The Unova Region!
A magnificent country, covered in majestic mountains, fertile forests, glowing grasslands and lustrous lakes. A land of progress, filled with people who inhabit both sprawling cities and tiny towns. A land of natural wonders, with strange, magical creatures called Pokemon, beings whose existence defied the scientific norm.
Pokemon (a romanticized term for Pocket Monsters) are friends to mankind, having been their stalwart allies since the beginning of recorded history. Pokemon come in many different shapes and sizes and crawl, fly and swim about the regions of the world. They possess amazing powers that were far beyond any weapon or machine human beings could produce themselves. In the hands of the cruel they were deadly tools of mass-destruction, and in the hands of the good they were soldiers in the fight for justice. Not all Pokemon, of course, were used for battle. Some kept Pokemon as pets, allowing their friends to help them in their everyday routines and sharing their lives and happiness with them.
Of course, Pokemon Battles were a regular part of life in all regions. Most weren't fatal. Actually, most were simply friendly competition between Pokemon trainers and their Pokemon friends, contests of strength, speed and timing, much like martial arts, boxing or wrestling. The Pokemon League was the authority on Pokemon Trainers worldwide, with Pokemon Gyms and challenges awaiting trainers with the dream of becoming the region's Pokemon Champion. With the Pokemon League's rules and regulations keeping all trainers in line, Pokemon trainers were free to train to be the best - like no one ever was!
Pokemon were a way of life. Pokemon training was almost considered to be like a college-course, allowing trainers to acquire jobs in fields of construction companies, (which used Pokemon for demolition and heavy-lifting) police-work, (which used Pokemon to catch criminals) firefighting, (which used Water-type Pokemon to extinguish fires) Pokeology, (which used Pokemon for... Okay, you get it. Pokemon mean everything here.)
In layman's terms: Unova ran upon Pokemon. The world ran upon Pokemon. Whether it be as friends or partners or workers, Pokemon made the world go round. As such, it seemed impossible that anyone would ever want to separate humans and Pokemon from one another.
Sadly, in the Pokemon World, the impossible seemed to happen quite often.
They showed up years ago. It was a small group of human protesters who called themselves Team Plasma. Plasma was an acronym, standing for Pokemon Liberation And Separation from Mankind's Atrocities. As the acronym implied, Team Plasma was dedicated to "Pokemon Liberation." They preached that Pokemon should be taken from humanity, that humans were stealing Pokemon away from the wild habitats and forcing them into slave labor.
At first, no one listened to them. They were just a group of twenty, maybe thirty nut-jobs passing out flyers at people's doorsteps. As the years went by, however, their numbers swelled to numbers beyond five-hundred. Charismatic speeches and stirring arguments began to change people's minds - not many people, mind you, but some did begin to see the Pokemon League in a different light.
The Plasma Movement was more than just a philosophy - it was a cult, wrapped in the legends and lore of the Unova Region, filled with bizarre rituals. Before long, trainers were slowly starting to release their Pokemon back into the wild, for better or for worse. The public was starting to see them in a different light, and beginning to question their relationships with Pokemon.
However, it was not enough for the supreme ruler of Team Plasma, the mysterious Plasma King. He wanted Pokemon to be liberated faster. When the Plasma hype began to die down, he issued an order to his minions. They were to invade Nimbasa City, the entertainment capitol and most-populated city in the Unova Region, hold all of its inhabitants hostage and destroy all of the hated Pokemon League establishments.
The invasion had lasted only a day. Spies within Team Plasma tipped off the police, and the entirety of the invasion force, including several Team Plasma higher-ups, were captured in the counterattack. Team Plasma was left broken and scattered.
It was down - but not out. Not out at all...
One month ago...
It was a dark, dark night on Twist Mountain.
It was spring, early May to be exact. The sky was pitch-black, looming clouds covering the moon and stars in their dark shroud. A bitter wind blew, ruffling what little vegetation grew on the rocky mountain. Thunder groan in the distance, followed by a brief flash of lightning.
Twist Mountain was a dangerous place, as was any other mountain. Too loud a noise could result in a deadly rock-slide. The Pokemon were wild and territorial, some of them aggressive to the point of mauling unsuspecting trainers. The hills were steep and rocky; a simple slip could result in essentially sliding down a slide made of sandpaper. It was especially dangerous during a night like this, with no light to guide a foolish hiker. It would be all too easy to accidentally walk off a cliff or stumble into a vicious Pokemon's den.
Twist Mountain was a dangerous place; as such, it was perfect for people who liked privacy, like the Triad.
"Hut! Hyah!"
On the very peak of Twist Mountain sat a small cave - well, cave was a generous term. It was more of a crack with just enough room to live in. It served its purpose, however, for its inhabitants cared little for comfort. In fact, they cared little for any sort of leisure or rest at all.
"Hut! Hyah!"
