Pokemon: A New Era

[EricDaRed]

Chapter 6


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Luke felt as if he had found paradise as he stared into the dusty cardboard box that his father set on the table. Inside it were many wonders, relics of an earlier time when pokemon training was in its golden age. There were some poke'balls, not the grey-topped, white-bottomed poke'balls Luke was used to seeing on TV, most of these were red-topped and white-bottomed. A couple of them were blue topped with little red ridges, and bore the inscription 'great ball' on the side. There were also a couple of odd-looking devices with poke'ball sized slots in them; having never handled pokeballs before, Luke was unsure of the purpose of these machines.

There were also notebooks with pages yellowed by age, some pokemon-themed key chains, a flute with a pokeball replica toward the top of the shaft, and many other items the boy did not recognize.

All of this stuff once belonged to Luke's great-grandfather. In his prime, that man was a terrific trainer, a true master of pokemon. Luke grew up on the stories his mom would tell about her grandfather's great adventures and his unmatched love for pokemon.

The world wasn't that sort of place anymore. The romanticized image of the ten-year-old pokemon trainer walking from town to town, battling and capturing wild pokemon, and surviving on the hospitality of others, was no more. In this world, you needed two things to become a pokemon trainer: a trainer's licence and money.

People didn't often capture wild pokemon anymore. Since many years before Luke was born, serious pokemon trainers had relied on professionally bred and raised pokemon to give them an edge in competitions. Technological advancements in breeding methods made it such that competitors using pokemon caught in the wild generally stood no chance against trainers using more powerful domestically raised pokemon.

No longer were cunning and resourcefulness key to success. The measure of a great pokemon trainer had become the depth of his pockets; the quality of the pokemon he or she could afford to buy. This lead to a regrettable decline in the quality of pokemon trainers themselves. Pokemon trainers as a whole became snobbish, arrogant and, in general, displayed very little regard for the well-being of their pokemon partners.

As a side effect of mass-breeding, the domestically raised pokemon themselves displayed significantly less robust personalities than their wild counterparts. This further advanced the decline of love and respect between trainers and their pokemon.

Society didn't seem to mourn this loss, however, which in itself was an even greater tragedy.

There had, at one time, been large-scale resistance to this unwholesome decline. The pokemon league, for example, even went as far as to ban commercially raised pokemon from all pokemon league tournaments and gym battles.

This was the greatest, and final, stand against the commercialization of pokemon training. It met with bitter failure, however, when the economic powerhouse Poke'farms wielded its financial influence and nearly bankrupted the pokemon league. Only after a corporate buyout, governmental bribes, and a lot of false propaganda, was the pokemon league finally restored...

...under the private ownership of Poke'farms.

Now Poke'farms could use the global satellite network to distinguish poke'balls carrying wild pokemon from those carrying Poke'farms brand pokemon. For a time, trainers using wild pokemon were banned from Pokemon League competitions. Then, realizing that naturally raised pokemon in competitions had little chance of victory, the pokemon league once again began allowing wild pokemon into official competitions.

By this time, the image of the Pokemon League had completely changed. Noble, traditional trainers had been removed from official positions within the pokemon league. Gym leaders, tournament trainers, and even the Elite Four, were all replaced by salaried employees of Poke'farms. These trainers did not raise or even train their pokemon. No, they only used the powerful, cookie-cutter pokemon produced by Poke'farms.

Trainers using naturally captured pokemon quickly found it nearly impossible to win gym battles and tournaments. As it became less and less viable to capture and train pokemon, people choose this course of life less and less. With no more traveling trainers moving from place to place in search of wild pokemon to capture, the governements of Kanto and Johto saw no more need to fund Poke'mon Centers. These once hallowed institutions all but vanished. Now, only a few privately owned Pokemon Centers exist in Kanto/Johto.

