Celadon City
April 2nd, 1001 A.P. (After Pokemon)
The bar was a small, downtrodden place by the looks of it. Not seedy, but not fancy either. It was not a place for tourist's to grab a drink.
The man, however, was no tourist. His body, draped in a trench coat and face shadowed by the lid of a hat, stood underneath the street corner's lone lamp, looking at a picture of his target.
As he figured, the person in the picture matched the person sitting at the bar. Like a seviper on the prowl, he fixated his attention towards his target.
Whereas the springtime rains would deter others from moving out and about in the city, the man felt excitement rise in the cold drops.
He was a man on a mission.
He was a man on the hunt.
He moved forth, towards his prey.
Yes, my name is Luke Tilin.
Yes, I do mind that you sit there. Do I know you?
I don't know you, but you know of me? Well, that sure makes me feel at ease. That was sarcasm, by the way.
A journalist you say?
Oh.
Oh.
You know, I was told in explicit terms to never tell that story, but I'm sure you know the deal with keeping secrets, and how they eat away at you. Well, I'm sure you don't, given your profession and all, but for me, oh man is it hard. I'm like an electrode with too much juice; I just want to explode!
I figured you must have tracked me for a long time, huh? I admire your resolve. It reminds of, well, me! I like that, I can tell I'm going to like you, mister journalist. So, let us make a deal: I tell you my story, I spill my secrets, and you'll get your story. That's what you came to me for, right? My only cost is that you sit here, drink with me, and listen to the whole story. You'll find your answers.
But first - Bartender! Two coffees with a shot of sambuca, each. Of course the Viridian kind, everyone knows the Cinnabarean is tauros crap.
If it's gonna be a long night, I might as well have some fun with it, you know? Fun fact, my mother was from Viridian. Father was from Cherrygrove, but he never really lived there outside of his childhood. He was too much of a wild spirit, my mother used to say.
My father was a merc, you see. He was one of those guys with the big-ass rifles guarding the caravans along the Routes. As such, he never really stayed in one place, always moving around. More importantly, he hated pokemon. Like, he wouldn't even sit in the same room as a Gods-damned eevee. To him, the only good pokemon was a dead pokemon.
When father saved enough money, he moved my mother to Celadon where I was born. Yep, I was born and raised right here. Well, not right here, obviously. Sixth ward, which is the lower-east side if you didn't know. Not poor, definitely not rich. Solidly middle-class, I'd say.
Now, I bet you're wondering how someone with an upbringing like mine could make the greatest discovery the pokemon world has ever seen. And that would be a fair question. The answer lies with the help of one man: Elisia 'The Slowpoke' Mannington.
I see that look on your face. Surely I don't need to tell who he is right? You don't? You need to read up on your Kanto history, son. The man's a legend in the region and in Celadon, and is a personal hero of mine. He helped make me the man I am more than my father ever did. A four-starred contender at the Indigo Plateau, the only reason he didn't win the championship was because Giovanni was that much better of a trainer.
Elisia was a goofy, aloof man. His opponents nicknamed him 'The Slowpoke' thinking it was some sort of insult. In typical Elisia fashion, he turned that against them and wore the name like a badge of honor.
I was nine when I first saw Elisia battle. It wasn't an ordinary match, either; some hotshot trainer from Sinnoh thought he could test his mettle on the Kanto circuit. He had already stomped his way through Winston in Vermilion and Koga in Fuchsia, and Elisia was up next. All my friends had gotten tickets for the match, so of course I wanted to go. But, remember my parents' aversion to pokemon? Yeah, they wouldn't let me go. Naturally, I did the only thing a kid my age would do and that is steal cash from mother's purse and go to the battle anyway. Yeah, I know, I was a shitty kid.
I met up with my friends, and we made our way to the stadium. It wasn't hard to find, considering that the stadium was, and still is, a giant greenhouse in the middle of the fifth ward. The inside was packed and nearly bursting at the seams. Yeah, the battle was that popular. You have to remember that The Slowpoke battled with real style, a mix of cautious awareness of the battlefield and lightning quick aggression when necessary. Not whatever Erika calls poke-battling these days.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"
The crowd hushed in an instant.
"OUR CHALLENGER HAILS FROM VEILSTONE, SINNOH. YOU MIGHT REMEMBER HIM FROM HIS ELECTRIFYING BATTLE AGAINST LEADER KOGA!"
A young man stepped onto the raised podium. Cheers rippled throughout the crowd, not out of support for this trainer, but rather of mere politeness. The trainer's steely blue eyes, magnified a hundred times on the jumbotron, remained cold and unflinching. It was a sense of determination that I would not understand until I was a trainer.
