How It All Started
Or
Alan Bigshot Must Be Eliminated At All Costs
Disclaimer: The concept of pokemon as a whole belongs to Nintendo, Game Freak, and Satoshi Tajiri, but all original characters are mine.
It all started the day my parents decided I needed to become a pokemon trainer. Perhaps it was my lack of communication with people in general. Perhaps it was because I now spent most of my days in front of the computer, playing mmos while my brain turned to mush. Or maybe it was because I was fat.
Not go-through-doorways-sideways fat. Just pudgy. Or "pleasingly plump"(Whoever came up with that term deserves to be shot at point blank range)
I can already see some of you getting bored already, and I can't blame you. No one wants to read about a fat mmo geek. And you won't be, for long...
Like most kids, I had wanted a pokemon when I was younger. And like most kids, I would dream about someday having my own team and going on a journey to become the best trainer I could be. Why not a Pokemon Master? Well, because there was no one around who ever held that title. What made someone a pokemon master anyways? The closest thing I could think of was being a Champion.
Anyways, back then my family had fallen on hard times. Dad lost his job, Mom's parents fell sick and had to move in, and we didn't have the money to buy the pokemon I wanted. Or much else, for that matter.
So when I was eight, I loudly proclaimed during dinner that I was going to go out and become a skilled trainer, and get so rich from winning battles we could have all the pokemon we wanted and not have to work for money ever again.
Mom and Dad, who were sitting across from me with their forks halfway to their mouths, paused, the shock evident on their faces. This was the first time I had ever voiced my desire to train, and unfortunately I had little to no experience with pokemon despite being surrounded by them outside home.
"Well...we'll see," Dad said after a glance at Mom.
It was a better answer than I could hope for. But of course, things never happen the way they're planned.
It would be another eight years before I got my first pokemon.
During those years, I began to feel more and more isolated from my peers at school. I was the only one without a pokemon living at home, which they found odd. I felt like I had nothing in common with them, if I didn't have my own pokemon. Some of them had even dropped out of school early to go on their journeys, and when they came back to visit would tell all sorts of stories that I couldn't possibly add on to.
My parents, busy with work and my siblings and their parents, never seemed to have enough time for me anymore. So, I turned to the only other comfort I had at home.
My computer.
If I couldn't own my own pokemon, then the next best thing I could do was learn all about them on the internet. I eventually discovered online games, and that opened up a whole new world for me to explore. Suddenly, there were games that allowed one to raise virtual pokemon with a click of the mouse. I could go on training journeys without leaving my room, and raise virtually every pokemon with little effort.
At school, I would always sit in class, seemingly concentrating on whatever bunk was in front of me on the board when really thinking about the eevee I caught on my game and whether or not I should evolve it into Umbreon or Vaporeon, or worrying if the Typhlosion I put in the daycare would have an egg with the complementary Ditto I got for training six pokemon to level 30. I soon began to lose interest in the world around me, eating my dinner alone in my room, and deciding that a virtual pokemon was just as good as, if not even better than having a real one.
I was only fooling myself, and I guess deep down I knew it. No matter how many gym badges I won, or how many legendaries or shinys I caught(most of which through a simple hack),the sense of accomplishment would only last so far as the moment. There was nothing physical to show for all the time I spent in front of the screen, like riding up and down cycling road with 5 party slots of cross-bred vulpix eggs in the hopes that one would hatch with the move Flare Blitz.
Then, my life took a sudden, unexpected turn, and it was all due to the person I least expected.
A few days before I turned 16, my father's boss decided to retire and move to the Orange Islands with his wife and grandkids. The new manager, some young, handsome, fresh-faced big shot from Hoenn who happened to be the son of the CEO, invited all the staff and their families to his house as a sort of icebreaker/farewell to the old manager. Naturally, I was squeezed into something "nice", as my mother put it and was dragged along. Threats usually worked well on me if they involved removing the VGA cable from my computer moniter.
So there I was, standing in the corner I hadn't moved from since the "party" began when Mr Bigshot(as I thought of him mentally)walked over to me.
"So, you're Richard's kid, right?"
"...yes, um..." Not even an hour in but I had already forgotten his name. Smooth. The fact that he called my dad by his first name despite being almost half his age grated on my nerves.
"Alan Baegshoat, but please, call me Alan if you like."
"Ok...Alan."
I was trying my best to keep eye contact, but in all honesty I didn't feel like talking to this guy. He gave me this uneasy feeling, like he could see through me
"Are you hungry, or, thirsty then? We have a lot of refreshments on the patio, if you'd like.."
That patio was the size of my family's apartment, and was already occupied by more people than I cared to be around. And, I would die before allowing myself to eat in front of strangers. I shook my head no, wondering if we'd make it back in time for me to get back on my pokemon sim game and collect some rare candies from a weekly event before it expired.
"Come on, smile, kid,"he smirked, in rather the same way a Sneasel might smirk at its prey. I felt my cheeks growing redder. I hated it when people told me to smile.