While the governments of Hoenn and Sinnoh were maintaining a degree of control over their respective pokemon competitions, the influence of Poke'farms against them was mounting rapidly. It was only a matter of time, it seemed, before this commercial giant would expand its control over the entire world of pokemon. Mild resistance was offered by rival companies such as Silph Co. and Devon, but there seemed to be no way to halt Poke'farms' momentum.

Luke Granes had not yet recognized the threat that Poke'farms posed to pokemon and to society. At the moment, he was only interested in the box of poke'treasures before him.

Alexia, the attractive sixteen-year-old file clerk in the employ of Poke'farms, however, was beginning to see the evils of the company first-hand. After rescuing a helpless charmander from its company-ordered death, the brunette had become aware of other 'inferior' pokemon that were scheduled to die.

The burn holes in her bed sheets and the blackened patches on her wall were clear evidence that she had enough to handle already; taking more pokemon into her home was out of the question. Still, faced with the unacceptable alternative of allowing the pokemon to die, Alexia knew she had to do something.

The first pokemon scheduled for termination was a magmar that was a mere 2% below standard. Since magmar, once evolved into magmotar, were sold almost exclusively to the military, Poke'farms would tolerate no less than perfection. A great deal of profit was made from military contracts, and that profit could not be jeopardized by sub-standard 'goods'.

Alexia's head was spinning as she drove into the Poke'farms parking lot. Even though it was Saturday, she had agreed to come in to take care of some back-logged filing. Her true purpose, however, was to work on a plan to save the magmar while fewer employees were present.

As the shapely brunette entered through the employees' entrance, she saw two uniformed police officers talking to her supervisor, Ms. Watson. Alexia's heart froze.

Stealing pokemon was a second degree felony. If convicted, she could spend ten years in prison.

She began slowly backing up, hoping to remain unseen, but her hopes were dashed when Ms. Watson noticed her and promptly pointed her out to the officers.

This was it. There was no running now. One of the officers approached her.

Alexia focused inwardly, mustering the will to hide her emotions. If she was going to worm her way out of this, she couldn't allow herself to appear frightened.

In truth, however, she had never been more frightened in her life.

"We need to ask you a few questions, ma'am." The officer said politely. Despite her efforts, Alexia couldn't tell if the man's pleasant demeanor was genuine, or if it was a facade purposed to lure her into a trap.

Either way, she didn't have many choices. With near flawless believability, she answered, "Sure thing, officer. Has something bad happened?"

"This way," was the officer's simple reply.

She followed the officer down the hall and past the second officer. She couldn't help but notice the handcuffs, pistol, taser, and pokeball attached to the second officers belt. She hoped that none of those items would be needed for use against her.

The officer lead her into a small conference room that was, usually, used for consultations with Poke'farms customers. The intimidating man, standing nearly a foot taller than the anxious teen, motioned toward one of the chairs and said, "Please, take a seat."



Elsewhere, Luke had moved outside and was now sitting on the ground with his back against a sturdy oak tree. As he sat, happy as a cloyster, he read aloud from one of one of his great-grandfather's yellowed journals. Several feet above him, Metapod was listening intently to the story.

"The battle was furious, with both of my pokemon growing weak and the enemy seeming untouched by my attacks," Luke read, using an exaggerated tone and even throwing in sound effects periodically. Continuing, he read, "Infernape was suffering greatly from the psychic pulses of the enemy Hypno, and my Donphan just wasn't doing enough damage to the enemy Metagross. With the Metagross running defense, neither of my pokemon could reach the Hypno to stop its psychic attacks."

