My alarm clock buzzed and I reached over to shut it off almost on reflex before I froze, my body locking up as my brain went through a quick cascade of realizations.
I didn't remember going to bed. I hadn't been at home. Even if I was at home, this wasn't my room. The last conversation I had was with a – thing. My new 'patron'. An unconvincingly person-shaped, omnipotent-god-thing that decided that letting me live a self-insert life was cool entertainment.
I would have probably been more onboard with that assessment if I wasn't being mindfucked by two sets of memories jockeying for primacy. I was a twenty-two year-old no-future loser from Pine Creek. I was a sixteen year-old no-future loser from Pyrite Town.
Okay, that wasn't that big of a difference. At least my name hadn't changed.
I rubbed my forehead with a small groan. "Aight, that wasn't fun."
There was an inquisitive 'whiirrhuu?' from a high bookshelf originally intended as a storage locker.
I peeked open an eye to look up at my Rowlet, who was peering over the edge with beady black eyes. The owl Pokémon was adorable, even with my head feeling like my frontal lobe had somehow invoked the wrath of the brainpain leprechaun. "Just had… one hell of a mindscrew, Leven."
"Chuf-whiiriiir."
"I think it would take a Psychic-type to really explain it without me sounding completely nuts."
I couldn't speak to Pokémon. Well, technically, I could. It was the 'understanding' part of conversation that was hit-and-miss.
Like the anime – god, it was weird applying 'anime' to a set of memories that said 'my real life' without some sort of joke present –, Pokémon were fairly expressive and in ways that were fairly hard not to understand on some level. 'Yes', 'no', 'I don't like that', 'I really like that', and 'Timmy's in the well?' types of reactions were pretty easy to understand. Higher conversation? That required a rare talent, one that only the part of me not of this world knew of.
Leven most certainly understood me, or at least most of what I was saying. Me, I had to extrapolate and translate based on noises that I couldn't hope to imitate.
Not that I hadn't tried, back when I'd first gotten the Grass/Flying-type.
Despite my living in Pyrite Town my mom had somehow managed to get me one of the formal starters. Given, it was one of the Alola set and it had probably 'fallen off the back of a truck', but considering that the starters my peer group had gotten included Surskit, Hoppip, and an actual fucking Wooper, I wasn't exactly going to complain about an out-of-region starter.
I slid out of bed, bracing my feet against the slightly gritty floor of my room. Sand. That was the reality of Orre. It was like a compact Tattooine; low on resources, high on crime, and nothing but sand and rock as far as the eye could see. Unless you lived in Gateon Port, Agate Village, or some other place where you somehow had water or trees to keep the sand down, sand was going to be the next common thing in your life after gravity and oxygen.
And in the cheap, sandstorm beaten metal and concrete houses of Pyrite Town, there was always going to be sand.
I shook out a change of clothes and got dressed. Technically, they weren't clean, but until there was an unmistakable smell or stain on them, laundry wasn't an option. Water was for drinking, Pokémon care, cooking, bathing, and laundry… in that order. And dry baths were a thing.
It wasn't that weird, for either of my memories. One set because I'd lived here my whole life, the other because I was a depressive who maybe did laundry once a month and didn't care much about my personal appearance in general.
Still, sixteen year-old me had a sense of style I could appreciate. I still had my navy blue track jacket with the white stripes, though this one was slightly different, with a chunkier white zipper, a higher collar, and a thick white stripe across my bust rather than the Old Navy logo I was used to. Thick cargo jeans and heavy boots would protect my legs from the sand and a pair of Go-Goggles sat along the band of my black and red newsboy cap to serve the same purpose for my eyes.
As soon as my messenger bag was over my shoulder, I stretched out my arm for Leven to perch on. The Rowlet did with a tinny rolling chirp before sideling up to my shoulder to nuzzle against my cheek before I called him into his Pokéball.
I grinned as I fixed the ball to my belt. Maybe this adventure wouldn't be so bad.
