Violet Version: Kanto Chronicles
Author's Note: Greetings, hello, salutations, and welcome to my story. When I first got LeafGreen for my DS I've been meaning to write this fanfic, but it's taken a year's worth in the works. This story stars an unusual girl named Violet, who has no idea what on earth she's doing in her journey, and has been paired with a Charmander who dislikes her for her eager stupidity and only views her as a means to an end. As the story goes on, more characters will be introduced.
I used to write fanfiction in when I was much younger, and thus less experienced at writing. I came to Mediaminer in hopes of starting over with a clean slate, and I will NOT stop at this story and make sure that every chapter is at least satisfactory. I thank whoever has stumbled upon this story and have bothered to read this boring introduction.
Disclaimer: Oh, and I don't own Pokemon. There, now I have successfully avoided the legal wrath of any lawyers or agents from Nintendo who are prowling the Internet… but Violet Ariel Amaranth is –my- character, and even though you'd be completely crazy to plagiarize her, I'm putting this up regardless. The personalities of the other characters—the main Pokemon characters, that is—are mine, too.
Chapter I: These Are Our Protagonists
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"Let's have some new clichés." – Samuel Goldwyn (1882-1974)
"Wake up."
A man's voice split the silence like a well-sharpened knife, dragging through reality to sever every tie she had to dreamland. The final, cloud-laced fiber came loose with a muffled mumble, coming from beneath a pillow firmly pressed against her head. "Jus' five more mi…" she gave up in the middle of the statement, coherency drifting off before it was consumed by snoring. She was roused back into wakefulness by a very loud grumbling sound that earned a humanistic snarl in return that really just sounded more like a poorly-concealed attempt at clearing mucus from her throat.
The man wasn't amused. The crunching of grass followed a very loud, almost rumbling round of the clearing of a throat, once again arousing the girl from her sleep, this time for a longer period of time. A stocky, scruffy figure moved restlessly for a moment, perturbed by the crushing of the foliage. Yawning, the figure's hand groped unenthusiastically for the zipper of the sleeping bag that encased her. When her fingers finally grasped it, she pulled it down and peeled it back, slowly exposing her steadily emerging body like a butterfly's cocoon. She sat upright for a moment, gnawing on her lip, and then fell back onto her disheveled sleeping bag, grabbing the fallen pillow and pressing it against her head.
Finally, Oak was at the end of his rope. Sighing, he said the only thing that would draw the girl out from her pyramidesque sanctuary. "Wake up and come out NOW, Violet," he began, sounding as stern as he possibly could, "Or perhaps I could call your parents over to deal with the situation?"
She needed no further encouragement. The shadow, fueled by this threat, sprinted out of the half-split shell of her sleeping bag and dashed over to what served as a door inside the fabric chamber. With a frustrated rustling of fabric, the silhouette broke through as she folded the entrance back. Half of a body poked out, slightly bent over from falling on her knees in the scuffle. Exposed to the light--one green, one blue-- blinked wearily up at the sun. Almost like a vampire, she—the girl named Violet--hissed and withdrew until only her head poked out of the tent.
The curt clearing of a throat rallied her attention, tilting her head upward. Her face was round, like the rest of her chubby body, sort of a light tan in skin tone, and crowned with a moptop of windblown, boyishly cropped blue hair that poked out at every imaginable direction. Freckles spotted her limbs and her cheeks, cluster after cluster of them, somehow accentuating the cute features of her face.
Nudging a few errant bangs out from her eyes as she craned her neck up, they landed squarely on the taller, older man's red tie. They remained there for as long as possible until they inched their way up, being purposefully slow as though in some last-ditch effort to prolong some imminent doom as much as possible. Violet had gotten to his Adam's apple when he cleared his throat one last time, a sure sign that for once, this person, in a very rare occurrence, had lost his patience. Finally her gaze leapt to his, propelled by that solemn sound.
He was probably old enough to be her grandfather, but besides the pronounced lines wrinkling his tanned skin around his face and his white hair, he showed no other sides of aging, as, remarkably, his hair was only thinning in the slightest bit. For someone who was standing outside at daybreak, he seemed rather familiarized to it, even though obvious annoyance was in his fatherly features.
Giving his best 'You're in big trouble young lady' disapproving look, he stared down at her as she just gazed in return, her expression one of a deer trapped in an eighteen-wheeler's headlights.
