One thing that has become abundantly clear throughout the history of the world is that there is never a shortage of madmen willing to spread word of their delusions to the masses. The only thing that has changed in modern times is the ability for these madmen to spread their delusions more easily through judicious use of a computer, something that isn't helped by hipsters leaving their terrible, overpriced consumer electronics at equally as popular and equally as terrible coffee shops. One such man is Sir Reginald Dovington the Fifteenth of Arizona, a man who, among other things, picked a new name for himself out of a hat after being disowned by his mother for telling the other people at the asylum about her recipe for shrimp steakums, something which was entirely deserved given that his mother was the only person who could make shrimp steakums with using steak or shrimp and that the recipe was supposed to remain only in the family.
Sir Reginald Dovington the Fifteenth's achievements are many, but his crowning achievement is no doubt his theory pertaining to the existence of a parallel universe containing creatures known as Pokémon, a theory he developed after discovering that the computer he has stolen from the local coffee shop had a shortcut to an emulator on the main page, just beneath a file that was titled, "Definitely Not Tranny Porn Involving Cheese Graters, Do Not Open Under Any Circumstances". That file, of course, actually contained tranny porn involving windshield wipers and dog food, but Reginald wouldn't know that, since he obeyed the rules people told him, with the obvious exceptions of the ones regarding not telling his mother's recipes to strangers or not stealing things.
Reginald would eventually publish his theory on an internet blogging site populated by half social justice whiners who didn't actually care about social justice, half teenage girls, and all terrible people, where it would eventually be picked up by a group of trolls and spread among them for laughs. The theory was short enough to be condensed into a single screencap. Here is the theory in its entirety: "I, Reginald Dovington the Fifteenth, being of sound body and mind, do hereby declare that our universe exists in tandem with another universe which is almost exactly like ours, but also populated by Pokémon". Reginald, after publishing his theory, would go on to be struck and killed by a passing ambulance while chasing after what he believed was a hundred dollar bill but what was actually just a piece of green paper floating in the breeze in the middle of the street. His genius would go on to be quickly forgotten even by the group of trolls that had so readily embraced his theory, and eventually the memory of Sir Reginald Dovington the Fifteenth would fade from the minds of everyone.
Nobody would ever learn just how right Reginald actually was.
Far on the opposite side of the country, there existed a small town in Virginia called Fredericksburg. With a population of about twenty nine thousand people, Fredericksburg was renowned as a very historical town, being known for the First and Second Battles of Fredericksburg in the American Civil War and for having ties to George Washington and his family. More importantly, a man named Paul Stanton resided there, in a small house in the suburbs. Paul had lived there for a little over five years, and it served the purpose of keeping him close to his job at the local courthouse as a stenographer. Or, rather, it had served that purpose, seeing as how he had been fired for undisclosed reasons the previous week. Now, he was considering moving elsewhere, probably somewhere more spacious and with fewer roaches that didn't hiss as loudly when he turned the kitchen lights on.
As for Paul himself, he was twenty eight years old, about six feet tall, with short red hair, and a stoic disposition. The stoicism was something new, as he had been very outgoing and exciting the previous week. It also probably had to do with the fact that he was sleeping, and thus couldn't display those attributes he was known for in a suitable manner.
Paul Stanton had never been much of heavy sleeper, thus it annoyed him greatly when his phone rang and woke him up at just past six in the morning.
"Hello?" he said groggily, as he tried not to betray his internal desire to light the person at the other end of the line on fire with his mind.
"Hey man, it's Greg. I hate to call you at such an ungodly hour, but I'm just outside your house and it's very important that you let me in."
"What the fuck are you doing outside my house at six in the morning?" Paul asked.
"Just let me in, okay? It's important," said the person at the other end of the line before hanging up.
"Fuckin' Greg," Paul mumbled before climbing out of bed and pulling on whatever clothes he could find lying around. The end result was that he was dressed in a long sleeved green shirt with the logo of a prominent beer company on it, jeans, and socks with holes in them. Still half asleep, he made his way to the front of the house and opened the door. He was greeted by his longtime friend, Greg Davinport. Greg was a few inches shorter than Paul, with jet black hair and piercing green eyes. Greg was a man who was never comfortable sitting still for any amount of time longer than half a minute, which was part of the reason why Paul was only a little surprised that he was at his house so early.
"Great. You keep the vodka and orange juice in the fridge, right?" his friend asked, as he pushed his way inside.