Luke paused for a moment, impressed by the tactics of his great-grandfather's opponent. Using one large, durable pokemon to take the damage for a less durable but more offensive pokemon seemed like a stroke of genius. Going on, Luke read, "With no substitutions allowed, I couldn't switch pokemon. For better or worse, I was stuck in this battle. Desperate, I ordered by Infernape and Donphan to attack Metagross together, with Hi Jump Kick and Rollout. Metagross used iron defense and braced for the hit, but it was spared the collision when my pokemon were both repelled by a powerful psywave attack from Hypno, and Infernape fainted. "

Luke stopped reading when he heard an odd scratching sound from above. As he looked curiously upward, he realized that the sound was coming from Metapod. The cocoon pokemon had been rooting for Luke's great-grandfather and was apparently unhappy about this latest plot twist.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he finds a way out of this mess... I hope." Luke explained with optimism, he then continued reading from the journal, "I was now left with only one weakened pokemon against a healthy psychic pokemon and its seemingly untouchable defender. Focusing, I forced myself to consider all of the different attacks Donphan knew. My opponent stopped giving orders to his pokemon while he taunted me, giving me the time I needed to hatch a plan. Declaring that he hadn't won yet, I ordered Donphan to use rollout. He ordered Metgross to use Iron Defense and Hypno to use psybeam. At the last moment, I ordered Donphan to use dig and he used his already impressive momentum to burrow underground. After mere moments, Donphan appeared from underground and slammed heavily into Hypno. The psychic pokemon's low defense made it no match for Donphan's might; it flew through the air and fainted upon impact with the ground. "

"Ciik Cshhh" Metapod rasped, its true voice being muffled and distorted behind its thick green shell.

"See, I told you things would get better." Luke smiled. He then continued reading, "Metagross spun around to face Donphan, clearly enraged. His trainer, too, seemed unhappy with this sudden turn-around. I smirked at my opponent as my inner confidence swelled again, and suggested that he give up. Being nearly as stubborn as I, he ordered his Metagross to use Iron punch. Donphan charged head-first into the attack with a rollout attack of his own. The two collided epically. The ground shook. Sand flew in all directions. When the dust settled, Metagross was hovering weakly as if it could barley remain afloat and Donphan lay unconscious beside it."

Metapod hissed shrilly from its tree-side home. Luke commented in return, "I know! I can't believe he lost!"

"Wait, there's more," Luke added before beginning to read again, "I guess Metagross' repeated use of Iron defense gave it the durability it needed to withstand Donphan's final attack. I returned Donphan and, after sulking for a few seconds, congratulated my opponent on a fantastic battle. The loss was my fault, really. I shouldn't have tried so hard to win through brute force at the beginning of the match, doing that got Infernape knocked out too soon. Also, I haven't used my Donphan in battle in a long time... so we weren't quite as in tune with each other as we used to be. You know, I love them all, but sometimes I think have too many pokemon!"

"Too many pokemon?" Luke asked aloud, to nobody in particular, "How many pokemon did my great grandfather have?"

"Luke? Luuke!" Ms. Granes called from the back door, "Come inside, honey, lunch is almost ready."

"Coming, mom." Luke called back as he climbed to his feet. He said goodbye to Metapod, who clicked happily in reply, before heading into the house.

"Does Metapod need food?" Luke asked as he stepped inside.

"Nope." Luke's father answered as he sat down at the table, eagerly eyeing the lasagna on his plate, "He stored extra energy from the fruit you fed him as a Caterpie and he's using that energy now. Once he evolves, though, he'll probably be hungry enough to eat a numel!"

From time to time during the meal, Luke would gaze contentedly out the window. School was going great. His parents finally let him have a pokemon. His pokemon was getting ready to evolve. Life was good.

 

[Harry Blue5]

You've made a mistake, you got mixed up with names, see the Infernape in the battle, was at the end of the chapter, referred to as a Monferno.

 

[Matt11]

Good chapter, I find it interesting the way the world changed from the older time xD

Yeah you did mix up the names at the end and you used Luke alot in the last few sentences. Other than that great story ;)

 

[Barker]

Great read. Interesting concept, the thought of Pokéfarms taking over. Besides an error here or there, nothing bad to say. Keep it up.

 

[EricDaRed]

Thanks Harry Blue 5, Matt11, and Woofer for the reviews. Sorry for the mistakes. It is amazing how I still miss errors after 5 re-reads... *sigh*. I'm glad that my story is still interesting/enjoyable, despite the oversights.

