best laid plans


The beginnings of all stories turned bad are good natured, right? The typical "Wake up in the Morning feelin' like the world's at my bidding" scene, where the main character is giddy, happy to be where they are: and then just like as if nothing good ever existed, the main character's world is screwed into pieces at the whim of a few seconds time.

I'm glad death didn't visit me on that day. Very glad that I didn't meet him, and have my life taken from me by his gleaming scythe. I was happy.

God, I miss that word. "Happy".

Christopher Avrich allowed the small Pokemon to ride on his shoulders and walked out the door, nodding to Elm. "I'll be back in about an hour, okay? I need to go pack some stuff.

Chris was excited beyond belief as he walked down the street toward his home. He would soon be out on an adventure, just like all the famous Pokemon Trainers out there did once in their lives: it was an unspoken requirement of greatness that one must have had a Pokemon Journey. Or at least that's what all the good movies said, and how could they be wrong?

"Bosca, gal, how do ya like the sunlight? I know ya like dark places, but it's pretty nice out here too, ain't it?" Chris asked.

"...mish! Shroomish," Bosca replied, her tone filled with anxiety.

Chris frowned then. He supposed she would get used to it after some time.

He reached the door of his home, twisted the knob and walked in.

"And this is my house! We won't be stayin' here long, of course, but I figure ya may as well get a good look at it while we're here."

Chris stopped for a moment, allowing Bosca to take in the drab, brown scenery: and as he did so, his mother approached him, an eyebrow cocked, a dish sponge in hand.

"'s that a Pokemon, Chris?" she asked. "Never seen one like it..."

"Yep," Chris said, nodding slowly. "Her name's Bosca. She's a Shroomish, from the Hoenn Region."

"Hoenn? How'd it get here then?" His mother was obviously a bit skeptical.

"Professor Elm's friends with Hoenn's Professor Birch," Chris responded. "And he sent this little gal here for some research."

"... You didn't -steal- it, did you, Chris?" she asked. He could sense the doubt in her eyes, boring into him like a drill into the ground, searching for the oily truth.

"He gave it to me, mom," Chris said. "We need 'ta sit down 'n' talk."

The two of them walked over to a kitchen table after his mother set down the dish sponge, Bosca leaping off Chris's shoulder and sitting down on the table. It seemed slightly more comfortable on wood than the fabric of Chris's hoodie.

"... and that's how Bosca came 'ta be mine, and why I'll be gone for 'bout... a week or so," Chris said.

"... Eh. It's nerve wracking for me, Chris," his mother said. "You're my baby, and you're leaving New Bark for the first time... isn't Ian going along with you?"

"No," Chris said, shaking his head. "I told you, they're sendin' me because the two man lab can't afford 'ta lose a man for a week. Elm needs to be there for research, and Ian needs to be there to assist him with it, otherwise they could risk gettin' shut down by the Indigo Association."

His mother sighed and shut her eyes, nodding slowly. "... Go on and pack," she said. "But let me know before you leave, okay?"

Chris reached into a pocket and pulled out a small device: rectangular and yellow, with an gray indent in the center, buttons placed all around it. A Pokegear.

"I'll call you every day, 'kay? C'mon, Bosca, let's go pack."

Chris scooted backward in his chair, Bosca making a leap toward his shoulder...

... and missing, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

"...mmiiisssshhhh..." Bosca groaned.

Chris believed that she was seeing stars. Sighing himself, he knelt down and picked her up in his arms, holding her close to him while she recovered. They then bounded up the staircase, heading to Chris's room.

It was dark, only the light of shoddily installed lights on the cave's roof giving him some sort of visibility. The man sighed. This was an inconvinience he would have to deal with, for now. He couldn't help that fact.

He wondered if the boy would be back any time soon. He decided that if he wasn't back within the day, he would send the purple-haired nuiscance out to retrieve him. Really, the only thing the purple-haired nuiscance was good for was his Crobat. And, well, being a nuiscance.

The boy was the key. He was the leader's boy, but he would toss him aside. The apple fell far from the tree in that case... when the boy had done his work, his usefulness would be outlived. It was only gruntwork anyway, but he didn't seem to realize: in his young age, he imagined the boy felt like a "secret agent", running in to steal "top secret files".

The man laughed heartily.

The "top secret files" were those things that would assist him in getting out of this dank, depressing place. He worked paperwork out on a shoddily cut wooden desk, no electricity except for the dim lights above him. They would help him conquer, and they would help him retrieve the true leader of the group once again.

The leader would be pleased. That was all the man ever wanted: he was even sure that the loss of his boy would prove nothing to the leader in light of what the man really did to assist the leader.

The man grinned, nodded to himself, and got back to work.

Chris stood outside the Elm Laboratory, gently knocking on the door.

Right now, he waited outside in a new outfit. An outfit he liked, one that he decided would look good for his travels. His only quirk with it was the lack of a hat.

The door opened, and Chris was met with the friendly face of Ian. "Hello, Chris."

"Hey, Ian - back to talk to the Professor for a few minutes," he said. "He's still here, right?"

"Of course!" Ian exclaimed. "He's in the back preparing for a short trip to the Tohjo Falls. Caught him just in time. Oh, nice outfit, by the way..."

"Thanks," Chris said.

He stepped inside and headed toward the back, slinging his yellow backpack off his arms and letting it fall onto the floor next to a bookcase. It hit the ground with a soft thud, a variety of small convinience items rattling aroud upon impact. Chris made a mental note not to do that anymore: he had a few bottles of hand sanitizer in there, and if that broke, it would have been a disaster for his clothes. Plus, the sound startled Bosca.

"Mish!" Bosca exclaimed.

