Yeah," Michael said loudly. "The little kid too."

"All right. Names please?"

"Henry McPherson... I battled you on Monday, so you might remember me..." Henry's gaze fell to the floor.

"Here for a rematch? That's good for you, boy. The sign of a remarkable trainer is his determination." Byron scribbled down a few notes, then turned to Michael.

"And you?"

"Michael Rowan."

"Okay. I don't think I've seen you before. Is it your first time here?"

"Yep."

"Okay, then I'll have to register you in the records. First off, are you a boy or a girl?" Michael's lips parted, and Byron chuckled. "Just kidding. All right, I'll need your age and date of birth."

"I'm thirteen. July 19, 1950."

Byron scribbled some more. "Okay, now I need to -"

But before he could finish, he was interrupted by a loud slam. A man's bald head poked through one of the side doors.

"Uh, Byron? Phone call. It's urgent. From the landscaper."

Byron sighed and pocketed the pen. "Now?" The man nodded, and Byron turned back to Michael. "The way it is, your battle will probably be next Tuesday. We open at nine in the morning, so be there early. Henry, yours will be on Wednesday."

"Okay. Thanks."

Byron waved casually, then turned to leave. The two disappeared behind the door, talking animatedly, leaving only the woman. She looked over to the boys and let out a playful tsk.

"He's always so busy, that Byron. Here." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "He always gives these things out to new trainers. Looks like he forgot this time, so you can have this one."

"Thanks." Michael took a look at its cover. 'THE POKÉMON LEAGUE: INFORMATION FOR THE FUTURE MASTER'. He didn't feel like reading what was inside at the moment, so he shoved it into his pocket.

Once he was outside, he collapsed into a nearby bench, grateful for the sun's heat on his face. Henry sat down as well, placing the cage next to him, and rested his elbows on his knees. The Stunky squeaked.

"Well, we have our battles." Michael said after a short silence. "That Byron guy doesn't look so tough, though."

"He's really good," Henry said, still staring at the ground. "He knocked my entire team out in less than a minute."

Michael looked at the sign again. "Well, he should really come up with a new slogan. 'I rock this town' is really cheesy." He continued to stare at it for a while, through narrowed eyes.

"You need to train them big time if you want to win, though," Henry pressed on. "Seriously, Byron's the master on rock type pokémon!"

"Hang on. Did you say rock?" Michael's eyes were fully open now.

Henry nodded.

"You mean, this Gym only uses one type of pokémon?"

"Yeah."

Michael smiled. His gaze trailed off back to the sign. The letters, which had been carved deeply into the wood, now seemed to stand out against the background. "You know, we could really use this to our advantage."

"How?"

"I've been thinking about this for a while, ever since I beat your friends. Have you ever noticed whether an attack has different effects on different pokémon?"

Henry rubbed his forehead. "Well, I guess. I mean, when Chester and Veronica used Water Gun and Hydro Pump on your Turtwig, it barely did anything. But when they use it on other people's pokémon, it practically knocks them out the first time. One day, they were battling a kid with a Hondour. They won in, like, thirty seconds. I counted."

"Do you know why that happened?"

Henry shook his head. "I guess some pokémon are weaker than others?"

"Maybe... but I think there's something else at play. Like... people use water to douse fire. But water, just normal water, doesn't ever hurt plants. Plants absorb it to make themselves healthier. And Turtwig is a grass pokémon, so..."

"So water attacks can't hurt it?" Henry's face lit up. "That's why you won!"

"I think so."

"But this gym is rock type. If a rock falls on a plant, won't it die?"

"Well... it's something I learned in science class. It's called biological weathering. Some species of plants can break down entire boulders. Kind of like decomposition, when flies and stuff pick at a dead corpse."

Henry's nose crinkled in disgust. "Are you sure that'll work?"

"Well, if it'll get me the win, it's worth a try."

"But won't it be... you know... cheating?"

