A Note to my Readers: Hi again! I know it's been forever since I last updated, but I had work over the summer (and sadly a bit too much LoL and warframe) and started my freshman year in college (DAGRWOAFZCHHF). I just finished my first quarter's finals, so now I'm going to devote a lot more time to this story. I got a DS Lite so now I can play through my Emerald as I go for reference, but there's something you should all know.

I'M GOING TO REDO THE WHOLE THING FROM SCRATCH

That's right. I'm redoing it. We will not get to see how the team dynamics work out now that 75% of the team is crippled in some way, one of whom is on the verge of death, while the other member is just waiting to kill the rest of them. We won't see what the deal is with Gray, or with the Absol, or with Hades or Mei or ANYONE! There is a reason for this madness of mine, aside from me being just bored.

I don't like how it's going.

So far, I've been writing this whole thing without the slightest amount of forethought. And, let's be honest, I started this in middle school. I think I've slightly matured as a writer since then, even if writing hasn't at all been my focus for the past few years. In short, I'm not satisfied with what's happened so far, so I'm hitting the reset button.

And this is gonna be a hell of a reset…I hope.

Critiques and comments are always welcome, and COMMENTS ESPECIALLY! I really enjoy chatting with people, so if you feel lonely just hit me up on whatever.

~.~.~.~

This world is not kind.

People underestimate the capability others have for evil. While I choose to believe that people are just as capable of good, evil is much easier. When you do things society considers to be "bad", you aren't bound by morals, ethics, and even in rare cases, emotion. The latter is a mystery to me. Of course I have feelings, those are humans. But of the many physical characteristics that make me stand out—long and rugged lime-green hair notwithstanding—my apparent lack in understanding emotions shows most evidently.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that this critique of the world and myself is all that I can remember about myself. I don't even know my own name. I don't know why I wear the clothes I wear, or what the significance of the three stones around my neck carry, or where home is for me.

The best part is that I couldn't care less.

One thing I do remember that isn't completely cynical is that pokemon exist, and that they are amazing creatures. They are intelligent, and they do what humans do, be it good or evil. It's like they're programmed to be bored from birth, and just ride whatever train they catch first, be it that of a serial mass-murderer or that of a well-loved talk-show host. No, that's not a good example. A better one would be that once you get to know them, they also get to know you, and you learn to coexist as part of a single organism; a team. Maybe that's why pokemon enamor me this much, I just want others on my team.

It's not like I have anything better to do.

~.~.~.~.~

To get a Pokemon here in Littleroot Town (I prefer A Little Rot Town), you need to fill out an application at the local laboratory, and then get whisked off into a series of pointless interviews that ask about basic battle information. From there on, it's mystery. There's some kind of contract you have to sign to undergo Step 3, and that includes a nondisclosure agreement tied to your Trainer License: break the agreement, lose your license.

The town was bustling with activity, even this early in the morning. The local market was occupied by the old hags who make up a majority of this town, arguing over the smallest gram of Duckling and Miltank meat as if their opulent lives depended on it. Unbeknownst to them, the children of the market would try—and in rare cases succeed—in picking the purses of these elderly women. Of course, where there are pick-purses, there are police, and the lone Arcanine officer had the morning shift. Noon often includes cops with Mightyena and Sableye, because nothing intimidates people like a pokemon who can reduce another's strength with a mere glare and snarl.

I only know this much about the market area because, for the past week, this is where I'd lived. While I didn't have a pokemon, I knew the basics of fighting, and thus the children didn't come anywhere near my vicinity. I may not care if people steal or not, but if they steal around me, I don't get my free scraps, and that irritates me to no bounds. One of the bigger boys still has a mark on his lower back from when he tried and failed to pick a purse while I was about to get a Tamato berry salad. I didn't get my Tamato berry salad that night. He compensated me with his day's earnings. He tried to cheat me of half of what he had, so I beat half of his body into the ground. Fair as it was in my view, the children didn't take as much of a liking to it, especially since I never got in their way otherwise. The stall owners loved it, and I got free food way more often. I never figured out if that was because they preferred that I didn't try to assault them, or if they were grateful for the lack of thief activity I brought with me. Either way, I didn't care; sustenance is sustenance, and when you live my lifestyle of not eating pokemon flesh, you get what you can.

Tomato berries aside, this morning was the morning when I finally figured out what lay behind the non-disclosure agreement. I was 5 minutes and an open door away from filling out my application, which meant 15 minutes from my interview, meaning a net total of about 30 minutes away from reading the fabled contract. Whatever it was, I'd kneel to it, bow down and kiss its feet no matter how much it made me regret being born. I needed a pokemon.

I needed a family.