"Um..."
"Ah, how would you like to see one of my pokemon? Surely you've started training some by now, haven't you?"
I grimaced. "Not really, I don't actually own any."
The look of horror on his face was almost comical.
"You poor child," he shook his head almost sadly. "You are the saddest thing I have ever seen."
Another wince. I've heard similar comments said about me when others thought I was out of earshot, but it to have it thrown in my face hurt. It was the most I'd ever spoken to anyone in a month, and a single sentence had been enough to reduce me to a state of feeling utterly pathetic. I caught Dad's eye, and I guess the look on my face must have told him something because he started heading over.
"I think I hear my mom calling,"I ground out hurriedly, feeling my face turn red even as I backed away. Never mind that my mother was about twenty feet away and in his field of vision, and that I was already running in the opposite direction.
Well, waddling. Sort of.
As I rushed off, I looked back once, only to see talking animatedly to my father, with hand gestures so erratic he nearly knocked a vase off a shelf. As I watched my Dad set his jaw and answer to a much younger man in what could only be "Yes, Sirs" and "No, Sirs", I could only hope that I hadn't offended his boss to the point of getting him in trouble.
The party ended without any trouble, but even so I noticed Dad giving me contemplative looks from the rear-view mirror as he drove as us all home.
That evening, as I mindlessly powered through another elite four battle, I heard my parents talking with hushed voices, far into the night. And I just knew, in the way that all kids instinctively know, that I was the subject of their heated debate.
For the next few days, I lingered in my room, unwilling to face my parents. Assuming that they saw the truth in what said, and were ashamed of me, and embarrassed because I probably made them look bad in front of Dad's new employer.
Once, from my bedroom window, I even saw Mr. Bigshot himself park his convertible in front of the apartment. A Scizor wearing custom fit sunglasses(!) was sitting in the passenger seat, a pincered forearm resting casually on the sill of the car's window.
Leaving his Scizor in the car, he picked up a package that was in the back seat and carried it over to the front door, which unfortunately wasn't visible from my viewpoint. I heard my mom answer the doorbell when he rang, but I opted to stay quietly in my spot by the window. It wasn't long before I saw Alan head out to his car again, this time with empty hands.
As I stood there wondering what his visit could have been about, the Scizor(who had been sitting in the car patiently all this time) nudged his trainer and inclined his head in my direction. My heart stopped. Ohhh...shit...
And Alan Bigshot looked up, grinned as widely as possible, and waved. Stunned, I gave him a half-hearted wave before letting the curtain fall.
That guy was going to be the end of me someday. I just knew it.
It wasn't until the day before my birthday that my parents called me into the living room(which also acted as a dining room). Neither of my younger brothers were present, I noted as I sat across from my parents at the dinner table.
"Well, you're turning 16 now," Dad began, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Got any plans for the future?"
"Not...really,"I said, though it felt wrong to do so.
"Your mother and I have been thinking. We both think it's about time you went out more...spread your wings a little."
I frowned. "You want me to move out?"
"No, its not that," Mom answered quickly, before Dad could get a word in. "What we mean is...well, don't you have an interest in pokemon?"
I looked at them both, still genuinely confused. "Well, I guess so, but I've kind of gotten over wanting to be a trainer." Lies...
"Oh, but sweetheart, you seemed so enthusiastic about being a trainer when you were...um, how old?"
"Eight," I told her patiently, watching as they shared another glance. "But I think I'm a bit old to even start out so why bother? I have classmates who started their journeys as soon as they turned 13. If I started now, I'd only be made fun of."
"Nonsense!" Dad narrowed his eyes. "Your late grandfather...my father, went on to reach the Kanto league, and he was 20 when he started."
"I didn't know Granddad was a trainer. But, that's different," I insisted. "He grew up with a pet Meowth. He at least owned a pokemon as a child."
"And we regret not getting you one when you asked. But," he added, reaching down and setting a large box with holes bored on the sides on the table. "We would like to rectify that mistake. Happy Birthday Kiddo."
I stared at the box, which looked oddly familiar, wondering if this was all a dream and not even daring to hope it wasn't. I had half convinced myself I was still in bed when my mother reached over and squeezed my hand.
"Open it," she said softly. "It's all yours." My heart skipped a beat when I heard the pokemon inside yip, as if in agreement.
Even as I watched the box shake slightly as whatever was inside shifted around, I was already certain of what was in there. My parents were well aware that I loved Eevee, and its evolutions. The huge poster of all the Eeveelutions pinned above my bed was testament to that. They were popular pets, and were highly reputed among both kids and teens. With an Eevee as my companion, I would be instantly popular. And when it evolved? I paused, trembling a little, basking in my sudden euphoria.
The Eevee shifted around inside some more as I reached to pull up the flaps that loosely sealed the box closed.
I would finally have something in common with the rest of my peers, something I could easily talk about at school, something that-
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?"