In the face of danger, all she could do was give her best, obviously forced, cheerful smile of 'Hi Please Don't Kill Me'-dom, showcasing yellowing teeth framed in purple-capped braces. "Well hey Professor Oak," Violet said boisterously, the right side of her face twitching rapidly, "What're you doing up so early?"
Not once did the man's stern facial expression falter, much to her dismay.
"Wondering what on earth you think you're doing camping out on my front lawn," he replied in complete deadpan. "WHAT on Earth do you think you're doing?"
The girl blinked as though this fact was news to her before craning her body around to view as much of her housing as possible. Yes, it was definitely a tent. With her inspection over she chuckled nervously, a hand reaching around to drum against the many rivets in the flap. "Well you see," she started, "You know the family's pet Politoed, right? Oh yeah, cute critter, but when I turned my back on him, WHAM." To make her story more dramatic, she slammed her fist on the ground, crushing a patch of grass and scaring away a curious ladybug that had scuttled too close, "I get thrown out and he makes a TENT!" She gesticulated wildly to the tent around her, looking as flustered as a 13-year-old liar with no considerable acting talent could. "But not just any tent! It was made out of the neighbor's Golduck! In order to survive, I needed to use the Golduck-tent, 'cos it had fortified the whole house…"
She took the following silence as a sign that her clever excuse wasn't working. Coughing fakely into her hand, she quickly muttered, "A moment of silence for the Golduck." Then she shut up, hoping Oak's intellect would lapse for a brief enough moment for her to evade having a punishment.
Unfortunately for her, no such thing happened. Oak didn't buy that excuse for a second. "Do your parents even have the slightest idea of where you are?" he pressed onward, climbing his was through the more important questions.
Violet guiltily scratched behind an ear with a freckle-pockmarked hand. "I left a note," she said sheepishly. And that was all she said, as she removed the hand from its hunt for dandruff to scratch at and reached inside the tent, groping around near the fabric-laden floor.
She finally continued, albeit with a tone more distracted than it once was, "They, uh, won't be around for a few hours. You know. The Politoed and all. I think it ate my parents. So you don't have to call them. Or anything at all. Really."
Oak stared down at the girl, shaking his head in disapproval. "That DOESN'T justify anything," he watched the shadow of Violet's hand through the tarp move around, grabbing at things laying around that he couldn't make out. "And—" he gave another good look at the tent as he turned his body around to take in its details, simultaneous to when Violet triumphantly reappeared, clutching a worn, enormous panama hat decorated with dozens of badges of varying sizes, shapes, and colors.
Violet happily pushed the hat on her head, weighing down most of her more aerodynamic bangs that weren't trapped inside of it. She was utterly blissful, for the moment, completely unaware of the world and the presence of others by that simple thing, but her joy of being reunited with her beloved headgear didn't last long when what was left of her in the tent crawled out and stood up.
As she shakily tried to balance her still-fatigue-frozen body, Oak continued his interrogation, starting at a more pressing question that would answer a few questions—most of them stemmed by his curiosity from the unusual behavior that Violet was so notorious for in Pallet Town.
"WHY are you camping out here, in the first place? No jokes, no lies, no nonsense, Violet, or I call your parents," he held up his hands and punctuated the beginning and end of his following phrase sarcastically, "'Politoed' or not."
The blue-haired, heterochromia-eyed girl waved her arm frantically as she tried to grab something for leverage. She didn't answer until her fingers were safely wrapped around one of the poles used to keep the tent upright. "I didn't want to be late," she said simply, turning and angling her head so the askew panama hat would slide back into a proper position on her head.
Oak's eyebrow crooked. "Late?" She was getting more confusing by the second.
"Yes, late," Violet countered, staring over at his lab. Her most dominate fixation was centered on the PokeBall—a spherical, red-white object with a button in the middle—emblazoned on the front of the large building, the biggest structure in Pallet Town. "Don't you remember what happened last time? I arrived LATE, and there wasn't a single Pokemon for me to choose."
Oak sighed and rubbed at his forehead, annoyance pronouncing his wrinkles like deep, shadowy divots in his skin. "Yes, I remember what happened last time and I understand your enthusiasm, but—"
His words seemed to fall on deaf ears, either from zeal or from obliviousness as the girl, still clad in her unusually sized, Harry Trumanesque hat that was now cocked forward, insinuating determination that was in her heavily exaggerated march, and her pajamas—an oversized t-shirt and short pants. Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, Oak pursued her, shouting out a protest toward the girl as she trudged toward the lab.
