This is a series of short stories about what I think a 'realistic' pokemon world would be like. Therefore, each 'chapter' is mostly independent of the previous one.

Disclaimer: Surprise! I don't own pokémon. Consider this effective for this entire story.

The Indigo Plateau's reception gate was stuffed to capacity, the ten tellers often having to lean over the long counter that separated the back third of the room from the front in order to hear their current client over the rabble of nervous, worried, and overall excited pokémon trainers and spectators. No matter if you were here for intense battles or just an intense atmosphere, the Indigo Conference, held only once every five years, was not an event to be missed.

Like sand through an hourglass, the crowd moved forward one at a time to be processed, then admitted through the metal detectors that separated one teller from the next. As Tohjo – the combined regions of Kanto and Johto – only really required that singular security check in addition to a minimal ID check, the lines moved along quite quickly. The fastest line, of course, was the first teller's queue of pre-registered trainers, due mainly to the fact that it had never been that large in the first place. This was in stark contrast to the pace of the last five teller's gargantuan lines of spectators redeeming their Internet receipts – the only case where ID checks were taken seriously. Fraud concerning the coveted – and expensive – Indigo tickets was common.

A cheer went up from the processed side of the vast room, where a sizeable crowd had already gathered. The wall of windows that curved around the right and back sides of the building had revealed the telltale glint of April sun on the polished chrome of the Indigo Plateau monorail service.

Theoretically, such a reaction was not warranted, as the shuttles came in regular 15-minute intervals during tournaments. However, such a theory would completely disregard the famous fierce devotion and energy that Tohjians dedicated to their near-sacred pokémon league.

The shuttle came to a stop with a low hiss, and the security guarding the booths to the train braced in preparation for the chaos of attempting to force single-line entrance onto the shuttle. The crowd surged – straight into a towering figure that was roaring, "Hold it! I'm coming off!"

A ripple effect passed over the entire reception gate as those nearest the figure fell silent, followed by those who heard the silence turned to find the source of it. Clomping out of the shuttle was none other than the Indigo Plateau's Elite Third. Bruno: The Fighting Master.

Standing over six feet tall, Bruno had come wearing only his ragged karate pants, the recently washed white stark against his tanned skin and the black belt around his waist – the testament to his personal fighting prowess. The absence of the karate jacket he occasionally wore allowed an awe-inspiring view of his chiseled abdomen, wide shoulders, and thickly muscled arms. Toughened feet were also left bare, rumors claiming the reason to be everything from getting fed up of special ordering shoes that fit to some sort of secret, special training aimed at toughening up. Choppy black hair was partially held back by a short ponytail and grey eyes raked over those gathered as they gawped back at him.

"How many of you are challengers?" he yelled, those in front of him blanching back even as they nervously raised their hands. Bruno grunted at the feeble response. "Only ten of you will get to challenge the Elite. There are two other Elites before me so toughen up if you want to see me in action!" The crowd cringed again, nodding frantically. Pleased by their response, the master announced, "Me and my boys are heading out to warm-up. I'll see you at the Plateau!"

The throng parted as the elite walked forward, his six custom brown-red pokéballs flashing their steel decorations from where they sat on his belt, the glare hiding Bruno's pokémon – his 'boys' – from view. The fighter's target was the center-back of the room - dominated by two huge glass doors. Upon a hastily hastily entered computer command from one of the tellers, the doors began to slowly swing outwards, and a cool breeze cut through the room, fresh from the small mountain that housed Victory Road.

Breaking into a jog, Bruno tossed a pokéball out ahead of him with the call, "Let's go, Chan!" The ball burst open to release a mass of pink light before rebounding back into the elite's hand, the light coalescing into a hitmonchan.

Chan hopped up and down a few times, the leather straps of his tunic's skirt bouncing as he sent out a few practice punches. His highly trained brown body rippled with the movement before, with a short wave to the onlookers, he took off with his trainer towards the imposing Victory Road.

As they disappeared into the caves that housed some of Tohjo's most powerful wild pokémon, the reception gate phased back to normal activity. Spectators and trainers alike strained for any last glimpse of the legendary fighting master, chatting excitedly amongst themselves and touching their own pokéballs to check the readiness of those within.

The Indigo Conference was about to begin.

Please feel free to be critical of my writing skills - I am planning a 'real' pokémon fanfiction (which will be set in the world outlined by this story) and would like to work out the kinks in my writing before I start posting it.

Thanks!