In the early morning, Pyrite Town is almost picturesque, but it's the sort of picturesque reserved for ghost towns and abandoned factories. If you looked at the old Pyrite Building from the right angle, with its broken windows and the trails of rust that ran tracks down its desert-beaten face, it was like nobody lived here at all.
Of course, this would be the point where some motherfucker on a tank of a motorcycle roars into town and breaks the spell.
In this universe, I have an eye for bikes. Another gift from my mother, I supposed, though it had less to do with brand than raw mechanics, given that Orre wasn't much in the business of luxury goods, imported or not. This meant that any vehicles available were at least a decade old and held together by prayers, spit, and rust, which made mechanics like us valuable resources.
This particular specimen was a brute force beaut, built for making cross-region runs in under a week. In a past life, it might have been a hog, but now it was a Frankensteinian mishmash of mechanics and technology. Most of the motorcycle was engine, a massive diesel that looked like it had been ripped out of a dragster, balanced all on a single wheel and rudimentary antigravity, the one technology that Orre had produced before anyone else. It was kind of necessary, given that mundane vehicles had been proven worthless over and over again in the face of the shifting dunes. One only needed visit the Outskirt Stand to see the one disastrous attempt at bringing rail to Orre.
The motorcycle, once you got past the tech and the god-sized engine, was fairly average; rust orange, with a purple flame decal anointing the sidecar and the remains of the original motorcycle.
What was more interesting than the bike was the guy who was dismounting it.
The guy wasn't tall. No, he was just a teenager, maybe twenty at the oldest, with ashy blonde hair, a silver visor, and wearing a long blue coat and black skinny jeans with metal plated boots. An Umbreon and an Espeon followed at his heels, warily watching the street.
On his arm was a strange gauntlet, red and black enamel almost matte against the shine of his leather – nobody with any common sense wore vinyl in Orre – coat, but that wasn't important.
I knew this kid.
The Espeon caught my stare and flicked its tail. A warning. I looked away and started down the street, stewing in my thoughts.
Pokémon Colosseum had been an interesting game because, compared to Gold and Sapphire version, it actually had a discernable plot. A darker, more intense plot than I'd expected in 2003, but I was ten when I'd got my copies. A ten year-old's idea of 'dark' was unpolished, defined by fleeting emotions, common clichés, and overplayed pathos, but Colosseum had almost dragged me into thinking.
If I was living in the timeframe of that story – well, if I was going to be here for the next decade, I was likely to run into the plot of the sequel as well – and actually living in close contact with Pokémon, I was going to see Shadow Pokémon up close. Hell, if I wasn't careful, my own Pokémon could be stolen and have their hearts forcibly closed.
Now, wasn't that a terrifying prospect?
"What's eatin' you, Delaine?"
I blinked and looked over at Zeph, who was leaning up against the corner of the PokéCenter. He was one of the better kids in my approximate age group, though he was a couple years older with the patchy stubble to show, but instead of taking up mechanics like I had, he'd settled into courier work. Where the hell Zeph picked up his Man-With-No-Name look and his darn-tootin' accent was beyond me, since he was as local as I was and I didn't ever make use of the word 'reckon'.
"Just thinking. Team Snagem has been running wild lately and you know I have an uncommon starter. Nobody knows what they do with the Pokémon they steal…" Well, I did, but that was out-of-context intelligence, "– and all I can figure is that it's nothing good."
Zeph scratched under his hat. "Fair 'nough. I worry 'bout runnin' into one of them Snag Machines whenever I have to go out to Phenac City. Vibrava aren't exactly common either, though an Alolan starter's a far sight rarer, I'll admit."
It was odd to think of a guy like Zeph, who didn't care much for things like sitting still, starting out with a Trapinch, but the Vibrava it had evolved into was a slightly better fit for the wannabe cowboy. The Flygon it was sure to become would probably be completely and utterly awesome, but even though I didn't know exactly what my Rowlet was going to evolve into, I wouldn't trade Leven for an Arceus.