"Violet, wait!" he snapped, dashing after her as she casually pushed open the door and entered the lab. It swung right behind her, cutting off Oak's entrance with an abrupt, metallic slap.
Cursing lightly under his breath, he continued his chase, running after the girl. He spotted the girl's silhouette in a glass window near one of the doors, and frantically chased after her. Violet was standing near a highly complex series of capsules, all of which contained circular, rotateable rows with round depressions in them, perfectly aligned. There were dozens of these, lining the white-washed walls. The whole room was bathed in white light shining from the fluorescent lights overhead, leaving no shred of darkness unbanished, making the various machines, including the rows of capsules glisten.Violet was carefully examining the control panel, looking rather focused for someone who had no idea what they were doing. Oak dashed past the girl, who hadn't noticed his entrance, and over to the open capsule. Releasing a breath of air that quickly dissolved in the bleached light, he pressed a series of buttons on a panel near it. The shell of the capsule neatly clasped around the curve of the machine, closing off all inside it. Violet let out a disappointed 'awww'.
"Violet," Oak said, trying to sound neutral, "Did you see anything unusual about that container you saw?"
Violet thought for a moment, scratching under her enormous hat. Finally, with a victorious look on her face, she pounded her fist into her the palm of her hand. "You forgot to clean it," she said as a matter of factly, much to Oak's utter shock. "I think I saw a cobweb back there, even! How shameful." Violet shook her head chidingly, looking suitably disgusted.
Shaking his head and sighing yet again, he pressed another button, re-opening the capsule with a hiss of metal. He drew out a pencil from behind his ear, twirled it so the eraser faced the myriad of buttons, and punched in a few with it, light filling the insides of the buttons. One by one, they triggered the opening of each shelf, capsule, and any other manner of containment units in the room. They all had one thing in common, and that was what Oak was looking to show to Violet.
Violet stared at a metal-plated slot in the wall that had lifted to reveal a long series of rows, indented in the same way as the capsule was. Turning her head to get a better look, and count off the hollows in the machine. After a little bit of searching ranging from up-close to faraway in range, she noticed that all of them were the same. Oak noticed the recognition in her face for a moment, and braced himself for the reaction.
Once again, Violet just turned around and stared blankly. "I'm not following you," she said dimly.
Frustrated, but not undaunted, Oak charged toward one of the many capsules in the room. He pointed with his pencil toward the rows of indents, counting them off to punctuate his words. "See these? They're used to hold PokeBalls. More specifically, the PokeBalls of a Trainer's Starter Pokemon," he jabbed his pencil at the depression, which was, indeed, vacant. "There's nothing in them."
He turned around, circling his arm to point at every container in the room, Violet's eyes following the pencil. He withdrew after he stopped at the last one, and looked at the girl. "Do you know what this means?"
Violet's eyes were locked on the capsule that Oak had used for his demonstration. Thoughtfully, she gnawed on her lower lip, looking incredibly thoughtful in every detail of her face, yet unreadable at the same time. Resting the back of her hand under her chin, her eyes never wavered from the machine, using it as the centerpiece of her thoughts as her eyes combed it up and down, intently staring at the indentations as she remained tethered in deep thought. Off to the side, Oak stared at her, waiting for her revelation, and hoping that it wouldn't upset her.
The tension in the air fizzled out like an old lightbulb when Violet's face took on another victorious look, quite obviously proud of her conclusion. "You brought the balls outside to clean them!" Oak's eyes widened at this, and at how sure of herself she looked. "Because the machines were so dirty! Seriously, what self-respecting PokeBall would want to spend their time with the SPIDERS—"
At long last, Oak lost his patience, and just decided to end it there and then. "You're LATE, Violet."
Violet's expression died on her lips, joy dying, crumpling up into a little, abysmal ball that sizzled into nothingness in the pit of her suddenly miasmal, viciously acidic stomach. Her eyes widened in disbelief. She spent a few seconds, just flapping her lips mutely, her lips forming the vowels but never letting them free. In her search for something to say, she finally squeaked, "Excuse me?"
Oak felt absolutely terrible at this point, but it was best she faced the music. "You're late," he repeated, trying to make heads or tails of Violet's unreadable expression in the midst of the guilt.
Violet's face shapeshifted beyond dumbfounded lack of acceptance to that of pure protesting shock. "EXCUSE ME!" she exclaimed, "How the heck can I be late? I slept outside in a freakin' TENT!"
