MyFavoriteWordisRollerBlade
CrystalLip (on fanfiction.net)
- 28
- Posts
- 6
- Years
- Age 25
- Seen Nov 14, 2017
Prologue
Ilex Forest was one of the most sacred places in all of Johto. The residents of the nearby communities (Azalea Town and Goldenrod City, respectively) believe that it was-and possibly still is- the home to a mythical pokémon named Celebi, which has been given the moniker 'The Voice of the Forest'. Naturally, that brings all sorts of visitors to the dense forest: trainers, tourists and even a scientist and his family…
"Ah, papa, there are so many pokémon! And look, they're not even hiding." Observed a boy, his auburn eyes alight with amazement and wonder. Two eevee, one perched on his right shoulder and another sitting by his feet, were also enjoying the unique treat of seeing so many pokémon in one place. They were truly in abundance. Kakuna and their counterparts metapod hung from trees, protected by the swarms of beedrill and packs of butterfree that never strayed too far from the nests and kept a wary-if tolerant-eye on any passerby. Oddish and paras played in the undergrowth, and poliwag took turns belly-jumping into the ponds. Occasionally a psyduck would wander by and join in on the fun, making waves that crashed into all the poliwag. All the forest pokémon seemed to be blissfully ignoring the family that was setting up a picnic not too far away.
Only a few steps behind the boy, his father chuckled. "There are a lot, aren't there? I imagine that the pokémon of this forest have gotten used to seeing visitors. In fact, I'd say that they consider people a part of the forest," hypothesized the scientist. The boy's father was his mirror image; the same spiky gray hair, the same eye color, and even the same facial lines.
"I told you both that Ilex forest was worth a detour. To think, you and Wes wanted to blaze through Violet City and hightail it out of Johto as quickly as possible," teased Wes's mother, a light smile on her face as she took a sip of her tea. "Aren't you glad we went this way now?"
Wes's father scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah, you were right." Wes's father looked around the forest, and he homed in on a spiky-eared Pichu, which was carrying a jumbo-sized apricorn. "It's certainly lively here. Hey, Wes." The dad said.
"Yeah, dad?" asked Wes, turning his head so he could see him. This had the unintentional side-effect of knocking his eevee off his shoulder. Eevee tumbled down to the ground. It looked dazed. "Ah, I'm sorry Eevee, are you okay?!" Wes said, panicking a bit.
"Eve…" said the eevee, blinking a few times as it processed what had happened. Awareness lit up in its chocolate brown-eyes and it jumped to its feet. "Eevee-Eevee!" yipped Eevee, cheerfully.
"You're all right." sighed Wes, relieved. He scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "I was worried there for a second." He stretched out his arm, but the eevee that had tumbled shook its head. Instead, it went and sat next to its brother and they continued to watch the water pokémon play. "I wouldn't climb back up either," Wes admitted. The ten-year-old boy turned on his heel and marched up to his father. "What is it, dad?"
"Look over there. It's a Pichu," said the dad.
Wes's eyes shined with delight. "A Pichu? Wow, those are super rare, right? I don't even think there are any back in Hoenn! Is it all right if I catch one?"
"It'd be a shame if you didn't. You're aiming to participate in the Ever Grande Conference, aren't you? This is the perfect opportunity for you to practice catching a pokémon," said Wes's dad.
Wes nodded, excited. "Come on, Eevee! Let's catch that Pichu," Wes yelled, determined. The two eevee by the pond were drawn in by his enthusiasm and, feeling their own thirst for battle, jumped in front of him. "Use Ring!"
Wes paused, as did his Eevee. They looked at him. "Ring?" asked the Eevee.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
In a dark room, the shrill cry of an alarm clock disturbed the slumbering inhabitants. The outline of a person, moving tiredly underneath the covers, could be seen. A hand lunged from the comfort of the blanket and slammed down atop the clock. The alarm's wakeup call stopped.
