A/N : Greetings from Wally's writing corner! Here comes the multi-chapter fanfiction I promised myself I wouldn't do...it's of course going to take priority over the 100 Themes, if only because I'm already dedicated to the plot. Yes, this will contain gore later on. Yes, it will get romancey. No, again, it will not have smut. And yes, there is an antagonist. Who, though? Well.

As an obligatory note, if you have not listened to the song Remote Control yet, you really really should to even grasp a bare understanding of what's in store for you here. It's not completely relevant, but still important.

No chapter will have the same POV as the last one, however. At least, that's the plan, and what I'll be sticking to for now. Yes it'll be a game to figure out who's narrating, that's part of the fun!

Other than that, enjoy! I'll include other notes as needed in the later chapters.

There's something about waking up soaked that's absolutely terrible.

It's heavy and sticky, with my hair royally messy, the knots it dried into are impossible to miss. Especially when I lift my head from the pillow, feeling the patch of wet that had previously been my resting spot. I'm not sure why I'm so damp, it isn't hot in the room at all, and I don't sweat much in my sleep anyway. The shower I took last night would have dried by now, even in the pure darkness of nighttime in my dad's gym. With nonexistent windows, it's heaven to sleep in, but hell on Earth when you need to get up in the morning and can't tell if it's 7 AM or 7 PM. Today happens to be one of those days, I grapple for my signal-less Pokénav to check the time and find myself unable to find it.

Grief. It's just too dark. I throw off the heavy blanket knowing full well it'll probably drape itself over my lovely backpack, breathing a sigh at the relentless chill of the gym. It was kept cold for a reason-Normal types have heavy fur, and they battle better when there's no heat to trap. Still; I for one do not have heavy fur, and air conditioning certainly won't help my hair dry.

For the sake of my own sanity, I'll just say it's the shower.

A low call from my impatient dad stirs urgency in me further, it's irritating that he's so insistent but it helps. Morning confirmed, I would say, even still I've had no time to get ready and there's no way I'm going out there without my "work" clothes on. He should know this, and still his logical mind won't tell him to wait ten goddamn seconds. I shake my head. Unfortunately, my hair had dried just enough that the style that developed as I slept against the pillow was what it was going to be stuck in. No, I don't have a brush on me, it's in my bag and right now I don't have time for that.

"Soooon! Come here!"

Speaking of. A grunt of acceptance musters itself from the back of my throat, there's a small climb of half-assed effort to make it to the gym's bathroom while part of me still wants to linger in the dark and plan out my day. But Dad, for once, needs me for something. This is no simple wake up call! An eye gives that loose twitch on such a note, adamant in his disappointment, he hasn't addressed me by name in some two or three months. That is only more apparent in the fact that he still called me "son" despite needing a favor.

I won't admit to him that it saddens me deeply, even despite the fact that I don't blame him at all. Having a son like me...

The bright stadium lights, typical for a gym, flash on with a notable boom.

And instantaneously I screech in horrible, melodramatic agony.

It's bright as hell almost instantly, searing the sleep right out of my eyes. Arceus, of course it burns! It had been pitch black two seconds ago, and now pure white! Unable to adjust in a timely manner, my eyes feel as if they're on fire. I keep them wrenched shut to ease the shrinking, backing up into the wall. There are literal tears seeping down my cheeks. "AUUUUGH! Shit, Dad! Are you trying to blind me?!" No matter how slowly I try to blink my eyelids open they only snap closed again, the tears themselves feeling like acid.

All I hear from the outside of the door is a cocky chuckle. "Thought you needed some light."

Yeah, well screw you too, then. Eating up an entire three or four minutes waiting for my eyes to adjust to the hellfire is not how I planned to present myself in the least, which is quite a bit to make up for as far as impressions go. I'd hate to admit that I honestly do want my dad's respect again...