Oak spared a glance at his watch, which proudly displayed, "11:45 PM", judging by the hands pointing to the corresponding letters. He decided not to comment on the matter as he unfurled his sleeve over the clock, making sure it was perfectly hidden. He had an idea about how Violet arrived late, despite her precautions, which he was turning over in his head like a spiritual flapjack.
Earlier that Morning:
On the backyard of the lab, where the terrain that served as the sanctuary for Pokemon transferred over to him, as well as wild Pokemon, Oak stood. Admiring the peace that hung gently in the air, suspended by the purple-tinted clouds that swirled a soft lavender around the rising sun, he smiled.
'It's not too often you get to enjoy this.' He thought, sipping a cup of coffee. 'It gives you the sort of feeling that nothing could go wrong.'
Nothing whatsoever.
Then, suddenly, the silence was shattered like a frail mirror, by, specifically, a low ringing. That too, was overwhelmed by a much more vile sound--the sound of banging, crashing, the screech of metal succumbing under a heavy weight, and an almost cartoonish sound as its insides combusted. Nearly dropping his coffee, and now scared out of his wits, Oak stared back and forth, searching for the source of the sound. He found nothing.
Still in shock, his eyes shifted to the side nervously as he fumbled with his cup, taking one last sip. 'Maybe a machine in the lab backfired,' he thought, then nodded at this thought. 'Yes, maybe a machine backfired. I, uh, better go check.' Then he ran through the back door like there was no tomorrow.
Meanwhile, Violet had almost finished trying to set her demolished alarm clock on fire.
But it was just a hunch, really.
He found himself feeling nervous, even slightly guilty, until realization smacked him like a baseball bat. He blurted out, "But, I just remembered. I have two more Pokemon left." At this news, the downtrodden-looking Violet perked back up—even the bangs of her hair and the sagging brim of her hat seemed to revitalize with the girl, making her restoration look almost like a resurrected flower.
Her eagerness had returned, the girl hopping from foot to foot excitedly. "Well, what're you waiting for?" she asked, looking around the lab in search of the container that held what would have been her potential partner.
Oak trudged over to another, smaller container close to his desk, one that had been neglected during his button pushing. He pressed the button that would unlock it, and the dome-like casing folded back, revealing two round forms, arranged in a pyramid inside it. Scooping up both of them, he walked out of the room, gesturing for Violet to follow. She did, until they ended up at a table at the front. Oak rested each PokeBall on its surface, allowing the overjoyed Violet to take a good look at the balls. They were an unusual color for standard PokeBalls, even though their design was nearly the same. One had an emerald green luster to the upper half of the ball; and made up of a transparent material that Violet was able to see through to. Inside, the resting form of a small, dinosaur-esque creature with a bulb growing on its back was curled up peacefully. The other was a cerulean blue, and like the other, Violet could see a creature in it, this one resembling a little blue turtle. Both of the balls had serial numbers etched into the lower part of the ball, codes that Violet couldn't decipher if she tried. She had more pressing matters as she looked between the balls in her hands, trying to make out the forms clearer through the color.
She was left with one question as she turned her neck around to stare at Oak, eyebrow raised, once she had successfully determined their species. "Where's Charmander?" she inquired, still struggling to get a better look at Squirtle in between her valid question.
Oak answered in a heartbeat, making it obvious that this question had been asked to him many times before, or at least enough to give him some practice. "Charmander is a very popular Pokemon, Violet. Every year they get snatched up, just like that," he snapped his fingers for emphasis, then noticed the look of sadness on Violet's face. "What's wrong?"
Violet looked up, waving her arms, PokeBalls still in her speckled hands. "Nonono, it isn't you," she said, sounding far too morose to come across as apologetic. In a poor effort to conceal her disappointment and her saddened expression, she glanced mournfully over at the PokeBall containing the dormant Bulbasaur. "It's just Charmander is my favorite Pokemon. I was really looking forward to getting one."
Oak couldn't help but feel sympathetic. He was by no means a spiteful person, not at all. In Pallet Town he was renowned for his kindness, and service toward Pokemon, their Trainers, and people in general, donating to charities and organizations that were dedicated to helping Pokemon. In this case though, it seemed like there was nothing he could do for her. She would have to wait for another year.
