Welcome, one in all, to the insane set of misadventures known as Ternion.

Full Summary: An over-sheltered runaway, a girl suffering from clinical paranoia, and a schizophrenic ex-nun from Kanto embark on a magical(?) journey though Sinnoh. One believes time is against her, another is quite sure that a dead Magby haunts her, and the only sane one just wants to get his badges and prove his worth. One thing's for sure: Sinnoh is a thousand times more interesting when every second is its own opponent.

Rating: T, for intermittent use of the "F-bomb" and other such curses.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or any part thereof.

(AN): This is simply a prelude, written in three different points of view- each POV uses first person. Kind of a way to introduce y'all to the characters. Don't worry, everything goes back to the way things -should- be in the next chapter. Each section is clearly separated. With that, I leave you to this insane mess of a story.


[Day 00: Introduction]


{Eva}

2:41 and 00 seconds.

One-Mississippi

2:41 and 01 seconds.

Two-Mississipp-

I didn't even have time to sound out the last syllable before the clock moved another second forward in time.

I knew it. I fucking knew it. Somewhere, somehow, the ancient master of time is laughing at me, adding a few seconds here and subtracting a few more just when I need them. It's sneaky, you know? It doesn't ever actually add a -whole- second. It adds a tenth, or a twentieth, or a hundredth... and no one seems to notice.

...But I do. I've been cataloging my clock for hours a night, making notes whenever it seemed to disagree with my counting. I opened up my book, and made a new entry. It's the exact same notation every time. Dash, date, time (in 24-hour format), offense.

- September 24th. 0241 hours. Skip forward in time, by one-fifth of a second.

I closed the book, and patiently waited for the clock to start its next minute, which, by the time I had written everything down, was 2:43. I missed an entire minute. The master of time probably fucked with that minute so much that I would have a whole book full of entries based only on that one instant in time.

Time is against me. It always has been. No one seems to get that- my mother just shakes her head, and my father is too busy petting his Swampert while watching some vague athletic event on the television. Heh, he never counts the seconds in those damn events. I do. The master of time absolutely loves to mess with time in events such as those.

Goddammit. 2:45 is in the midst of passing, and I'm not counting.

I see your influence, master of time. I know your game. I know you're against me. And someday, I will defeat you and wrinkle out the folds of the horrendous beast you've created. And all will be well.


{Sara}

It's raining. It's raining hard. Will there be hail? I certainly don't enjoy hail.

My god, look at that man's raincoat! It's so yellow! It almost hurts my eyes. I mean seriously, who wears a coat that bright? I feel as if I am catching some sort of virus from it.

You are, my dear, you are

Oh no. NO. I thought I escaped you when I left Johto! I left you at the harbor, I know I did! Then I sailed here and... YOU. You followed me? Where are you? Where are you?

...It's not answering. Did I kill it? Oh Arceus above, did I finally kill that dead little monster?

...The man in the yellow raincoat has stopped, and now he's looking at me. I don't quite know why. Certainly he could hear that blasted little demon. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me. Go about your business, man in yellow raincoat.

...I have to get out of here. Perhaps Jubilife city will offer me some comfort.


{Aden}

Monitors asleep? Check.

Video surveillance tape looped? Check.

Alarm system deactivated? ...Still working on that one.

I swear, all those bastards want to do is keep me here. The coding algorithm they loaded this damn system with is insanely robust. Sometimes, obtaining a Porygon in semi-legal methods from a "friend" in an ankle-length black trench coat and midnight-black sunglasses is a good thing. "Hax", as I have affectionately dubbed it, is doing quite well in its battle against parental tyranny.

Speak of the devil. Final passcode cracked. Goodbye, home. Hello, Pokemon League.

Going back to the checklist:

Alarm system deactivated? Check.

I cracked open the window at a rate that could be beaten by a Slowpoke. With every damn centimeter, I hoped with all of my brain that the damn system wouldn't restart and blare a wake-up call to the dictators from whence I came.

Ten centimeters. Nothing. I opened it the rest of the way, and let the cool fall air flutter through my usually warm room. I shivered a bit at the change of temperature, and pulled out a pair of scissors to begin my work on the mesh screen that stood as a final bastion for my imprisonment.

A few seconds later, Hax popped out of the terminal and silently floated next to me. It was my partner- really, my first Pokemon, although the dictators would know nothing of this.

With every damn clip the scissors made, I considered myself one tiny inch closer to freedom. I've dreamed of traveling Sinnoh's roads for years- ever since I was younger, I wanted to have a stellar team of Pokemon that would rival that of any Gym Leader.

Thanks to the despots that I call "parents", that never happened.

My tenth birthday came along. I was too young. My eleventh, same excuse. Twelfth? They didn't think I was "ready" yet. Thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth all held the same damn excuse. At sixteen, they blatantly told me that I was to stay at home. Help mother. Admire father's previous battles.

As of two hours and forty minutes ago, I am seventeen. I'm not waiting for any excuse. I doubt there would even be one.

Fuck it all. They can't hold me back. I'm leaving this place, and I'm only coming back when and if I'm satisfied with my team's strength. Hax quietly hummed next to me, perhaps in some form of wonderment at the cutting of the mesh. Why it took interest in that, I have no idea. Porygons are weird.

One final cut. My hands eased down on the scissors, and I relished in the sound of the mesh screen falling one story down into the bushes below.

A black backpack sat on the bed, packed to the brim with everything I could ever possibly need. I grabbed a Pokeball from the side, and withdrew Hax. It had done enough work for today.

They say you learn something every day. Today, or tonight, rather, I learned that a seventeen year old can indeed make a successful jump from a second story window, provided that he hang on the window ledge and drop to the bushes below. Also, bushes are angry, angry plants that enjoy giving numerous scratches, even through thick black jeans. Little fuckers.

That's it. It's a cool night, and I'm glad that I've got a light jacket to combat the bitter wind that's blowing against me, trying to get me to go back to that damned place. Hopefully Sandgem will hold the beginning of my future.


(AN): Yeah. It's gonna be a crazy ride. Note to all: Writing for a schizo in first person is (apparently) insanely difficult (for me).