Michael groaned. "Look, I honestly don't think that guy's gonna care if we do a little extra prep before the battle. It's not like it's a test. He never said that we couldn't try to help ourselves. And that's the most important part. Whatever people don't say you can't do, you can do."

"I've never really thought about it that way... Hey, you know what you should do? You should make a chart with all the types on it. And for every one you can write down what it's weak against and what it's strong against. That'll make you win the Gym for sure." Henry beamed. "We could bring it in on battle day, even. It would be so nifty!"

Michael cringed, unable to stop himself. "Okay, just please don't say 'nifty' again. That's what all the dweebs say. They think it's cool, but really, it's not."

"... I guess." Henry flushed a little at Michael's correction, and looked down at his thumbs. "You know, we could train together too. Since our battles are close and stuff. Just to help each other out."

"Uh, problem? I have nowhere to stay."

"You can share the hotel room with me. It has two beds. I have it 'till the end of the week too."

"All right. But first I want to find more about this Gym. Let's go to the Pokémon Center. There should be a bunch of trainers there." Michael rose from the chair, and Henry followed. They made their way back to the familiar building, and when Michael entered, he took a good look around.

There weren't that many kids here, though his gaze eventually found a young boy sitting in the corner. He was fiddling around with a metal cube, a mound of curly hair shielding his face from view. Michael guessed he was a trainer - the belt strapped to his waist held three pokéballs. The boy didn't notice their approach. Up close, Michael saw that the cube had a small screen. It flickered to life when the boy pressed the buttons, then went blank again a few seconds later. Each time it did, the boy let out a small groan.

"Hey," Michael said. "Do you have a minute?"

The boy looked up. His face was flushed, and his glasses were askew. His hat bore the pokéball insignia, the same that was on the back of the machine. "Huh? Who're you?"

"Just a trainer."

"We want to know more about the Oreburgh Gym," Henry piped up.

The boy eyed them briefly, then shook his head. "Uh, sorry, I can't help you. I'm busy." He looked back down at his machine and rapped it against the wall. "You stupid piece of... work already!" The screen flashed again. It now covered with tiny white stripes.

"What is that thing?" Michael said.

"It's a Pokémon Data Exploiter," the boy huffed. "It's the newest model, but it's just as bad as the rest... Come on, you stupid piece of shit! Work!" He knocked it against the wall one more time, so loudly that several heads turned. The boy ignored the murmurs, and lowered the device into his lap. There was a dent on the corner, but the screen had died.

"It's no use." His shoulders sagged. "I'm done for."

"Why?"

The boy looked up at Michael. "The professor gave it to me. I'm one of is interns-in-training. It's a summer camp." He sighed. "The professor wants us to gather info on sixty species of pokémon by the end of the month and record them here. I already got ten, but then this stupid gizmo died on me!" He gave it another half-hearted tap. "It'll take forever to get it fixed. By then, all the other guys will beat me."

"Well that's a stupid competition. Is there a prize?"

"Yeah. You get this super cool new pokéball that the professor designed himself. It's supposed to be foolproof, but I don't believe him."

Michael chuckled. "I wouldn't rely on that idiot too much. He doesn't know shit about what he's doing. You know, my friends and I, we call him -"

"Professor Chrome Dome, yeah," the boy said absently. "Everyone calls him that behind his back, even some of his real assistants. It's funny, but it's sad at the same time. You know, 'cause he can't help it or anything. He's lazy and stuff, but he's pretty nice once you get to know him."

"Whatever. So are you gonna help us or not?"

"With what?"

"The Gym," Michael said. "Have you been there? Do you know anyone who's battled Byron before?"

The kid shrugged. "I'm not really into the League, since my camp's taking too much of my time. But I've been there before, you know, just to see what types of pokémon he has, and... " He rubbed his chin, as if deciding whether to continue. "Well, okay, here's the thing with Byron. He says he prefers to use rock pokémon, but really, he's well-rounded with the moves. And one of his pokémon isn't even rock type."

"Then what is it?" Michael said, now more impatient than ever. "Tell us!"