"Do you need me to look over your bike?" I asked. Zeph's 'Western Siryn' wasn't much compared to Wes's monster, but she was a good speedy bike outfitted with both saddlebags and hard case containers that could be turned into built-in iceboxes should the need arise. The fact that the bike was painted and subtly modeled after a Flygon would be almost prophetic if not for the fact that Zeph got his starter years before his ride.
"Wouldn't say no to a look over, but I ain't noticed no trouble as of late."
"Better to catch it here than out in Eclo."
Zeph snorted. "You ain't kiddin'. Nothing but empty out there."
I waved back at him as I started walking again. "Drag your bike down to the shop later then, we'll give her a tune-up."
I shoved Wes to the back of my mind as I made my way down the street. The exact details of the plot escaped me, eight years since I sold the game, but I did remember that the game started with the destruction of Team Snagem's base. Seeing as that rather unmissable event hadn't made the news yet, it hadn't happened yet.
I looked up at the Pyrite Colosseum. Technically, the dome was a pre-existing structure that was being modified for battle and tournament use, but there was a malodorous aura to it, like I could sense the deeds that would take place there in the future.
Maybe Cipher was already distributing Shadow Pokémon through the Under's Colosseum. Maybe there were other routes they were using, like Team Rocket's Game Corner. Hell, maybe they had an order list. I refused to believe they had peons standing around in shady alleyways distributing Shadow Pokémon out of conspicuous trench coats.
The idea almost got a giggle out of me. Almost.
I'd never managed to Purify a single Pokémon in Colosseum. This was partially because I never actually beat the game and mostly because I never found the Relic Stone. Heck, I'd never found the Relic Stone in Gale of Darkness either. I'd only found out about it from an online wiki some years after I had pawned off both games to help finance my Xbox 360. I had been hoping for a 3DS remake, because Pokémon-Amie seemed like a perfect fit for the games, but that was one of those longshot ideas.
I scuffed my heel against a bit of exposed rock.
Now, it was more than likely impossible that I'd ever get to play such a game, unless my 'patron' got creative with their gift bags.
I looked around, tracing the seams of lighter sandstone through the canyon walls that protected Pyrite Town from the worst of the sandstorms. Besides the hanging threat of plot, there wasn't much on my mind today. I mean, sure, I was having a minor case of double consciousness, but the two were fairly reconcilable and the weird moments were becoming less and less frequent.
My path winded through town, only doubling back at the bridge to the Colosseum. With a party of one unevolved starter, I had no reason to go any closer to the battered white dome of doom. The streets were fairly uncrowded at this hour, in the painful stage of morning where the sun seemed to do nothing but glint off of every possible surface, though there was the odd early bird flitting around.
Like Madame Fateen, the fortune teller. Which was weird, because usually when she took a walk, it was to three different areas; the hotel café, Duking's house, and the tiny farmer's market that sprang up on weekends with the only fresh produce you could get in Orre outside of Phenac City and Gateon Port.
"Oh, it's you, Delaine," she said, reaching up to adjust her coke-bottle glasses. "I had a vision concerning you…"
An amazing feat through those lenses, a part of me thought uncharitably. "Good or bad?" I asked, though I had a fair guess at what the answer would be.
"Oh, a shadowed path, I fear," Fateen said, as if her ominous words were the juiciest sort of gossip, "fraught with danger and great risk to you and yours. But something tells me you will persevere. You've always been a determined child, with a good heart."
I sighed. That sounded a lot like plot-relevancy. "Well, at least it won't be boring, right?"
The old woman tittered. "Oh, most certainly not," she said before giving me a small nod and continuing on her way. "You be good now, Delaine."
"Of course," I replied, even though she was likely out of earshot by now.
"Suck up."
I spun around on my heel to look at another of my 'peers', though I had less fond feelings towards this one than Zeph.
"Better than being tied with Johnson for 'Town Fuck-Up'," I snapped back.
