Two sailors dump a rotting coffin into the choppy waters of the ocean. The sky was clear but the water was rough, tossing the wooden box to and fro. A single crow landed on the lid of the discarded coffin, and began tapping at the decaying wood. Suddenly a bullet is shot from the inside of the coffin, blowing the black bird away into the water. Then hands break away the rest of the wood, and soon a young girl with short, mousy brown hair and large brown eyes sits up, holding a gun in one hand. "Hm…Muggle weapons." She comments disgustedly as she tosses the gun into the water, allowing it to sink into the deep. Wasting no time at all, she pulls out a human femur and uses the bone to sails to shore, and makes her way to the nearest Starbucks with internet and produces a laptop, promptly posting her latest fanfiction chapter.

Oh yes. I'm aliiiive! And…well, here's the newest chapter! I don't own jack shit, so don't ask me if you're allowed to rename yourself "Charmander" or "Trainer Red" or whatever.

"So, Marcy." The Professor began once we were inside his lab. "I've heard so much about you from your father."

"Uh-huh…" I muttered, looking around the room, which was bustling with aides, which, to put it bluntly, are a bunch of nerds in lab coats.

"He told me you would probably be quite talented," He continued, "But I didn't know exactly what he meant until I saw you battle today. And I must confess, you pulled it off aplomb! I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You really are your father's daughter!" He walked over to the counter and picked up one of the two Pokéballs there. "Anyway, as thanks for saving me, I would like you to have one of these Pokémon. It was the Torchic, correct..?"

I nodded slowly, and all thoughts running through my head were along the lines of, Oh. My. Arceus. I was going to get an actual Pokémon of my own. A real Pokémon. Not a plushie. Not a card. A living, breathing Pokémon. And it would be mine. Of course, there were the downsides to these arrangements. After all, the Pokémon that I was getting was a little prick…but I guess beggars can't be choosers…after all, I could still be stuck with a goldfish…

Professor Birch held out the metallic red and white ball. "You're actually quite lucky, Marcy. This particular specimen is actually quite difficult to find."

Oh. Well, that was a bit of a relief. At least I could rest easy knowing that there weren't a million of these little jerks running around Hoenn. Otherwise I'd be too terrified to leave my house ever again.

I took the ball and held it close to my face, the metal cool to the touch. I could feel the gentle vibration of the living being inside of it, the humming of life.

"Well?" Professor Birch said, beaming with anticipation. "Go on, release the little cutie!"

I knew it couldn't end well, considering my past experiences with the little demon, but I couldn't resist it. I pressed the button, releasing the Torchic. The second it looked up at me, I should have known I was in trouble. But you know, even I'm a sucker for small animals. Who isn't? And Professor Birch had a point, the Torchic really was a cutie…with its shiny little eyes and its adorable bobble head…it reminded me of those ridiculously cute Japanese plush dolls with abnormally proportioned bodies…just so…

Cute.

I was totally distracted, of course, so I didn't notice that look of malice on its face until the stupid little bird toddled over to my side and jumped up, scratching my hand. Totally on purpose, might I add.

"Yowch!" I cried, nursing my hand. Yup, happy feelings gone. "Why you little—"

Professor Birch laughed, apparently pleased. "Such affection! See, it likes you already!"

I gawked at him. Like, literally gawked, I stared at him open mouthed for a few seconds. "L-likes me?" I managed to choke out. "What are you, blind?"

"No. I can see perfectly fine," He replied, looking puzzled.

I gawked at him. Again. Then I sighed. "All right, then. You, my little friend, are going back in your—"

"Wait! Aren't you going to name her?" Professor Birch asked anxiously.

Great. Now I'm supposed to name it…her…whatever. What kind of name was I supposed to give this little prick? Demonic Debbie? Evil Erika? Mean Mary? Agley…

"…Allie," I decided. "Her name is Allie. Now, Allie." I looked at her pointedly so she'd know I was talking to her. "You are going back in your ball." I glared at her. "Now." I aimed the ball at her, pressed the button, and tossed. But Allie, it seemed, had different ideas. The second she came in contact with the Pokéball, she batted it away with her head. "…What." I said, momentarily stunned. I tried again. Same result.

Not for the first time that day did I wonder what heinous crimes against Pokémon I committed in my past life to deserve such a menace in my life.

Professor Birch stroked his beard, obviously puzzled. "Huh. Now, that's really odd. I wonder…" He wandered over to the desk against the back wall and picked up a flat, red object. He flipped it open, revealing the device to in fact be some sort of electronic book. He scanned the contents a moment, then nodded, as if understanding something. He replaced the device and walked back over. "Well," He began, placing his hands behind his back. "I think I understand the problem."

I wanted to inquire about the red device, but instead asked, "What's the problem?"

He reached down and picked Allie up. "It seems that Torchics, along with their evolved forms, Combusken and Blaziken, are not particularly fond of the dark." He stroked her fluffy down with the back of his index finger. She didn't bite him , of course.

"Oh…So, are Pokéballs dark on the inside?" I asked.

"I imagine so," He nodded.

"You mean…you don't know for sure?" I was surprised.

He laughed. "Of course not! Marcy, the only way to know what the inside of a Pokéball looks like is to actually be inside one! And do I look like I belong in a Pokéball?" He laughed again.

I resisted the urge to say, Yes you do.

"At any rate, you'll have to allow Allie to travel alongside you," He continued. "It's not as odd as you think—many trainers prefer it that way. And speaking of trainers…" His eyes twinkled at the word. "I think that if you're planning on becoming one, you should talk to my son, Brendan. Have you met him, yet?"

I nodded.

"Well, you'll find him on route 103. He's logging some wild Pokémon for me today, and that's where he said he'd be."

"Sir," An aide tapped him on the shoulder, "We're having some trouble with this PC…"

"All right, Deren, I'll be right there. So, Marcy. Seek out Brendan—he'll be happy to help you get started training that Torchic. Good luck!" And with that final farewell, he turned on his heel and followed Deren the supernerd, sorry, the aide.

I chewed on my lip, looking over my options. Well, he didn't become a professor for nothing. The least I could do is follow his advice. I looked down at Allie. "Come on, Allie. Let's go find Brendan."