He couldn't bring himself to say this news. Both were locked in silence, with no help of escaping as Violet set the balls on the table with a simultaneous 'clunk' from both. "Thanks anyway, though," she said plaintively, yet appreciatively, as she made sure they wouldn't roll off the table. "I guess I'll see you next ti—"
The sound of a door opening broke the morose atmosphere of the room, followed by the clicking of clawed feet against flawless linoleum floors. Violet's eyes widened past limits where it would be very painful to try, but she didn't even utter a squeak of pain as she watched what she had been waiting for meander into the room, wielding a broom resting against his shoulder.
He was obviously reptilian---maybe even dinosaur-esque--and small in stature, but still a foot or so taller than his species' standard. At the tip of his long tail a flame flickered, casting an orange glow to the shadow beneath it. The Charmander took special care not to drag his tail, keeping the flame hovering off the floor self-consciously, lifted in a smooth curve of his upright tail.
Scratching at his neck, he casually said, in clear, perfect English, to Oak, "Hey Prof," he said, deep, sea-green eyes focused on the doctor. His back was turned to Violet, who was too busy gawking to say something that would garner his attention. "Do you know where the dustpans are? The containers are getting really dusty, I swear I saw some cobwebs back there—"
What remained of Violet's rapidly diminishing self-control just keeled over and died right there and then, swallowed up by the enormous, bubble-gum maw of imaginary dragons, lollipops, and all that was positive in her mind.
The Charmander's speech was cut off by a high-pitched, girlish squeal. As he whirled around to face wherever the sound had originated from, he only had five milliseconds to prepare before the source had pounced, like a tiger on the hunt. Violet lunged at him and wrapping her arms around him, squeezing him as tightly as she could as she struggled to lift him into the air. The Charmander was at first too stunned to resist, but by the time he saw Violet and had pulled himself out of his shock, he started jabbing at her ribcage with his elbow, striking at every available spot in search of something—a button, even—that would have her release him.
"You're a Charmander!" Violet cried gleefully, ignoring his efforts to escape (even though they ranged from being inventive to completely brutal) as she squeezed him like an overjoyed child would their new toy, "It's YOU! It's really YOU! Holy crap, this is TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!" At the end of that sentence, she hugged him even tighter, much to the discomfort of the Lizard Pokemon.
"YES!" The Charmander snapped once he had snatched his breath back despite the constriction of his lungs in her arms. His tail slapped at the ground warningly, scattering harmless little glowing embers and sparks that dissolved quickly on the floor."YES, I AM a Charmander, and I thank you for being so astute." His tone was nothing short of sarcasm as he continued, "As if I needed any reminders about what species I am."
Violet couldn't hold him for forever, especially since her physical capabilities were severely lacking. Lifting the Charmander had been somewhat painful, since he was nearly her height, and his fighting against her grip didn't help anything. How she was able to keep hold of him amazed even her. The wily Charmander instantly took advantage of the slightest lapse in her grip and broke free, skittering across the floor and staring at her distrustfully. Quickly picking up his broom off the floor, he edged toward Oak, who was watching the whole spectacle thoughtfully, and snarled at Violet, eyes emerald slits and teeth bared threateningly.
"Jesus Christ," The Charmander hissed, waving his broom like a weapon in front of him, poking it fiercely at Violet as though she were a dragon and his broom were a sword. All cower before the fearsome Violetsaurus Rex, destroyer of towns and kidnappers of princesses, Violet instinctually envisioned. "Do you have ANY concept of how to greet people? ANY at all?"
He got no response beyond the confused tilt of the head by Violet.
Oak finally took the moment to intervene and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him closer to him and out of a range where he could easily burn Violet to a crisp. The Charmander just folded his arms and glared at Violet, whose eyes started to narrow in retaliation once she noticed the wisps of smoke rising from his nostrils. Even though he was likely at a level where he couldn't breathe fire, especially not to the magnitude that would seriously injure someone, Violet took a few steps back. She was quickly appreciating the fact that Oak was restraining the Charmander by a hand on his shoulder—he could probably break free, but he didn't regardless.
Oak cleared his throat harshly, watching their pupils dart in his direction, showing that their attention had been grabbed, despite the fact their postures didn't change in the slightest. "That's enough of acting like children, thank you," he said, glaring disapprovingly at both of them. Jax looked sheepish from this scolding, as brief as it was, while Violet, who was quite used to it, just folded her arms petulantly. "I don't believe you two have met before, so let me get the introductions out of the way, so long as you can keep yourself from attacking the other."
He pointed to Violet. "Violet, this is Jax," then he pointed to Jax. "Jax, that's Violet."