For a few seconds nothing happened Then, the person shuffled out of bed. Two legs slipped out the sides and set up their roots on the freezing cold floors. A lithe black pokémon stretched at the end of the bed. "Umbreon," said Umbreon, and nudged its sleeping companion; a lilac furred pokémon with a nearly identical build.
"Esp," responded the Espeon. It blinked and then stretched itself.
The room was shabby and poorly constructed. There was no carpet, the rusty green pipes ran along the outer wall, and it was hot and humid, as the room lacked a working air conditioner. The bathroom was incredibly tiny and the pipes protruding from the walls made the space even tighter. The young man didn't seem bothered and went about his routine. He showered with the freezing cold water, brushed his teeth, and got dressed. Wes happened to glance at a crumply calendar on his wall as he pulled on his signature blue overcoat. May 9th it read.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
"It's that time of the day. Umbreon, Espeon, return." Wes held up two pokéballs and they converted to beams of light as they were sucked into the confines of their respective balls. The teenager then took a deep breath, mustering the coldest expression he could manage before marching up to the door and jerking it open.
An older man-perhaps in his mid-thirties was on the other side. He bore the typical uniform: black, sleeveless shirt with a red vest, cargo pants, combat boots, and a brown helmet. The grunt's goggles hung loosely around his next. "A-ah, Wes, the boss wants to see you. I heard he had a-a mission for you," said the grunt, not meeting Wes's piercing stare. When Wes said nothing and merely continued to stare an expressionless stare, the grunt continued. "A-anyway, I got things to do. See you a-around." The man, double Wes's age, scurried away from him.
When the coast was clear, Wes sighed. It's just another day, he told himself. He left his little room and trooped down the halls of Team Snagem's multi-level hideout. Like always, the main halls were full. As was the "entertainment room" which Wes was forced to go through to ascend to the next level. The room didn't have much, only an old-fashioned, clunky television with poor reception, a pool table, a few couches tearing at the seams, and a vending machine that stole money better than most of the members stole pokémon.
"Look, it's the hotshot," whispered one of the many incompetents.
"Boss's favorite snagger," envied another middle-aged grunt.
Wes recognized them both from previous missions. The former was in possession of a Zubat and the latter a Sandshrew, both of which had limited move pools and glaring disadvantages when in combat. In contrast, Wes utilized two fully evolved pokémon that covered one another's primary weaknesses. Naturally, Wes outperformed them. As more grunts jeered at him, Wes mentally retorted by dressing down their choice in pokémon and move pool.
Soon he had arrived at his office. He raised his fist to knock, but just before his knuckles wrapped against the door, it opened. Wakin, Team Snagem's second-in-command, sneered at him with his ugly, slanted-eyes. "Get out of the way, kid." Wakin purposefully bumped into Wes as they then passed one another, his shoulder ramming into his.
Wes stood his ground, managing to not take a step back. His hand curled into a fist and Wes took a deep breath to stop himself from doing anything too brash less he made even more waves with Wakin. His next step took him into the office, where he was greeted by a very cheerful and loud Gonzap.
"Wes!" Gonzap rose from his desk, where he had been toiling over piles and piles of paperwork. Gonzap was a tall, heavyset man with a smooth head that reflected the sun and an absurdly long mustache that curved upwards. "Good to see you!" The lumbering giant flexed his toned and scarred pecs as he crossed the room in seconds. "Take a seat, we have much to talk about!" Wes, a strong hand pressed against his back, was corralled to a comfy, although worn, red chair. Gonzap retook his own chair. Gonzap then turned around the big and bulky desktop on his desk. "Do you know what this is?" asked Gonzap.
"It's me," observed Wes.
"It is," said Gonzap. The man leaned forward with a large grin as he continued. "It's your record. How long have you been here now, Wes? A year? It feels a lot longer when I look at how many missions you've taken and how many pokémon you've stolen. If it hadn't been for the fumble with your first mission, you would have been the best person I've ever recruited."
"Recruited?" asked Wes, his eyes leaving the screen.
