Disclaimer: In about ten years, I'll have saved up enough money to buy
Pokémon. When that day comes, the world will PAY for not showing Typhlosion
in the TV show! *grumble grumble*
SC: I've had this idea in my head for quite some time now, but have been too lazy to actually type it out. The thought always intrigued me: the Pokédex entries for Seviper and Zangoose said they were long-running rivals, but what would it be like to actually experience their rivalry? And, what if that rivalry turned into a full-fledged war? Oh, the excitement. Well, here it is. Enjoy the show!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Early Spring, west of Mauville City, Fifteen years ago
Pamela Lynette Drake, who was currently hiking along the rough trail of Jagged Pass, had always wanted a Pokémon. When she was ten, the Pokémon League hadn't yet instated the New Trainers Act, which allowed Pokémon trainers to receive their first Pokémon from the nearest Professor. Even so, her father had always told her never to get involved with such "disgusting pests," or so he called them; however, she found Pokémon to be wonderfully interesting, and often trekked into the forest, against her father's wishes, to look for Pokémon.
Now, eleven years later, Pam could search to her heart's desire for Pokémon, right alongside her new husband, Edward Drake. She was fortunate to have married a field researcher for the Mauville Gym, because Edward, or Ed, needed all the help he could get in his particular career. They were currently working on an important assignment directly from Wattson himself: the Drakes were to uncover the identity of a mysterious Pokémon that had been causing trouble in the area.
"Now, honey," Ed said through a slight groan as he scaled a particularly large boulder, "are you sure you're up to this? This is your first big task, and I'm not sure you can handle it. . ."
"Nonsense," Pam grunted, climbing across the rock behind him. "I'm doing fine. Besides," she sighed as she sat down on the rock where he was resting, "I couldn't let Wattson give you all the credit."
Ed smiled. Man, was she ever a good woman to marry. "All right, if you say so. Let's continue on, shall we? We're nearly there." He stood up against the weight of his heavy backpack, and, reaching down, grabbed his wife's slender fingers in his own callous ones.
It was a two-hour hike, not because of the slope or the length of the trail, but because of the pebbles, rocks, and boulders that were littered across the ground as though a Graveler had sneezed its skin off. A narrow path wound its way around most of the bigger stones, snaking along to the base of Mount Chimney. It was in this area, near the Cable Car station at the end of the trail, that the Drakes had been sent to investigate.
After the grueling trudge up the hill, the Pokémon researcher flopped onto the ground and lied on his back, giving Pam enough time to whip out her binoculars and study their surroundings. A simple wooden building containing the cable car office, thick wires leading to the mountain's base, a few scattered saplings along the edges of the rocky plateau, and other than that, it was barren land. There weren't many places for a Pokémon to hide, especially not a trouble making one; the couple had determined that in order to cause such damage the mystery Pokémon would have to be bigger than a Growlithe. No hiding place on this pitiful patch of the planet could hide even a Rattata, much less a Growlithe.
"So," Ed began, breaking the patient silence, "what exactly has this Pokémon been up to?"
"What, you came all the way up here and you don't even know what your target did?" his wife asked, a bit of surprise in her voice.
"Hey, I'm the Field Researcher. I do the stuff in the field. You're supposed to gather all the details before we come, Pamela," replied Ed sarcastically.
Pam sighed, sat down on a mottled olive stone, and pulled a thin spiral notebook from the bowels of her bulky pack. She flipped it open with one hand, and ran the index finger of her free hand across the page, searching for the notes she had taken while on the phone with Wattson. "Here it is," she announced finally after finding what she needed. "Well, this is one problem Pokémon if you ask me. Says here that it's attacked six trainers in the past two weeks, ravaged the campsites of trainers and picnickers, and it even stole a Pokéball from a hiker, but it was recovered a few hours later with bite-sized scratch marks on the sides. Probably thought it was a fruit of some kind. . ." she wandered off subject for a minute, then realigned herself to the correct sentence. "To quote the Mauville Morning News: 'This Pokémon is deemed highly dangerous. Special precautions should be taken if one is to travel anywhere near the base of Mount Chimney. If one should discover any information on this mystery menace, report to the Mauville Gym immediately.' End quote." Pam finished her reading and closed the spiral with a soft slap.