"Vodka and orange juice?" Paul asked, shocked. "Dude, I don't know if you've checked a clock recently, but it is six in the morning."
"Perfect time for orange juice then, isn't it?" Greg said as he began digging around in Paul's fridge. "Aha! And it's the good stuff, too! No pulp or any of that bullshit," he remarked as he pulled both items out of the fridge and placed them on the table.
"We're not making cocktails this early in the morning. Especially not after last night," Paul said.
"Oh, come on, it'll be fun!" Greg said, as he placed two glasses on the table.
"Dude, no."
"C'mon, don't be such a fucking puss."
"Peer pressure never works on me. You of all people should know that."
"Alright, I'll just have to try something else then," Greg said as he started pouring alcohol and orange juice into one of the glasses. "Okay, I've got it. Paul, buddy, how did you feel when that girl dumped you a month ago?"
"You mean the girl I proposed to?"
"Yeah, her."
"I felt like fucking dog shit."
"Good. Hold on to that feeling for me, would you? Now, how did you feel when you got fired from your comfy, adequately paying job for no reason a week ago?"
"Not nearly as bad, but still shitty. Where are you going with this?"
"You'll see. Now, tell me how you felt when your dad, who you loved very much, passed away last year, right after your mom died in that car crash."
Paul paused for a moment as he felt the sorrow overtake him again. He let out a big sigh before speaking again.
"Fuck the orange juice, give me that bottle of vodka," he said. His friend complied with his request and watched as Paul raised the bottle to his lips and took several deep sips before putting it back down.
"How do you feel now?" Greg asked.
"Like I could be the highlight of a therapist's career if I were to start seeing one at this moment," Paul said.
"Sorry buddy, but I had to get you to drink at least some alcohol."
"Why?"
"Because you wouldn't believe me otherwise. Also because teleportation does funny things to your insides and alcohol helps kill the feeling a little bit, but we'll get to that part later, I suppose. First, a question. You ready?"
"Sure, go ahead," Paul said.
"Okay. Remember when you told me three years ago that you still enjoy Pokémon?"
"God dammit, I thought you said you weren't gonna bring that back up!" Paul said.
"Whoa, whoa, calm down, alright? I'm not passing judgement or anything. Now's not the time for that. What if I told you that I'm in the same boat?"
"Is that why you called me at six in the morning and decided to come over and make cocktails?"
"Just hear me out. What if I told you that I also enjoy Pokémon, but because I have experience with them?"
"Well, yeah, if you play the games-"
"Outside of the games, I mean."
"The anime? TCG? Children's books?"
"No, like they're real, and I have experience working with them. Namely because I am one."
Paul let out a sigh. "Dude, I would appreciate it if you didn't try this shit on me in the early morning, you know?"
"I'm not kidding," Greg said.
"Then prove it."
"Alright, I will. You might want to shield your eyes."
"What for?"
Immediately after finishing his question, Paul wished he had shut his mouth and heeded his friend's advice, as a bright light began to emanate from the spot Greg was sitting in. Paul was forced to look away in order to keep from being temporarily blinded. When he turned back, his friend was no longer there. Instead, in his place, was a floating purple cat.
"Do you believe me now?" it asked, in Greg's voice.
Paul said nothing. For a few seconds he just stared at the creature, but once he was convinced that what he was seeing was real, he stopped staring and instead reached for the vodka once again. He took a few more deep gulps before setting it down and turning back to the cat.
"I'm sure you have several questions," he said.
"Yeah, like what the fuck?" Paul said. "Are you a fucking Mew?"
"Yes."
"Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on? Why are you a Mew?"
"Because I was born this way? Because my mother loved my father very much and the two of them decided to do the horizontal boogie and created me? Because out of all the sperm, I was the fastest? How do you expect me to answer that question, buddy?"
"Just why are you here?"
"Because you let me in."
"No, I mean why are you here, on Earth, instead of wherever it is you're from?"
Greg took a deep breath before letting it out in the form of a heavy sigh. "It's a very long story. The summary goes something like this: I dislike politics with a great intensity and the others wouldn't stop bugging me, so I decided to teleport somewhere with a little less noise and ended up here. Nice place, I must say. Very similar to where I'm from, but with fewer Pokémon and more warfare."
"And why are you here, at my dinner table making cocktails at six in the morning?"
"Another story. No shorter than the last, I'm afraid. Alright, here's the deal. Remember last night?"