Gonzap's grin stretched from ear-to ear. "This is why I like you, Wes. You're sharp. You have drive, too. You're not like the rest of the grunts, who have scraps for a team and do just enough so I don't drop their asses into the harbor off Gateon Port. Which is why"- Gonzap leaned back into his chair- "I want to give you a chance to rank up. Put frankly: I want you to be an admin."
"Team Snagem isn't very large," said Wes, skeptic. At max, Team Snagem had forty members, which included Gonzap and Wakin, the top dogs. The lack of men and the way missions were structured (two units comprising of four grunts or one unit comprising of five grunts and either Wakin or Gonzap) meant that admins were not necessary. With that in mind, this proposal was wishiwashi*.
"You're still new, so you wouldn't know this, but Snagem is just the surface of something much larger." chuckled Gonzap. Wes leaned forward. "Heh, interested, are you?"
"What do I need to do?"
It was here that some of the head honcho's façade, and it was a façade, faded. Gonzap's eyes became sharper and his grin gained an edge, so to say. An image of a Sharpedo flashed at the forefront of Wes's mind. "Usually I like your decisiveness, but hold off on this one. You're skilled at thievery but the next level requires something more. You'll be fighting high-profile opponents, on and off your generic battlefield, and sometimes these opponents won't just shut-up because you look scary. These types require a different, firmer, touch…do you understand what I'm getting at?"
After a moment of contemplation, Wes nodded. "…I would have to kill." Wes's fists were so tight that his fingers grew a shade lighter because of the cut to blood flow.
"That's right. What I'm talking about is bloody business and it's not for everyone. But I think you have the guts and you're competent, both of which are more than I can say about anyone else in this building. Which is why, with your next mission, I want you to go a step further and prove to me that I'm right. We got some intel telling us that some Unovan trainers are arriving in a few days to challenge Mt. Battle. Like always, their foreign pokémon are of interest to us. This time, though, I want you to strip them of more than just their team and dignity." Gonzap eyed Wes throughout all of this, but the teen's tight expression gave nothing away.
"…"
"…"
"…"
"Well? Are you in or out, Wes?" asked Gonzap, grin-less. Wes's fists loosened.
"…Do you even need to ask?" Wes stood.
"Whaha, I knew you wouldn't disappoint. I'll have someone drop by your room later with the details. In the meanwhile, you should speak to Kenny. He was working on your bike."
Wes left the office. The chatter and bantering of the other Snagem members became muffled as he took incredibly controlled and measured steps. He turned down a less used hallway and then took a flight of stairs. Halfway down, he stopped next to a window. Outside, he saw a familiar Skarmory perched atop the cliff-side, watching for both intruders and for potential prey. The sand dunes, which blanketed the ground for hundreds and hundreds of miles, shimmered under the merciless sun, which shone down on them with all its might.
The young man set a hand on the windowsill. His other hand snaked inside his inner coat pocket and snagged a small, square photo. In the photo, a much younger version of Wes smiled happily. On both his shoulders an eevee sat and their combined weight meant Wes was slightly hunched. All three of them were ecstatic as they stared into the camera, though. The reason for their joy was the new, filled pokéball that hung on his belt. The shrine to Celebi stood in the background and, next to it, Wes's father, whom seemed to be distracted by a phone call.
Wes, finished reminiscing, flipped the photo over. On the back was a sloppy, mostly faded script. From what was legible, Wes murmured aloud to himself. "The research project…Orre…Snag-,"-and, near the end of the note- "SOS." Beside this cry for help was his father's initials. He stared at this for quite some time and his eyes slowly lit up with determination. "I've persevered all this time and now all my-no, all of our-"he glanced at the pokéballs on his belt-" effort is paying off. We can't quit here- even if it means passing the point of no return, even if it means drowning in a sea of regret, shame, and self-hate. Even if it means I'll be someone's goal- someone else's antagonist, I won't back down now. My father is here and he's in trouble, and after this mission I'll finally have the means to find him."