Ed whistled through his uneven teeth. "Boy, do we have a job to do up here. We might as well get started." He slipped the straps of his heavy pack off his shoulders and let them fall to the ground. "Our packs we can leave - we won't need them if we stay in the general area." Pam nodded and removed her own baggage. They were only just getting started with their work, and already the streaks of crimson and gold were raking across the land from the setting sun.
"It'll be dark soon," Pam noted, eyeing the long shadows that she and her husband were leaving behind them. "We're going to have to stay at the cable car office tonight; I'm sure they won't mind, as long as we tell them it's gym business."
"Never mind that," Ed said sternly. "Let's focus on the task at hand." His voice seemed to resonate with sudden courage, alertness - Pam recognized it immediately. Ed's attitude always changed drastically when the job got exciting, and possibly dangerous. "I say we start near that drop off. There might be a small cave that the brute is hiding in.
The pair of researchers headed for the cliff's edge and tentatively leaned over. It was a sheer drop, nearly perpendicular to the ground beneath it. "No Pokémon could live here, except maybe a Flying-type. . . But those bite- marks couldn't have been made by any bird. . . Hmm. . ." Pam thought aloud. "Maybe it's. . ." she stopped suddenly when a loud rustling sound met her ears. She spun 'round, nearly losing her balance in the process, and saw her backpack fidgeting across the rock on its own.
"Ed, look!" she cried, but he was far ahead of her, halfway to the backpack, and pulling a shining orb out of his pocket. "Go Zigzagoon!" Ed hollered, and tossed the pearly orb of red and white towards the lump of moving canvas. The Pokéball split open, a flash of bright light appeared briefly, and a small, tan-and-ivory Pokémon materialized out of seemingly nowhere. Its normally warm and curious yellow eyes were narrowed in cold anger, and its already bristly fur was standing on end. A growling noise came from the Zigzagoon's throat, and the bag seemed to quiver when it heard the aggressive sound.
"Okay Zigzagoon, use tackle on the bag!" Ed commanded, and the clatter of claws on stone was heard as the little Pokémon dashed across the plateau and rammed its head against the bulging side of the pack. A Pokémonfell through the top of the bag, but before either of the Drakes could determine what species it was, there was a flurry of snowy fur and a flash of steely red claws, and their Zigzagoon was knocked back. Whatever species it was, it scored a direct hit Slash attack on the young Zigzagoon before dashing off behind the thin row of trees. The raccoon-like Pokémon whimpered; no surprises from the Drakes, even in the steadily darkening light they could see the gash across their poor Pokémon's side.
"Zigzagoon, return!" Ed declared, and the metallic Pokéball opened, swallowing the small Pokémon whole and closing tightly. "Pam," he said, gazing into the tree line in the direction their attacker went. "You go after it. I'll take care of Zigzagoon, and then I'll be right after you. Go!" His tone of voice was not one to contradict, so Pam nodded and dashed down the thin trail which led after the mysterious Pokémon.
This path was obviously not taken by humans often, as it was barred with thorny shrubs and tree branches. By the time that she reached a small clearing, Pam was covered in scrapes and cuts. She glanced around nervously, for if this Pokémon could injure a Zigzagoon like that, in an indistinguishable blur of movement, who knows what it could do to her. . . Pam shivered at the thought.
At first glance, the clearing seemed to be filled with nothing but trash: crumpled papers, skins off of various fruits, even what looked like a shredded picnic basket, but then her eyes caught something else. A nest, across the clearing from her, partially hidden beneath a thick shrub. Pam looked around again, crossed the distance quickly, then leaned over the bush and pushed away the branches.
