Hello there, my name is Kalkiru and this is one of a few fanfiction ideas I have been mulling over. First and foremost I feel I should post some warnings before you read this. For starters, this story will be shipping Brendan and Wally and though it will largely be a bromance of epic proportions, there will be underlying romantic tones and this may blossom into actual romance later. I am leaning very much towards not writing smut at all for this story however, even as an ending despite the fact the characters are of age for that in this fic. However, there is that possibility however faint it may be, so if you don't like Yaoi turn back now.
This story involves Brendan using a persona called Ruby for very plot relevant reasons, hence the Ruby tag. The opening prologue for this fic is heavily inspired by another fanfiction writer on here, her story "All I ever wanted" (written by Mccull) was one of the few decent WallyxBrendan fics on FFnet/deviantart. I really loved the idea of Brendan hating contests and the family tension this could create, I also loved the flow of her prologue. As a result my prologue will be based on the concepts said writer has presented, however, every chapter there after will follow an entirely separate chain of events, I wanted to take my own direction with this idea and to see how far I could push Brendan's contest and family issues to fuel the plot of the story.
It should be noted that I also intend for this to be long, this does cover their journey right up to the pokemon league after all and with so many headcanons and characters to play around with this is going to become one hell of a ride. To be fair though, I make no promise of regular updates, deadlines make me feel bad about working on things I would otherwise enjoy so I am not going to have a set timeline for chapter releases, they will come out if and when I have them ready.
The prologue has been beta'd by an outside source not on FFNet whom I will refer to as Sephi and heavily scrutinized and read over a million times by myself. Perfection is unattainable but hopefully thanks to all the re-reading this has gone through it gets to you viewers in a respectable and coherent state. For reference, even if I don't get someone to beta a chapter I read it myself many times over and I don't even confirm a final draft until I'm happy with how it looks and flows, expect this to make updates a little slow ;^^
Anyway, a small disclaimer; I do not own Pokemon nor do I own it's characters.
With all that warning mumbo jumbo out of the way I thank you in advance for reading and I hope you enjoy my fic!
The shouts echoed, filling the contest arena and dimly spilling over into the backstage area where I happened to be.
Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan!
That horrific sound was my name; a droning chant flowing from beyond the curtains of the stage.
Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan!
It continued. They continued. Thousands upon thousands of people, all claiming to be my fans, all believing that they knew who I was. They only knew my name, not the person behind it, the Brendan they were cheering for was naught but a lie. A façade created for their entertainment.
Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan! Brendan!
It was repulsive. I despised the persona they were all cheering for; hated that who I really was didn't matter when compared to the me that everyone else seemed to want. Anyone from the outside would have thought they adored me, but they couldn't be more wrong. Who they desired to see and I who happened to be were two completely different people.
Tonight, like all other nights, involved me giving the crowd what they wanted to observe. A frivolous and pointless display of elegance, a false performance involving Pokemon that weren't even mine. Bad enough that I had to act, worse still that I had to force other people's Pokemon to act with me.
I was reaching my breaking point; fed up with the media, the fans, all of the shit that came with them. I was done. Completely over it all. My breathing was unsteady and pained, It felt like I was choking on the heavy, almost musty air behind the stage arena. A small part of me even wished I was, so I would have an excuse not to go out there, to meet the faces of this distant uproar.
To top it off, this show was always televised across Hoenn to every household in the region with cable. Tens of thousands of onlookers, all wanting to see their precious idol. The thought of it all stirred more anger in me. My resolve building, I began to rationalize every plan I had to get out of there. I began to justify it all to myself, silently.
Unaware of my emotional turmoil, the fans kept chanting, repeating my name in anticipation like they always did.
"Brendan! Time to go on stage! Come on, go!"
My brooding was broken by the sharp, almost shrill voice of my mother. Becoming vaguely aware that she was pushing me, shoving me in the direction of the stage, I snapped back into reality. She was trying to get me to go beyond the crimson threshold, looking back I saw her stern expression, practically willing me to step past the curtains and meet the audience.
Like every day of the last three months I had fought to avoid the stage, I dug my heels into the wooden floor in defiance. I did so on instinct, hoping in vain that they would catch; that I could fight my mothers' strength and save myself from having to go on stage again. No such luck. For her size, my mother was stronger than she seemed, and it didn't help any that the wooden floor was always waxed. I struggled regardless.
"Stop that Brendan! Don't fight me! You know full well that you have to go on stage, now hurry up and give the crowd what they want!"
My mother didn't care what I wanted, or at least that's how it appeared right now.
"MOM!"
I shouted at her in fruitless protest, fighting her back harder this time. Despite my renewed efforts she pushed me forward and as I was edging closer to the curtain the music started on cue. A jumbled electronic piece, non-lyrical and intended to be my theme song while performing. Hearing even the first few notes was enough to stir my quiet rage. Tonight, it was just more fuel for the fire; the already raging inferno in my chest.