"Unfortunately. We got completely smashed at that bar. I passed out around eleven at night."
"Correct. And then the bartender decided to be a bro and drove us both home. When I got home, I needed to do something fun. So I teleported into the CIA headquarters and then back home. That was a bad move, because now they're looking for me so they can ask me just how the fuck I learned how to teleport and will most likely dissect me or some shit, and I would rather avoid that."
"That still doesn't answer my question," Paul said.
"No, it doesn't. Not yet, anyway. So the CIA knows who I am and they probably have a nice big file on me, just as they do with every American, so they've probably ascertained not only my identity but the identity of all my friends as well, including you, my best friend, and they're probably on their way over here to point an MP5 in your face and arrest you for some trumped-up charge so they have an excuse to interrogate you about my whereabouts. And I don't think you want that to happen, do you?"
"No, I'd really prefer to avoid having a police officer pointing a submachine gun at my head and arresting me."
"Didn't think so. So, here's my offer: I teleport us both back to my home world, where we will live out the rest of our days in relative peace. The alternative, of course, is being sent to prison and most likely raped in the shower."
"I think I'll go with you, if that's okay."
"Brilliant! Hold still while I teleport us."
"Wait, we're going now?"
"Uh, yeah? Did you miss the part where I said the police are coming here? They could be here any minute, and I'd rather not get caught with my dick in my hands. Figuratively speaking, of course."
"Alright, fine, take me the hell out of this fucking place," Paul said.
"Alright, buddy," Greg said. "Do me a solid and try not to throw up too much, will you?"
"What?"
"Nothing. Just hold on."
"To what?"
"Here we go!" Greg shouted.
Before Paul had a chance to vocalize any more of his many concerns, his vision started to fade out until all he could see was white. He felt like he was spinning around in place, and his stomach felt as if it was doing a dance routing. Just as he felt he was about to throw up half a bottle of vodka, the sensations stopped and color returned to his vision. He felt grass beneath his feet, as opposed to the tile floors of his house.
"Welcome to Hoenn," his friend said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be going."
"Hold up, motherfucker!" Paul said. "You don't get to teleport me to some random spot in Hoenn and then leave me with nothing, the fuck's wrong with you? I don't know where the fuck any cities are or anything."
"Hmm. Yes, I suppose you're right. Wait here for a moment," Greg said, before teleporting away.
"God dammit," Paul said.
Before he got a chance to utter any more swears, his friend teleported back with a bag in his arms.
"Here," Greg said, as he tossed it to his friend.
"What's this?" Paul asked as he caught the bag.
Greg shrugged. "Dunno. Some loser's bag I stole. It's got some good stuff in there."
"I can't keep some kid's bag!" Paul said.
"Relax, okay? Like I said, the guy's a fucking loser. He wouldn't be getting much mileage out of it, anyway. It'll be far more useful to you than him, believe me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I reall need to-"
"Wait!"
Greg let out a short groan. "Look, dude, I like you and all, but you're really-"
"Where am I supposed to go, exactly? And, for that matter, how am I supposed to protect myself from wild Pokémon?"
Greg paused. "Oh," he said after a moment. "Yes, I suppose that would be a good thing to know, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it would. So could you tell me something useful?"
"Yes, of course. Right now you're on Route 120. Fortree City is to the west, but if you keep following this route you'll eventually hit Lillycove City. I'll meet up with you at Lilycove, and then we can work something out."
"And the protection thing?"
"I was getting to that. Open that bag I gave you, I'm sure there's something useful in there."
Paul did as he was told and searched around, eventually pulling out a Poké Ball.
"It's an empty one. Now watch that grass over there, and be ready."
"Ready for what?" Paul asked. He had barely finished his sentence before his friend fired a bright blue beam out of his mouth and into the tall grass.
"Now, throw that Poké Ball," Greg said.
Paul nodded, then threw the Ball into the grass. He heard it open and hit the ground, then heard the three beeps signaling that it had caught something. Before he could run into the tall grass to retrieve it, Greg levitated it out and into his hands for him.
"There you go. I read its mind, so in case you were wondering, it's a girl, her name is Sako, and you really do need to take her to a Pokémon Center before heading out anywhere. Now, really, I must be going."
"I'll see you again, right?" Paul asked.
"Of course. Although it will most likely be in my human form, as this one attracts a lot of attention. See you around, buddy."
"Yeah, see you."
Paul watched as his friend teleported away, then looked down at the Poké Ball in his hand.
