(This is, in fact, that death-falling-into-pokemon-world story I promised. Trying not to make it Mary-Sueish, I hope. Okay, I don't own pokemon!)

My name is Lucida Saxon, better known as Lucy. I am a freak, geek, nerd, and a romantic. I'm fifteen. I still play pokemon. And in the rougher parts of New Jersey, standing out like that is NOT a good idea.

But I can't help it. They've been there for me when my parents got taken away by the police; they were there when the judge put me in an abusive orphanage. They stuck by me.

And for that, I owe them. My mom and dad were junkies; they wanted nothing to do with me, except to have me get their heroin needles. The TV in our house is shit, but I watch pokemon anyway.

I hated Ash Ketchum for getting to go on a pokemon journey. What wouldn't I give to have that opportunity. I settled down to watch another episode with him in it. My beloved Harley. I was that pathetic. I had a crush on a TV character.

But he was oh so real, so different from the other men in my life. My abusive foster dad, my junkie parents, my foster siblings, and Mark Washburn, who hated my fucking guts.

And now I had to go face him at school. I looked in the mirror. Black hair was mussed up, with rainbow strands caught amongst the tangles. "Hairy Tangela." I muttered.

Brushing it quickly, I threw on my trenchcoat, shrugged on a pair of old converse, and I was off. My shirt and pants were from sleep still; fuzzy little fanged spiders adorned by shirt; red bats were on my pants.

I raced to the bus stop, and clambered on just in time. I sat in the back, and counted my things. Homework? Beer-stained, but check. DS? Check. Gameboy? Check. Laptop? Check. Ipod? Check. Sketchbook? Check? I recited this mental list, then sat down, turned on my DS, and my iPod. I put on 'Vampires will Never hurt You', and began to play.

My newest Umbreon, Billie Joe, was about to participate in a Super Contest. On the way to school, we won the Ultra rank. I was thrilled. The bus doors whooshed open, and I stepped out. The kids milled around each other.

In this school, you were faux-ghetto, or you were dead. Racist, ignorant, bastards, the lot of them. And Mark Washburn led this pathetic circus. "Heeeey, Lucy-Goosey, what's up?" He drawled. I shut my DS. "Nothing, Mark. Go away."

He frowned. "Aw, you're so mean! All I want is a bit of attention, Lucy-Goosey..." I clipped him with my fist.

"Fuck. Off." I growled, then started off to class. I heard him yelling I was gonna die, but I shrugged it off. Turning on my DS, I whispered to Billie Joe, "Now, where were we?" I played throughout Math, Science, and History, only paying attention in Art and Literature.

School didn't mean much; the teachers would pass you just to get you out of your class. So I went to lunch. Eating a small salad, I worked on my gym training in Crystal. Lunch being over, I headed to Gym, and immediately cut school.

Sitting outside, I didn't hear Mark come up behind me. But I felt the cold steel of his gun, all right. His last words to me were, "Die, bitch." As my head snapped forward, I thought one last thing; "Oh, my god, how cliché."

-Unknown POV- I was sitting down, right outside of Slateport, with Cacturne and Banette at my side. I was just enjoying the sun, and the thought of more contests tonight, when I heard a thrashing noise in the tree above me. I looked up.

"Cacturne, go up and check it out!" He nodded, and clambered up the tree. I gripped Octillery's pokeball, not knowing what Cacturne would bring down. He brought down a girl.

She appeared to be passed out, and sick. She opened her eyes. "Oh, don't tell me I'm in the hospita..." She looked at me. "Hi. I'm Harley. Want a cookie?"

–Lucy's POV-

Oh my god, this is insane. I have four options:

One, I am drunk. Two, I am high. Three, this all very real, and I should be running away screaming. Four... goddamn, yeah, I want a cookie.