It was all so false. The music, my clothes, even the Pokemon I had to use were as far removed from the real Brendan as they could possibly be. I was just an average boy who enjoyed battling, who preferred the company of friends to the company of fans, (not that I had many of those). I didn't care for any of the things this career could give me, not a single thing.
The cheers were empty and hollow. The money was pointless and the people were fake. Thinking over it all made me even more angry than I already was, if such a thing was possible right now. A mix of fear, loathing, hate and regret. My emotions were so intense that they almost seemed tangible.
I snapped.
Whatever was keeping the balance of my thoughts in check gave way. I was seventeen years old, bordering on eighteen, and for the first time in my life I had reached the point where I just wasn't going to sit back and take this shit.
"NO!"
I snarled, breaking contact with the woman who called herself my mother. The woman that turned me into this, twisted my image to suit a lifestyle she wanted for herself and not me. I was exhausted. Tired of Pokemon contests, of having to pretend to be someone I clearly wasn't.
"BRENDAN! Get your ass out there now mister! You have a job to do, now go do it!"
She pointed at the parting line in the curtains with such force and malice I was surprised her arm didn't drop off.
"NO!" I repeated more adamantly this time, shaking my head.
"I refuse to perform for you, or anyone else any more! It's not fucking fair!"
My mother's eyes bulged. She wasn't used to this much defiance, I could tell by the look on her face that she didn't expect anything after pointing to the curtains, let alone me dropping the F-Bomb on her.
I felt it soon after, the stinging pain spreading through my cheek after being hit with her open palm.
"Don't you dare speak to me like that, you ungrateful little brat! I'm setting your life up for you and this how you speak to me?! Do you want a job?! Do you want to have a good life?! You need to go out there right now young man!"
Her nails dug into my shoulders a little when she gripped me again, glaring menacingly into my eyes, shooting daggers with hers. It was a look I rarely got to see. I normally didn't rebel to this point, especially in my younger years. However, enough was enough. Slapping me only proved that she didn't care. Not for what I wanted. Despite that knowledge, despite the stinging sensation on my right cheek and all reason, I still wanted to believe she did, I wanted to try and get her to understand me. If she could only see things my way I would never have to do any of this ever again.
"I want to be happy!"
Yanking myself from her iron grip, I backed up a little before continuing.
"None of this is what I want! I don't care about any of it and you know it! This isn't a life you're setting up for me, this is something you're setting up for yourself!"
I bellowed the last sentence, trying to drown out the chanting from the crowd behind the curtains.
She appeared to consider me for all of about two seconds before she scoffed in response and began pushing me again. The pain lingering on my face from her earlier outburst and her lack of care for anything I had just said solidified my determination. If I was to get out of having to go through this routine again, I had to do something myself since she had no intention of helping me. It was necessary for me to make it clear to more people than just my mother that I wasn't just some star for them to all fawn over.
I stopped resisting, broke from my mothers' grip and began to stride toward the opening in the curtain line, glancing back to catch a triumphant smile from her. She probably thought I had given in again. It took all my willpower not to snort at her stupidity. Her, and everyone else in this stadium would be getting a show alright, but not the show they were here for.
I hit a blinding light as I stepped through the threshold that was the backstage curtains. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the heavily illuminated stage. Blinking a few times, I stared at the cheering crowds; their cries still deafening, drowning out whatever sound I could make. If they had been close enough they might have been able to catch the glare I was giving them. Fortunately for them, that was not the case.
The spotlights were turned on, adding harsher light to an already bright environment, pointed directly at me. The crowd's cheering continued, they all moved in unison, proud of their beloved idol. The most popular handler in the entire world, the greatest child performer. No one, not a single person amongst the crowd of thousands was aware that I hated contests; that I wanted to be a trainer. Hell, I'd bet every cent I'd ever made that they didn't even know that the Pokemon I performed these ridiculous shows with weren't even mine.
Expectation demanded I perform my opening act, the one that involved a timid little Skitty doing a short acrobatics performance amidst some glitter bombs. Well, expectation be damned because that wasn't on my agenda for the night, or any night after this.
Under the intense light blue spotlight I dashed across the stage to its centre. Normally I would push the secret button jutting just above floor where I was standing, which would prepare the arena for my main act. Today I avoided that switch like touching it would make me contract Swinub flu. The people who cheered had grown silent at this point, most likely in anticipation for a new routine. Looking at all their bright and expectant faces made it difficult to contain the hysteric laughter building in my chest.
Contain it I did however as I had a point to prove, laughter could wait. I reached the centre of the stage. Below my feet were more switches, one of which turned off the music that was still playing in the background. With the constant hum of the up-beat electronic music gone and the crowd itself maintaining it's deafening silence I turned up the volume of my mouthpiece.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" I said in the most patronizing tone I could muster.
"It is with great pleasure that I bring to you some long overdue information!"
Shaking. I was shaking, I couldn't tell if it was from my own nervousness, or from my excitement and the adrenaline pumping through me. Either way, the crowd leaned forward slightly, hanging off that last sentence with anticipation. I would take a lot of joy in shattering that expectation.