I would never accuse Diaval of being an attractive guy, but that was mostly due to the fact that he was always vaguely sweaty and had a chronic inability to coordinate the various parts of his face. Somewhere he'd made the decision to wear a beanie cap and ski-goggles, even at night and indoors, which while making him look like a total douchebag, was an improvement over his natural looks.
Besides it wasn't exactly false advertising. He was a dick, with the wits to match.
"Delaine! I challenge you to a Pokémon battle!"
What? He was the Wooper kid. Even after he managed to evolve the blue piece of shit and round out his team with a Psyduck, I still had type advantage, even with only one Pokémon to my name. I had handed Diaval his own ass so many times, every battle had come with a foregone conclusion.
"Are you serious?" I asked. I didn't even want to look at his fucking starter today, much less beat the shit out of it.
Petty as it may seem, but I'd disliked Wooper since the original Gold version.
Maybe it was because it turned into Quagsire, which I had an even stronger antipathy towards, or maybe it was just the fact that its whole evolutionary line plagued my every playthrough every single fucking time I'd gotten through Violet City. Either way, I didn't like Wooper and I didn't like the kid who had the bad luck to start with one either.
"Of course I'm fucking serious! I'm going to win this time!" Diaval yelled before running off to the Duel Square.
I grimaced. Piece of shit. Well, at least what little experience we'd get from this idiot battle might encourage Leven to finally start moving up his evolutionary tree. Barring that, I'd end up with Dival's pocket change.
Unlike a gym or what I imagined a proper colosseum to be, the Duel Square was just a wide cleared area in the middle of town. Cracked sandstone arranged in jigsaw patterns that, if you squinted and used a bit of imagination, looked a little like a Pokéball.
Most people didn't do that bit, but the jigsaw circle was a good arena when there wasn't any other to be had. All you needed in a Pokémon battle was two trainers, but a clear boundary simplified things.
Diaval stood on the other side of the circle, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Something must have gone well for him. Maybe he'd caught another Pokémon? Whatever it was, given the options were Ground and Rock-types unless you got real lucky, I would almost certainly have a type-advantage.
He called out his Psyduck and I sent out Leven. While the poor little yellow duck waddled around in confusion –as someone who got headaches regularly and spent almost a decade repelled by sunlight, I could sympathize –, Leven fluttered down to the ground softly and 'whiiirruuuuuu'ed excitedly.
The little owl loved battling. I would have too, if we weren't constantly kicking the shit out of the same idiot.
"Leven, use Razor Leaf!"
The Rowlet jumped into the air, beating his wings to get some altitude before swiping both wings at the Psyduck, fresh green leaves coming out from between his feathers to fly at the unfortunate Water-type. The Psyduck scrambled away, but short little duck legs didn't go far against the storm of flying leaves, and it soon was rolling backwards, covered with some nasty looking scratches.
It wasn't enough to knock it out, but the Water Sport that it countered with was… fuck, I didn't know what it was. Pathetic, mostly. Effective, not in the least. Incredibly counter-productive if Diaval's secret weapon was a Fire-type.
Leven made another pass with Razor Leaf, which finally made the Psyduck faint. I hated beating the hell out of the duck Pokémon, but at least it was just a battle, not the sort of no-holds-barred beat down that could go down in the blood sport clubs.
Diaval grinned as he recalled his Psyduck and pulled out another Pokéball. This must be it; the secret weapon. He pulled back his arm and threw the ball, a red burst of light coming out to form…
That motherfucking Quagsire.
Uuuuuuuughhh – wait.
A bead of tension appeared between my shoulders. There was something wrong with the blue blob creature. I couldn't quite…
Oh, yes I could.
There was a black aura around the Pokémon, not so much a visual as it was a detectable cloud of malcontent that curdled the very air around it. Outside of that, the Quagsire itself looked angry, a weird and unsettling expression for something that normally had a very stupid looking smile plastered on its face.
"What… the fuck did you do, Diaval?"
Diaval grinned. "Oh, you can tell? I got Mire an… upgrade."
