Here we go, it's Chapter 2! I'm very happy about the support I've gotten for this story thus far, and it makes me even more excited to write more Reckless Paradise.

One thing I want to get out of the way is: I don't own the cover image. If the owner of that image contacts me and wants me to take it down, I will oblige. Until then, it will be the cover, at least for now. Enjoy the chapter!

LUCAS LEAWOOD, 19

President Fiddlesticks wasn't done with his address to the nation, but I tuned out for most of the rest of it. I could only assume that he wanted to warn us against taking unnecessary risks, as if to say: Look at what's going on in Greece! You don't want that to happen here, do you?

Why did I tune it out, you might ask? Well, simply put, I just couldn't handle it. I was a 19-year-old with the emotional maturity of a 15-year-old, and I fully admit that.

Of course, one advantage that the United States had over Europe in that regard was that the Big Event had occurred in the early hours of the morning here. This had meant fewer people out on the road, fewer car accidents.

If the US health system is overwhelmed, well, at least it won't be my fault.

Even so, I'd heard stories of wartime scenarios in which hospitals hadn't had enough beds and equipment to treat their patients, and remembered the way those stories made me feel. I certainly didn't want that to happen here.

It can happen here. Indeed, maybe it already is.

As I sat there in my anxiety, I thought about one of the things the President had said. To be more specific, what he had called the creatures that people had turned into.

Pokemon. The name rang a bell for me, but it probably wouldn't for my parents. They had no clue about modern popular culture; to use a popular term, they were boomers.

My ears began hurting, and I realized that my sense of sound was far more acute than it had been when I was a human. I quickly turned the volume down on the TV; at least, as quickly as I could using my new paws.

If I'm a Pokemon, what species am I? I should get to a mirror, see if I recognize myself.

Little did I know, that question would be answered sooner than I thought.

There was the sound of rapid footfalls coming down the stairs. They weren't as loud as those coming from a human would be, but given my ears' increased sensitivity, I was able to pick up on them.

Into the kitchen came a furry creature roughly four feet tall, with dark gray legs, golden yellow fur shaped somewhat like a dress, a white chest and face, and eyes that were a brilliant shade of vermilion.

Speaking of eyes, her eyes (for I could tell the creature was female), bore right into my soul as though drilling directly through my chest.

"Lucas! You became a Growlithe!" the other Pokemon exclaimed, answering my earlier question. "I saw the news and hoped I was the only one in the family...but Mom texted us and I...I just couldn't respond!"

"Michaela, right?" I asked. There was honestly no need to confirm it, because there was only one other person who called Jane Leawood "Mom." Even now, I'm not sure why I did this.

She nodded. "I'm your sister, and I'm now officially a Braixen. One thing I can't quite understand is, your fur's white! That's not supposed to happen in the games, is it?"

I had to take some time to think before replying. I was now aware of two pieces of information I hadn't had previously.

One, my sister knew more about Pokemon than I'd expected. This surprised me, since she'd hardly ever shown interest in video games when we were growing up. At least, not in front of me.

Two, not only was I now a Growlithe, but I had a different fur color than was usual for the species. I didn't even know what a Growlithe was, but judging from my sister's shock, it wasn't normal for them to be the color of snow.

"No, I don't think it is" I replied eventually, noting that my sister appeared impatient and thus wanting to satisfy her.

Michaela sat down on the couch beside me and began looking at the TV screen. I had barely even noticed that the television was still on, but I hadn't had the presence of mind to turn it off or even pause it when she'd entered the room.

As scenes from Europe kept being shown on the screen, my sister looked shocked. "I knew it was bad, but surely not this bad. People are literally dying because they transformed while driving and lost control of their vehicles".

I wished I could have given my sister better news. I wished that I could try and comfort her. Technically I could, but I would be giving her false hope, which was just that. False.

Instead I gave her a sad nod. "Yep, that's what's happening. What a mess".

"It's not just that, though" Michaela replied. "Lucas, you do realize that these people have feelings too, right? Not only that, but they had friends and family members who loved them, who still love them. This is a massive tragedy".

She was right, of course. We would most likely never have an accurate death toll, but I agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.

"The question is", I replied, "what can we do to help?"

Turning back to the TV, President Fiddlesticks was beginning to wrap up his speech. "That is all that we know now, which is less than we'll know later. I trust that the public will stay updated on recommended safety protocols, and God bless the United States of America".

With that, the President shuffled off stage, and then his Press Secretary, a thirty-something woman with glasses, came up to the podium. "I will now take questions from the media" she said, in a voice far more formal than that of her boss.

A few reporters from CNN, NBC, Fox News, OAN, and the like began asking the White House Press Secretary questions, most of which related to things President Fiddlesticks had already touched upon in his address.

Jesus Christ, can't some of these people pay attention? Apparently not.

"Should we go to a different news channel?" I asked Michaela. "Maybe we could see if they have a different take on it".

My sister shrugged. "I suppose we could".

My father had always taught both of us to seek out different opinions from what we were used to hearing on the news. After all, he told us, every channel had its inherent biases, and the most important thing was to be aware of this.