"I would tell you if I could, but all my data's in here!" the boy held up the contraption. "And I can't get it started!"

"Perfect." Michael slapped his forehead. "Can't you just get it fixed or something?"

"Not when Sandgem Town's over a hundred miles away! Going back now would be like reserving a spot in last place!"

"Then get it fixed here," Michael said. "There should be a repair shop or something."

The boy shook his head. "No, it won't do any good. The professor designed it himself, and it's completely unique so only he knows how it works."

"Then he's a dipstick!" Michael exploded. "Didn't he give you something, anything, in case it malfunctioned?"

The boy opened his mouth for an angry reply, but then, his face lit up. "You know... maybe he did. I remember him giving us all this little pouch before we left. It had a bunch of tools to fix it..."

"Yes, and where did you put the pouch?" Michael said.

The boy held up a finger. "Hang on, I might have it here..." he slid his backpack off his shoulder and placed it in his lap, unzipped it and began to search through it.

Michael waited with his arms crossed, and Henry clicked his tongue. When the boy finally took out a large pouch from the bag, Michael sighed with relief.

"I almost forgot I had this," the kid said. "Thanks!"

"All right, all right. So can you do it yourself?"

The boy shook his head. "I don't know... I forgot most of what he showed me. But I can try. We'll need a table, though." He looked around, and pointed to an empty wooden table in the corner, well away from the machines. The three went over and sat down, and the boy spilled out the tools onto the surface. There was a small screwdriver, a few colored wires, an extra battery, and a few extra screws. He watched as the boy opened the device's back, revealing a jumble of wires and lights.

"My gosh," Henry said. "That thing looks like it's about to eat me alive! Did you say it was the newest model?"

"Yeah."

"Then what did the first one look like?"

The boy paused and looked at Henry. "Uh... you don't want to know. You couldn't even carry it in your pocket because it was so big. You had to use a special case, and it was pretty heavy. So if you were a researcher and you had to lug it around all day, you'd be having backaches all the time. The professor told us all about them. The Data Exploiters were originally storage systems, just for regular computers, but then the scientists got sick of using paper to record their pokémon data, and they converted the systems to store that instead. They've made a lot of improvements since the first Data Exploiters, like they made it portable and stuff, but there's still something missing. They can't make a device that's both small and fast and doesn't die every other time you use it." The boy held up a clump of wires to the light, but dropped them instantly. "Owww! My God, that's hot!" He rubbed his fingers and looked down at the open device. "Ugh, man, this is so impossible! I don't even know what's making it act up like this!"

"Do you know how wires work?" Henry said.

"Well... no. Something about positive to the positive? Or positive to the negative?"

"No," Henry said. "Don't you just match up the colors or something? Liked red to red and blue to blue?"

"Ugh." Michael rose. "Don't you two pay attention in class? Lemme see it."

The boy stepped aside as Michael bent down beside the table. He pressed his palm to the inside wall, and yanked it back instantly before the heat could burn him. "I think it's overheated. That might be the problem. When machines get too how they can crash because their systems fail. Plus, it looks like your battery's really old. You'll have to change it."

"Do you know how to do that?"

"Yeah. Just give me the spare." Michael unhooked the battery, ignoring the patches of pain in his fingers. The boy gave him the new one, and Michael slid it into the holder. "Now give me two new red wires and a new blue wire." The boy handed him the wires, and Michael clipped them into place.

"I think that's it. But yeah, like I said before, it probably just got too hot and crashed."

"But why does it heat up like that? I swear, sometimes I can't even hold it because it burns my hands."

"You can't fix it," Michael said. "Machines generate heat, and the only way to cool them down is to kill the power for a while. Just don't overwork this thing. It's too crappy to take a hit." He fastened the lid, tightening it in with the screwdriver. "Also, just keep it in a cold place. Like the refrigerator or something."

Henry giggled.

"What? I'm serious. You have to keep machines cool. Blow it with a fan or something. Here." He handed the device to the boy. "See if it works now."

