Chapter 1: Intro- The Beginning
(OOC: Holy wall o' text batman. Sorry, but I had to get this out of my system.)
Down on the corner of Center Street and Cobblestone Drive stood a large monolith of a building, painfully white against the pastel blue sky. It was tall and rigidly square at the front, almost unnervingly so, with no visible windows and large metal double-doors. A large white sign, situated near the curb of Main Street, protruded from the meticulously trimmed lawn and bore the words "Jonas Flannigan Charter School." The hot noonday sun beat down on the deserted schoolyard, the street, and a large grey van on the other side of it.
"Timothy Erickson?"
"That's the one. When's he due to show?"
"He should be coming out any minute now. Hope he doesn't give us as much trouble as the others."
The man in the driver's seat of the van twisted around to look into the back of the van through a grated window. He gave a cursory glance over several tightly bound bundles lying on the floor.
"It'd better be soon. It's gettin' hot in here and those kids aint gonna last long either in heat like this."
"You needn't worry, he's here."
Both men opened the doors of the van and stepped out into the blinding sunlight. Each one was dressed in a black suit and oversized, dark sunglasses. One was Caucasian, the other looked Filipino, and the former was nearly twice the height of the latter. They both strode across the street, a bit self-consciously because they stood out like sore thumbs, being the only two on the street other than the young boy coming down the steps of the school.
"Are you sure that's him?" the Filipino whispered. Pulling out a folded sheet of paper, his companion pulled it open and glanced at the picture inside.
"The profile picture matches. Jeez, this kid can't be old enough… well, orders is orders."
As they approached the youngster he looked up into their faces, a brief look of surprise crossed his face. Or was it fear? He had no idea that they were coming of course…
" Timothy?" said the tall man, holding out his hand as he approached the blonde boy.
"Yeah." He replied in a small, mouse-like squeak of a voice, reaching out with his own hand. He shook hands, reluctantly and pulled his own back as soon as the man released it.
"Your parent's sent us to come pick you up. We're taking you home today."
He nodded silently. The rich kids never suspected a thing. This would be an easy bag.
As the men led the boy across the street, the child followed in silence, but upon seeing the van he seemed to falter for a split second. A van? This couldn't be right. Not a limousine? A spasm of fear jumped up his spine as the men on either side of him each grabbed his arms in a vice-like grip. Before he could scream a huge hand clamped tightly over his mouth as well. He heard a chuckle as his eyes were obscured by a dark cloth sack being shoved roughly over his head.
" You were right mate, these little rich kids are no trouble at all," laughed a voice to his left. That was the last thing the young boy heard before a hard knock to the head turned out the lights for Timothy Erickson.
When he awoke he thought, for a split second, that he was back at the school again. He was lying on the cold floor of a metallic-looking room which hummed and buzzed like a living thing. Oddly, his first thought was of the time. He wondered whether he should be at class now. But wait… he didn't go to that school any more… his parents… they stopped paying the tuition and… At that moment, stark reality hit.
"Get up kid!" growled a rough voice. "You've had enough sleepin'. On your feet and get in line." Timmy was hauled off the floor and shoved into a long line of other frightened looking children, most of them older than he was. The rough-voiced man who had woken him now peered at him suspiciously. "How'd you slip in here kid? You can't be age-regulation…" he checked his clipboard and shrugged. "Oh well, it'll just make it all the easier for your opponent." he said with a grin.
Opponent? What did the man mean? Where was this place? Where were his parents? Timmy tried to keep from crying, but he couldn't help himself. Tears coursed silently down his cheeks and dropped, unnoticed, to the floor where they splashed onto his neatly polished shoes. Timmy hated it when he cried. It made him look like even more of a baby than he already did. His young appearance had always made him a target for ridicule, ever since he was old enough for school. Here though, he was hardly the only one who let his emotions get the better of him. The room echoed with sounds of sobbing, sniffling, and even screaming, children.
"Attention you lot!" the gruff-voiced man barked from the front of the room. A glance from this dangerous-looking fellow was all that was needed to cause the line to fall silent. "Right then, pay attention because I'm only going to say this once. In a moment you will be issued a pokeball. I trust you all know what that is? Good. Inside you will find a randomly chosen pokemon. When it is your turn, you will enter the next room and battle your opponent in a pokemon duel. If I have to explain to you what a pokemon battle entails, you are not what we are looking for anyway, so I won't bother." Glaring at them all he said in a menacing near-whisper, "Trust me little ones, you don't want to lose."
With these words, he turned and exited the door behind him. As he left, Timmy felt something hard and round shoved into his gut. This must be a pokeball, he guessed. Timmy had never actually seen a real pokeball before. Sure, he, like the other children, had seen pokemon matches on television, but to actually hold a real pokeball in his hands was an entirely different experience. Under other circumstances he might have been elated, but now he felt only cold, hard fear as his white fingers clenched around the object. This fear grew and mounted higher as, one by one, the children on either side of him were shepherded out the door and into the next room. At last, the time came when a dark-suited man grabbed his shoulder and led him through the door.