You fucking had your starter tortured and Dalek-ized because you couldn't beat me in a straight battle, that's what you did. You took every ounce of trust your Pokémon had for you and set it on fire. Because you couldn't beat one fucking trainer in battle.
My knuckles popped as I clenched my fists.
"Diaval…" I said slowly, trying not to let how apocalyptically angry I was show. "I am going to finish this battle… and then, I am going to hope to god that Chief Sherles or Duking steps in, because otherwise I am going to beat you to death for what you did to that Pokémon."
Diaval stepped back, the smirk falling off of his face, but that didn't stop his Quagsire from rushing forward, trying to Body Slam Leven into the ground.
Leven dodged, barely, before attacking with Razor Leaf again. The leaves scored a multitude of tiny papercuts along the Quagsire's back, but the slimy coating it wore over its skin ended up taking the most of the damage.
The Water-type looked up, before leaning back and filling its cheeks with something. And then it spat a fat glob of murky gunk right in my Rowlet's face.
Leven squawked, losing a little bit of altitude in surprise before catching himself, though there was still a disquieting shudder to his flight pattern.
His health had to be at least a third down. Nothing less than that would have rattled the little Grass-type so badly.
"Leven! Use Bullet Seed!" I yelled.
Leven nodded, before doing exactly that, spraying hard almond-shaped seeds from his beak. These weren't so easy for the Quagsire to shrug off, as the Shadowed Water-type reeled back with a pained roar.
"Dammit, Mire, the guy said you'd be unstoppable and you're just letting a stupid little owl beat the crap out of you like usual!" Diaval yelled.
"Excuse me for actually applying battle strategy instead of trying to beat a Grass type with fucking Water!" I snapped, "While you settle for letting someone else turn your Pokémon into a weapon, the trainers who actually give a damn go out and work with their partners!"
"Uuuuwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhh!"
The Quagsire leaped almost straight up, grabbing Leven out of the air and crushing the little bird Pokémon into the stonework.
"Leven!" I cried.
"Whiruuuuuu…" my Rowlet cried weakly.
"How do you like that, huh?" Diaval crowed. "How does that defeat taste, Delaine?"
Leven pushed himself upright, the round little owl too small against the bulk of the Quagsire. "Chuff, chuff, whirrururu…" my battered little starter chirped.
God, this was heartbreaking, but he wouldn't take surrender as an option. "Leven, use Magical Leaf!"
Leven hooted in assent before flinging his wings towards his opponent, flashing bright leaves first scattering straight up into the air before suddenly shooting forward to slam directly into the Quagsire's center of mass.
'Overgrow' was in effect right? Like 'Torrent' for Grass-types, power-up in a pinch. God, why didn't I ever choose Grass-type starters in the games?
The Quagsire wobbled on its feet, looking almost surprised by its… defeat? Yes, it was a defeat, a close win for me and Leven, but still close enough for a trip to the PokéCenter to be necessary. The Water-type finally fell over, dissolving into red light as Diaval recalled it to its Pokéball.
"Can't believe I shelled out for this 'Shadow Pokémon' crap…" the kid muttered as he threw a handful of money to the ground and turned to leave.
He did that to his Pokémon and had the gall to blame it for not being able to beat an opponent that it could never defeat before? God, I was half-half tempted to mug Wes for the Snag Machine just to get the stupid blob away from its idiot trainer.
But Leven was hurt and I wasn't a trainer like Diaval. I'd rat the bastard out to… someone. Duking or Sherles. Somebody.
I recalled my Pokémon and ran to the PokéCenter, passing the Pokéball to the Nurse Joy behind the desk. Within a few moments, she handed the ball back and gave me a small bow.
"Come again."
I nodded and stepped outside again, enjoying the light breeze that chose that moment to pass.
"Hey."
Well, today was a day for interruptions, though this voice wasn't familiar at all. I turned to look at the speaker and immediately regretted it. There were two of them, both dressed fairly normally for Pyrite Town, but there was something… off about them. Something in the slant of their smiles or their posture.