The kid flipped a switch, and the screen blinked to life. "So far so good..." Michael watched as a title screen popped up - Pokémon Data Exploiter - v9.5. Designed by Sandgem Labs. Then it vanished, replaced by a large scrolling list where a bunch of pokémon names were registered.

"We've got it!" the boy cried. "I have the list up! Thanks so much!"

"Okay, now can you tell us what pokémon Byron has?"

"Yeah, definitely! Hang on." The boy scrolled down the list. Henry hopped up from his seat and leaned over to watch.

"Wow, this is so cool."

The screen read:


POKéMON DATA EXPLOITER v9.5
DATA FILE // POKéMON ENTRIES
NUMERICAL

No. 001 TURTWIG [GRASS]
No. 002 GROTLE [GRASS]
No. 003 - - - - - - - - -
No. 004 CHIMCHAR [FIRE]
No. 005 - - - - - - - - -
No. 006 - - - - - - - - -
No. 007 PIPLUP [WATER]
No. 008 - - - - - - - - -
No. 009 - - - - - - - - -
No. 010 STARLY [FLYING]
No. 011 - - - - - - - - -
No. 012 - - - - - - - - -
No. 013 BIDOOF [???]
»


"What are all the spaces for?" Henry said.

"They're the ones I haven't gotten yet."

Michael pointed to Bidoof's entry. "Why are there question marks there?"

"Because I don't know what type it is. I've battled a trainer who had one, and the pokémon just bit and clawed at mine. They didn't shoot water out of their mouths or anything. Its attacks were just normal."

Michael shrugged. "So put 'Normal'. The professor lets you write your own entries, right?"

"Yeah." The boy continued scrolling.

"Man, how many do you have here?"

"I added in sixty slots, but I only have about ten... oh, here, I have the entries from Byron's gym!" He showed them the screen. "Here's his first pokémon."


No. 031 GEODUDE [ROCK]
------------------------------
This guy looks exactly like a rock, but it's strong and fast. In battle, it can use Rollout and knock down opponents using its arms, which it swings around. It lives by the mountains and sometimes on hiking trails. it likes to hide in plain sight, among other rocks, which can make it really hard to find.


"Interesting," Michael said. "Next?"

The boy showed him the next screen.

No. 034 ONIX [ROCK]
------------------------------
A giant worm-thing made of rocks. It likes to burrow deep in the ground where it's nice and cool. It has a good sense of direction, so it never gets lost. In battle, it likes to whip enemies with its tail, which it uses like a club. It can screech really loudly too, which distracts opponents and throws them off balance.


"Okay, next?"

"All right, here ya go..." The final entry flashed before Michael's eyes.

No. 060 BRONZOR [Steel?]
------------------------------
It uses a lot of non-physical attacks that can confuse the opponent. Its habitat and diet is unknown, though it can be a good


The boy sighed and turned off the device. "That's all I could get. I didn't finish it because I didn't really know a whole lot about it. Byron wouldn't let me stay either to observe it; he said that there were other people waiting to battle him."

Michael's shoulders sagged. "Well that sucks. Didn't you get anything else out of it?"

"No. But it was amazing in battle, though. It can knock out a pokémon without even touching it."

"That's strange... were any moves you used effective against it?"

"I used my Buneary. She's really fast, and I just told her to use Jump Kick, and that did the trick."

Michael nodded. "Interesting. Well, thanks a lot kid. You've been a big help."

"Yeah, thanks!" Henry smiled.

"No prob. Hey, before you go, can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

He turned the device back on. "Do you have any pokémon that I don't have data on? I need a leg up in the competition."

"Sure," Michael said. "Let's see... do you have Stunky?" He gestured towards the cage in Henry's hands.

The boy shook his head. "Nope. I saw one before, but I never got a chance to record anything... Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'll give you the entry. Let's see... it shoots out a really smelly gas from its butt. The gas is green, and the smell lasts for weeks."

As Michael talked, the boy typed furiously into the device. "Uh-huh."

"They live in grassy areas, mostly near the suburbs, and they're really hard to catch. They run really fast."