The crowd rumbled as a second trainer appeared.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE PRIDE AND JOY OF THIS CITY, CELADON'S VERY OWN GYM LEADER –"
The crowd exploded into cheers as Elisia's mild face appeared on the screen. He was wearing his signature attire: a navy blue, collared coat with the number ten emblazoned in white letters along the shoulders.
"ELISIA MMMMMAAAAANNNNINGTOOON!"
"BEGIN!"
The bell rang, and red lights flashed on both sides of the field. The challenger released a hardy probopass that floated lazily in the air. Elisia copied in kind with a carnivine, which immediately slithered into the thick grasses that coated much of the field.
Now, any experienced poke-battler would tell you that this round was instantly not in Elisia's favor. Carnivine were strong, but not strong enough to crack probopass's steely exterior. But, making such an assumption would fall into Elisia's trap.
The probopass peppered the field with electric shocks, at times indiscriminately. The carnivine weaved through the grasses, opting for guerrilla warfare rather than a full-on assault. The vined pokemon would pop out for a quick strike, and flee back into the grass before the probopass could counter.
Minutes passed with more of the same. It was not exciting, but it was technically sound. The challenger clearly grew enraged with his pokemon's inability to land a hit. After another ten minutes or so, luck fell the challenger's way. The carnivine leaped for a quick strike, but landed in a gravelly section of the arena. Wasting no time, the steel-type countered with a thundershock.
"ELISIA HAS SIGNALLED FOR A RECALL!"
The white signal came almost immediately. The crowd chattered in confusion. While the carnivine was outmatched physically, it could surely withstand a single thundershock. Therein lies the genius of The Slowpoke. Carnivine was never intended to take on a probopass, that's simply ridiculous. It was used to scout out the opponent, the trainer, and from there, Elisia could plan a strategy.
And that was why Elisia embraced his nickname. Behind his aloof demeanor was a cool, calculating mind that caught opponents off guard.
"WHAT POKEMON WILL ELISIA CHOOSE NOW?"
A pokeball exploded into red light, growing immensely in size.
"IT'S RONALDO! HIS CHAMPION –"
The announcer didn't have time to finish his sentence, as the chesnaught roared across the field, heading directly for the probopass. Panicking, the steel-type fired off thundershocks, only to bounce off harmlessly against chesnaught's earthy shell. The two pokemon collided, and the crowd roared. This was real poke-battling, two pokemon just beating the ever-loving shit out of each other. That crap that Koga and Erika try to pull off? Pussy-shit. Poke-battling is about strength and strategy, not cheap poisons that can end a pokemon's career.
You can keep that on the record, by the way.
The chesnaught absolutely destroyed the probopass. It tried to counter, but the grass-type was too bulky. The white signal flared from the challenger's box, and the injured probopass disappeared in a red light. The challenger wasted no time in sending out his next pokemon, a beefy emboar that greeted the arena with a roar.
I'll spare the details of the rest of the battle. To keep it short, Elisia won, obviously, and the challenger left running with his tail between his legs. That was the first poke-battle I ever saw in person, and it was an awesome. But, my curiosity wasn't quenched. Not yet. Remember, I was not a good kid at that age. I did not interpret rules as rules, rather seeing them as blockades to be bypassed. After the battle, my friends went to leave, and I told them I'd see them later. I had some exploring to do.
I slipped through a door marked 'Celadon Gym Employees Only' amidst the mass exodus of spectators, and made my way through a sterile hallway with cheap fluorescent lighting. The gym employees must have been cleaning up the arena or something because there was not a soul in sight. Doors marked 'Custodial Supplies' and Men's Locker Room' passed me by. A room titled 'Pokemon Utilities' piqued my interest, but it turned out to be nothing more than a storage room for medicines and fertilizers. Dejected, I had all but given up hope until I came across an unmarked door.
With cautious curiosity, I slipped my head past the door. This hallway had expensive Fuschsian carperting – I only knew that because my mother had purchased the same style of carpet for our house – and decent lighting. Silently closing the door behind, I crept along the carpeting. The hallway turned left into an office, and my heart began fluttering. Elegantly carved bookshelves and desks lined the walls. This was, without a doubt, Elisia's office. Then, that meant…
I looked around the room until a found a door that matched the teal coloring of the walls. Bingo. Heart flutters turned to thunderous drumbeats, and I opened the door to an amazing room full of trees and plants. A secret section of Celadon Gym: Elisia's famous private garden.
To say that I was in awe was an understatement. No one stepped into the garden, not even the press. I was one of maybe a handful to ever see the garden in person.
I was amazed almost to a fault. Beyond the vibrant colors of petals and leaves, and the aromatic odors they released, I failed to notice the presence lurking within. I was looking at a particularly interesting plant – one with large yellow petals decorated with red splotches – when a blue vine slithered up my leg and swung me into the air. Too sudden to even scream, I resigned myself to a quick gasp of air as I twisted upside down.