"That battle earlier… you saw something wrong with that Quagsire?" the first creep said. His tone wasn't concerned or even politely interested. It was testing and vaguely predatory.
Maybe it was unreasonable to judge on appearance, but given that I'd been able to detect the negative energy of a Shadow Pokémon, I was inclined to listen to my instincts. And my instincts were screaming that these guys were not flagging me down for a pleasant chat.
I stepped back, ready to run, but that was all the invitation they needed to jump me. And then I knew nothing.
The only difference between being unconscious while tied up in a burlap sack and being conscious while tied up in a burlap sack is being able to think and then panic over your situation.
I was in the back of a vehicle, probably a truck bed if the grumbling engine and hard metal beneath me was any indication. The truck was going through the desert, full of screaming wind, unforgiving sun, and dunes that rose and dipped like the sea.
I had no idea how long I'd been out. Hours? A day? Where we were, besides 'desert' – hell, ninety percent of Orre was desert, that didn't narrow it down – was beyond me, but where we were ultimately headed was infinitely less of a mystery.
Cipher. Either to be exploited or eliminated, depending on what my ability meant to them and their plans.
Oh god, what about Leven? What would they do to my starter?
No, I mentally reprimanded myself, this wasn't the time to freak out and start crying. I started wiggling against the rope binding my wrists, trying to loosen it up. I didn't need a lot of give, just enough to get a hand out so I could release my Rowlet. Even if I got taken, I wouldn't let my starter go down with me or in the event of a better chance at escape for both of us, Leven could slice the ropes with a Razor or Magical Leaf.
Of course, all of that hinged on me being able to loosen this… fucking… rope.
The truck slowed, coming to a stop.
"The boss is going to want this girl brought to the house," one said as they picked me up.
"What about her Pokémon? Looked like a rare one, Folly."
"Eh, we'll get it when we deliver her. No point in giving her a chance to escape, Trudy."
"Fair enough. Just hard to get a grip when she won't stop squirming."
There was no more warning before I kicked out on reflex, hitting something soft. I was instantly dropped.
Okay, hard smooth stone – on that subject, ouch – and the sound of rushing water. Phenac City for sure.
"Ahh! Shit, the little bitch has teeth!" Folly yelled through what was very clearly pain.
Beneath the burlap, I grinned. Get rekt.
Increasing my struggles to get free, I started yelling, "Hey! Somebody help! Kidnappers!"
"Shut up!"
Now why the fuck would I do that? "Help me! They knocked me out, tied me up, and shoved me in an unlaundered bag," I yelled louder.
"What's going on over here?"
"Who's shouting?"
"Who are those guys?"
"Fucking damn it…" Trudy growled, "The one time we go out of our way for the boss and it turns… to… shit! I oughta –"
"You 'oughta' what?" a new voice cut in. It was cool, its owner obviously unimpressed with what was standing before him. Considering that 'what' was two idiots with a writhing sack between them, it was a completely accurate assumption. There was nothing to be impressed with here.
"Tch. Doesn't look like I have a choice," Folly said before the sound of two Pokéballs releasing marked the start of a battle. "Bring it!"
In the end, I could only discern four moves and a humiliating defeat, the kind that we called 'a spanking' back in Pyrite Town, nothing less than a complete and utter smackdown to knock an uppity trainer back down to the appropriate peg.
Whoever had saved me – and didn't I have a sinking feeling as to that upcoming revelation – had proven that anyone whose parents named them 'Folly' was a born loser.
"You… You're not normal!" Folly yelled.
"You have two Whismur," my rescuer pointed out, "It wasn't a particularly difficult battle."
"Trudly, back me up here!" Folly yelled.
I could almost hear Trudly shrugging helplessly. "Sorry man, my party's wiped out from my turn in the colosseum earlier."
"Dude, we were at a PokéCenter earlier!"
"Where we kidnapped somebody!" the seemingly smarter of the duo whined, "It wasn't like I could just go in and get my team restored!"