Also, in addition to spelling/grammer mistakes, feel free to let me know if I am being unclear about certain plot elements or if anything I'm trying to explain is confusing. Thanks!!

As a note for future chapters: The pokemon world I have envisioned is a fusion of elements of our society, that of the anime, and that of the gameboy world. I include some elements of each, while also ignoring many elements of each. For example: In my story every police officer isn't named Jenny, nor is every Nurse named Joy... also, no dorky bad-guy 'teams' (there is organized crime, it just exists in a more 'real world' sort of manner).

The above is not to say that the world in my story is different than the world in the anime. It is the same world, just 80 - 100 years in the future (so a textbook in my story, for example, might mention Giovanni, the former leader of Team Rocket or Lance, the former head of the Elite Four).

Any changes I've made to the pokemon world because of my own preferences can be conveniently attributed to the time-gap! (If you think about it, how different is our modern world from that of 1908?)

Also, more importantly, I have expanded upon and altered some pokemon concepts. For example, I've expanded how the pokeball works (more on that in later chapters, but it was hinted at when I mentioned the global satellite network in chapter 6) and how pokemon evolution works (more in later chapters).

 

[Matt11]

Dont worry, everything seems pretty clear as is...

 

[EricDaRed]

Chapter 7

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"This is unacceptable!" With a web of pulsating veins nearly springing from his forehead, Thadeus Worthington stormed into the basement level of the Poke'farms main research facility. He was wearing a crisp navy blue suit and carried an nondescript, yet fancy leather briefcase.

A group of researchers standing around a central table flinched in unison as the infuriated man, the president of the Poke'farms corporation, slammed his briefcase down on the table.

Notably, one of the researchers did not seem intimidated; instead this man's face bore an amused smirk.

"We just received the largest government grant in company history and this is the best we can do!?" President Worthington snatched a file folder out of his briefcase and flung it down on the table. The file spilled open, revealing various charts, genetic sequences, and other technical data. What stood out, though, was a picture of a small pink-skinned pokemon with large rounded eyes, a slender curving tale, and disproportionately large oblong feet.

"Seven percent!? SEVEN!?" Mr. Worthington shouted, "I just made a fool of myself before the oversight committee with this pathetic report!"

"We do not have the genetic material we need to construct a more complete profile," The one unintimidated researcher answered. He spoke as calmly as if he were speaking to a newborn pichu instead of the man that signed his paycheck. This confident researcher's name was was Jonias Speldger, and he was Poke'farms highest paid scientist. He was responsible for developing, maintaining, and improving the genetic profiles used by Poke'farms to produce their patented name-brand pokemon.

Speldger's work, in fact, was largely responsible for Poke'farms brand pokemon gaining an incontestible edge over natural pokemon in professional competitions. No pokemon, be it from a competing breeder or from the wild, could match a Poke'farms pokemon of the same species in battle.

This domination was not always the case, however. At the outset of Poke'farms breeding activities, some fifty years earlier, the company only produced seventeen distinct species of poke'mon. At the time, consumers largely considered such pokemon to be only for 'lazy' trainers that lacked the skill to capture and train wild pokemon. Further, the pokemon were very costly even though they displayed negligible statistical superiority over natural pokemon. For theses reasons, Poke'farms teetered continuously on the edge of bankruptcy for years.

Two decades later, a young Jonias Speldger joined the Poke'farms team. An amazing scientific prodigy, he single-handedly improved the statistical strength of Poke'farms pokemon by 20% over a single generation. His method involved 'breeding' pokemon in a lab using genetic profiles instead of actually mating two parent pokemon. Under the Speldger method, genetic material is injected into a 'blank' egg that then develops into the corresponding species of pokemon as if it had been naturally conceived. This method also sped up the rate at which new pokemon could be born.