"Oh my. . ." she whispered, for the nest was filled with the shattered shells of Pokémon eggs. Everywhere, bits of leathery black shell dotted the ground, now that she looked, and the nest itself had a gooey residue, a mixture of yolk and blood, covering it. "You poor things," Pamela murmured, laying a hand gently on the side of the twig-made nest. "You never had a chance. That bully of a Pokémon stole your lives before they even began. . ."
A single tear rolled down her cheek, and raising her hand to brush it away she knocked some of the leaves that had been on the ground aside. There, lying in a half-dug hole and covered with rotting leaves, was a single Pokémon egg. It was the same size as its fellows had been, with the same leathery feel, but rather than being a black egg it was colored a deep, regal blue like that of the ocean on a bright summer's day.
Slowly, Pam picked it up. It felt quite heavy for a Pokémon egg, but none the less she felt the warmth of life, even a faint heartbeat, coming from whatever was inside the leathery confines of the shell. She instinctively looked around for another Pokémon, one that could be this egg's parent - but none were to be found. All of the nearby Pokémon had been scared away by the same menace the Drakes had seen earlier.
Pam stood up and clutched the egg close to her body. She wasn't about to let some scoundrel of a Pokémon eat this egg. She didn't care what was inside it: be it Magikarp or Dragonite, she would do everything in her power to protect this single egg. Fumbling around in the dark of the night, Pam made her way back to the cable car's office.
~*~*~
"Pam, you know we can't keep it, it's a wild Pokémon egg. . ."
"I don't care!" Pam snapped. "I'm not going to let anything happen to it!"
"Pamela, we don't have the time to take care of a baby Pokémon. That's why we agreed to not have our own child, remember?" Ed reminded her.
His wife looked down sullenly and muttered, "Yes, I know. But Ed," she added, looking up, "we can't just leave it there. I told you, its parents weren't around, and the others it was with had already been eaten. . ."
Ed sighed. He reached across the table where they were sitting and lifted his wife's chin. Soft amber eyes met brilliant green ones, and Ed said calmly, "I am aware of that, my dear. But what are we supposed to do? Raise it ourselves?"
Mrs. Drake shook her head slowly. "No, we don't have to raise it all the way. . . just let me hatch it. Once it's hatched and grown accustomed to being outside the egg, we can give it to Wattson and let him train it." She gave her husband a pleading look down the bond of their locked eyes.
The researcher pulled his hand away from Pam's dainty chin, and after a moment of thought his face split into a sheepish grin. "All right. You can hatch it, but once it's hatched it goes straight to the Gym. Agreed?"
"Agreed." They shook on it, and left the table to go to their room. Ed was asleep as soon as he hit the bed, but Pam stayed up a bit longer, cleaning the dirt from the egg and wrapping it in a towel to keep it extra warm. She laid it onto the pillow aside her head, and Pam stared at it for an hour before finally falling asleep, her dreams full of vibrant fantasies as to what Pokémon could be inside that egg. For the first time in the twenty-one years of her life, she was finally going to have her own Pokémon.
~*~*~
A week had passed since the Drakes' incident near Mount Chimney, and still no one knew anything about the tricky Pokémon that was running amuck. While Ed and Wattson spent their time fretting over the whole ordeal, thoughts of the recent events had fallen from Pam's mind. She was obsessed with the care and comfort of the blue egg. All day she would hold it close to the warmth of her body, stroking it gently, sometimes even speaking to it in fluid whispers. Ed caught her reading a book to it when he came home from the gym one day, and though they both laughed when they looked at each other, Ed reminded his wife not to grow too attached to their temporary houseguest. It was too late, of course, for Pam had already become terribly fond with it. But, Ed didn't know that, and he thought that a simple reminder would be enough to bring her down to earth.
Several days later, Ed was with Wattson in the Leader's Office, going over the past month in review and assessing what they had accomplished. It was standard research analysis: look at what you've discovered, and if you've discovered a lot, you get paid a lot. Unfortunately for Ed, most of this month had been devoted to searching for the mystery Pokémon, and not much progress had been made in that area, either. Wattson had just signed the check when one of the gym's junior trainers rushed into the room, breathing heavily as though he had just run a marathon.