Then, silence. Precious seconds passed that left me hanging, staring into the abyss of plants.
A rumble echoed throughout the garden, and the wall of vines before me twisted and swarmed in inhuman ways, revealing a pair of beady eyes. I am in no way ashamed to admit that I had now thoroughly pissed my pants.
The tangrowth eyed me with curiosity. Of course, nine-year old me had no clue as to what the beast was thinking. It could have crushed my puny existence in seconds, had it chosen. But, perhaps it viewed me as a toy, or maybe it was just in a docile mood. A thought had occurred as I hung upside down. As far as I had known, Elisia only had one tangrowth. Could this be the infamous –
"Koloss." Elisia emerged from behind some plants. He looked at the pokemon, then at me, then back to the tangrowth. "Let him down."
The tangrowth dropped me unceremoniously, and I quickly scrambled to my feet, failing to stutter out an apology or whatever the hell I was thinking at that moment.
Elisia waited with the mild patience he was known for, his face unchanging amidst my rambling. "You shouldn't be here," he said after a moment. His voice held no anger; he only made a simple observation.
I glanced between Elisia and his tangrowth. These were not mere mortals that I stood amongst; these were legends, the best of the best among their craft. I believe I went into enough detail to explain Elisia's fame, but Koloss, his tangrowth, is the reason for his success.
Standing at about ten feet tall, Koloss destroyed the bell-curve in every aspect for his species. If the chesnaught from earlier was his tank, then Koloss was his ace. Don't believe me? When you're done with this, log into the Internet, enter the phrase 'The Showdown at the Summit'. If you can't get access to an Internet café or something, just watch some late-night television. They usually show reruns of the battle on some channels.
Yes, any pokemon that can single handedly ruin an Elite Four member and earn its trainer leadership in the gym circuit is worthy of admiration and fear. It truly is a travesty that upon Lance's rise to the Champion's Throne, he decided to replace Elisia with that hack, Erika. What, you think her vileplume can withstand the full force of a pissed off tangrowth? Lies. Lies and slander. Erika isn't even worthy of kissing his bootstraps.
Anyways, Elisia kneeled down to my trembling body, and placed a soft hand on my shoulder. "What is your name, child?" I answered. "Well, Luke, you have nothing to fear. You are in no trouble. In fact, your curiosity is admirable." He flashed a rare smile. "But, your trespassing is illegal; I suggest you refrain from doing that as much as you can."
I laughed at the joke, and then we talked. I told him about the issues I faced with my father, about his aversion to pokemon, and how much I loved his battle. And, more importantly, he listened.
I remember, clear as day, the words he spoke to me before I left: "You are a curious young man. Never let that leave you. Curiosity helps us grow, curiosity is what made humans control pokemon. Don't let friends or family ever stop you from being curious."
I took that to heart. I left after that, walking with a hop in my step all the way home. I believe there was also a squish in my step, you know, due to my piss-soaked pants. It was the best day of my young life.
Four months later was the worst day of my young life, and possibly to this date. That was the day a snorlax, recently waking up from its endless slumber, rampaged its way to Celadon and through the walls surrounding the sixth ward. Nothing survived in its wake. My father died trying to combat the beast, and my mother died a few days later, succumbing to her wounds.
At the time, I didn't think it, but now I realized how lucky I was. I was not in the sixth ward when the snorlax struck. I was in the fourth, playing with my friends.
Now, let me be clear: that snorlax did not kill my father. No, it was hubris that killed him. Simply put, this is still a pokemon world that we live in. Our lives are defined by pokemon, given meaning by pokemon, and taken away by pokemon. Anyone that says anything else is flat out wrong.
My father was killed because he could not adapt to these facts. Guns and knives can't kill snorlax. But you know what could? A pokemon. And yet, my father refused to believe that fact, and it killed him.
The next month or so were difficult. I had no immediate family to reach out to, and all my friends seemingly disappeared from my life in the wake of the attack. At ten years old, I was left to stealing and pickpocketing to get by.
I was pocketing the cash from a convenience store register one early morning when Elisia walked through the front door flanked by two Celadon Gym trainers. He didn't say a word, but the disappointment etched across his face told me everything. Naturally, I was too shocked to speak, but I do recall that he remembered me from the garden.
After a moment, Elisia uttered a single order, and the gym trainers flanked my sides, hooked my arms, and dragged me off.
I was pulled after Elisia, past the shopping mall, past the police department, and straight through the doors of Celadon Gym. After scouring the labyrinthine hallways, we finally ended up in a classroom of sorts filled with people young and old. The gym trainers tossed me in a seat and I found myself face to face with Elisia.
He handed me a notebook and pen. "Pay attention," he added.