After three generations of pokemon under Speldger's methods of genetic manipulation, Poke'farms pokemon had become unquestionably superior to wild pokemon. Over the years, Poke'farms grew larger and richer, bolstered by Speldger's seemingly constant flow of gentetic break-throughs. However, the ambitious researcher, now in his mid-fifties, was not one to rest idly on his past accomplishments. No, every success only deepened his drive to accomplish more.

This brought the scientist to his latest bureaucratic manipulation and the intentionally triggered rage of President Worthington.

"We can genetically create over 300 species of pokemon, but this one is beyond our grasp!? This single pokemon could make us more money than all the others combined and you slackers are dragging your heels!?" The president spat furiously.

Speldger, an eternal perfectionist, bristled inwardly; the President's statement was irritatingly inaccurate. Poke'farms could not create over 300 species of pokemon. They could create 136 species. Many of those species have the ability to 'evolve' into more powerful versions of themselves but, despite popular belief, they do not evolve into completely distinct species.

Returning his attention to the enraged figure-head before him, Speldger attempted to offer an explanation,"Archaeologists have not discovered another complete fossil of..."

"I don't want excuses, I want results!" Mr. Worthington demanded, cutting Jonias Speldger off in mid-sentence.

"I have a proposition, sir." Jonias Speldger answered with confidence from behind his square, thick-rimmed black glasses. The shrewd researcher knew Worthington's anger would cause him to rashly approve the proposition.

"It had better be a damn good one!" The president threatened.

At this point, the other researchers had slowly moved away from the table; some to the outer edges of the laboratory, others into different rooms entirely. Only Worthington and Speldger remained standing around the central table.

Jonias Speldger leaned in and began to speak softly, "I know where we can get a complete genetic profile."

The president's eyes widened in obvious interest. He sensed that there would be some extensive fine-print involved, there always was with Speldger.

But first, an obvious question had to be asked. Worthington lowered his brow and asked, "One of our competitors has developed a complete profile? Was it Devon?"

Speldger chuckled, "No. Don't worry about losing your precious monopoly, the organization that developed the profile has been out of 'business' for nearly seventy years. All we have to do is search the remains of their abandoned research facility."

Worthington next asked, "What's the catch, Speldger?"

"The research is located in the ruins of a subterranean laboratory beneath the Fort Gaula military base outside Viridian City," The researcher answered.

"Fort Gaula!?" The President stammered, visibly disturbed. Fort Gaula was the largest military base in all of Kanto. It would be easier to fit a Snorlax through the eye of a needle than it would be to gain access to Fort Gaula.

"I have a plan, but it is less than... how shall I say..." Speldger paused, leaned in toward the Poke'farms president and whispered, "...legal."

After Speldger explained his intricate, illegal plan, the president paused for a moment as if to weigh ethics against profitability. The conclusion he would reach was a forgone one, but it was only proper to at least pretend to hesitate over this sort of decision. After a long moment the president said, "Make it happen."

The president turned and headed back toward the elevator. As the doors to the elevator opened, Jonias called out, "Oh, Mr. President, have you decided about authorizing the A7-22 trials?"

"Uh, yes, whatever you need Speldger," The President answered without giving his response much thought.

The researcher smirked–two birds with one stone. It was a joy to have the President of Kanto's largest corporation wrapped around his finger.

After his puppet was gone, Jonias Speldger picked up the research file that had sparked Worthington's anger. The crafty scientist stared at the illustration of the small, pink, legendary pokemon and commented quietly, "Giovanni, even your accomplishments will soon pale in comparison to mine."

 

[Gooberdued]

DUN DUN DUUUUN *ominous music*

This is a very interesting and well written fic. I'll be sure to read the next chapters you post!

"I have an proposition, sir."

tsk tsk tsk...

But otherwise, very good, very well thought out, and a very interesting read.

 

[EricDaRed]

[Note: Yes, I realize that I am bumping a thread that is a year and a half old. I apologize, but I have been through a move, college, family deaths, family surgeries, etc. I have been working on the story bit by bit but I just never got around to posting the next chapter.]