"Mister Drake, sir," the young boy huffed as he caught his breath, "your wife is on the phone. . . it sounds urgent."
"Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha! The spouse in trouble, Ed?" Wattson chortled.
"Nah, it's probably just some drivel about that blasted egg of hers. . ." Ed said through slightly clenched teeth.
"Well, you'd best go see what the matter is," Wattson suggested. "It's not good for your health to let a spouse get hot under the collar. Wa-ha-ha-ha- ha!" The grinning gym leader nudged Ed with his elbow.
"Right," Ed agreed, and left to answer the phone behind the receptionist's desk in the foyer. "Hello?" he asked after grasping the phone in his rough hands.
"Ed, thank goodness I got a hold of you. . . I though you might have left work already. . . The egg is hatching."
Ed could hear the anxious tone in her voice, even over the phone. He gulped quickly before hurriedly asking, "Can you tell what species it is?"
On the other end of the phone, Pam frowned. "No, the shell has a few minor cracks in it, and every so often it twitches a bit, but other than that I can't tell what's inside."
"Okay, just sit tight. I'll be right there." He replaced the phone on the wall and dashed out the gym door. Down the road he ran, flying like a Fearow, all the while thinking, Yes! Soon we'll be rid of that time- consuming beach ball. . .
The front door of their house had been unlocked, no doubt by Pam, and he leapt inside, nearly crashing into the wall before him. Pam herself was sitting at the kitchen table, the egg with cracks across it like a spider web perched in front of her, propped up by a towel. Ed sat down next to her and placed an arm around her shoulder, embracing her as another spasm moved the egg and added another thin crevice.
Twitch, crack, twitch, crick-crack, that's how it went for ten minutes, until the blue ellipsoid gave an almighty lurch and carved a deep valley across one side. Excited, Pam jumped to her feet and leaned over the egg, her nose barely an inch away. She glanced at her husband, asking with her eyes, "Should we help?" Ed nodded, so she dug her long painted nails into the crevice, being careful not to hurt the Pokémon inside. Slowly she moved her hands apart; the egg, unable to take the pressure, split along the crack and hurled bits of shell everywhere.
The Drakes stared. Not until the high-pitched wailing met their ears and a few moments of time had passed did they realize the absurdity of the situation. That egg had been a Pokémon egg.
And a human baby was lying on their kitchen table, curled up and looking very vulnerable, crying its eyes out at the unfamiliarity of the scene around him.
"What. . . the. . ." Ed murmured, aghast. Pam was just as shocked, but she took up the baby in her arms, wrapped it in the towel like a blanket, and hugged it gently, trying to ease its tearful fit. The Drakes' eyes locked, had a whole conversation, discussing the matters at hand without saying a word. What do we do? Should we keep it? You know we can't, honey. Just think! We can adopt him, care for him. . . We don't have the time, or money, to take care of it. . . If I stay home, I can be with it while you're at the gym. That doesn't solve the money problem, dear. . . I'm sure my parents will help, at least for a while, and you can explain the situation to Wattson. He's kind enough to pay you extra for a while, you know that. . .
By now, the baby had stopped crying and was clinging to Pam's shoulder, one thumb jammed into its mouth and its eyes half closed. Ed sighed, and got to his feet. He took the baby from Pam's arms and looked at the infant's innocent little face. He looked then at his wife, and after a moment said, "Well I suppose there's only one question left to be answered."
His wife stared at him, confused. Ed grinned and continued, "What should we name this little fella'?"
Pam smiled. "I know exactly what to call him," she announced, taking the baby back. Ed wrapped his strong arm around her, and together they looked warmly at the face of their newly adopted son.
"Kristopher James Drake."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SC: Huh? Did you think that was good? I thought it was a little corny myself, but hey, I still liked it. I'm sorry if you think this has nothing to do with the plot (Zangoose vs. Seviper!), but it does, for you see, Kristopher is going to be my main character, as you shall soon see. . .
