NOTE: THIS STORY IS BEING DISCONTINUED... WELL RATHER IT'S BEING REBOOTED.
As I explain in a notice at the end of what this story is, I will be rebooting and rewriting this story from scratch. It originally started out as a practice for my writing abilities, and now that I have gotten better, feel as though I should use my improved abilities to serve the story I wanted to tell proper justice. I will keep this story up for a little bit longer, mainly as a reference for myself, but also in case anybody wants to read the original version of the story. Hopefully you stick around to read the remastered version!
...
Just like most little kids when they were young, I aspired to become a Pokemon trainer. It's usually pretty easy to become a trainer. Turn ten, ask for a Pokemon, and leave home with a Pokemon companion at your side. Simple right? Well, unfortunately for me, I could not be blessed with such simplicity. Instead, I was gifted the horrible luck of living in Unova at the wrong time.
My name is Marcel Parker, I am currently fifteen years old, and now only received my first Pokemon. Why after five years I was only now able to get my first Pokemon? Well, allow me to explain.
It all started when I was around nine- almost ten years old. My birthday was fast approaching, and I knew I wanted to become a Pokemon trainer. A problem, however, was the fact I still didn't know what Pokemon I even wanted. Any and all Pokemon I wanted as a starter, my parents would shoot down. Rhyhorn? Too dangerous. Venipede? Too poisonous. Gible? Too willing to gnaw my arm off. My list continuously got shorter and shorter. My birthday was soon nearly a week away, but that's when the chain of events that started my five year long delay began.
Something that most non-native Unovans don't know is that Team Plasma didn't start out the way they turned out. At first, they were just protesters, talking about Pokemon liberation. People thought what they were saying was a bunch of nonsense, so they paid no mind to them. I guess in order to get their message across, they resorted to forcefully stealing Pokemon. That's when they caught the media's attention. It also caught the attention of my parents. They weren't too worried about letting me become a trainer, but I was. What if my Pokemon were stolen by these guys? I told this to my parents, and we all agreed I would become a Pokemon trainer when I turned eleven instead. Well, I'll admit, my Pokemon being stolen wasn't actually the reason I didn't want to start training yet; it was because I still didn't have a starter Pokemon in mind. Had I known how long this would delay me, I probably would have settled for a lab starter Pokemon, and gotten out of the house to begin my training.
Things only got worse after that. Soon, some people started to consider Team Plasma as a terrorist group, some even saying they were on the level of Team Magma and Aqua (that was a big over statement if you ask me, I mean they dressed up like freaking medieval jesters or whatever! That doesn't exactly scream "We're terrorists!"... Maybe that's what they were going for actually...)
The point is, by this time, my eleventh birthday had rolled around, and my parents had deemed training unsafe for me. While I was pretty annoyed with this, I also had to respect their decision on my safety. The Plasma uprising was put down later that year by the gym leaders and a few trainers, and by this point, I was ready to be thrown into the training world. Unfortunately, my parents didn't think so, and I was retained, YET ANOTHER YEAR.
The same thing happened again the next year. I was retained, but this time it was mostly a decision by my mom. My dad was willing to let me go, but my mom would have none of it, and that bothered me greatly.
Finally, the next year, I'm now fifteen years old, and both parents finally agree to let me become a Pokemon trainer. And then Team Plasma rises again. I started to get the feeling this was the universe's way of saying, "Fuck you Marcel." I had almost completely given up on becoming a trainer, but I was finally given a glimmer of hope when my mom told me we were moving to Sinnoh.
I was actually pretty excited to be moving away from Unova. The only place I would really miss would be Castelia City, but I didn't get to go there much anyways, since I lived all the way in Virbank. Seeing a new land would actually be pretty interesting.
We left Unova two months after that, and moved to Sinnoh, into a city called Jubilife. The apartment we bought was spacious, and the city was actually pretty nice. It was basically a smaller, and less polluted Virbank City. We had been living in the city for nearly a month now, and still no signs of me becoming a trainer. For some reason, I had thought that since the Galactic issue in Sinnoh was put down nearly six years ago, there would be no threat to me becoming a trainer here, but no, I'm still not a trainer. I think I had pretty much given up becoming a trainer at this point, but I was so glad a tiny portion of me still wanted to become one.
One day, my Dad walked into my room, without any greeting whatsoever, and sat down on my bed next to me.
"Is there something you need?" I questioned. He just looked at me, smiled, then set down a shiny black, wooden case on my bed. On the top, there was the symbol of a Pokeball, engraved on the top. "Open it," he said calmly. I was a little confused, yet a little excited to open the case. The Pokeball engraving probably should have given it away, but I was still anxious to see what was inside.
I quickly opened the case, and I found what I probably knew what was going to be there anyway. A Pokeball. The following few minutes involved a lot of thanking, admiring of the Pokeball, and uncontrollable grinning. I finally decided it was probably a good idea to go outside and see what Pokemon it was.
I walked to the park two blocks from our house to see my new Pokemon. My dad didn't specify what Pokemon it was, he just wanted me to find out on my own. I threw the Pokeball into the air, and after the blinding flash of white had faded, I was met with a purple, scorpion-bat thing with its tongue hanging out, looking at me. To me, it looked like somebody shoved a Krabby and Golbat into a blender, then made a Pokemon with the mixture. There was also the scorpion tail, but I didn't know of any other Pokemon that had those, so maybe it was made from left over blended Krabby-Golbat.
I'm not the smartest person, so I don't make the smartest decisions. I stuck my finger out at it, and attempted to greet it. "Uh, hi. I'm your new trainer I gue-" I was cut off by the bloodcurdling screams that followed, after it latched one of its pincer claws onto the finger I stuck out.
"Ah! Son of a bitch!" I screamed as I tried prying it off my finger. I shook it around violently before it finally let go. It elegantly glided to the ground a few feet back. "Gli gli-gar!" I think it was laughing at me. I grabbed my finger with my other hand, hoping it wasn't broken. I could still bend it slightly, so that was a good sign... I think.
"What the hell was that for!?" I yelled, my finger still very much in pain. "Gli-gar!" It responded. It also responded by quickly flying into my face, leaving me barley able to breathe. "Mmph, Mm- get... Off!" I tried screaming, but it was very muffled. It was grabbing my hair, and I feared it would pull it right off my head. After much struggle, I managed to finally break its grasp from my head, and I flung it right into a tree where it hit its head, knocking it unconscious. I didn't mean to knock it out, but at least it meant no more painful torture from my new Pokemon. I quickly snatched the Pokeball from the ground, and held the ball out in front of me to return the Gligar. With a flash of red, it receded back into its containment. I stared down at the Pokeball in my hands for a few moments. This Pokemon was mine. This was my own actual Pokemon. This was the Pokemon I would use to start my trainer career, and become strong and powerful. But it didn't like me very much. Slightly disheartening, but it would soon come to like me... Hopefully...