A large, round orange head with unnaturally shiny round eyes, attached to an equally orange and round body poked its head out of the box and stared at me. And stared. And stared. Before letting out another puppy-like "yip" and sinking its serrated jaws into my arm.
Bloody hell.
What did I do to deserve this? I thought, lying flat on my bed with my good arm over my eyes.
"Yip."
I tensed, then uncovered one eye and glared at the small orange bug/demon squatting inside the pet carrier on my desk. I literally had no idea what it was. I wasn't even sure it was a real pokemon. Even after the little monster tried to bite a chunk out of my arm, my parents insisted I take it to my room to get to know it better.
My forearm, swabbed in antibiotics and covered in several layers of bandages, throbbed at the thought of those steel-trap jaws. In all honesty, it didn't even seem to be self aware, only reacting to a couple of treats I tossed through the metal bars of its carrier. Maybe it reacted only to whatever was right in front of it?
"Yip, yip."
I groaned-I had really set myself up for disappointment this time around. How could my parents even afford an Eevee? Of course they'd get the cheapest poke- I looked at the monster- thing they could find. I glanced up at the Eeveelution poster and felt my heart plummet. I suppose I was being a little bit of a brat-I should have been grateful for even getting a pokemon in the first place, and running away and locking myself in the bathroom to treat myself(and maybe cry a little) was no way to thank my parents.
Still, I wish they had done some sort of research before getting me a-
I frowned, realizing that I didn't even ask my parents what species it was. Was it a new sort of pokemon? I didn't remember seeing it in any of my computer games, which were based both here in Johto and in Kanto.
My curiosity getting the better of me, I pulled up a well-known search engine and typed in a short description: Creepy orange pokemon with big round head that bites.
The search engine came back with results for the words 'pokemon' and 'orange', so clicked a promising link at the top and found myself looking at a web page showing which pokemon belonged to certain color groups.
Since there seemed to be no "orange" group, I looked at the next closest color that could match(pink) and found nothing useful. I got the same result after going through the "red" group. At first, I skipped right over the other color groups, but after finding nothing I began looking through them too. Finally, I reached the "brown" group and, despite it not being brown at all, there it was.
"Huh...Trapinch, the Ant Pit Pokemon, native to Hoenn..." I read out loud and sat back in my chair.
"So you're from Hoenn then...I knew Hoenn had different pokemon, but I've never even heard of you till now."
"Yip!" The Trapinch began gnawing through the bars of its carrier, much to my horror. I turned back to the screen.
"Lets see...digs pits and waits at the bottom to snatch up any prey who falls in with large, serrated jaws...yup, I can totally believe that. Evolves into...an even bigger bug," I frowned, skipping several paragraphs and clicking the arrow that linked to a page with the picture of a fragile looking insect known as a Vibrava. "Geeze, a bug like this would get fried by electrics in a second!"
A knock sounded at my door just before I could read further.
"Come in," I said, turning off the monitor.
"Hey sweetie,"Mom opened the door and poked her head in. "Mind if we talk a bit?"
Stifling a groan, I nodded. "Sure...what's up?"
"Let me get straight to the point. Your father and I...we feel as if you're trapped in this room." She looked at my stomach, bit her lip, and went on. "We want you to take your new pokemon seriously, and bring out the potential in both it and yourself."
"What potential?" I sighed. "Mom, I know you and Dad want what's best for me, but I don't think I'm even cut out for training or traveling."
"And that is why you need to take things a little bit at a time. Now get dressed."
"Dressed? Are we going somewhere?" It was now that I noticed she was wearing a light coat and holding her purse.
"We need to go to the pokemon center in Goldenrod and register you as a new trainer, of course."
"But-"
"Oh and before we go, I wanted to say...I know this pokemon is far from what you wanted, and I know it will take some getting used to..."she frowned as said pokemon finished chewing a hole through its carrier and crawled out onto the floor and promptly fell asleep. "But I was assured that training it is well worth the effort."
Privately, I thought training it to become Vibrava was a waste of time, but of course I wasn't going to tell her that. It was as we were getting into the car(trapinch inside the broken carrier across the back seat)when another thought occurred to me.
"Hey Mom? There's just one thing I want to ask before we go."
"Shoot."
"Where did you get this Trapinch from? I heard they're not from around here."
She smiled, and I got a bad feeling in my guts.
"That, my dear, is nothing to concern yourself with. You have a smudge on your cheek. Here, let me get that..."
And in the midst of wrestling her saliva covered thumb away from my face, I completely forgot about my question.
I would like some input on this story;I have written fan fiction for years under a different name, but this time decided I needed a fresh start. There are so many wonderful pokemon stories out there, the ones I enjoy most being those of the adventure genre that tend to be excessive in the amount of chapters they have. I have hopes for this to become one such tale, the kind in which both trainer and pokemon transform themselves in both the literal and figurative sense. ~PaintedZecora
P.S. I am fully aware trapinch and vibrava are not bug types.