SC: I've had this idea in my head for quite some time now, but have been too lazy to actually type it out. The thought always intrigued me: the Pokédex entries for Seviper and Zangoose said they were long-running rivals, but what would it be like to actually experience their rivalry? And, what if that rivalry turned into a full-fledged war? Oh, the excitement. Well, here it is. Enjoy the show!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Early Spring, west of Mauville City, Fifteen years ago
Pamela Lynette Drake, who was currently hiking along the rough trail of Jagged Pass, had always wanted a Pokémon. When she was ten, the Pokémon League hadn't yet instated the New Trainers Act, which allowed Pokémon trainers to receive their first Pokémon from the nearest Professor. Even so, her father had always told her never to get involved with such "disgusting pests," or so he called them; however, she found Pokémon to be wonderfully interesting, and often trekked into the forest, against her father's wishes, to look for Pokémon.
Now, eleven years later, Pam could search to her heart's desire for Pokémon, right alongside her new husband, Edward Drake. She was fortunate to have married a field researcher for the Mauville Gym, because Edward, or Ed, needed all the help he could get in his particular career. They were currently working on an important assignment directly from Wattson himself: the Drakes were to uncover the identity of a mysterious Pokémon that had been causing trouble in the area.
"Now, honey," Ed said through a slight groan as he scaled a particularly large boulder, "are you sure you're up to this? This is your first big task, and I'm not sure you can handle it. . ."
"Nonsense," Pam grunted, climbing across the rock behind him. "I'm doing fine. Besides," she sighed as she sat down on the rock where he was resting, "I couldn't let Wattson give you all the credit."
Ed smiled. Man, was she ever a good woman to marry. "All right, if you say so. Let's continue on, shall we? We're nearly there." He stood up against the weight of his heavy backpack, and, reaching down, grabbed his wife's slender fingers in his own callous ones.
It was a two-hour hike, not because of the slope or the length of the trail, but because of the pebbles, rocks, and boulders that were littered across the ground as though a Graveler had sneezed its skin off. A narrow path wound its way around most of the bigger stones, snaking along to the base of Mount Chimney. It was in this area, near the Cable Car station at the end of the trail, that the Drakes had been sent to investigate.
After the grueling trudge up the hill, the Pokémon researcher flopped onto the ground and lied on his back, giving Pam enough time to whip out her binoculars and study their surroundings. A simple wooden building containing the cable car office, thick wires leading to the mountain's base, a few scattered saplings along the edges of the rocky plateau, and other than that, it was barren land. There weren't many places for a Pokémon to hide, especially not a trouble making one; the couple had determined that in order to cause such damage the mystery Pokémon would have to be bigger than a Growlithe. No hiding place on this pitiful patch of the planet could hide even a Rattata, much less a Growlithe.
"So," Ed began, breaking the patient silence, "what exactly has this Pokémon been up to?"
"What, you came all the way up here and you don't even know what your target did?" his wife asked, a bit of surprise in her voice.
"Hey, I'm the Field Researcher. I do the stuff in the field. You're supposed to gather all the details before we come, Pamela," replied Ed sarcastically.
Pam sighed, sat down on a mottled olive stone, and pulled a thin spiral notebook from the bowels of her bulky pack. She flipped it open with one hand, and ran the index finger of her free hand across the page, searching for the notes she had taken while on the phone with Wattson. "Here it is," she announced finally after finding what she needed. "Well, this is one problem Pokémon if you ask me. Says here that it's attacked six trainers in the past two weeks, ravaged the campsites of trainers and picnickers, and it even stole a Pokéball from a hiker, but it was recovered a few hours later with bite-sized scratch marks on the sides. Probably thought it was a fruit of some kind. . ." she wandered off subject for a minute, then realigned herself to the correct sentence. "To quote the Mauville Morning News: 'This Pokémon is deemed highly dangerous. Special precautions should be taken if one is to travel anywhere near the base of Mount Chimney. If one should discover any information on this mystery menace, report to the Mauville Gym immediately.' End quote." Pam finished her reading and closed the spiral with a soft slap.