[I doubt any of my readers are still around to see the update but, just in case, sorry for the wait!]

Chapter 8

Monday.

Another weekend was at an end.

For Luke Granes, the fourteen year old boy with college level intelligence, the weekend had been a proverbial slice of paradise. He spent his time with his parents, going over college information and class choices, and talking and reading to his friend Metapod… with the greatest portion of time being devoted to the latter pursuit.

Everything seemed as if it had fallen perfectly into place. Luke was even feeling less apprehensive about what college courses to select, he knew he wanted to take every pokemon related course available… and maybe some higher math to mix things up.

For Alexia, the striking sixteen year old file clerk, however… the weekend had been quite taxing. For she, who had never had so much as a Pidgey or Nidoran as a pet, had to keep an energetic young charmander from burning down her home. Fortunately for the young woman, her parents were out of town for the week… giving her time to repair the damage caused by the life she saved, as well as giving her time to find more permanent arrangements for her new poke'pal.

Which is the reason she now sat, in her twenty-year old maroon car, at the curb outside a poke'mon day care.

Alexia glanced pensively in her rearview mirror, fearing that she had been followed. Ever since she illegally rescued the young charmander that was now playfully tearing up the backseat of her aged vehicle, she had been haunted by the feeling that her 'crime' had been discovered.

Still, nothing but trees, homes, and empty road stretched out in the mirror.

After taking several apprehensive breaths, she scooped up the little pokemon in her arms, being careful to avoid burning herself on his tale flame, swung the door of her car open, and stepped quickly out of the vehicle.

She sighed apprehensively as she stared at the familiar building before her. It was the Sunny Day pokemon Day-Care, run by an old family friend named Marge. It was here that the sixteen year old hoped to have her new charge cared for, and hidden, while she was away at school, and afterward at work.

Upon entering the building, Alexia immediately caught sight an older woman that stood behind the reception desk. She was scribbling something on a notepad.

Marge.

The woman had been friends with Alexia's parents even before they were married and had helped the family through some difficult ordeals. Now, Alexia had to find a way to ask the kind-hearted caregiver to do it again.

"Char, Char!" Charmander greeted suddenly, removing any chance Alexia might have had to gather herself before alerting Marge to her presence.

"Do I hear a charmander?" Marge asked as she began to look up from her notepad, but open seeing Alexia's face, any small talk that she may have planned to make quickly fled her lips.

"Lexi?"

"Hello, Marge."

"My, my, its been ages!" Marge said as she walked from behind the counter and approached the young woman and her fiery companion, "And with a pokemon, no less? You've finally decided to become a pokemon trainer!"

"Well, uh… sort of."

"Well, I am pleased to hear it. So, what brings you here?"

"Marge, I… uh, need your help…"

Marge nodded in understanding as she replied softly, "I know how expensive day care can be dear, since we're good friends I could waive the cost… discreetly of course."

The surprise visitor hesitated. While price certainly was a concern, given her meager Poke'farms wages, Alexia understood that the legal entanglements surrounding her new charmander were much more serious.

"Just return your pokemon to its poke ball, and we can get him registered," Marge went on, still imagining that money was her old friend's biggest worry.

"I… uh, don't have one for him," the trim brunette answered quietly.

"You don't have a pok…" Marge paused for a moment as she looked the charmander and her old friend over. Outside of sanctioned breeders, researchers, and the like, all domestic pokemon were required to have their own poke'ball. It was a way of tracking ownership, preventing theft and, unofficially, a convenient way for the government to keep track of trainers.

"My dear… please tell me this is a wild charmander that happened to take a liking to you," Marge said sternly, fearing the young woman's answer greatly. Getting caught up in illegal pokemon activity could easily spell the end of her day care, and her livelihood.

Alexia shook her head silently.

"Oh my…"

"Marge, please, I don't know where else to turn. I can explain…"

"Come with me to my office… there had better be a good explanation," Marge said in a whisper and then she called out, "Ted, I have to see a client in my office. Can you watch the front for a few minutes?"