"Might as well see what you are," he said. He pressed the button on the front of the Ball and recoiled in shock as a bright red light shot out from it. The light took the form of a quadruped before a Pokémon materialized in its place.
"Sol," she said.
"An Absol," Paul said. "Not sure what Greg's trying to tell me about this whole excursion. Also, Jesus Christ, I have a fucking Absol!"
"Ab?" she asked.
"Yes, that's you. At least, I suppose that's what you were asking, since I can't understand you. Can you understand me?"
The Absol nodded yes.
"Okay, so that's one less thing to worry about. Your name's Sako, right?"
Another nod.
"Alright. Nice to meet you, Sako, my name's Paul. Feel free to call me whatever, since I can't understand you anyway. If you want to call me a motherfucker in whatever language it is you speak, then fine, whatever it takes for us to get along, since it seems like we're stuck together from now on. Are you hurt?"
"Sol," she said as she took a few limping steps forward.
"God dammit, Greg," Paul mumbled. "Alright, we'll get you to a Pokémon Center before we head out to… uh… wherever it is we're going. I'm still not entirely sure about that part, but I suppose we can figure things out as we go along. Not like I have anything better to do. So, I'll just return you to the Ball, and-"
"Absol!" she said, shaking her head furiously.
"Okay, maybe I won't return you to the Ball. But then how do you expect me to get you to a Pokémon Center when you can't even walk?"
In terms of the other cities in Hoenn, Fortree City is unique in that it poses the absolute biggest fire risk out of all of them, because with the exception of a few buildings, everything is made out of wood. The city was commissioned by a man named Warren Stevenson back in the 1600s to serve as a base camp for explorers who wanted to travel deeper into the forest. Why anyone would want to do that remains a mystery that historians continue to search for an answer to. The citizens of the city would eventually wonder the same thing, as the lack of explorers convinced the mayor to convert it into a logging town back in the early twentieth century. This proved to be a wise choice for about seventy years, as a combination of a lack of interest in logging and financial mismanagement resulted in the town as a whole being forced to declare bankruptcy. The then-mayor would go on to be the first recorded person in over forty years to actually head into the forest, carrying only a combination of rudimentary outdoor gear and the best rifle he could find for supplies. Legends say that his cries of anguish as he was eventually forced to eat the paper money he brought with him can still be heard on nights when the moon is full.
While Fortree City is no stranger to odd happenings, it currently ranks only in the middle of the scale of odd things in Hoenn, a scale created by a Doctor Michael A. Murkell on a dare from his best friend as to whether or not he could create the most unscientific yet still somewhat believable list of things, ever.
"The things I do for friendship," Paul said, as he approached the outskirts of Fortree City. A few people passing by gave him strange looks before continuing on in the other direction slightly faster than they had been going before they noticed him. Paul blamed the fact that he was currently carrying a hundred pounds of Absol in his arms, bridal style.
"Alright, that's enough of this," he said, as he dropped down to one knee and let Sako hop out of his arms. She gave him a questioning look, as if demanding to know why he had stopped carrying her. "Don't look at me like that," he said. "You should be happy my fucking back didn't give out earlier. I'm not doing that again, okay? You can walk."
She glared at him for a bit before taking a few tentative steps forward. Her limp was gone, though it was clear that she was still in a lot of pain. Sako grit her teeth and looked back at Paul, then gave him a nod.
"Alright, let's go," he said.
The two of them continued on through the city, searching for a Pokémon Center the entire time. Paul took the time to compare the city to what he remembered from the game, though he wasn't surprised to see that it was a lot different from what he had expected. The city was a lot bigger and a lot more crowded, with additional paths cut through the trees to compensate for the greater number of trainers and Pokémon passing through. The tree houses remained a big feature, though they were also a lot bigger than they were in the games, no doubt to compensate for the fact that people actually had to live in them.
Paul was so caught up in staring at the various sights that he didn't notice the other trainer approaching until it was too late. The two of them collided painfully, and they both fell to the ground.
"Ow! What's your problem, buddy?" the trainer said, as she dusted herself off. She reached for her blue hat, which had fallen off in the collision, and placed it back on her head, where it rested atop her long, blonde hair. The hat was a few shades lighter than her jeans, which were colored a dark blue. She adjusted her black jacket, which was a few sizes too big and had fallen off one of her shoulders in the mayhem, revealing a white tee shirt. She glared at Paul with bright blue eyes, as if staring at him with a great intensity would set him on fire, something she no doubt wanted at the moment.