"Whatever!" Folly snapped, "We're not telling the boss we lost her to Team Snagem's –"
There was a step forward. "Just in case you forgot the script, this is the part where you run," my rescuer said.
"R-right."
There was a clatter of feet as Trudy and Folly ran for it, ignoring their truck as they broke for the desert. There was a fair chance they'd die, but people got lucky sometimes and fear was a good motivator for some.
Besides, didn't someone once say that the gods protected idiots?
"Can somebody untie me?"
"Sure."
The vague shadow of a person shifted across the surface of the burlap sack I was in as my rescuer knelt next to me and started untying the rope. He made short work of the knot holding the bag shut and, once he pulled it off, I was completely blinded by the sun for a brief, dazzling second.
As my eyes focused, I saw my rescuer for the second time today and froze.
"Name's Wes," my rescuer said with a small smirk in response to my shocked expression. "Nice to meet cha."
Fucking shit. Plot relevancy.
Author's Notes
Ai ai ai. Finally got something around in writing (but it wasn't a new chapter of my previous story, so wah wah wah). Who knows, maybe once I get some zeal back for One Piece, I'll do some more work there, because there's nothing horrifically embarrassing in the writing I have down for Luck of the Draw so far.
The weirdest thing about this story was how freaking uncomfortable it was using my actual first name for a character. Slightly disquieting, but it is a common name enough not to be too out of place. I did change the name of my hometown, but to a name it had almost two centuries ago, so there's that. It's not that relevant, just a fun fact.
I've been meaning to do both a Jumpchain and a Pokémon Colosseum / XD: Gale of Darkness story, so I'm pleased to have finally begun making out on that score, even if it's both at the same time.
As I try with most of my stories, I try to expand on the plot and change certain points, so don't entirely expect everything to go as to the plot those of you familiar with the story much expect.
The basic set up is Jumpchain, which you should be able to find fairly easy using a search engine. There are a lot of possible jumps and while I might take suggestions for future ones, I do have some in mind and would prefer to focus on getting through Pokémon first.
Ideally, this would be a series, with a fic for each jump, but we'll see what the future brings us.
As always, comments and criticism are welcome.
Jumpchain Build
Bodymod
600 points
Medium Build (Free)
Athlete (100 cp)
Flexibility 1 (Free) – Peak human flexibility
Sense Rank 1 (50 cp) – 20/20 vision
Speed Rank 3 (50 cp) – Usain Bolt
Appeal Rank 1 (50 cp) – No acne ever
Metavore (100 cp) – Never gain weight, not matter what diet.
Dexterity Rank 4 (100 cp) – Mirror's Edge Parkour, Zipline, wallrunning, fallrolls.
Endurance Rank 3 (150 cp) – Run a marathon, sleep 10 hours, run another.
Pokémon
Orre
1000 cp + 200 cp (Marked – Cipher)
Age: 16
Starter – Rowlet (Free)
Small Town (50 cp)
Bigger On The Inside Bag (Free)
Pokéball(s) (5) (Free)
Pokégear (Free)
Pokédex (Free)
Potion(s) (3) (Free)
Hat (Free)
Physical Fitness (Free)
Motorcycle (100 cp) – fast transport, infinite fuel (currently in Pyrite Town).
Laptop (100 cp) – Solar powered, top-tier parts, satellite linked to the internet of the Pokémon world. (currently in Pyrite Town)
Survival Skills (100 cp) – innate knowledge of survival skills, can survive in practically anywhere.
Combat Training (100 cp) – mastery of hand-to-hand combat, retain cool head during a fight.
Mechanic (150 cp) – adept with a tool box, can repair and improve most machines.
Technician (300 cp) – Technically adept with technology, from the PC to the Pokéball.
Aura (300 cp) – Aura powers. Starting out with rudimentary sensory ability, but with training can manage Aura feats on par with a Lucario. Includes barriers, empathic ability, and Aura Sphere. [Currently exploring the beginnings of the Empathic Reader ability.]
