Introduction:
Hey there! I'm your neighborhood warlock, FoxTrott. You can call me Fox. I don't own Pokemon, otherwise I'd be bathing in money. One for the rabbit, two for the crow, three to get ready because here. We. Go!
"Look, we're almost to Goldenrod! It's right over these hills!"
A young boy ran up to the top of a small hill, the end of his large, Linoone-patterned shirt waving in the breeze. He pointed towards the setting sun, where the silhouette of a bustling metropolis could be seen, not a cloud of smog hovering over it. The lights were barely beginning to turn on, creating a dim glow to accompany the sunset.
"Oh, good, 'cause I'm freaking tired."
A girl who looked to be on the end of her teens came up behind the boy, and collapsed atop the hill, chest heaving. Her fake, Skitty fur spaghetti strap top and pink skirt didn't look well-equipped to the cold breeze that was coming on. She shook her black hair out of its ponytail, and glanced behind her.
"You're not the one carrying everything but the kitchen sink."
Another boy, this one looking as old as the girl, trudged up the hill and collapsed next to the black-haired girl, letting the sky blue tote bag, camera bag, and suit case fall to the ground. He wore a fake Zigzagoon fur jacket, zipped up, and brown pants, along with a brown baseball cap. Pouches hung on his belt, containing who knows what. A Flaaffy walked up behind him, and plopped onto the dirt path next to the boy.
The youngest of the group smiled, and turned to his fellows. Long, dark brown hair shivered as the breeze passed by once more, and his hazel eyes sparkled. The bottoms of his jeans were spattered with mud from many a travel. A belt hung around his waist, three minimized Pokeballs on it.
"Oh, yeah," he said, giggling, "Thanks for carrying my stuff, James!"
The one referred to as James groaned, and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Yeah, you're welcome, lil' bro," James replied, rolling his eyes. Flaaffy made a bleating noise, folded her arms, and nodded towards James' younger brother.
"James, be nice to Joseph," the girl said in a voice that suggested she had said this a million times, and then some. She straightened up, and looked at James. "Thanks for carrying my tote bag with all my art supplies in it, James. I was tired from the trek over here."
"No problem, Carol." James said this with much more enthusiasm than previously, making a knightly smile. Joseph stuck his head between the two as they eyed each other passionately.
"Are y'all going to sit there," began Joseph in a ridiculing tone, "and make googly-eyes at each other, or are we going to go back to Goldenrod?" He smiled mischievously, and James stood up.
"Joseph's got a point," he said, dusting himself off, "we better get going. Promised Dad we'd bring Joseph home from Grandma's house before nightfall."
"Do we have to, James?" Carol asked pleadingly, looking up at James with sparkling brown eyes. James was about to say something that was bound to be flirty when Joseph butted in once again.
"Again, let's get going." Joseph pointed with both hands towards Goldenrod, and started off in that direction. Carol sighed as she rose, and followed along behind Joseph. James looked down at Flaaffy.
"Well, it's just you and me carrying stuff now, buddy," James sighed, picking up the camera and tote bags. Flaaffy shook her head, and scrambled after the group, bleating.
"Gee, thanks, Flaaffy!" James moaned as he picked up the suitcase, ambling after Joseph and Carol.
A young girl wandered through the early night streets of Goldenrod, clutching a necklace of shells around her neck. Fiery orange hair fell to her shoulders, having a slightly wavy quality to it. Eyes the color of oak glanced at every alleyway as she passed. A light blue tank top and dark blue skirt clothed her delicate figure, flowing to the curves of a developing lady. A jacketed cell phone was clipped to her skirt.
"Hey there, little lady."
A large man stepped out of an alley, hands in his baggy jean pockets. A bandanna disguised his face from the nose down, and a baseball cap hid his hair. A black T-shirt hung to his muscular figure. Two other men, shorter and more slender, but dressed the same, were seen lurking in the shadows behind him, holding something spherical in their hands.
The girl gripped her necklace tighter, and stepped back. The man matched every step she took backwards with two more forwards, and when the girl chanced a run, the man grabbed her by shirt and whirled her around. The fiery-haired girl found a shank made of rusted metal pushed to her throat.
"Please, please, I don't have any Pokemon," the girl pleaded, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, "I don't have any money, either, please let me go!"
