-Post Brink 1508, May 11th.

Well, first entry. Consider this the prologue of my future autobiography. Why? Cause I want the world to know that Gary Oak plans his shit in advance.

At any rate, today is a not so big, yet undeniably significant day.

Today is the day that Gary Oak flips the birdie over his shoulder in a southerly direction towards Piss-Bowl Nowhere, and marches north towards fame and glory, never to fucking return.

God, I've been waiting forever. I can't stand the thought of another day in Pallet Town.

That's the good news. Now for the bad news.

I ain't leaving alone.

I seriously can't believe my mother. I figured she'd be bawling her eyes out on my big day, begging me on a bended knee to stay just one week longer, but NO-ope.

That addled woman is sending Daisy out with me.

Great. Just what I wanted for the first day of my lifelong gig. Baby sister tailing me through the fucking wilderness, mussing up my groove.

I blame Red for that. He's the one who suggested it. I guess I'm gonna have to demote that fucking douchebag from serving as my personal caddy, to being Daisy's babysitter. I don't know why both our mothers think that two sixteen-year old farmhands can keep Ditsy Daisy safe on the Routes, but fuck me…

If I don't kill my prattling baby sister on the road to Pewter, then that means the fucking ferals already ate her on the Pallet-Viridian Route.

Well... I shouldn't sell Daisy that short. She is an Oak after all. And speaking of that cherished surname…

Gramps fucking did it. We got 'em. Three prototype units. Top shelf. Not even in the market yet. Apparently, that fucking drop-out of a would be champion has himself a home cooked breeding facility north of Saffron. While I was a bit miffed at receiving my first mon from a deadbeat, Gramps swears by these things. Claims they're the most hereditarily sophisticated specimens of their kind.

I hope Gramps isn't just blowing smoke up my skirt. If these mon really did come out of the same facility that Tenacious did…

...Damn, I'm gettin' an erection just thinking about 'em possibilities.

Awkward, yet justifiably intense boners aside, all three of us are getting our hands on one of these cocksuckers. Me, Daisy, and Red…

God, I can't fucking wait.

Gramps tried to keep all three species a secret, but I hacked into his email account again, and checked up on the delivery status.

I already know which one Daisy is gonna pick, and I know damn well which one Red is gonna be pining for too…

Heh. I'll let them argue over who has first dibs. I know which one I want, and neither my flower-picking lil' sis or that dragon obsessed vampire is gonna give a clumsy little testudine the benefit of the doubt.

I know damn well what those things are capable of, and even outside of their prefered terrain, they can still throwdown with the best CQC mon in their weight class.

Like I said, Gary Oak plans ahead.

Gramps is also hooking us up with some jailbreaked pokedexes. Nothing illegal, just some additional coding to block the League's Spotlight program. While I don't mind the League keeping tabs on my progress through their sports syndicate, they don't need to know where I sleep, eat, and do my laundry. That information is personal, and I am not gonna be the hapless victim of target advertising.

Well, the plan is to have a little ceremony at the lab after lunch. Red and I are collecting our last paychecks as farmhands, and receiving an Oak Laboratories endorsed commission to record feral mon activities on our journey. Gramp's stipend ain't much, but it'll be plenty to keep us out of the Blackmarket, which I think is Gramp's reason for signing us on as his field researchers. Mom is paying Daisy's way across Kanto, of course. That spoiled little brat won't even have to lift a finger to fund a resupply run.

Alright, I need to go choke down some grub. Daisy is already in a tizzy, repeatedly vocalizing her hope that Gramps got her a purrloin. Maybe I should spoil the surprise for her, just to shut her up…

...Naw. Daisy will forget all about that cheap purrloin when she sees her expensive new flowerpot, and I don't want Gramps getting butthurt over his potentially ruined surprise.

Smell ya' later, Pallet Town. This is Blue, signing off.