Ed whistled through his uneven teeth. "Boy, do we have a job to do up here. We might as well get started." He slipped the straps of his heavy pack off his shoulders and let them fall to the ground. "Our packs we can leave - we won't need them if we stay in the general area." Pam nodded and removed her own baggage. They were only just getting started with their work, and already the streaks of crimson and gold were raking across the land from the setting sun.
"It'll be dark soon," Pam noted, eyeing the long shadows that she and her husband were leaving behind them. "We're going to have to stay at the cable car office tonight; I'm sure they won't mind, as long as we tell them it's gym business."
"Never mind that," Ed said sternly. "Let's focus on the task at hand." His voice seemed to resonate with sudden courage, alertness - Pam recognized it immediately. Ed's attitude always changed drastically when the job got exciting, and possibly dangerous. "I say we start near that drop off. There might be a small cave that the brute is hiding in.
The pair of researchers headed for the cliff's edge and tentatively leaned over. It was a sheer drop, nearly perpendicular to the ground beneath it. "No Pokémon could live here, except maybe a Flying-type. . . But those bite- marks couldn't have been made by any bird. . . Hmm. . ." Pam thought aloud. "Maybe it's. . ." she stopped suddenly when a loud rustling sound met her ears. She spun 'round, nearly losing her balance in the process, and saw her backpack fidgeting across the rock on its own.
"Ed, look!" she cried, but he was far ahead of her, halfway to the backpack, and pulling a shining orb out of his pocket. "Go Zigzagoon!" Ed hollered, and tossed the pearly orb of red and white towards the lump of moving canvas. The Pokéball split open, a flash of bright light appeared briefly, and a small, tan-and-ivory Pokémon materialized out of seemingly nowhere. Its normally warm and curious yellow eyes were narrowed in cold anger, and its already bristly fur was standing on end. A growling noise came from the Zigzagoon's throat, and the bag seemed to quiver when it heard the aggressive sound.
"Okay Zigzagoon, use tackle on the bag!" Ed commanded, and the clatter of claws on stone was heard as the little Pokémon dashed across the plateau and rammed its head against the bulging side of the pack. A Pokémonfell through the top of the bag, but before either of the Drakes could determine what species it was, there was a flurry of snowy fur and a flash of steely red claws, and their Zigzagoon was knocked back. Whatever species it was, it scored a direct hit Slash attack on the young Zigzagoon before dashing off behind the thin row of trees. The raccoon-like Pokémon whimpered; no surprises from the Drakes, even in the steadily darkening light they could see the gash across their poor Pokémon's side.
"Zigzagoon, return!" Ed declared, and the metallic Pokéball opened, swallowing the small Pokémon whole and closing tightly. "Pam," he said, gazing into the tree line in the direction their attacker went. "You go after it. I'll take care of Zigzagoon, and then I'll be right after you. Go!" His tone of voice was not one to contradict, so Pam nodded and dashed down the thin trail which led after the mysterious Pokémon.
This path was obviously not taken by humans often, as it was barred with thorny shrubs and tree branches. By the time that she reached a small clearing, Pam was covered in scrapes and cuts. She glanced around nervously, for if this Pokémon could injure a Zigzagoon like that, in an indistinguishable blur of movement, who knows what it could do to her. . . Pam shivered at the thought.
At first glance, the clearing seemed to be filled with nothing but trash: crumpled papers, skins off of various fruits, even what looked like a shredded picnic basket, but then her eyes caught something else. A nest, across the clearing from her, partially hidden beneath a thick shrub. Pam looked around again, crossed the distance quickly, then leaned over the bush and pushed away the branches.