"... Okay. Got it. Thanks!"

Michael nodded. "No problem." He looked at the device some more, and smiled. "You know what that Pokédex needs? It needs a feature where you could add in pictures of pokémon."

Suddenly, the boy looked up. "What?"

"You know, a picture. Like put a little camera in there so when you see a new pokémon you take a picture of it. That would be boss, instead of reading stupid text."

"No, I mean... what did you call it?" The boy held up the device. "Poké...what?"

"Pokédex." Michael shrugged. "I don't know, just a shorter name for it. Pokémon Data Exploiter feels so lame to say. Like the cat's got my tongue or something."

The boy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Pohh-kayy-dex... I like it! I'll have to remember that."

Michael nodded. "Well, good luck with the competition."

"Thanks. Good luck with the battle."

"Cool. Let's go, Henry." Michael turned for the door, and Henry started after him.

"Bye!" the boy called after them, and they left the building.

When Henry joined him outside, Michael put his hands in his pockets. "This is really interesting... do you realize that if we keep this up, we can beat every single Gym in Sinnoh? All we have to do is read up a bit on the pokémon, assemble a team to counter the leaders, and we'll be done!"

"What are you gonna do if you win? Are you gonna challenge the other Gyms?"

Michael thought for a moment. "Probably. If I get good enough, I can win fifty thousand bucks. What are you gonna do if you win?"

Henry puffed out his cheeks. "I don't know... All I want is to get the Coal badge so I can prove to myself and other people that I can do it. Maybe get the next two ones if I'm good enough... but I never thought about doing the entire League. It seems like such a big thing for one person."

A smile tugged at Michael's lips. "Then what about two?"

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"What if we challenged the League together? Think about it. Doing it as a team will be better than doing it alone."

"But we have no money!" Henry protested, fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

"We'll start making some when we win battles. Look at how much I got just for Route 203."

"But it could take weeks for us to get anywhere! What if we don't make it? We'll have to go back home."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Cry me a river. I'm not a coward. I'm not gonna sit home wasting my entire life in my stupid room, moping about how dull my life is and how unfair everyone is to me. Remember how you told me that your friends treated you like dirt? Well, I had it even worse than that. But I'm actually gonna do something about it, because the fact is, if your life sucks now, it's gonna keep on sucking until you change it. I'll make my own money and success one day, and if you want to travel with me, then you have to share that goal. I'm not gonna stop you if you don't want to. So you can just go home right now, like a little baby, and keep on crying and whining. And maybe in a few months, you'll get to read about my victory in the newspaper."

Henry was hesitant. His tongue rolled around between his cheeks as he grappled with conflicting thoughts. His eyes frequently darted to the path, and for a minute, Michael was certain that he would refuse. After all, defeating the Pokémon League was probably far beyond his simple, sixth-grade fantasies.

But to his surprise, the little kid took his hand firmly and shook.

"Deal."
 

Gardenia101

Official Lurker
583
Posts
13
Years
Great. I can already see a major character change in Michael, with him helping the boy with his Pokemon Data Explorer, letting the boy examine the Stunky when he usually doesn't let anyone touch it. Also, I can already see a young proffessor in him. It looks like he's going to discover type strengths and weaknesses.

But, of course, at the end we see that this is still Michael Rowan ;)




PS: I didn't get a PM :O
 

Haruka of Hoenn

Rolling writer
297
Posts
16
Years
PS: I didn't get a PM :O
I VMed you.

So thanks for the review! Though, the Data Exploiter is more plot-related. You'll see how that ties in with the whole thing about type matchups. ;)

P.S. From here on, I'll be on a semi-hiatus. I'll try to find time to write, but that won't be much. Find some other fics to read in the meantime :P I'll be trying to devote as much time as possible to writing, so that'll mean less time on forums. Other days I might not be on at all. So... hope you'll all bear with me. But don't worry, I'm not giving up on this fic. It's too fascinating of an idea for me to drop.

Hope to see you next week!
 
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