And I did.
"The show... is over"
Despite the maelstrom of emotions swirling in my head, nothing could stop the vile smirk forming on my face as the crowd began to gasp in shock. I drank it all in. For all of a gloriously long second I basked in that disappointment, knowing full well the consequences. The lights on stage merely played out to their pre-set pattern behind me, the confusion this caused alongside my declaration drew silence from a usually chaotic crowd.
"Why is that my boy?" An inquisitive voice rang out.
A voice with the same volume as mine, coming from one of the judges at the side of the stage. A guest judge actually, someone unfamiliar to me, like so many others, yet who had heard about me from people close enough to me to see how rebellious I could be. No doubt he, like the audience, was trying to understand just what I meant. He leaned forward in his seat, hands folded under his chin, almost demanding my reply.
I was still breathing heavily. I hated him. Like everyone else, he couldn't understand, always expecting the act, never the real me.
"Brendan?"
Another judge spoke up, this time a regular of the stage. One of my managers in fact. Tapping at his microphone, clearly commanding that I answer while soundlessly mouthing out a "What the fuck?" at me.
I hated him even more, unlike the guest judge and my rabid fans, he didn't so much expect the act as he demanded it. He and my mother worked together to frame my public image and he would be the first to yell at me if I even had so much as a single hair out of place when I performed. Making sure to take a mental picture of his stupefied expression, a face worth all years of putting up with his bullshit and more, before I turned to meet the face of the final judge, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth.
The last judge, the only female on the panel merely shook her head in knowing the moment she met my hateful gaze. She had discussed many times over with my manager that this would happen one day, that I was a spoilt brat who could only screw up. To her, I was an ungrateful child. To me, she was a judgemental bitch.
I glared at all three, wishing my hatred for them all would manifest, that they could see the pain I had to put up with for their sake for so long.
"Brendan"
My manager said again, tapping harder on his microphone this time.
"Brendan"
The female judge echoed after him.
"Brendan!"
One of the crowd members whined.
"BRENDAN!"
This time a roar from a portion of the crowd. My nails digging into my palms on reflex as I heard my name called repeatedly. I could live a million years without hearing anyone say my name again and it would still be too soon.
I ripped the microphone from my ear and held it firmly in place just below my lips.
"Everyone. Let me make this clear."
I was shaking even harder now. This was it. After today, I wouldn't have to put up with this bullshit for the rest of my life.
"THIS SHOW IS FUCKING OVER"
I screamed into the microphone, throwing it at the ground with enough force to shatter it into pieces. The sudden and violent nature of my outburst caused the crowd to squeal and flinch, almost in unison.
I turned my back to them all, sparing not even a glance in their direction, not for the fans, not for the TV crew and certainly not for the judges. For once not a soul said my name. My footsteps echoed faintly within the arena as I ran as quickly as I could, a silent call out to all of my 'fans' that this was it. This was the end of Brendan the handler. Their beloved, famous, overrated idol. Their precious false star was gone and wasn't coming back.
I darted off the stage and out of an emergency exit to the side. Beyond it's darkened halls I found the outside world where I had left my Flygon waiting. From the start this dragon of mine was in on it. As one of my first Pokemon he knew of my plan from the beginning. Well partly anyway. He knew I liked to ride him and escape after contests, but he didn't know (no one knew actually, not even me) that I was going to make a harsh split-second decision tonight.
Nobody could have known that I was going to ruin everything; my mother's, judge's and manager's plans with just one 'performance'. Not a single person. Sweet Arceus did it feel great to know I had ruined it all. There were no words in the English language that could adequately describe the sense of satisfaction this knowledge gave me. Entire novels could be written about how good it felt.
Even as I climbed on top of my Flygon, I continued to soak in that indescribable feeling. With the crowd inside the arena giving off a faint noise as a backdrop, I had never felt more alive than at this moment.
"Let's go" I breathed softly, knowing I would have to leave fast before my mother burst through that very same exit I had left from. She would probably try to restrain me. Hell, she would lock me up and put me in chains if she could. She didn't give a damn about who I was as long as I was the Brendan that everyone wanted. Tonight had proved that beyond a doubt. But I wasn't going to be that Brendan any more, not a single fucking moment longer.
No. From this day forward, I was going to just be me.
Well, that's the prologue, its pretty great and the way the events occurred was directly inspired by the fic I mentioned above. You wouldn't believe it, but there was a much, MUCH angstier version of this during the drafting stage. I decided however that it wasn't a good thing if everything was just covered in angst and the repeating affirmations of "nobody" knowing anything about Brendan as a person (albeit worded differently every time) did nothing to advance the narrative and they only made our poor protag seem like a whiny little shit. I was going for sympathetic here so naturally I had to cut a lot of stuff out to make it flow well and not sound overly dramatic. In the end I found a healthy balance and so here we are!
In any case, cheers for reading, hope you like it and I hope you will enjoy the next chapter.