He looked away from Jax and to Violet, patting him on the shoulder, "Jax has been my lab assistant for twelve years," Jax looked rather smug at this statement, maybe even like a soldier, with his broom positioned upright and his tail coiled on the ground in perfect posture, save for how he casually leaned against the firm broom.
His eyebrow was perched high over his eye while the other crooked down against the other. He was inspecting her, looking into the eyes of a girl who could only stare blankly, curiously at him with an almost animalistic quirk of her head, this time to the opposite shoulder than before.
Jax hardly seemed enamored by the girl. It was screamed through his eyes: his opinion of Violet had already been shaped, solidified, and been doused in cement without any sign of change. "Charmed," he said dryly.
Violet could feel the sarcasm drip from that single word like molasses, and instantly understood the low opinion he had forged for her. Straightening her neck and glaring, she countered with a sardonic, "Lovely to meet you," as she nursed the soreness that flared up from where Jax had elbowed her.
Dagg, that Charmander can hit hard, she thought, removing her hand from the aching spot. She reminded herself to get a bandaid when this endeavor was over. She then she turned to Oak and asked, "And he's the only Charmander here now?"
Oak confirmed this with a nod.
Violet looked at Jax for a moment, both Pokemon and girl staring each other down, like they were trying to convey 'I don't like you' and absorb every little thing that made up the person at the same time. They remained focused for a split second, in an unenthused staring contest, but in reality they were judging each other, picking out flaws to hold against the other, and examining qualities that could benefit them, or alleviate their sour opinion of the other one. Violet was the first to break it off, turning toward Oak with a look of rock-steady, yet ecstatically enthusiastic conviction on her face. Her ceaseless staring had only been met with the solid reminder of his beloved species.
Pointing toward Jax, she asked, "Can he come with me?" When she somehow thought that they were going to immediately answer 'no' from the slightest twitch of Oak's eyebrows, she clasped her hands together and whined, "Pleaaaaaaaase?" Complete with the precocious, well-timed sparkle provided by the incandescent lights, another angle of her head, and the bat of her sparse eyelashes.
Jax was immediately outraged by this, turning his head skyward to glare up at Oak defiantly. "She has GOT to be kidding me," he hissed, "Prof, don't tell me you're going to listen to her."
Oak didn't reply yet, he was immersed in thought once more, but still keeping a scrutinizing eye on Jax in case he decided to follow up on his nonverbal threat of torching Violet. His attention extended to both diminutive figures. Jax, who apparently could keep his face in the same expression for long periods of time, kept glaring at him, disbelief in his expression beyond the protesting. The idea of going with a trainer appalled him deeply.
One party, that of a Violet Amaranth, looked hopefully up at him, an expression of 'Oh please God say YES' etched in her features, feigning adorableness that was rapidly running dry to milk her way. The other, that of a Jax the Charmander, seemed hopeful as well, only for an entirely different reason. His expression screamed of 'Oh GOD don't let me go with her' from every pore from his orange skin.
At long last, from switching glances for both to both, Oak tapped Jax on the shoulder to get his attention, and leaned down so they were as close to eye contact as they possibly could. Despite this, Oak, even when crouched, surpassed him by a few inches.
He turned his head over to Violet. "Could you do us a favor and exit the room for a moment, Violet?" he asked, much to the befuddlement of the girl, "Jax and I need to discuss something."
Violet just stared at him for a moment, but succumbed regardless. Pivoting around on her heel, she turned and wandered back to the door that led to the PokeBall room. "Alright," Violet said nonchalantly, crossing her arms behind her head, "When ya need me, call me, I guess."
With that, she strutted toward the room in complete silence, save the idle whistling that trailed behind her path. The remaining two waited until they heard the telltale click of the door sliding into place, and for the whistling to stop, before they got to business. For five seconds you could hear a pin drop. Those figurative five seconds ended with something much louder.
Naturally, Jax was the first to shoot his mouth off, "What the heck do you think you're doing, Prof?" he demanded, "Don't tell me you're going to listen to her!"
His mentor only sighed and did his best to explain, "It's not so much of what Violet wants, but what's in your best interest," he explained, and started to continue, but he was cut off by Jax, who snapped in return.