Filled with a grim resolve, Wes tucked the photo back into his pocket and then went on his way to the garage to see Snagem's mechanic.
Spoiler:
Ilex Forest was one of the most sacred places in all of Johto. The residents of the nearby communities (Azalea Town and Goldenrod City, respectively) believe that it was-and possibly still is- the home to a mythical pokémon named Celebi, which has been given the moniker 'The Voice of the Forest'. Naturally, that brings all sorts of visitors to the dense forest: trainers, tourists and even a scientist and his family…
"Ah, papa, there are so many pokémon! And look, they're not even hiding." Observed a boy, his auburn eyes alight with amazement and wonder. Two eevee, one perched on his right shoulder and another sitting by his feet, were also enjoying the unique treat of seeing so many pokémon in one place. They were truly in abundance. Kakuna and their counterparts metapod hung from trees, protected by the swarms of beedrill and packs of butterfree that never strayed too far from the nests and kept a wary-if tolerant-eye on any passerby. Oddish and paras played in the undergrowth, and poliwag took turns belly-jumping into the ponds. Occasionally a psyduck would wander by and join in on the fun, making waves that crashed into all the poliwag. All the forest pokémon seemed to be blissfully ignoring the family that was setting up a picnic not too far away.
Only a few steps behind the boy, his father chuckled. "There are a lot, aren't there? I imagine that the pokémon of this forest have gotten used to seeing visitors. In fact, I'd say that they consider people a part of the forest," hypothesized the scientist. The boy's father was his mirror image; the same spiky gray hair, the same eye color, and even the same facial lines.
"I told you both that Ilex forest was worth a detour. To think, you and Wes wanted to blaze through Violet City and hightail it out of Johto as quickly as possible," teased Wes's mother, a light smile on her face as she took a sip of her tea. "Aren't you glad we went this way now?"
Wes's father scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah, you were right." Wes's father looked around the forest, and he homed in on a spiky-eared Pichu, which was carrying a jumbo-sized apricorn. "It's certainly lively here. Hey, Wes." The dad said.
"Yeah, dad?" asked Wes, turning his head so he could see him. This had the unintentional side-effect of knocking his eevee off his shoulder. Eevee tumbled down to the ground. It looked dazed. "Ah, I'm sorry Eevee, are you okay?!" Wes said, panicking a bit.
"Eve…" said the eevee, blinking a few times as it processed what had happened. Awareness lit up in its chocolate brown-eyes and it jumped to its feet. "Eevee-Eevee!" yipped Eevee, cheerfully.
"You're all right." sighed Wes, relieved. He scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "I was worried there for a second." He stretched out his arm, but the eevee that had tumbled shook its head. Instead, it went and sat next to its brother and they continued to watch the water pokémon play. "I wouldn't climb back up either," Wes admitted. The ten-year-old boy turned on his heel and marched up to his father. "What is it, dad?"
"Look over there. It's a Pichu," said the dad.
Wes's eyes shined with delight. "A Pichu? Wow, those are super rare, right? I don't even think there are any back in Hoenn! Is it all right if I catch one?"
"It'd be a shame if you didn't. You're aiming to participate in the Ever Grande Conference, aren't you? This is the perfect opportunity for you to practice catching a pokémon," said Wes's dad.
Wes nodded, excited. "Come on, Eevee! Let's catch that Pichu," Wes yelled, determined. The two eevee by the pond were drawn in by his enthusiasm and, feeling their own thirst for battle, jumped in front of him. "Use Ring!"
Wes paused, as did his Eevee. They looked at him. "Ring?" asked the Eevee.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
In a dark room, the shrill cry of an alarm clock disturbed the slumbering inhabitants. The outline of a person, moving tiredly underneath the covers, could be seen. A hand lunged from the comfort of the blanket and slammed down atop the clock. The alarm's wakeup call stopped.
For a few seconds nothing happened Then, the person shuffled out of bed. Two legs slipped out the sides and set up their roots on the freezing cold floors. A lithe black pokémon stretched at the end of the bed. "Umbreon," said Umbreon, and nudged its sleeping companion; a lilac furred pokémon with a nearly identical build.