Three men, almost identical to one another, stood on the mountaintop, ignoring the distant roar of thunder and the fact that lightning strikes the highest point, and that you didn't get much higher than on top of a mountain. No, they were professionals, and professionals never let the weather interfere with their training.
"Hut! Hyah!"
For over six years now they had trained up on the mountain peak, free of the distractions of society. For six years they had not spoken to another human being other than to each other, and even then they rarely said more than a broken sentence a day, if even that. Their energy was focused only on their training and nothing more. They wanted only to spar and hated to be disturbed.
"Zebstrika, Flash."
Disturbed they were. A bright flash suddenly exploded over the peak, quickly covering the martial artists with blinding brightness that made them squint. They were tall men, lanky and lean, covered in wiry muscles. Their hair was all completely white, wild and unkempt. They wore no clothes save for simple black pants, torn and shredded after years of intense training. Their skin was pale and almost sickly in appearance. None of them were happy to be interrupted by the impudent fool who had just brightened the mountain peak.
A slow trotting noise, the sound of hooves gently pounding against stone, began to fill the air with a gentle beat. Slowly, a glowing beast, equine in shape with black and white stripes and an impressive, sharp-looking mane, glowing with brightly light, protruding from his head.
Sitting on the beast's back was a young man - a boy, really, no more than fourteen years old at the most. His skin was soft and unblemished and the cloak that was wrapped around his body was unstained and pristine. This boy was soft; weak. This boy... this impudent child... had come to a place where weakness had no place. Where weakness was the greatest sin.
The boy seemed to think he did, however. He stepped down from his beast and made his way to the trio of ninjas, who were staring at him with disdain and annoyance. The impudent brat stepped towards them, the glow at his back making him almost appear messiah-like. His long, whitish-green hair gently waved in the wind as he looked up at the lead ninja, who was almost two full heads taller than he was, and undoubtedly stronger as well.
The ninja spoke first. "You don't belong here," he rasped in a grating voice that implied he ate sandpaper for breakfast each morning.
The boy was hardly impressed. He had seen enough tall, dark and brooding types with deep, grating voices to last him a lifetime. Besides, he knew that these ninjas wouldn't harm him. "Hello," he greeted in a polite tone, amazingly polite for a boy who was so suicidal.
"Goodbye," the ninjas replied in unison, glaring down upon the intruder.
The boy had been suspecting a reaction like that, and had naturally come prepared. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small shred of cloth, torn from a uniform of some sort, and tossed it to the ground. The cloth depicted a simple crest: a black shield with a blue slash of lightning running through it, and a large blue letter P emblazoned upon the front.
The trio of ninja's hardly reacted, but the boy saw the small glint of surprise flash in their eyes. Slowly but surely the trio bowed down, totally humbled by the boy. "Master..." they intoned.
The Plasma King, also known as N Harmonia, smiled. Team Plasma was back, baby!
Twist Mountain was an imposing sight from below. From above, it looked small. Granted, everything looked small from above.
A loud screeching sound filled the air as the bizarre creature shot through the air, faster than a bullet and far more deadly (not that guns actually seemed to exist in the Pokemon world). Like a thunderbolt from heaven, it shot down to the ground, faster than the eye could register.
There was a mighty crash as it came down, plowing a crater into the mountainside. Rock and stone flew everywhere as a shock-wave ripped through the earth. The roar of the explosion filled the air, followed by silence.
Smoke and heat emanated from the pit, followed by a bright red glow. A metallic limb, long and clawed at the fingertips, shot from the crater, quickly followed by another. Gears began to whirl and a motor began to roar as the horrible monster rose from the ashes. A disk-shaped head sat upon a thin body, supported by even thinner legs. A pair of hideous, bulbous eyes sat on the head, glowing bright red with malice.
The bizarre monster shot up the mountainside, reaching the peak in seconds. The horrible eyes began to scan now-vacant training ground, quickly finding a set of deep footprints, hooves by the looks of them.
A metallic whir began to buzz in the beast's head as he scanned the footprints. Zebstrika, the Thunderbolt Pokemon. Pure Electric-type Pokemon. Equine in nature. Hoof-prints match Zebstrika. Probability of Zebstrika being used as a mount by King N: High. Logical Operation: Search Area. Find King N. Disassemble.
A horrible screeching sound filled the air as the beast folded his limbs away. A sonic-boom filled the air as he shot off into the sky again. It wouldn't be long now before he had that inferior human... the little wretch who dared to think that this beast, this wonder of science, was an abomination.
Rage filled every circuit and every lobe of this monster's half-computer brain. It was a Pokemon - a Legendary Pokemon. It was far beyond any human power and any Pokemon power as well. It was perfect in every way. It was invincible.
It would have its revenge... and nothing and no one would get in its way. King N, Team Plasma... the entire human race would pay for this insult against it.
They would see... they would all see...
Coli Chibi presents...
A Pokemon: Black and White fan-fiction...
Tony's Journey: Unova Grand Tour.