"Oh my. . ." she whispered, for the nest was filled with the shattered shells of Pokémon eggs. Everywhere, bits of leathery black shell dotted the ground, now that she looked, and the nest itself had a gooey residue, a mixture of yolk and blood, covering it. "You poor things," Pamela murmured, laying a hand gently on the side of the twig-made nest. "You never had a chance. That bully of a Pokémon stole your lives before they even began. . ."
A single tear rolled down her cheek, and raising her hand to brush it away she knocked some of the leaves that had been on the ground aside. There, lying in a half-dug hole and covered with rotting leaves, was a single Pokémon egg. It was the same size as its fellows had been, with the same leathery feel, but rather than being a black egg it was colored a deep, regal blue like that of the ocean on a bright summer's day.
Slowly, Pam picked it up. It felt quite heavy for a Pokémon egg, but none the less she felt the warmth of life, even a faint heartbeat, coming from whatever was inside the leathery confines of the shell. She instinctively looked around for another Pokémon, one that could be this egg's parent - but none were to be found. All of the nearby Pokémon had been scared away by the same menace the Drakes had seen earlier.
Pam stood up and clutched the egg close to her body. She wasn't about to let some scoundrel of a Pokémon eat this egg. She didn't care what was inside it: be it Magikarp or Dragonite, she would do everything in her power to protect this single egg. Fumbling around in the dark of the night, Pam made her way back to the cable car's office.
~*~*~
"Pam, you know we can't keep it, it's a wild Pokémon egg. . ."
"I don't care!" Pam snapped. "I'm not going to let anything happen to it!"
"Pamela, we don't have the time to take care of a baby Pokémon. That's why we agreed to not have our own child, remember?" Ed reminded her.
His wife looked down sullenly and muttered, "Yes, I know. But Ed," she added, looking up, "we can't just leave it there. I told you, its parents weren't around, and the others it was with had already been eaten. . ."
Ed sighed. He reached across the table where they were sitting and lifted his wife's chin. Soft amber eyes met brilliant green ones, and Ed said calmly, "I am aware of that, my dear. But what are we supposed to do? Raise it ourselves?"
Mrs. Drake shook her head slowly. "No, we don't have to raise it all the way. . . just let me hatch it. Once it's hatched and grown accustomed to being outside the egg, we can give it to Wattson and let him train it." She gave her husband a pleading look down the bond of their locked eyes.
The researcher pulled his hand away from Pam's dainty chin, and after a moment of thought his face split into a sheepish grin. "All right. You can hatch it, but once it's hatched it goes straight to the Gym. Agreed?"
"Agreed." They shook on it, and left the table to go to their room. Ed was asleep as soon as he hit the bed, but Pam stayed up a bit longer, cleaning the dirt from the egg and wrapping it in a towel to keep it extra warm. She laid it onto the pillow aside her head, and Pam stared at it for an hour before finally falling asleep, her dreams full of vibrant fantasies as to what Pokémon could be inside that egg. For the first time in the twenty-one years of her life, she was finally going to have her own Pokémon.
~*~*~
A week had passed since the Drakes' incident near Mount Chimney, and still no one knew anything about the tricky Pokémon that was running amuck. While Ed and Wattson spent their time fretting over the whole ordeal, thoughts of the recent events had fallen from Pam's mind. She was obsessed with the care and comfort of the blue egg. All day she would hold it close to the warmth of her body, stroking it gently, sometimes even speaking to it in fluid whispers. Ed caught her reading a book to it when he came home from the gym one day, and though they both laughed when they looked at each other, Ed reminded his wife not to grow too attached to their temporary houseguest. It was too late, of course, for Pam had already become terribly fond with it. But, Ed didn't know that, and he thought that a simple reminder would be enough to bring her down to earth.
Several days later, Ed was with Wattson in the Leader's Office, going over the past month in review and assessing what they had accomplished. It was standard research analysis: look at what you've discovered, and if you've discovered a lot, you get paid a lot. Unfortunately for Ed, most of this month had been devoted to searching for the mystery Pokémon, and not much progress had been made in that area, either. Wattson had just signed the check when one of the gym's junior trainers rushed into the room, breathing heavily as though he had just run a marathon.