And then, I learned. And when I turned sixteen, Elisia awarded me my first pokemon: a tangela, one of Koloss's spawns. After that, I became a trainer. I got four badges in five years – nothing spectacular, but fairly impressive nonetheless.
What? You want me to tell you about my pokemon team? Well – urgh. Maybe at a later time.
I retired from pokemon training after failing to get my fifth badge. Be patient, I will tell you more about that later. Everything has relevance in my story.
I applied to Saffron University with the money I made from poke-battling, and I graduated with a dual-degree in pokemon physiology and archaeology, and a minor in religion. I wrote my master's thesis on the spread of mythology across the various regions in the Pacific Ocean.
It did not go unnoticed. Blaine must have read my thesis because he offered to hire me almost immediately after I graduated. I'm sure you've heard how he's a mythology nut? Yeah, totally true.
I worked for Blaine for five years, and then I met Antonio Giovanni. Yes, that Antonio Giovanni. Former Champion of the Indigo Plateau, Antonio Giovanni. Current Gym Leader of Viridian, Antonio Giovanni.
He came to me with a job and prospects. How could I say no?
I see that look in your eyes. Some might call it impatience, but I like to think of it as unfiltered curiosity. That's good. But you have to remember: every story has its beginnings. You can't just plant a stalk and expect it to grow. No, you need to feed the seeds first, let it absorb all those nutrients. Then, the stalk can grow.
That's what I'm doing here; I'm feeding the seeds. It's not what you want to hear, but it's important nonetheless.
Because this isn't any ordinary story.
No, this is the story about I – the person sitting before you – made the greatest discovery the pokemon world has ever seen.
This is the story about how I irrefutably proved the existence of Mew.
…
Bartender! A round of the Veilstone whisky, neat please! A dash of bitters in each, if you will. It's going to be a long night.
Four-Starred Contender – A trainer that has beaten all four Elite Four members. Only four-starred contenders are eligible to compete for the championship. As such, a three-starred contender has defeated three Elite Four members, and so on.
Wards – Most cities in the Kanto Region are divided into wards. Celadon City, for example, is divided into six wards. The first and second ward houses the financial district, and is where the famous Celadon Mall is located. The third ward is upper class homes. The fourth has parks and restaurants. The fifth holds the Celadon Gym. The Sixth is residential for middle and lower class; the damages from the snorlax attack still remain evident to this day.
The White Signal – The equivalent to 'raising the white flag'. In league-certified poke-battling arenas, the white signal denotes the end of the round, meaning that that trainer's pokemon is no longer eligible to battle.
Cinnabarean Sambuca – Most sambuca is made with anise seeds and elderberries. The Cinnabareans, for some un-Godsly reason, triple-distill the initial mix. To combat the acetone taste, liquorice extract is added. After failing to sell the sambuca outside of Cinnabar, they tried a new marketing campaign that turned viral: "It might not taste good, it might not even be sambuca, but it'll get you drunk as fuck."
Tangrowth (#465 International); The Vine Pokemon, clustervines, vine beast
Characteristics: Grass-Type; ~6'7"/~283.5 lbs.; bipedal
Evolution: Tangela (pre-evolution); feed-based evolution (this pokemon only evolves by consuming quality food of vast quantities; as such, it is rare to find in the wild)
Diet: Nitrogen and carbon found in soil; it feeds through its root-like feet
Range: Warm, humid climates with mild winters; Southern Kanto, Southern Johto, The Sevii Islands, Orange Islands, Coastal areas of Hoenn, and the Great Marsh region of Sinnoh
Description: The tangrowth and its pre-evolution, tangela, are made entirely of vines. Poke-biologists classify these vines into Type A and Type B. Type A vines are the clusters of blue, thorny vines that are iconic to the species. These nerveless vines are purely defensive and, if the need arises, offensive in nature, and can be severed, burned, or detached without causing harm to the tangrowth. Type B vines consists of the tangrowth's nervous and root systems. Characterized by gnarled knots of hardened wood, the only visible portion is the root-like feet as the rest of the body is hidden behind Type A vines.
"Ahh, tangrowth. Truly an exceptional specimen of plant pokemon. What most people don't know is that the Type A vines grow as quickly as its roots can feed. So, starve it, keep it hungry for a few days before battle, and when you send it out, you have a hungry, angry pokemon that can double in size as the battle rages. That's how I beat Oren; he wasted too much time, and allowed Koloss to absorb the field's nutrients. By the time he realized what had happened, he couldn't close the distance, and his thunder attacks couldn't get through the vines. Getting crushed was his only option."
– Elisia Mannington, his thoughts and insights after 'The Showdown at the Summit'
A/N: This story started out as an idea I had. It seemed interesting, so I ran with it. I did take some inspiration from other pokemon fanfiction, but what you are reading right now is from entirely my own ideas.