Timmy was immediately blinded by the blazing spotlights above him as he entered. When the spots cleared from his vision he was astounded at the sheer size of the room he was now standing in. The door had led him into a small, circular arena at the base of what appeared to be a large stadium. Row upon row of bleachers climbed the walls around him, which were completely empty except for a few front-row spectators with clipboards. Judges perhaps?
" Attention!" said a voice which echoed from an unseen speaker system. "On three you will each throw your pokeball and the match will begin." Timmy's stomach clenched and he glanced across the room at his opponent. He saw a teen-age girl, about fourteen he thought, standing across the room, clutching her own pokeball. She looked as scared as he felt. "THREE!" blared the speaker-voice, "TWO! ONE! GO!"
Timmy was unsure what to do as he fingered the ball in his hand. He had watched the trainers on TV do this before, but he had never seen exactly what they did. He watched his opponent toss her pokeball onto the ground in front of her and a large purple rat-like creature popped out. A rattata. He had seen those before on TV.
Timmy was conscious that he was holding up the match and so he decided to try to imitate the girl's action. He flipped the ball up into the air and watched it fall back to the earth, bounce once, and lie still and dormant on the ground. What was wrong? Perhaps there was no pokemon in the ball after all. No, he must've done something wrong. Then he heard the speaker-voice again.
"Contestant #2, please press the release button on your pokeball." Timmy's face reddened as he picked up the ball once again. He was conscious of the laughter from the judges and even a small smirk from his opponent. He turned the ball over in his hand and found the small white button. Pressing it, he tossed the ball again. A bright beam of light emanated from the ball and when it cleared there stood a small, shelled… something.
The creature the ball had released was turtle-like in shape and was blue all-over. It turned its large head towards Timmy and croaked one word: "Squirtle!" Timmy was still trying to comprehend this new development when his opponent made her move. She had been ready for a while now and so she didn't falter as she said:
"Rattata, quick attack his squirtle!" Her pokemon, upon hearing her command, ran towards the turtle-creature and leapt, baring its fearsome teeth. Gasping with fear and surprise, Timmy watched as the rat pokemon left a gash down the leg of the poor squirtle who didn't even have a chance to avoid the attack. He had to act fast, but what could he do? He had never battled before and didn't know the first thing about it. What commands did you give to a squirtle? He didn't know.
As he deliberated, his opponent moved in for another attack. "Rattata. Attack again with your tackle attack! As the rat moved in for a painful headbutt, Timmy blurted out instinctively.
"Squirtle, look out!" Probably more due to common sense then to his unorthodox command, his squirtle used it's small size to its advantage and neatly sidestepped the flying rodent. Timmy's mind raced. He couldn't think of a single attack that a squirtle would recognize. "Well," he thought desperately, "If I copied that girl to figure out how the pokeball worked, maybe I can do the same thing now… hopefully it will work better this time."
Gathering his courage he yelled out, " Squirtle, use your tackle attack!" At least, he had intended to yell. All he really managed was a frightened croak, but luckily Squirtle seemed to understand. The little turtle pokemon ran full-tilt towards the rat pokemon, readying itself for a lunge. His opponent saw the attack coming and yelled:
"Rattata, counter with your teeth and claws!" Timmy watched as the rat pokemon bared its sharp fangs and flexed its dangerous-looking claws. As his squirtle lept into the air to collide with the rattata, Timmy closed his eyes. He couldn't watch his pokemon get shredded. He expected to hear a cry of pain from his pokemon, but what he heard instead was an agonized rat-squeak and a gasp of surprise and dismay from his opponent. He opened his eyes and saw his squirtle skittering across the smooth floor, safely tucked inside his hard shell. Looking over at the rattata, Timmy saw it lying senseless on the floor, it's front teeth smashed out, blood specking the metal surface.
"Contestant #1's pokemon is no longer able to battle. Contestant #2 is the victor" the speaker voice announced, unable to suppress the surprise that was clearly evident in it. Timmy's mind spun as he was ushered out the door and down a long hallway by a tall woman, dressed in a black suit like everyone else.
"You're one lucky runt, kid" she said, more to herself then to him. " I've never seen a pokemon react like that on its own before, pulling itself inside its shell in mid-attack like that. And a knock-out hit on the first attack too. You're lucky you've got a pokemon that can do your work for you." As they reached the end of the corridor, he was ushered into what looked like a large garage. "Got the Pallet Town shipment ready to go out yet?" the woman called to another man standing over a group of children huddled together on the ground.
"This is the last of 'em" the man called back. "Get him over here and we'll ship 'em out." Shoved roughly forward he was pushed to the ground beside the other waiting children, most sobbing silently, soaking the blindfolds which were bound tightly over their eyes.
" Right, now hold still" the man above him said as he swiftly bound a similar blindfold around his eyes, blocking off all vision of the outside world.
"I want my mom" Timmy thought to himself, his mind filling with despair. But one question plagued him and filled him with a deeper, heavier sorrow. After recent events, he had come to wonder whether his mother wanted him.
(And my five numbers are... 4, 21, 16, 57, and 88 )