"Sure thing boss!" Came a jovial male voice from an adjoining room.

Once she and her unexpected visitors were in her office, Marge closed the door and closed the blinds on the window. She sat down as he desk, exhaled deeply, and asked, "Alright, Lexi, what's going on?"

"Remember mom telling you about my new job… at Poke'farms?"

Marge's eyes grew wide for a moment and she answered, "Please, please don't tell me you stole him from Poke'farms…"

"I had no choice!"

Marge stood from her seat, outraged at her family friend's criminal activity. She was fully prepared to call the police. They would settle the issue and return the charmander to its owners; Marge's business and reputation would be safe.

Marge reached for the phone.

"Please, wait, you don't understand."

She removed the phone from the hook, reached with the other hand and prepared to dial.

"They were going to kill him!"

Marge froze. She did not dial the phone; instead, she looked her young friend in the eyes but said nothing. Despite her shock, Marge did not fail to notice the equally shocked expression on the wee charmander's face.

"I was delivering some files when a researcher asked me to take Charmander to the infirmary. I saw on the orders that he was to be put down… because… because…"

The tears Alexia had been holding back gave way, but in a mere moment her expression hardened. Sorrow became rage and she growled through clenched teeth, "Because he wasn't good enough… because he might tarnish their all important reputation!"

"That's awful," Marge consoled, seeming to understand why Alexia had acted the way she did… but she still wasn't certain that she was ready to become an accomplice to Alexia's crime by helping to hide it.

"I faked the paperwork, made it look like he had already been put to sleep, and snuck him out. I know that I'm in a lot of trouble here, but I couldn't just let this poor pokemon die!"

"Char? Char char!" Charmander reacted as he saw the new wave of tears running down his owner's face. For the first time, Charmander felt a twinge of love for his new owner, and he expressed it by reaching his tongue out to wipe the tears from her cheek.

"He seems grateful." Marge commented, smiling warmly.

Lexi chucked, "I'm surprised. This is the first time he's been nice to me like that. Until now, he's been distant…"

"Did you know that poke'mon can understand our speech much better than most think they can?"

"What?"

"Nobody really understands it, and most "thinking" types say its hogwash, but after running a day care for as many years as I, you come to see that its true. Maybe your friend hadn't realized that you saved its life and, until you explained just now, didn't know why you had taken it away from the only home it had ever known."

"Really…? Is that true, little guy?"

"Charmander, char…" The small fire pokemon answered, seeming to agree.

"Alright, I'll help you," Marge inserted with a tone of dread, "But we have to tread lightly. I'll take care of the charmander… if anyone asks where his poke'ball is I'll tell them that it was malfunctioning and that its being repaired. That will have to work until we figure out a more permanent solution."

"Thank you so much, Marge…"

"Lexi, are you working today?"

"Yes, after school, which starts in twenty minutes…" the young file clerk answered.

"Then go, quickly, don't be late. Don't do anything that would attract any attention. Act as if everything is normal…"

"That's the plan," Alexia answered as she stood, leaving Charmander on the chair next to her.

"Char… Char?" The charmander puzzled as it looked up at its 'trainer'.

"I have to go to work now, but I'll come back later."

"Char! Chaaar!?" Charmander began to cry and stomp its feet, not wanting to be separated from its new owner.

"Now, now," Marge said as she skillfully lifted the charmander into her arms, "Is that any way for a tough young pokemon to act? Noooo, you're a big boy. Don't worry, Lexi will come back this afternoon. Now, do you want a snack?"

"Char?" The pokemon asked, momentarily distracted by Marge's offer.

Alexia took the opportunity to back out of the office.

Moments later, she was in her beat up old car and heading down the road toward her high school. With Marge's help, maybe she would get through this after all.

With charmander in good hands, Alexia's mind turned to the poor magmar that would soon be euthanized. She didn't know how, but she would have to save Magmar too… and she was certain Marge was not going to be pleased.




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