The Twisted Pokemon Journal Chapter One
Authors note: I've been trying to upload this story for a while now, and hopefully it works this time! Next time I upload, it probably wont have so many chapters, but will have more on the way! As a 14-year old heading into 8th grade, I'll accept all comments whether thay be negative or not. Thanks Everyone!
I remember the look of pure sadness, and fear that dawned on the poor Eevee's face when I turned my back on it for the first time. I had wanted the Eevee, but knew that it was critical that I stuck to what my mind had been set on, a Squirtle. The few aisles in the lab, I recalled, were filled with poor, weak creatures, waiting to be adopted, and taken to a new home, a new life. I had wandered aimlessly, for a good half hour, scavenging my mind for a way to get that Eevee, and the Sqirtle. Alas, I was forced to make up my mind when Professor Alder tapped me on the shoulder. I drew away from my bottomless mind to confront reality. "Well?" She said expectantly. " I choose Sqirtle," I murmured, still trying to form an excuse.
"What? Speak up Al, for pities sake!"
"I-I choose Sqirtle," I managed to stammer.
"Well then, be on your way!" She snapped.
"We-well, uh, er, I-"
"Oh, be gone with you! I have several important clients coming, they should be here any minute! Now go on, show me your worth the bill I spend on you people!" she fired before I could put my thought into words. She shoved a package into my hands, then turned and shuffled noisily to her desk. Taking one last glance at the Eevee curled in a far corner of its cage, I ran out the door, knowing that no one would take the Eevee, not for the lowest price Professor Alder offered, because no matter what the price was, it was more than what anyone was willing to pay. My pockets feeling ever lighter for every step I took, the package feeling never more heavier, and the Ultimate Ball holding the Sqirtle was living proof that I was guilty as team Rocket, even guiltier. As the rain poured, I took a quick peek at the contents of the bag. Several poorly engineered Pokéballs, one Ultimate ball, and a used suit, baring the team Rocket logo. This Sqirtle wasn't mine, or the Professors. Nor were the clothes or other gear.
These were all second-hand and stolen.
My family was desperate for money. My father was a very successful man, but it wasn't as easy to be a gym leader as it had been several years ago. Trainers were much tougher than they had been, it seemed like they were so determined to become a Pokémon master, that nothing could stand in their way. Hence, it was harder to defeat them and collect money for their defeat. The money we received was only good for a couple days before we ran out. So, I had been hired for a good amount of money. I mean, it wasn't much, but it would keep us alive. My dad had no clue that I'd signed up to be a Rocket member, and I was glad he didn't, because he absolutely despised them. My mom knew, but we had agreed to keep it a secret from dad. He lived in a city, far away, living in splendor because of his sponsors funding. We didn't share his wealth because it was non-transportable, so he was only able to use it on himself. He and his spoiled little Pikachu and other rare Pokémon.
As I set out from the PokéCenter I'd spent the night in, I took out my foldable bike, and began the long journey back to my home. My mind constantly trailed off to the mistreated Pokémon in their cages. Professor Alder was a cruel woman, unlike the other Pokémon Professors I'd heard of, but she was willing to bargain with Team Rocket. Undercover, that is. As I biked on the dirt path that ran through the woods, I was confronted by a weak Rattata, who was stubborn enough to cross my sight. I sent out the Squirtle, fresh and well revived from the visit at the PokéCenter. "Sqirtle, use Water Gun," I said quickly. Ignoring my command, the Sqirtle launched its own series of attacks, creating a cover with Bubble, then, as the Rattata squirmed to escape the thick foam, the Sqirtle worked around the mass, and Tackled the mouse from behind. Unaware of the incoming danger, the smaller Pokémon was impaled by the blue missile, taking the hit full on. It rebelled, Scratching furiously, but to no avail. The turtle flipped the Rattata onto it's back, so the two were face to face. Filling its cheeks, Squirtle sent a spray of concentrated water into the mouses face and nose. Unable to breath, the poor victim was forced to succumb to the inevitable realm of its conscience. Pleased with it's handiwork, the Sqirtle stepped back, and stared at me expectantly, looking for some sort of reward. "Next time," I paused, "you do what I say," Returning the bewildered creature to its red, blue and white prison. I then grasped the soaked and unconscious Rattata and set it on a high tree branch, so it wasn't killed in its weakened state. I may have joined the cruel team Rocket, but I was not ready to become a cold blooded killer. I pedaled on, not looking forward to another battle for obedience. I passed through a flock of Pidgeys, who quickly flew away at my presence. I was alone in this world. Even my mother's comfort lasted for only moments. Now, I couldn't seek any attention from my father, and that was set it in stone. I was alone in this world.
Man, I thought to myself. I need to get a life!