"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," Paul said, as he picked himself up off the ground.
"Well, that much is clear."
"Hey, you could have avoided me too, you know. You're just as much at fault as I am."
She scoffed. "Whatever. I'll have you know that I was in the middle of something very important."
"Which was?"
"Admiring my gym badges."
"Yeah, real important," Paul said.
"You trying to start something, bub? 'Cuz it's been at least an hour since I last had a battle, and I could go for one."
"My Absol is currently about to pass out, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline your offer. Actually, no I'm not because I'd rather not get into a fight at the moment."
"What, am I not good enough for you? You think you'd beat me?"
"You're crazy. I'm just going to-"
"Oh, no you don't!" she said, as she reached for a Poké Ball on her belt. "Get out here, Vibrava! Let's teach this guy a lesson!"
The Poké Ball opened, and a Vibrava materialized on the ground. It immediately started to hover above the ground, waiting for an order. The people that were passing by stopped to watch what they believed would be a battle.
"Yeah, no, we're not doing this. Come on, Sako, let's go find a Pokémon Center," Paul said. The two of them stepped away from the female trainer and her Pokémon and continued on her way.
"Where are you going?" she asked, annoyed.
"I told you, my Absol needs a Pokémon Center, and I don't want to battle. Besides, don't you need some kind of license, or something?"
"You don't have a trainer's license?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.
Paul shook his head.
"You're kidding, right? Are you some kind of loser or something? How do you not have a trainer's license?"
"Look, I'm new around here, okay? Actually, why the fuck am I trying to justify myself to you, of all people? I'm leaving now, see you again never," Paul said.
"Wait!" she said. "I'm not gonna let you just walk away. Tell me your name."
"What?"
"Your name. Mine's Amanda, Amanda Collins."
"Paul Stanton, if you must know."
"Paul," she said. "Plain name. But I won't forget it. We'll meet each other again, and when we do, we'll battle."
"Whatever you say, crazy lady," Paul said.
Amanda recalled her Vibrava, then continued on her way. The audience voiced their displeasure at the lack of a battle by collectively booing. She gave them all the finger as she headed towards the outskirts of the city.
"Barely twenty minutes in this fucking place and shit's already getting weird," Paul said, as he pushed his way through the small crowd.
"Absol?" Sako asked.
"It's a long story," Paul said. "Let's just find the Pokémon Center, alright?"
The pair continued their search for a few more minutes before eventually stumbling across building. It was much bigger than Paul thought it would be, resembling a small doctor's office with multiple floors. It was also much more crowded than he thought, with a line stretching out into the pathway.
"Well, shit," he said before turning to his companion. "Any ideas?" he asked.
She thought for a bit before nodding. Before Paul had a chance to ask what her plan was, she dug one of her claws into her shoulder, then dragged it downwards, creating a deep cut. Blood poured from the injury onto the ground.
"Okay, I guess that'll work, but you and me need to have a talk once this is over," Paul said, as he picked her up for the second time. "Out of the way! My Absol needs emergency care!" he called as he pushed his way through the crowd. Several people gave him strange looks, but recoiled in horror after seeing Sako and moved out of the way to let him pass.
When he finally reached the front of the line, the nurse took one look at Sako before letting out a heavy sigh.
"The shit I put up with…" she murmured. "Alright, give her here and I'll get her fixed up."
Paul placed Sako on the counter and watched as the nurse motioned for a Chansey to come over. The Pokémon did as it was asked and came to her side. Upon seeing the injured Absol, the Chansey picked her up and placed her on a table that was attached to something that resembled a large MRI machine. The nurse hit a button and the machine started up, emitting a bright light as it scanned Sako.
"Give it a moment," the nurse said.
Paul watched as Sako's injury seemed to disappear almost instantaneously. Just as soon as it had started, the machine stopped. Sako jumped off the table, then back onto the counter, and finally onto the floor at Paul's feet.
"You're done. Next!" the nurse called.
"Er, thanks," Paul said. "I don't owe you anything, right?"
"You're kidding, right? Get the hell out of here, you're holding up the line!" she said.
"Okay then. Let's go, Sako," Paul said. "Actually, wait a minute, I have one more question. Where can I get a trainer's license around here."
"Are you serious right now? Go to the PC, select that you need a license, and then get your ass out of the goddamn Pokémon Center!"
