CHAPTER 2: The Bumbling Trainer's Motivation

As Bob followed Franz along the express route through the forest to the wonderous promised land of "I-forget-already", he began to realize just what this Buizel was capable of. As they passed, many Pokemon gave them aggressive looks, but Franz managed to intimidate the other Pokemon with just a return glance. Franz occasionally would check back at Bob to make sure he didn't have a brain lapse and wander off, and when he did, Bob saw it in his eyes. This was a hardened warrior, already trained beyond mere competence, and although they saw each other occasionally in the past, Bob had no idea that he was actually receiving battle experience. On a scale of 1-100, 100 being the absolute maximum potential a Pokemon could reach, Bob estimated Franz at around 30 or so. In fact, the Pokemon probably could have evolved by now into something greater still. He wondered what was keeping the Buizel from becoming a Floatzel...

And then he saw a pretty flower. And he picked said flower and gave it a deep whiff. So enchanting. He could probably live in the forest, although Franz would actively have to keep him from getting eaten by an Oddish or something.

But before Bob could contemplate living off the land any further, their feet reached a path of fine gravel, certainly not natural. Bob wrenched his eyes from his colorful flower to see something even more animated - a thriving city. Franz flashed his superfluous owner a half-hearted grin, as if to say "We're here, just don't break anything."

Naturally, Bob saw this more as an invitation than a restriction. He made a beeline for the nearest restaurant, giving little more regard to his companion in the process. Begrudgingly, Franz followed.

An hour of bountiful breakfast for the both of them later, Bob wasn't so quick to exit the building. His stomach was full to theoretical bursting, and Franz had had a sizable amount too. Somehow, Bob found himself with the funding to pay for a giant meal like that; there was at least 3000 Pokedollars in his pocket, but he didn't care, and neither did Franz. They did spend about half of it, though. Bob made a bumblebeeline for the nearest bench, upon which he sat gratefully.

Finally relaxed, Bob was able to properly gauge his situation for the first time. Bob had no explanation for why he was suddenly in the forest when he distinctly remembered falling asleep in his bed. But then... he remembered something else. His parents weren't happy with him that night...

"You've broken the rules for the last time, boy!"

"But..."

"No! I'm tired of your buts and your excuses. From this point on, you are your own problem!"

And that's when he was sent to bed. Not another word was spoken, and Bob could not comprehend what his father meant by his words. But now, he knew...

Bob's satisfied grin slowly drooped into a disdainful frown. Bob slumped over, despite the pressure in his stomach. He had been abandoned, forgotten. Dropped in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but a few dollars to his name and a responsibility forcefully shoved into his hands. He had taken his parents' care for granted. A cold, bewildered tear streaked down Bob's cheek, closely following an unrestrained sniffle. Was this what it felt like to be lonely?

Bob felt something on his shoulder. He turned his head, and was met with the sympathetic eyes of his new companion. Franz. He was not alone. This Buizel was more than just a friendly face to him. He was a familiar one as well. This Buizel WAS a part of the family, after all.

Bob wiped the tear from his eye, returning a hopeful smile to Franz. "Thank you, Franz..." he uttered, slightly broken, but piecing himself together. "Thank you... mom..."

He stood from the bench, not caring about the soreness from his overstuffed gut. Behind narrowed, tear-filled eyes, his goal was firmly rooted in his mind. He would start on a journey throughout the region, gaining respect and prowess the only way he could - by training a team of Pokemon, earning Gym Badges, and taking on the Elite Four. Only when he reached the status of champion could he return to his father and prove that he could fare for himself, and that he was worth more than the man appraised his son to be.

And then he collapsed on the bench again, weighed down by the reckless breakfast that he had ingested minutes prior. Franz barely dove out of the way of the heavyweight's sudden girth.