"Mister Drake, sir," the young boy huffed as he caught his breath, "your wife is on the phone. . . it sounds urgent."
"Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha! The spouse in trouble, Ed?" Wattson chortled.
"Nah, it's probably just some drivel about that blasted egg of hers. . ." Ed said through slightly clenched teeth.
"Well, you'd best go see what the matter is," Wattson suggested. "It's not good for your health to let a spouse get hot under the collar. Wa-ha-ha-ha- ha!" The grinning gym leader nudged Ed with his elbow.
"Right," Ed agreed, and left to answer the phone behind the receptionist's desk in the foyer. "Hello?" he asked after grasping the phone in his rough hands.
"Ed, thank goodness I got a hold of you. . . I though you might have left work already. . . The egg is hatching."
Ed could hear the anxious tone in her voice, even over the phone. He gulped quickly before hurriedly asking, "Can you tell what species it is?"
On the other end of the phone, Pam frowned. "No, the shell has a few minor cracks in it, and every so often it twitches a bit, but other than that I can't tell what's inside."
"Okay, just sit tight. I'll be right there." He replaced the phone on the wall and dashed out the gym door. Down the road he ran, flying like a Fearow, all the while thinking, Yes! Soon we'll be rid of that time- consuming beach ball. . .
The front door of their house had been unlocked, no doubt by Pam, and he leapt inside, nearly crashing into the wall before him. Pam herself was sitting at the kitchen table, the egg with cracks across it like a spider web perched in front of her, propped up by a towel. Ed sat down next to her and placed an arm around her shoulder, embracing her as another spasm moved the egg and added another thin crevice.
Twitch, crack, twitch, crick-crack, that's how it went for ten minutes, until the blue ellipsoid gave an almighty lurch and carved a deep valley across one side. Excited, Pam jumped to her feet and leaned over the egg, her nose barely an inch away. She glanced at her husband, asking with her eyes, "Should we help?" Ed nodded, so she dug her long painted nails into the crevice, being careful not to hurt the Pokémon inside. Slowly she moved her hands apart; the egg, unable to take the pressure, split along the crack and hurled bits of shell everywhere.
The Drakes stared. Not until the high-pitched wailing met their ears and a few moments of time had passed did they realize the absurdity of the situation. That egg had been a Pokémon egg.
And a human baby was lying on their kitchen table, curled up and looking very vulnerable, crying its eyes out at the unfamiliarity of the scene around him.
"What. . . the. . ." Ed murmured, aghast. Pam was just as shocked, but she took up the baby in her arms, wrapped it in the towel like a blanket, and hugged it gently, trying to ease its tearful fit. The Drakes' eyes locked, had a whole conversation, discussing the matters at hand without saying a word. What do we do? Should we keep it? You know we can't, honey. Just think! We can adopt him, care for him. . . We don't have the time, or money, to take care of it. . . If I stay home, I can be with it while you're at the gym. That doesn't solve the money problem, dear. . . I'm sure my parents will help, at least for a while, and you can explain the situation to Wattson. He's kind enough to pay you extra for a while, you know that. . .
By now, the baby had stopped crying and was clinging to Pam's shoulder, one thumb jammed into its mouth and its eyes half closed. Ed sighed, and got to his feet. He took the baby from Pam's arms and looked at the infant's innocent little face. He looked then at his wife, and after a moment said, "Well I suppose there's only one question left to be answered."
His wife stared at him, confused. Ed grinned and continued, "What should we name this little fella'?"
Pam smiled. "I know exactly what to call him," she announced, taking the baby back. Ed wrapped his strong arm around her, and together they looked warmly at the face of their newly adopted son.
"Kristopher James Drake."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SC: Huh? Did you think that was good? I thought it was a little corny myself, but hey, I still liked it. I'm sorry if you think this has nothing to do with the plot (Zangoose vs. Seviper!), but it does, for you see, Kristopher is going to be my main character, as you shall soon see. . .