"Thank you," Paul said. He looked around until he located a PC, then approached it. There wasn't anyone currently using it, so it made things much easier.
Paul pressed the button labeled 'Power' and watched as the PC came to life. Within moments it was online and showing him a menu. There were several options to send Pokémon through the PC and store them somewhere, just like in the games, but unlike in the games there was also an option to create a trainer's license and even an option for banking. Paul pressed the button that would lead him to a license and was greeted with a prompt to enter his first and last name, as well as his date of birth. He entered in the requested information and pressed enter, then waited. The machine seemed to switch itself off after a few seconds, which made Paul curious. He was about to lean in to inspect it, but stopped when the machine turned back on. This time, the screen was displaying a video of him. Before he had a chance to do anything, the PC gave off a bright flash, and after a few more seconds, a slot in the bottom opened and a card fell out. Paul picked it up and saw that it was his trainer's license.
The license, in addition to displaying things such as his name and date of birth, also showed images of the region's gym leaders and what appeared to be the owner's bank account balance. Paul saw that his balance was three thousand of something, which seemed like a lot to him but probably wasn't that much, at least compared to an American dollar. Regardless, he was just happy to have something in his account, although where it came from was anyone's guess. He decided to chalk it up to the government giving each trainer a stipend when they first started out, to ensure that nobody starved to death, which made more sense to him than the banks spontaneously deciding to give out free money. Either way, it didn't make much difference to him, as he now had his trainer's license and was ready to move on.
The two of them left the Pokémon Center, taking care to avoid the large line of trainers and Pokémon, lest they run into someone else and inadvertently create another Amanda situation. Once they were a few dozen feet away, Paul stopped.
"Okay, about that thing you did earlier," Paul said, "don't do that shit again, alright? I don't want you hurting yourself like that anymore. That shit's not cool."
"Sol!" Sako said angrily.
"I can't understand you, but I'll assume you don't agree because it worked. You have a point, but still, I'm not okay with you hurting yourself. Don't do that shit, it makes me nervous."
"Ab," she said.
"Okay. Now, before we continue on, I guess I should check out this bag," Paul said, as he took the backpack off his shoulder and opened it up. There wasn't much inside, just some items that Paul was able to recognize as Potions and some pieces of paper. Curious, he took one out and examined it, only to realize that it was actually money. He made a quick note to learn the exchange rates as soon as he could, then put it back in the bag. The only other thing in the bag was something that looked like a GameBoy SP. Once again struck by curiosity, Paul picked it up. It took him a moment, but he eventually recognized it as a PokéNav. He opened it and was struck by how simple it appeared to be. The screen showed a menu with several different tabs, including a list of contacts and a map. The bottom part had a directional pad and a call button, as well as a disconnect button. It appeared to turn on and off automatically depending on whether it was being opened or closed. He decided to mess around with it later and continue on at the moment.
"Sol," Sako said, impatient.
"Alright, fine, we can get going," Paul said as he zipped up the bag and slung it back over his shoulder. "Try not to get hurt too bad, will you? I'd prefer to not have to book it back to the Pokémon Center."
She glared at him, unamused.
"It was a joke. You can make 'em too, it's just that I won't understand them. There wouldn't happen to be some kind of translating tool that would let us communicate, would there? Because this whole one-sided conversation thing is getting old fast, I feel like a lonely old man talking to himself because all his friends died."
"Absol," she said.
"Can't understand you, sorry. Let's just get the hell out of here and go to Lilycove, alright? I want to see Greg and ask him what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing around here."
And with that, the duo set off towards Lilycove City.
Far away, back in a place called Oldale Town, a young boy woke up in a back alley.
"Oh, my aching head…" he muttered. "What happened? How did I get here?"
He checked himself over for any other injuries and discovered a note taped to his back in the process. He pulled it off, then looked it over. The letter read:
"I took your stuff and gave it to someone who had a much better chance of making it big than you did. I'd apologize for it, but you probably weren't going to make it past the first gym anyway, since your first Pokémon is a Zigzagoon. Also the net worth of all the objects taken was only like seventy dollars, which is fucking nothing to anyone. Maybe you should try getting a job and being a productive member of society instead of chasing foolish dreams. Love, Mew."
The boy paused for a moment and let the note's words sink in. When he spoke again, his voice was full of as much rage as his pre-pubescent vocal chords and nasally voice would allow.
"Not again!" he cried out in frustration.