"That necklace sure looks valuable to you," the man observed. Through the bandanna, the girl could feel his hot, tobacco-ridden breath. He pressed the shank closer to the girl's neck, and she could feel it pressing against her skin. "Who gave it to ya?"
"M-my mother gave it to me," the girl stuttered. Tears fell down her face as she imagined that this was the end, a simple death, like so many others performed in the city. A Zangoose and a Mightyena circled around behind her, presumably released by the men behind the one holding her.
"Well," spat the man holding her, "I'll let you in on a secret, wench. You're trespassin' on Sharpedo territory. That's bad enough, but paradin' 'round with the colors of the Marshstomps?" He made a "tch" noise, and shook his head. "G'night, cutie."
"CoooommmBUSKEN!"
The scene seemed to go on in slow-motion: the bird foot of a Combusken smashing against the man's jaw like a championship kick boxer, slowly pushing him away from the girl. The most amazing part was the fact the Combusken looked like he had jumped from far away, and still had enough momentum to carry him across the street.
The scene returned to normal speed, and the man collapsed against the ground, most likely unconscious from the attack. The Combusken landed in a skid in front of the girl, facing the other two men. They barked out commands to their respective Pokemon, and they rushed towards Combusken.
The Zangoose reached the Combusken first, and brought his hand up in an uppercut motion, but with the fist open to slash the bird Pokemon. Combusken expertly side stepped the attack, and brought his leg up in between Zangoose's legs. Wincing, Zangoose fell to the ground, hands over his crotch.
Mightyena leaped towards Combusken soon after, mouth open for Crunch. The Combusken turned about in surprise, and would have been caught if not for the intervention of a Flaaffy. Flaaffy swung her tail at the Mightyena, catching it squarely on the nose and flinging it backwards, K.O.'d.
The girl was watching on in awe of the Pokemon's fighting prowess. She looked past the scene to see two boys running up to her, one around her age, and the other looking a few years older. The younger reached her first, and returned the Combusken on his way there.
"Are you okay?" he asked. The shirt he wore reminded the girl of a Linoone, and the jacket on the older one reminded her of a Zigzagoon. "Those guys didn't hurt you too bad, did they?"
"Joseph, give her some room," the older said, waving him off, "she just got jumped by one of the Sharpedoes, so she's probably shocked." Reaching the girl and the one called Joseph, he allowed the Flaaffy to hop onto his arm and scramble up to his shoulder. "Ma'am," he began, "may I ask your name?"
"Kart," the girl replied simply, "Thank you, strangers. I truly owe you." She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, and looked at Joseph. Their eyes locked, and Kart felt overwhelmed with an extraordinary feeling.
"Kart," explained the older one, knocking her back into reality, "Um, first off, I'm James Redfield. Those were just members of the Sharpedoes gang. You can tell because of their bandannas; it's, like, their trade mark. That blue you're wearing is, like, the sign of open hate against the Sharpedoes. It's also the color of the Marshstomp gang." He took a deep breath, and glanced her over. "You're new here, aren't cha?"
Kart considered what she should answer for a moment. "Yes," she said, giving a slight nod.
"D'you have a place to stay?" James asked. The Flaaffy on his arm sighed, and shook her head. "If not, you can stay at our house."
"Yes, but, thank you for the offer," Kart replied, holding her arm loosely, "I truly owe you two my life. If there's ever anything I can do…"
"Don't mention it." Joseph flashed a big smile, and wedged himself between Kart and James. "If you ever want to see us, stop by the radio station and say you're friends with Carter Redfield's sons. He's one of the co-hosts there, and they'd be happy to let you in. We're normally at the break room, chowing down doughnuts."
"Thank you," Kart said, nodding again. These two are very nice, she thought, for complete strangers. "Could… Could I stay with you fellows until morning? I don't want to walk home in the dark."
"Sure!" a new voice replied. A girl, about the same age as James and with darker hair, walked up to the group. A tote bag and camera case hung on one shoulder, the other arm's hand holding a suit case. "Um, I'm Caroline, but you can call me Carol. That's Jamison," she motioned to James, "and that's Joseph," she motioned to Joseph.
"Thank you very much, Caroline, Jamison, and Joseph." Kart nodded to each of them in turn, but her gaze lingered on Joseph for a few moments longer.
"Let's get going home, then," James said, yawning, "I'm tired, Joseph has school in the morning, and Carol's due at the station for help with the morning show. To home!"
"Flaaffy!" bleated the little pink sheep in agreement.