"Sorry, gal," Chris said apologetically. The sound of his voice alerted Elm to his presence, it seemed, as the Professor looked up and nodded.

"Hello, Chris," he said. "What can I do ya for?"

Chris sighed. He didn't want to do this to the poor man, but if he was going to do what he was asked, he would need to. "Mom can't spare any cash. Gonna need to borrow some from you."

Elm stared at him blankly for a few moments and then nodded. "Right. I can spare about a hundred bucks for you. That'll last you the entire trip if you're careful. Will you be?"

"Of course, Professor - Careful is my middle name!"

Elm cocked an eyebrow. "I thought it was Lawrence."

"...Quiet, Professor," Chris muttered.

Elm laughed good naturedly, breaking the tension of the moment in an instant. "Right, right. Well, let me go find my wallet."

Chris stood there and waited patiently, watching Bosca with mild interest as her own eyes darted around, examining the silvery, metal feel of the lab's insides. Finally, the man walked over to him and handed him a small stack of bills, each labeled with a number and a large P in the center.

"A hundred PokeDollars. Be careful with them, Chris," Elm said. He seemed to eye him with such intensity that Chris flinched back.

"...Right. Will do, Professor. Thanks - I'll call you on the VidPhone the moment I get to Cherrygrove, okay?"

"Okay."

Chris turned around and headed for the door, kneeling down to grab his backpack as he passed by the bookshelf he set it down by. Before he left, he was stopped by a voice.

"Wait up a moment, Chris!" Ian called.

Chris turned around and saw the lab assistant running toward him, the tails of his lab coat gently slapping his lower thighs. He stopped, and extended a small rectangular package toward him.

"Here, take these," he said. "These will help you on the trip. They're potions, for if your Shroomish gets hurt."

Chris peered inside, looking at the contents with interest. A small array of bottles was inside, each clear but filled with a strange purple liquid. They were spray bottles. He nodded and took the package, flipping his backpack around and holding it against his stomach, zipping open the top compartment and sliding them in.

"Thanks, Ian," he said, winking. "I'll miss ya. Can't wait to do some studyin' on this egg once I get back."

Ian nodded, grinning. "Indeed. See you later, Chris."

Ian remained in the lab for a long time that night, past the time when his normal schedule ended.

It was a relatively uneventful time, even with his sudden burst of research vigor. Until about one o'clock in the morning.

Ian stretched and placed a hand over his mouth to cover a yawn, stepping back from the table. The subject, a small red stone with a flame pattern on it, was now inside a protective plastic covering.

"Well, little man," Ian said. "I suppose I'll see what secrets you hold for me tomorrow, perhaps? I can't wait."

He smiled and nodded toward the stone, before moving toward the front of the lab. Once he got there, he took his coat off and hung it on a rack. At that time, he heard a slight thud, and turned around to check out the source.

"Did I set the stone too close to the edge of the table?" he thought aloud. "I'd best go check... it's probably just my mind playing tricks on me, though. It's about one, one thirty, right?"

He was thinking aloud on purpose, sheerly for the purpose of comfort. He heard a second thud, and the light sound of breath.

He froze, and moved his hand toward his belt. "... Professor Elm? Is that you?"

The phone on his belt was detached now, and he flipped it open. "Hello? Who's there? Last chance to identify yourself..."

He felt the phone slip from his hands, an icy chill coming over him. He saw a flash run before his eyes, and a sigh escaped someone's lips. The voice was almost demonic to Ian's ears, with how low it was.

"I thought you were gone," he said. "Shit. Now I get to do the dirty job of witness removal. But first..."

A flash of light suddenly illuminated the area, and Ian saw the red-haired form suddenly appear in front of him. He wore a thin jacket, black as night with a red stripe down the middle. His bottom half was covered by jeans.

And then the figure was blocked by a black and yellow flash, now at his side. He felt sharp metal up against his neck, and the light buzz of a Beedrill's wings: it made sense. He had the barb of a Beedrill up against his neck, prepared to kill him at any moment.

"Let's keep down the casualities. I'll find the Professor and kill him too, assistant. But..."

The red-haired person turned and pointed toward Elm's computer in the back. "...if you get me that Houndour, I'll let him live. Understood, assistant?"

"... U-...understood," Ian stammered.

The red-haired person turned to face him and flashed a grin that echoed, what appeared to be to Ian, a devilish sense of enjoyment from his hostage's fright.

"Now walk forward. Beedrill, careful not to impale him, but make sure you keep close. If he tries to do any funny business, kill him immediately."

Ian slowly walked forward toward the computer. He had no idea what the Professor's password was, but he could at least stall for some time by hacking into the system to get it. Maybe Elm would come by early and be able to call the police.

He placed his hands on the keyboard and began to work.

At the same time, Christopher Avrich slipped into his sleeping bag, finally losing his adamant will to stay up any later. He supposed it would be best to get on a better sleeping schedule, at least for the week.

He extended a hand toward Bosca, gently stroking the sleeping Shroomish. "Night, gal. Had fun today. Sleep tight."

And, as his head hit the ground, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Ian sighed. He could not stall for any more time: he had gotten the password quick. He entered a few commands, and from a small slot in the side of the computer, a Pokeball popped out.

He heard a thud as the boy's other Pokemon, the black freezing flash, jumped up on the table next to him and grabbed the Pokeball, tossing it back. He assumed toward its trainer.

And then he heard a snicker and the sound of flesh meeting flesh: before he felt a flash of sudden pain as his own flesh was broken, his carotid artery letting loose in a warm, bloody gout. He turned his head just barely, and his world went black, all he saw was a flash of black and red, then a small leaflet hitting the floor. It donned a dark red R.

A flash of horror hit Ian just before his world went dark.

Chapter 2! Yay. Hope you guys enjoy it.