Hey everyone. I'm new around here and this is my first shot at a fiction after reading a bunch of others and being inspired to try my hand. If you decide to give it a chance, I hope you find something you like and enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. Now, without further adieu...

Pokémon

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NavyChaos

Prologue: History

When you were a kid, what did you dream of?

Did you imagine yourself growing up to become the world's greatest chef? Maybe you were going to be the very best Trainer or Coordinator. Maybe you just wanted to be like your mom or dad. Normal ambitions for a young person, a bit average but there's nothing wrong with that. Do you want to know what I dreamt of? Escape. Escape from this damn world and all of the hurt and pain that goes along with living in it. Ironically, much to my own chagrin my wish for escape was granted. I never thought I'd give anything to take it back.

By the time I was born, the fighting had consumed not only most of the nation, but most of the world. I should count myself lucky I can still say I'm among the living, but every now and then I find my thoughts drifting to the sweet relief of death's icy grasp. Things would be easier that way. Hell, if I just knew why I was spared it would be easier.

In the twenty-five years that have passed between when everything started and now, not a single person knows just what got us to where we are now. Sure, there are whispers here and there from conspirators of the corruption of the Elite's, as well as some long dead organization by the name of Rocket tinkering with things that they couldn't control, but like most things they are to be taken with a grain of salt.

The popular idea, if you even want to call it that, defaults to that of a series of unknown terrorist attacks that struck the nation all those years ago. It was never discovered who committed the act. No one ever had the chance to investigate. By then we were far too preoccupied.

Twenty-five years ago, over the course of two weeks, various large scale burglaries were committed across the regions. Saffron, Kanto; Goldenrod, Johto; and Mossdeep, Hoenn. Always the scientific center of the region, and always with no credible evidence leading to a culprit. Police investigated, but not once could they find even a hint of a print or scent or anything to link any one person or organization to the break ins. As it turns out, they never got the chance.

In that same year, a virus like no other was released onto the unsuspecting populace of the world. Of course, when it first hit, people paid no mind to it. Doctors assumed it was just some type of strange mutation of the common flu and that it was only a seasonal problem. Hell, they couldn't have been more off the mark. The signs of infection were small at first, even negligible: patients found themselves with symptoms ranging from itchiness to congestion accompanied by a bad fever. Over a few weeks however, things progressed, and the people who had shown only small effects at the onset of infection began to develop worse and worse symptoms.

The itching which had until then been a mere annoyance, erupted into puss filled lesions and the fever's, which at most times had been bearable, rose to the point of causing severe brain damage. Many were hospitalized. Many died. Quarantines were finally put into effect, though by then the virus was everywhere. As if that wasn't enough, the biggest change had yet to come. Less than two months before the virus had made itself known to the world. In less time than it that it made the jump. Suddenly the thing which had been ravaging the human race was attacking everything. The formerly immune Pokémon were susceptible, and once again the world found itself unprepared for the threat posed against it.

As with humans, at first it was hard to decipher between infected and non-infected individuals. Contrary to the negative effects humankind developed, Pokémon actually seemed to benefit from the perceived illness. They began to grow faster and stronger over a shorter period of time and with less training than if they had contracted the Pokérus. Alas, as with previous cases, it wasn't long before things spiraled out of control. Oddly the Pokémon continued to keep the positive traits of infection, only amplified to a scale greater than anyone had previously thought possible. Each individual seemingly developed an abnormal type of cancer which originated inside of them and eventually caused them to lose control of their abilities. Fire Pokémon were scorched to death from the inside out by the heat of their own flames. Water Pokémon drowned from the same compound they'd called home, irrelevant of the fact that their gills could filter the oxygen out of it. Psychic Pokémon had their very being crushed by the raw, unrestrained power of their mind. You get the picture. Communication to the outside world was cut off soon after. All we knew was that our nation was collapsing and everyone was helpless to sit by and watch. It wasn't long before things turned into a power struggle.

Out of fear, towns and cities began to rally their surviving trainers and Pokémon to wage war to see who would control what. People destroyed people. People destroyed Pokémon. Pokémon destroyed anything. Everything was fair game and we were truly in a brutal era. When the dust settled ten years after it had all begun, everyone was on the defensive and no one was willing to compromise. We barely noticed that the virus that had started it all had up and disappeared. Maybe everyone who was left was immune. Maybe the virus was just waiting for a better time to strike.

Nowadays the fighting still continues. It's rarer now, but there are still roaming camps of bandits and poachers who live to rape and pillage those of us who are trying to rebuild. As if that's not bad enough, territory, resources, goddamn anything and everything is a fair enough reason to initiate an attack. Camps, as we refer to our towns and cities now, all have a loose form of government more similar to military structure than anything else. While other cities have their gym leaders as head, our leader of the camp, essentially our general is the oldest among us. An ex-trainer who lost all of his Pokémon in the pandemic, he tells us what to do, how to do it and he's the one who deals out punishment if we fail.

His immediate inferior's may as well have been our captain's. They ran the everyday operations of the camps, rationing food and water, overseeing training routines and looking for standouts they could use. If you really have to classify me among those kinds of people, your best bet is probably Sergeant.

For the sake of protection, preparation and safety, each camp has a faction that they've trained since childhood to be their protectors, myself among them. I was one of those stand outs the captain's look for. Ironically, as an orphan forced into making my own way of life since I'd wandered into Azalea at age five, the same thing that prompted my wish to leave was the same thing which drove me to stand out: the need for a chance at a real life. I've developed since then. I am skilled in over twelve styles of hand to hand combat, I've been trained to handle weapons ranging from the small bowie knife I was assigned almost seven years ago up to and including the crossbows we were forced to use against the yearly Beedrill swarms and I'm a natural strategist, born and bred. Azalea is my home and yesterday, the day of my seventeenth birthday I was set to be "promoted" and receive a Pokémon to train as a camp guardian. It was a coincidence that my promotion and my birth date happened to fall on the same day. It was a tragedy that I wasn't there to help when everyone needed me most.

Well there you have it. I'm really not sure what to say so let me know what you think! Later.

~NC