"My best interest? By traveling with HER?" Jax's anger reached a fever pitch at that point, like he considered being in the girl's presence to be a terrible moral offense. Considering Violet's lack of intelligence and unusual quirks, it probably was to someone like him. "Oh, won't that be lovely. I can learn so much from her, I can tell," he said with fake ardor, "Like how to come close to breaking every bone that makes up your ribcage, for one." For emphasis, he delicately rubbed the contours of his bruised ribcage through the skin.
A set of hands grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, grabbing Jax's attention away from his seething anger and onto more important matters, where he would hopefully remain planted in until Oak was finished. Oak looked at him sternly, eyebrows accentuating his forehead as they lowered, "Don't you remember, Jax?"
Jax just stared at him, either not understanding or not wanting to even bother with entertaining this, in his mind, worthless waste of his time. Part of him though, was curious, as he illustrated in a raised eyebrow. Petulance or not, he did nothing to break free from Oak's gentle grip despite the fact he could, quite easily. Some part of him had discovered the answer, but it was swallowed up by the grand majority that just wanted to bury it and be done with it.
"You said you wanted to evolve," Oak said delicately, sidestepping any other issues that there were to this—they were laying beneath the surface of the deceitful waters, just ready to pounce.
Bulls-eye.
"Answer me," Oak urged, sounding no longer harsh to gain Jax's attention, but gently coaxing him toward the truth. Go for the light, Jax, go for the light.
Jax stared sheepishly down at the floor, nodding numbly, unable to meet Oak's gaze.
Hardly satisfied with Jax's non vocal answer, Oak pressed forward, not wanting to risk hurting any feelings. All that mattered right now was for Jax to make the connection so both Violet and Jax could benefit from this. "And ever since you've come here, you've always spent your time indoors, too uncomfortable to venture out into the world and train. Earn experience. It's only by training that you can evolve."
Jax stayed silent through his speech, wincing whenever Oak managed to strike at the truth and bring it to the surface. He felt the hands on his shoulders again, and he couldn't help but look up at him as Oak continued, sounding more compassionate than firm in his probing, like he understood the sensitive ground he was treading.
"Jax, if you go with a trainer—in this case, Violet—she can help you evolve. I'm not the young trainer I used to be anymore, and no immediate trainers will come around until a year. This is your chance, Jax." He pointed to Jax's upper chest, right in the center. "Seize it."
He then gave Jax an encouraging smile as he withdrew, waiting for a change in expression in Jax's unreadable features.
Jax didn't seem very persuaded as the subject of Violet came up, but he submerged himself deep in thought nonetheless. Oak had spoken the truth, and he couldn't avoid it. His greatest ambitions were only obtainable by a trainer, and he had chased away trainers who were interested in him before. Closing his eyes, as he fought with conflicting emotions and decisions, he signaled his victory with a sigh that released him from the emotional chains that kept him anchored down. He opened his eyes and looked into that of Oak's countenance with a small smile that betrayed his irritation for the girl who was waiting for them.
He seized it.
"Okay, I'll go with her," he conceded, "But under one condition."
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Violet slumped over, cradling her head in her hands. Beneath the chair she sat on her feet swung pendulously, completely out of sync with one another and the creaks that emitted from the chair. Using the creaks to tick away at each passing second had become a habit for her during the immeasurable amount of time she had spent pacing, trying to listen through the door, and poking the doorknob with one of Oak's pencils she found under the desk.
'They're sure taking a long time there,' thought a bored-out-of-her-wits Violet. Groaning, she slumped a little bit more, completely burying her head in the tanned palms of her hands. 'I dunno. That Jax guy seemed like a real jerk. But isn't it always like that when trainers start off with their Pokemon? Heck if I know. I mean, it happened in that cartoon I saw, with the Pikachu—'
A click, precluding the turn of a doorknob, had evaporated her thoughts the moment they wandered off their tangent. Violet instinctually turned around, eyes hopeful, expression gradually growing both appreciative and apprehensive. Appreciative because she was tired of playing 'I Spy' with herself, and apprehensive because she had no idea what had come out of Oak's meeting with his sardonic Charmander friend. Speak of the devil; Jax entered the room at Oak's side, seriousness engraved in his reptilian face. Oak however, looked somewhat neutral, yet accomplished, so Violet thought of that as a good thing. She and the Charmander stared each other down again. Seafoam green met green and blue, and continued to remain laced between the lance of lightning crackling between them until Jax finally spoke.
"Okay," he said, with a sigh of resignation, "I'll come with you."