Next thing Bob knew, he was being prodded by a wet and cold object. He sprung to life, pressing himself against the back of the bench as far as he physically could from the slimy thing. As his eyes came into focus, he found himself staring face-to-face with a Gastly, whose tongue had just retracted. The Ghost-type cackled, and Franz was stifling a chuckle of his own. Bob shakily wiped his cheek with his sleeve.

"Hey man..." sputtered Bob, "how'd you like it if I licked YOU just for laughs?" He looked as though he were about to stick out his tongue and do just that, until he caught a glimpse of the boy standing behind the Gastly.

"Terribly sorry," laughed the Gastly's alleged trainer, "my Gastly has a habit of waking up sleeping strangers in the most awkward way possible." He adjusted his glasses habitually.

Bob looked at the sky. The sun was slightly lower, more so than its peak and to the west. Had he really fallen asleep? That must've been quite a breakfast... He looked back at the kid. The other trainer did not seem that much older than Bob, if at all. He was a little on the short side, with hair significantly less lengthy than Bob's, and nowhere near as colorful. He did respect the glasses, though, but not as much as if they were shades. He wore a dark purple jacket and black jeans, which were neat colors but the style was a little plain. Needless to say, the kid's fashion sense did not impress Bob.

He gave the youngster a narrow glare. "Well... have you considered a leash?" suggested Bob, "Maybe one of those electric collars?"

"Uh... he's kind of a ghost," refuted the boy, slightly uncomfortable from Bob's attitude. He nervously repositioned his glasses.

"Hm," Bob grunted. He looked around. "At least tell me where I am."

"You're in Hearthome City, the very heart of Sinnoh itself," the preteen responded matter-of-factly. He stared at Bob's interesting choice of hairstyle. "...you don't get out much, do you?"

"Oh, not usually," Bob replied casually. "Not unless my parents kick me out without so much as a heads up." He spoke with contempt especially at the word 'parents', folding his arms.

"Oh... That's no good..." He pushed his glasses again, looking away for a moment. "Hey, uh... if you want, I can help you get by for a while. You strike me as rather... fresh to the world of Pokemon. My name's Nikolas. But you can call me Nick." He held onto his specs with one hand as he held out the other to shake.

Bob's gaze wandered off to their two Pokemon, who were busy acquainting themselves as well. They seemed to be getting along. Bob hesitantly accepted the handshake. "Bob."

"Pleased to meet you, Bob," said Nick with a grin. "What, uh... what were you planning on doing first?"

"Well, I can already cross eating and sleeping off of the list for today," said Bob, wishing he had an actual clipboard so he could keep track of all these statistics and activities. "Um, I could always go quest for badges... that's something 10-year-old kids traveling without supervision do, right? Hey, doesn't Hearthome City have a gym?"

Nick was silent for a few moments, then let out a loud laugh. "You want to take on this gym first? Fantina would rip you to shreds! ...gracefully."

Bob didn't quite like the thought of being ripped to shreds, gracefully or otherwise. But then he remembered he had Franz. "But with my trusty sidekick, I am certain to achieve victory!" Franz, barely aware that he had just been mentioned, gave Bob a weird look.

"Your ONE sidekick?" Nick emphasized. "Most trainers come into their first Gym Battle with at least two Pokemon. And most of them start off in Oreburgh City. Hearthome is where a trainer would go somewhere in the middle."

"Oh? And how would you know so much about the circuit already?" Bob scoffed. He glanced at Nick's Gastly. "This doesn't look like a hardened battle Pokemon either."

"Well, that's because I am actually one of Fantina's junior trainers!" boasted Nick. "If a trainer can't beat me, they'll have no chance against Fantina herself. I'm like a qualifier exam."

"In that case," challenged Bob, standing upright, "why don't you try examining me and Franz here? You may be surprised..."

Nick chuckled again. "Your Buizel looks tough, but a Pokemon is only as strong as his trainer. But if you insist... follow me. I know a place in the town square perfect for battling."

Bob smirked. It's like taking candy from a kid your own age...