Thread: [Pokémon] Bare Bones: A Trainer's Story
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Old February 27th, 2012 (9:22 PM).
makemymilk45 makemymilk45 is offline
    Join Date: May 2011
    Gender: Male
    Posts: 21
    Thank you for the criticisms Psyanic, I hope that this chapter was better, I was focusing on his motivations to become a trainer. The next chapter is already about halfway done since I thought the end paragraph was a good cutting point. To everyone reading this, I hope you stick with me through to the end of this fic and I hope you're enjoying reading this.

    Chapter Two

    The boy was knelt down, his hands wrapped in the purple fur of the rat that Cubone had just battled. His eyes were shifting back and forth, examining everything about the Pokemon, he had seen them before but he had never been this close and it interested him. Why was this something that people were interested in catching? He knew that school children liked them for whatever reason, but why? They weren't Dragons, they were just...rats. They had no special characteristics except for an oversized set of teeth that were just proven useless against Cubone's skull.

    Marcus stood up and looked to his Cubone, lifting his hand to rub the spot where he was smacked in the head. It was sore, but that was to be expected, but what he didn't expect was that it happened in the first place. Why did the Pokemon attack him? Did his brothers have this issue or was Marcus just a dead beat trainer in the first place and Cubone sensed it? The boy ran his hand through his hair and just pulled out the Pokeball and looked down at the Cubone. “Alright, time to get in here.” He said before opening it and in an instant, Cubone was recalled into it. Marcus attached it to his belt and looked around, why did he decide that this was what he wanted in the first place?

    He began to walk, feeling the tall grass rub against his knees through the holes that were in his jeans. He saw Pidgeys flying above him and he even saw a few more Rattata throughout the day but he didn't decide to battle any of them. He just kept thinking about whether or not he was really meant to be a trainer. Flashes of the past kept appearing his mind, from seeing his brothers leave with their starters to watching their battles on TV. But they all kept coming back to the days after the battles, when he went to the school and was asked an endless stream of questions. Why wasn't he a trainer? Where his brothers prodigies? What secrets did they have? Did they have any secret Pokemon no one knew about? After every battle these questions were asked to him. Sometimes there would be a slight variation, there'd be a few odd ball questions here and there too but all in all, it always worked its way back to why Marcus wasn't a trainer.

    He never really could answer that question though, why wasn't he a trainer? It was in his blood wasn't it? Five of the six Thompson children were famous trainers but the sixth never responded to the call to become a trainer. But then one day, he was out looking for a job in Viridian City and he saw it all. The children who were walking around with Pokemon next to them, Charmanders, Squirtles, Bulbasaurs, Rattatas, Drowzees, all of the ones you can think of. They were battling and having fun and for some reason, even though he'd seen it many times before, Marcus wanted that. He wanted a partner that would listen to him, to trust him through thick and thin, he wanted to become a Pokemon Trainer.

    That night he ended up talking to his brother Adrian about it on the phone and was given a lecture that he was older than the average trainer. He may be seen as a joke and people wouldn't take him seriously, he didn't have the childhood innocence some people thought was necessary to raise a proper team, and he would have wasted all the time that he was in school. Adrian went on and on about how Marcus should just stick to the world of nine to five jobs and leave training to his brothers but Marcus kept pleading with his brother. Eventually the two came to a deal, if Marcus wanted to be a trainer then he would have to do it the way that the Thompson boys did it. Each of them had been given a hand me down Pokemon, from their father or the brother who was closest in age. Marcus would have to call Gabriel and ask for a hand me down and then raise it to become a true trainer.

    That night Marcus tried to call Gabriel at least a dozen times, he left voice mails, sent text messages, but each time he got no answer. This process was repeated day after day after day, for weeks. But then, this morning, his mother had woken him up and handed Marcus the Pokeball and told him to be safe. That was the only thing that his mother told him that morning before shipping him out of the house and onto this journey. But would Marcus really be able to do it?
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