"Esp," responded the Espeon. It blinked and then stretched itself.
The room was shabby and poorly constructed. There was no carpet, the rusty green pipes ran along the outer wall, and it was hot and humid, as the room lacked a working air conditioner. The bathroom was incredibly tiny and the pipes protruding from the walls made the space even tighter. The young man didn't seem bothered and went about his routine. He showered with the freezing cold water, brushed his teeth, and got dressed. Wes happened to glance at a crumply calendar on his wall as he pulled on his signature blue overcoat. May 9th it read.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
"It's that time of the day. Umbreon, Espeon, return." Wes held up two pokéballs and they converted to beams of light as they were sucked into the confines of their respective balls. The teenager then took a deep breath, mustering the coldest expression he could manage before marching up to the door and jerking it open.
An older man-perhaps in his mid-thirties was on the other side. He bore the typical uniform: black, sleeveless shirt with a red vest, cargo pants, combat boots, and a brown helmet. The grunt's goggles hung loosely around his next. "A-ah, Wes, the boss wants to see you. I heard he had a-a mission for you," said the grunt, not meeting Wes's piercing stare. When Wes said nothing and merely continued to stare an expressionless stare, the grunt continued. "A-anyway, I got things to do. See you a-around." The man, double Wes's age, scurried away from him.
When the coast was clear, Wes sighed. It's just another day, he told himself. He left his little room and trooped down the halls of Team Snagem's multi-level hideout. Like always, the main halls were full. As was the "entertainment room" which Wes was forced to go through to ascend to the next level. The room didn't have much, only an old-fashioned, clunky television with poor reception, a pool table, a few couches tearing at the seams, and a vending machine that stole money better than most of the members stole pokémon.
"Look, it's the hotshot," whispered one of the many incompetents.
"Boss's favorite snagger," envied another middle-aged grunt.
Wes recognized them both from previous missions. The former was in possession of a Zubat and the latter a Sandshrew, both of which had limited move pools and glaring disadvantages when in combat. In contrast, Wes utilized two fully evolved pokémon that covered one another's primary weaknesses. Naturally, Wes outperformed them. As more grunts jeered at him, Wes mentally retorted by dressing down their choice in pokémon and move pool.
Soon he had arrived at his office. He raised his fist to knock, but just before his knuckles wrapped against the door, it opened. Wakin, Team Snagem's second-in-command, sneered at him with his ugly, slanted-eyes. "Get out of the way, kid." Wakin purposefully bumped into Wes as they then passed one another, his shoulder ramming into his.
Wes stood his ground, managing to not take a step back. His hand curled into a fist and Wes took a deep breath to stop himself from doing anything too brash less he made even more waves with Wakin. His next step took him into the office, where he was greeted by a very cheerful and loud Gonzap.
"Wes!" Gonzap rose from his desk, where he had been toiling over piles and piles of paperwork. Gonzap was a tall, heavyset man with a smooth head that reflected the sun and an absurdly long mustache that curved upwards. "Good to see you!" The lumbering giant flexed his toned and scarred pecs as he crossed the room in seconds. "Take a seat, we have much to talk about!" Wes, a strong hand pressed against his back, was corralled to a comfy, although worn, red chair. Gonzap retook his own chair. Gonzap then turned around the big and bulky desktop on his desk. "Do you know what this is?" asked Gonzap.
"It's me," observed Wes.
"It is," said Gonzap. The man leaned forward with a large grin as he continued. "It's your record. How long have you been here now, Wes? A year? It feels a lot longer when I look at how many missions you've taken and how many pokémon you've stolen. If it hadn't been for the fumble with your first mission, you would have been the best person I've ever recruited."
"Recruited?" asked Wes, his eyes leaving the screen.