Violet's jaw nearly unhinged itself so it could hit the floor. Brilliant happiness whirled up inside her as she registered what he said over and over and over again. Omigod omigod omigod omigod omigod… To Hell with any previous second thoughts about Jax's personality, she was getting a CHARMANDER! For a moment she felt like leaping up on the desk and dancing when the happiness surged and overflowed through her body like a torrent of glowing yellow, but it had died when Jax spoke again.
"BUT," he said, dragging Violet out of her victory dreamworld kicking and screaming, "I'll only stay with you until I evolve."
Violet, who had barely adjusted to reality after her rude return, felt the happiness pop inside her like a balloon impaled on a cactus, leaving goldenrod residue splattered around her insides. Eyebrows raised incredulously, she blurted, "WHAT? That's completely BOGUS!" She was instantaneously opposed to Jax's ultimatum, and she could hear a few levels of her subconscious—the rare few shards of her mind that didn't reject the idea of Jax's admittance as her partner—argue adamantly in rapid-fire defense.
Jax didn't say anything; he just folded his arms and glared her down, her mental battle fading on the spot. Violet looked to Oak as though to protest, but the look on his face told her that this was the only way to have Jax join her. No matter how many times she tried to destroy it, qualms about wanting to recruit him always came slithering back, spawned from his bad attitude.
'Maybe I can throw him out the moment I catch a new Pokemon to replace him,' Violet thought, nearly sniggering at the mental image of her picking up and literally throwing Jax back to Pallet straight from some abnormally long distance.
The mental image didn't last long, because her focus had to drift back sometime, and it happened to choose that moment. As much as she wanted a Charmander, she wasn't sure about Jax's attitude. Maybe they could actually get to know each other over their journey? What if they actually became friends? The perfect example of a trainer and her loyal Pokemon?
That would be the day when droves of Snorlax would rain down from the sky.
Violet shrugged and rolled her eyes, ignoring the venom behind the glare. Jax seemed even more reluctant to accept Violet as his partner as Violet did for Jax. "Ah, whatever," she muttered, "You've got yourself a deal."
Much to Jax's shock, she straightened her posture and stood up from her chair, languidly stretching her arms. Swiveling them a bit in their sockets, she looked down a few inches so her gaze would meet his equally. After a few moments of silence, she finally held out one of her hands, waving it expectantly in front of Jax's torso, like she were urging him to lift his own hand. This was much to the protests of a thousand screaming voices and consciousnesses clustered in her mind, criticizing her behavior. Not one of these voices approved of Violet's independent situation, which reacted from impulse alone.
If they were going to be partners, they might as well cement the relationship classically.
Predictably, Jax only stared at it in confusion, eyebrow a smooth curve over his eye. "You SHAKE IT," Violet insisted, speaking every syllable with deliberate slowness, like she were trying to teach a backwards toddler instead of a Charmander who seemed to understandably not want anything to do with the unusual adolescent.
She was already wondering what on earth she had been smoking to make her feel compelled to try this.
Jax growled. "I KNOW," he responded in the same, belittling tone, seizing her hand like he was trying to prove his intellect. See? asked his smug expression.
The intertwined digits tensed against one another, as though they were both resisting the urge to slap away the other's hand the moment the torture was over.
Both had managed to resist the all-too irresistible desire that was quickly mounting to force a smile toward one another, almost simultaneously. One's smile looked like they had nearly choked on something. The other's looked like they had just seen something totally repulsive and were trying to hide their disgust. They spent as long as they could to delay the inevitable, Violet cursing her decision to shake his hand, and Jax cursing his own decision to follow her.
Neither of them moved in the slightest, despite the fact they were starting to squeeze each other's hand so violently that the popping of the bones were audible enough to be mistaken for miniature fire crackers going off inside their flesh. The forced grins on their faces were twitching erratically—if they didn't look genial before, now they looked like they wanted to rip the others' arm off and beat them with it.
"You shake it."
"You're the one who offered this, YOU shake it."
"If I suggested it then YOU should do it. Pull your own weight around."
Even when their unofficial deadline was finally up, their hands didn't budge, both badgering the other on to initiate the handshake neither of them wanted any part of. Meanwhile, the professor who kept scrutiny over them let his head fall into his hand as he fearfully wondered what he had unleashed on the world.
Chapter I: Finished…
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Afternote – Reviewing: I'm not gonna sugar-coat it, flames are annoying. But if you have something constructive to say, please say it—I want this story to be the best it can be, and sometimes I need you guys' help to make it so.