Augh. Damnit, it's going to be a busy day, and I'm wasting time crying a solar flare out of my eyes, and/or the shame of being a Trainer that would have their own father treat them like this. Am I being dramatic? Perhaps, but I spend all of my time treating my life like I'm the main character in a movie. And today feels like my great comeback from a fall from the highest heights!

And to be perfectly honest, I know I'm one-hundred percent justified in that judgement. Especially after last night's heart-to-heart with my dad, as little as he wanted to be involved with it. Why I told him everything I wanted to achieve at once, I don't know, but he didn't take it very well...though when someone never looks like they're taking anything, it's hard to make that judgment. Still. That's why I was worried at all.

I wanted to go to the Pokemon League, I had told him. At first he seemed almost surprised, then his expression fell back to normal. He knew that that wasn't all there was to it, and my goal. Before I had even started talking, he knew what I wanted to arrive to in that conversation. Travelling. I'd be gone for a long time, to find my way in and figure out how to get it through to the Champion that his misfit band known as the Elite Four were in it to get whatever they liked. That they were manipulative, abusive, lying, and most of all, not afraid to sacrifice lives. In the figurative sense as well, even. And again, my dad knew this too. I could read the distrust off of his features then, but I knew that he was aware that I was right.

Somehow, I'd take them down.

Revenge. Finally able to release my eyelids from their permanent shut position, I crack a smile. The task seems impossible, even that feeling floods me with a looming sense of dread. But I want to reveal them for the conniving, power hungry group of individuals that they are. And there is no better person to do that than a Pokemon Trainer.

Tired of having been personally screwed by a group tasked with both law enforcement and enriching the Trainer's journey, it's time. With that, I move to put on my standard skin-hugging attire.

...Underwhelmed isn't quite the word for the feeling. It's more, pleasantly unsurprised. That my worry at whatever he might have wanted was completely unnecessary, and it is in fact such a perfectly tame thing that I'm not sure why he had been so urgent in the first place. And I'm thankful I worried about my impression and/or appearance, because there's a stranger standing in the "house". I can only stare at him, and it seems he can only look from Dad, to me, to Dad again, and chuckle a little. A sheepish blush dancing across his pale and youthful face.

"M..Mister Norman, he looks so wh-whipped! You didn't have to do a..all that, I could've waited..."

That would've been nice before the fact, you.

Being the jackass of all trades that my dad is, he joins the boy in the stolen glances at me-frowning near-invisibly as he analyzes my face, I notice him not noticing that I noticed-then returns to what I assume was a prior conversation. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, obviously my very presence makes him tense. Knowing that he won't show that in front of the boy, though, I already have the advantage in the situation. Perhaps he's aware of that too.

"Now, he needed to get up anyway. And it's all in good fun, Wally. Do you want to explain your predicament to him?"

Won't even speak directly to me. It's as if I only exist as a divide between himself and his pride as a father, and I've been mentally disowned. It hurts more than he knows. I narrow my eyes bitterly at him-careful not to catch Wally's fickle glances-and twitch again. To my surprise, his eyes cloud over with distress. For something.

If I hated him, I'd say Wally's safety. But I don't hate him. And I can't at all read what he's worried about. It's actually kind of intimidating, to be honest.

Fully unnerved, I catch the hint and begin to ignore the older presence. Letting my eyes meet Wally, and instinctively taking in everything I can think to notice at this time. A few things that are obvious, for instance. From his toes up, his outfit displays a typically childish but still alarming lack of coordination. Black boots that almost hug his legs. Shorts of the same variety that are a tad too big on him for what they're supposed to be. Thankfully they're fully covering.

The off-white cardigan fits him, at least, though not so much the furry collar it has or the headphones loose around his neck. But the oddest thing on him has to be the fact that his outfit glows. Neon. Neon yellow lines along his stupid front that form the shape of a bow, and I'll be honest, look completely fucking ridiculous.

Being mean about it anyway. For some reason, he makes it work. Even with his hair being huge, unruly, and bright green. And with his entire body being the width of a twig.

