Welcome to my interesting take on a Pokemon opener. It's a strange one, and having your main character lack a Pokemon to start with can be difficult to work with, but this prologue sets us up nicely for this region's distinctly more-evil-that-previous-series' bad guy. You will come to know him well.
If ever there was someone who didn't fit in, it was more that likely Dylan. His age meant he was perfectly able to walk next door to the laboratory of Professor Alder and pick up starter at his leisure, but instead chose to sit inside watching the comings and goings of trainers in the villiage. This was reason enough to draw most of his peers into disliking him, all of them owning something along the lines of Tepig or Snivy. Just outside the vilage lay the forest of grass known commonly as Route 1. The boundaries of the villiage were restricting, as it was inescapable from anywhere other than Route 1 or Route 17, which was virtually useless due to the raging rapids.
Dylan liked to believe that he had the freedom to leave whenever he wanted and pursue what he considered to be a real job, but of course none of those were respectable enough anymore, either. The Sterof City Gym Leader had to be the the worst out of everyone. The fact that not only did he force his Pokémon to fight, he made them slice down trees around the city. Sure, it kept the place clean but his manipulation of creatures was horrible. Dylan had a firm belief that Pokémon could make a person corrupt.
The one thing that made Dylan feel at all in touch with someone outside the addiction to catching anything that moves was his journal. He would regularly write into it, believing that at some point someone would read it and see his point of view. Of course, at this point in time what he had written would be lies. He just couldn't keep thinking about it. It all happened so fast.
They came in the night, bringing with them several guns. Three shots rang out and lights flicked on around the neighbourhood. Dim shadows were cast to lay across the ground. Three men, all fairly tall, stood aside another man, this one shorter. The other difference, other than the height, was the fact that the shorter man was dead. As more lights turned on more of the men were revealed. All of them wore dark clothes, and an open window cast enough light on the tallest man's face to reveal roughly, his age. At a guess he would appear around 23 or possibly a little older, with a grin plastered across his face. He was the man with the gun. He had relatively dark hair, but it had been visibly sun-bleached by the days of brightness the whole region had been reciving the past few days. He turned around, flipped his brown hair, just less than shoulder length over away from his eyes, and leaving as quickly as he had come.
Dylan, along with everyone else watching, began to head towards their doors, ready to face the dead man, as two more bullets were fired. Dylan looked through a downstairs window and saw a flicker in the tallest man's eyes. He appeared to be looking Dylan in the eye. The gun was lifted to the sky and fired once again. An innocent Pidgey dropped into the man's hand as he spoke, not for a long time, but enough to make himself heard.
"He tried to fight us. But you can't fight change."
He then threw a small plastic covered piece of card that rested itself gently on a crate, and left. The three men could have easily ended many more lives that night, but instead chose to mentally scar the people in the village. The last sound the man made, was a cold, dead Pidgey, hitting the ground. Many would get over it, carry on with their lives and happily play, but seeing someone killed could haunt someone forever. The name on the card was still etched into Dylan's memory. Damien Change.
It was a short opener, but there you go. More coming whenever.