icomeanon6
It's "I Come Anon"
- 1,184
- Posts
- 16
- Years
- Northern Virginia
- Seen Jun 13, 2023
Long time no see, PCFF&W. Here's some FlashFiction. :P
It's week 7, and the prompt is Promotion. What follows is sort of based on true events, which is why there's some bad language in there. >_>
*****
SouzaJR was a level 20 Diglett. He didn't know what level 20 meant, but it seemed about right. He also didn't know that he was named for a prospect outfielder who would save a no-hitter for the Washington Nationals later that year, or that all the other Pokémon who sat with him in the PC Box were named for players on the same team. He knew nothing of the trainer who had named them, for that matter. All he knew was that one day he had put up a decent fight back home in the Cave, but ended up in a Poké Ball and had been living in near-stasis in this digital space ever since.
Nothing much happened in the PC. Since he couldn't move and neither could the other Pokémon, new arrivals meant nothing. The only real excitement followed a very specific pattern. Every few days (or was it hours? SouzaJR couldn't tell) he would hear a terrible noise coming from what felt like a direction, but not any direction he could comprehend. The noise went generally like this:
"NOOOO! You can't be f*cking serious!"
This was occasionally followed by "Two crits in a row?!"
Or sometimes by "UGGH, if this were Gen I that'd be normal damage, not dark! This is bullsh*t!"
And it was concluded with some lamentations for other Pokémon with weird names like 'Strasburg,' 'Harper,' and 'Zimmerman.'
After that a few minutes would pass, and the trainer would log in. The trainer would release a Pokémon from the party into the void, and SouzaJR would find himself filled with anticipation. Then one of SouzaJR's lucky neighbors would take its place, and it was back to normal.
As time passed and more opportunities came and went, the fleeting hope grew weaker. One day SouzaJR barely paid any mind to the trainer's rant, and just took it for a given that some other Pokémon would get a chance to leave this place and move and dig and battle again.
But then he began to move. All this time later he could feel himself move again. His Ball was rising above the others, and the electronic flashes that used to just hang there now zoomed past.
This was it. Fresh air, sunshine, other Pokémon, and most of all, dirt. He was going to dig and dig and dig like he had never dug before, and the trainer was going to be so impressed with his digging that he'd never sit for months in a computer again. At long last he had made the team.
For the next hour and the next five battles before coming across a Nidoking who really wasn't supposed to know Surf, SouzaJr was going to be very, very happy.
It's week 7, and the prompt is Promotion. What follows is sort of based on true events, which is why there's some bad language in there. >_>
*****
SouzaJR was a level 20 Diglett. He didn't know what level 20 meant, but it seemed about right. He also didn't know that he was named for a prospect outfielder who would save a no-hitter for the Washington Nationals later that year, or that all the other Pokémon who sat with him in the PC Box were named for players on the same team. He knew nothing of the trainer who had named them, for that matter. All he knew was that one day he had put up a decent fight back home in the Cave, but ended up in a Poké Ball and had been living in near-stasis in this digital space ever since.
Nothing much happened in the PC. Since he couldn't move and neither could the other Pokémon, new arrivals meant nothing. The only real excitement followed a very specific pattern. Every few days (or was it hours? SouzaJR couldn't tell) he would hear a terrible noise coming from what felt like a direction, but not any direction he could comprehend. The noise went generally like this:
"NOOOO! You can't be f*cking serious!"
This was occasionally followed by "Two crits in a row?!"
Or sometimes by "UGGH, if this were Gen I that'd be normal damage, not dark! This is bullsh*t!"
And it was concluded with some lamentations for other Pokémon with weird names like 'Strasburg,' 'Harper,' and 'Zimmerman.'
After that a few minutes would pass, and the trainer would log in. The trainer would release a Pokémon from the party into the void, and SouzaJR would find himself filled with anticipation. Then one of SouzaJR's lucky neighbors would take its place, and it was back to normal.
As time passed and more opportunities came and went, the fleeting hope grew weaker. One day SouzaJR barely paid any mind to the trainer's rant, and just took it for a given that some other Pokémon would get a chance to leave this place and move and dig and battle again.
But then he began to move. All this time later he could feel himself move again. His Ball was rising above the others, and the electronic flashes that used to just hang there now zoomed past.
This was it. Fresh air, sunshine, other Pokémon, and most of all, dirt. He was going to dig and dig and dig like he had never dug before, and the trainer was going to be so impressed with his digging that he'd never sit for months in a computer again. At long last he had made the team.
For the next hour and the next five battles before coming across a Nidoking who really wasn't supposed to know Surf, SouzaJr was going to be very, very happy.
