Ten Years Ago

Phillip got his first camera when he was eight. By the time he was nine, his whole room was decorated with photos.

The most important photo Phillip ever took was of his first Pokemon.

Phillip was walking home from school. It was a ten minute walk normally, but Phillip could turn ten minutes into a lifetime. He took pictures of things, picked flowers, played with the neighbors Pokemon, and did anything to stall his walk home. Not because he had a troubled home life- he loved his parents and they loved him- but because he honestly got distracted easily.

Phillip was walking on the edge of the sidewalk, pretending that if he fell in, he would die from what he first imagined as water but had somehow become lava. Secretly, he fell in a few times. As long as no one saw he could pretend it never happened, right?

"Bulba!"

Phillip was so startled by the cry that he fell off his ledge. Phillip looked around, wondering what had sent him into the lava.

"Stupid freak!"

Two kids, a boy and a girl, were kicking a small pink pokemon. It was covered in purple and pink spots of various shades, and had a purple bulb on it's back. The flower on the side of it's forehead was wilted.

Phillip wanted to cry out, to push them away. But he was terrified. So instead Phillip did the one thing he always knew to do- he took a picture.

The camera flash alerted the abusers to Phillip's presence. They stopped kicking the Pokemon and looked at Phillip.

"Why did you do that?" The girl asked shrilly.

"Leave that Pokemon alone," Phillip cried, "or I'll show the police this picture! Hurting Pokemon is illegal. You'll get in trouble!"

"Don't you know what this Pokemon is?" The boy said angrily.

"What?" Phillip asked.

"Look at it." The girl said. "What does it look like?"

Phillip stared at the Pokemon. It did look familiar...

"It's a Bulbasaur?" Phillip said in bemusement. "But it's pink?"

"It's a Delta Pokemon." The boy spat. "My daddy calls them freaks of nature. They aren't supposed to exist."

Phillip balled his fists, his camera swinging from the cord on his neck. "I don't care!" Phillip said loudly. "If you hurt them, I'm going to show someone this picture."

The kids looked at each other, then ran.

Phillip approached the Bulbasaur. It was unconscious, and Phillip could almost pretend it was asleep.

Phillip scooped him into his arms. "C'mon." He said. "I'll get you to the Pokemon center."


Eight Years Ago

Milo was the perfect son.

He didn't break rules, he made good grades, he volunteered. He certainly didn't steal a Pokemon from the Pokemon Shelter and bring it home. That just wasn't something Milo did. If you were to even suggest such a thing, his parents would laugh in your face. That's impossible. They would say.

But the impossible was staring him in the face. Or sleeping on his bed, rather.

What was worse was that the Bergmite he stole wasn't a normal Bergmite. It had a body made of rocks instead of ice, and scaly appendages that marked it as a Dragon Type.

Milo heard the front door open, and he prepared himself for the worst.


Six Years Ago

Flynn had seen some horrible things in her life, but the black market skyrocketed to the top of the list.

The underground passage was dimly lit. Flynn wished that the cheap lights would go out, because she didn't want to see anymore. Pokémon being sold were in cages, cages littered with their own excrement. One Houndour was missing an eye. A Jigglypuff's skin seemed to sag, is if it had popped.

But regardless of how she felt, she had a job to do.

Flynn walked toward the building farthest from the entrance. It was a run down shack. Flynn knew many people lived down here in the Black Market area- when its location moved, they did. Criminals, victims, hermits- they all had a place there.

She knocked on the door exactly three times, then said "Excuse me, I've lost my Flabebe and I think it wandered in to your house. Have you seen her?"

From the other side of the door came a raspy voice Flynn had to struggle to hear.

"Yes, she's in here. Step inside."

That was the code. Flynn grabbed the doorknob and stepped inside.

The man sat in a rickety lawn chair that had no place inside a house. His other furniture consisted of a child's table depicting a popular cartoon character, a beanbag that had seen better days (and probably better owners), and a few blankets and several pillows on the floor.

"Let's do this quickly." He said. "You have the money?"

Flynn nodded, and reached into her pocket. She handed him a roll of cash.

"Thank you." He said in a low growl. "Now take this."

He handed her what seemed like a normal red Pokeball, but Flynn knew it was a dummy ball. Pokeballs were linked to the Pokeball System, an online web of data that kept track of who owned what pokemon, in order to prevent stealing. Dummy balls kept pokemon trapped (unlike regular pokeballs, which they could exit at anytime), and pokemon captured in them could be recaptured by others. This made it easy to trade Pokemon without them being registered to the PBS.

Flynn took the pokeball, pressing the button once. The ball shrunk, and she stuffed it in her pocket.

"I hope they like him." The old man grumbled as she left.

They won't be getting him. Flynn thought. He's my ticket out.


A/N: Hi, I'm back! And here's a new fanfiction! It's based on the fangame Pokémon Insurgence. I'll be using the Delta Pokémon and other elements from that game. But the storyline will be different for the sake of originality, and I won't use all of the same characters.

Shout Out to Suzerain, Deukhoofd, and the rest of the insurgence team for their awesome game!

Also, feel free to submit your own Delta! I request a picture, though if you can't make one I'll understand.