Gonzap's grin stretched from ear-to ear. "This is why I like you, Wes. You're sharp. You have drive, too. You're not like the rest of the grunts, who have scraps for a team and do just enough so I don't drop their asses into the harbor off Gateon Port. Which is why"- Gonzap leaned back into his chair- "I want to give you a chance to rank up. Put frankly: I want you to be an admin."
"Team Snagem isn't very large," said Wes, skeptic. At max, Team Snagem had forty members, which included Gonzap and Wakin, the top dogs. The lack of men and the way missions were structured (two units comprising of four grunts or one unit comprising of five grunts and either Wakin or Gonzap) meant that admins were not necessary. With that in mind, this proposal was wishiwashi*.
"You're still new, so you wouldn't know this, but Snagem is just the surface of something much larger." chuckled Gonzap. Wes leaned forward. "Heh, interested, are you?"
"What do I need to do?"
It was here that some of the head honcho's façade, and it was a façade, faded. Gonzap's eyes became sharper and his grin gained an edge, so to say. An image of a Sharpedo flashed at the forefront of Wes's mind. "Usually I like your decisiveness, but hold off on this one. You're skilled at thievery but the next level requires something more. You'll be fighting high-profile opponents, on and off your generic battlefield, and sometimes these opponents won't just shut-up because you look scary. These types require a different, firmer, touch…do you understand what I'm getting at?"
After a moment of contemplation, Wes nodded. "…I would have to kill." Wes's fists were so tight that his fingers grew a shade lighter because of the cut to blood flow.
"That's right. What I'm talking about is bloody business and it's not for everyone. But I think you have the guts and you're competent, both of which are more than I can say about anyone else in this building. Which is why, with your next mission, I want you to go a step further and prove to me that I'm right. We got some intel telling us that some Unovan trainers are arriving in a few days to challenge Mt. Battle. Like always, their foreign pokémon are of interest to us. This time, though, I want you to strip them of more than just their team and dignity." Gonzap eyed Wes throughout all of this, but the teen's tight expression gave nothing away.
"…"
"…"
"…"
"Well? Are you in or out, Wes?" asked Gonzap, grin-less. Wes's fists loosened.
"…Do you even need to ask?" Wes stood.
"Whaha, I knew you wouldn't disappoint. I'll have someone drop by your room later with the details. In the meanwhile, you should speak to Kenny. He was working on your bike."
Wes left the office. The chatter and bantering of the other Snagem members became muffled as he took incredibly controlled and measured steps. He turned down a less used hallway and then took a flight of stairs. Halfway down, he stopped next to a window. Outside, he saw a familiar Skarmory perched atop the cliff-side, watching for both intruders and for potential prey. The sand dunes, which blanketed the ground for hundreds and hundreds of miles, shimmered under the merciless sun, which shone down on them with all its might.
The young man set a hand on the windowsill. His other hand snaked inside his inner coat pocket and snagged a small, square photo. In the photo, a much younger version of Wes smiled happily. On both his shoulders an eevee sat and their combined weight meant Wes was slightly hunched. All three of them were ecstatic as they stared into the camera, though. The reason for their joy was the new, filled pokéball that hung on his belt. The shrine to Celebi stood in the background and, next to it, Wes's father, whom seemed to be distracted by a phone call.
Wes, finished reminiscing, flipped the photo over. On the back was a sloppy, mostly faded script. From what was legible, Wes murmured aloud to himself. "The research project…Orre…Snag-,"-and, near the end of the note- "SOS." Beside this cry for help was his father's initials. He stared at this for quite some time and his eyes slowly lit up with determination. "I've persevered all this time and now all my-no, all of our-"he glanced at the pokéballs on his belt-" effort is paying off. We can't quit here- even if it means passing the point of no return, even if it means drowning in a sea of regret, shame, and self-hate. Even if it means I'll be someone's goal- someone else's antagonist, I won't back down now. My father is here and he's in trouble, and after this mission I'll finally have the means to find him."
Filled with a grim resolve, Wes tucked the photo back into his pocket and then went on his way to the garage to see Snagem's mechanic.
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