Fully overwhelmed by his outfit, I don't take in his expression until he starts speaking. It's uncertain, still with an innocent smile, but much to my guilt it's easy to tell that he knows I'm judging him, and is trying to shake it off.

A sentence breaks my stupor for half a second, he speaks with a calculated confidence yet a defined stutter. Quite a combination. "U-um! Hi...s-sorry for that, Brendan...but...I'm Wally! And I kinda, uhh, would like your help with sssomethin'..."

...his eyes. They're bright blue. Wide. Unsure. But most of all, completely without visible pupils. Instead are two bold yellow symbols, a plus in his right and a minus in his left.

I feel sick.

Attempting to swallow it, I respond. "...You're...gonna hafta tell me what it is b'fore I agree, then."

That'll work. As if he doesn't know this prior unspoken rule, he withdraws, fiddling nervously with his hands. At least he's pointed in his answer. "R...right, that's right, sorry... I'm not good at asking for h-help." It's like watching gears turn, the way his horrific eyes squint and unsquint at the ground and his eyebrows quirk every which way. "um..it's sorta..embarassing... I'm, moving, r-right? And I have...quite a bit of video games... but I c-can't carry 'em myself, my aunt doesn't like them though so she won't h-help.." His voice steadily decreases in volume with every single word. I almost laugh-it is pretty embarassing.

Thankfully, I stop myself.

"S'you want me to help carry 'em is what you're saying. Carry them where exactly?" That first part is easy enough to both figure out and do, it's the second that worries me. How far will we be carrying them? And that doesn't even touch exactly how many games we'll be hauling. All I can do is trust Wally to explain.

"I..into the truck.. We're driving to V-Verdanturf, right? That's...really...a-all I need..."

Something I hadn't thought possible happens. His voice shrinks even more, and his nervous blush grows. "but...i-if you could help me unload them too...then...th-that'd be nice..."

So ride in the truck with him as well. While my first instinct is to refuse that latter part, something stops me. His expression, maybe. Or the part of me that notes that Verdanturf is quite a walk and, being unable to fly without being noticed, a head start such as that is more of a blessing than anything. I sigh, smile, and laugh nearly all at the same time, admittedly shellshocked by Wally's nervousness at asking such a simple thing. And the fact that I almost refused. Since when did I turn into that kind of person?

"Come with you, too?" I can't stop staring at his eyes-the curiosity in me is overwhelming, as well as the anxiety eating the walls of my stomach. I have to know. I absolutely have to. There's no way the eyes are natural. With a quick, tiny grunt, I guillotine my sporadic silence and brace myself for his happiness for my reply, "...Yeah. Sounds fun, actually."

I can feel my dad's tension ebb.

Wally's face explodes into a smile, something reminiscent of immense relief and utter cheer. It's like his happiness rubs off on me, what with a twinge of it growing uninvited in my chest. But that's fine. I know it'll be fleeting, I decide to savor it.

"...A-alright! Thank you, Brendan! C...can-" I notice him gaze soulfully at my dad, "We go n-now? It's...a bit of a d-drive too, so better..s-sooner than later.." Noticing his ramble, he quickly stops and appends, "b-but he should be back tomorrow!"

...staying the night? Huh. Still, I shoot that right in the nose, "Not tomorrow. I'll be traveling for the next like, I dunno, however long, Dad." Pretending as if he isn't already aware. With a light sigh, my dad nods.

"...As long as you're with your Pokemon, you'll be safe. Be sure to give your mom visits."

Wally seems quite amazed, actually. In a way it's startling how surprised he is about, gasp, a Pokemon Trainer on a faraway adventure?!

...

...It's gonna be a long ride.

I accept this with all of my heart, steeling myself to a few hours in a dark truck with a stranger. At least I know that he knows that there will be no funny business-Wally doesn't even appear to recognize me as anyone important. So that's fine. I give my dad a wave, leading Wally out the door of the gym.

"...Alright, that's that! Let's go, then."

...The sooner the better, after all.