The Braixen girl who was my sister changed the channel to Fox News, where the host was speculating about what might have caused the mass transformation.

"I can't stand this drivel!" Michaela exclaimed in an exasperated tone. "I mean, does anyone believe what he's saying? Does he believe what he's saying?"

I shook my head. The Fox News host was suggesting that the event might have come about as the result of an attack from China. This completely ignored the fact that Chinese people had been affected as well, since one of the scenes shown on the screen was of a Chinese city.

You can't trust everybody, but you have to trust somebody.

All of a sudden, the TV snapped off. Michaela set the remote on the nearby windowsill, looking rather alarmed.

"Why did you turn off the TV?" I asked her. "We've got to stay informed".

My sister put one of her three fingers in front of her mouth, the universal gesture meaning Be quiet!

I didn't realize why at first, but then there was the sound of more footsteps down the stairs. Truth be told, I wasn't sure why I should be so worried; my mother had surely heard the news by now. She had to be aware that there was at least some chance we were no longer human.

"Good morning, Lucas and Michaela. You're up early, aren't you?"

I knew that voice. It was the one my mother had used when we were younger, when she was angry or suspicious with us about something. Said voice is a lot creepier when you can't see the person using it.

"I wonder why neither of you answered my text. Perhaps you were still asleep? Or maybe, just maybe, you were too engrossed in the news to answer?"

My mother could be heard chuckling slightly before continuing.

"Well, no matter, really. I just want to make sure you two are all right. After all, you didn't answer my text, so something must be going on".

Just a few seconds later, my mother stepped through the door to the kitchen, and I heard her scream.

"EEEEEEEK!" she shrieked, as though she had just found a massive infestation of ants in the house. It felt more than a little insulting to be spoken to like that.

I got off the couch and walked over towards her. "Mom, it's okay!"

At least, those were the words I tried to say. They didn't come out of my mouth that way, though; only the word "Growlithe!" did.

"Lucas, it doesn't work that way" I heard my sister say.

As my mother began to gasp in what I could only assume was utter shock and panic, I turned to face Michaela.

"What do you mean?" I asked her.

Michaela went on to explain how in the franchise, humans couldn't speak the language of Pokemon, and only a select few Pokemon could speak human languages. When we had lost our human bodies, we had also lost our ability to speak English.

"So what sounds like English to us is really Poketongue" my sister finished, sounding almost as though she had swallowed a textbook. "All over the world, this must be happening. Oh my God, this is bad".

My mother, meanwhile, had managed to get control over her breathing again. "This isn't real. I'm living in a nightmare that's just a little more vivid than usual. There's no way my children are unrecognizable".

It's REALLY going to hurt to burst her bubble, I thought bitterly. Some people just can't handle the truth.

Turning to me, Michaela said, "You know what, Lucas? I can type on my computer what I want to tell Mom. It's going to be a bit annoying, but what choice do we have?"

I saw no reason to argue with that. We had to communicate with our parents somehow, and typing out entire sentences would be out of the question for me.

So Michaela got her computer off of its charger and opened a Google document. She motioned for my mother to come over, something Mom still seemed scared to do.

Of course, I realized. She doesn't want to turn into a Pokemon as well.

I remembered what President Fiddlesticks had said about not knowing if this was a pandemic or not. Even if there was only a 1% chance that it was, better safe than sorry.

Michaela typed the following into the document: Mom, I know this is really scary for you, but it's going to be okay. The scientists are going to figure out a way to get things back to normal.

My mother sat down on the couch beside us, clearly having put her worries aside for the time being.

"What if they can't get things back to normal? What if I have to talk to my children like this for the rest of my life?"

My sister shook her head and continued to type. Never underestimate what science can do. We're going to get there. They're going to leave no stone unturned.

I wished that I could have had as much faith in science as my sister seemed to. There were plenty of problems that we hadn't solved yet, some that we'd never solve. What if this was one of them?

"So what are the creatures you two have turned into? I remember Fiddlesticks saying something about...what did he call them again? Pokey monsters? Pocket monsters?"

Michaela began typing furiously, her Braixen fingers dancing around the keyboard as though performing a ballet routine. When she showed us the screen again, the new words on the document read as follows:

Pokemon are defined as "a series of Japanese video games and related media such as trading cards and television programs, featuring cartoon monsters that are captured by players and trained to battle each other." Alternately, they are any of the monster characters featured in Pokemon video games and other media. That is the official definition, taken from Google.

My mother frowned. "So you two are monsters now? Is that supposed to make me feel as though things will be okay?"

My sister shook her head again. We're not monsters; we're just called that. We are still your children, so hopefully you won't disown us. I won't lie to you, it's a disaster zone out there.

I turned to Michaela. It was then that I realized that, knowing my mother couldn't understand us, we could talk to each other about whatever we wanted. Nobody who hadn't transformed would know what we meant; it was much like a children's game of making up a secret language. Of course, being that we were in our late teens now, we were a bit old for games like that.

That doesn't mean it won't be useful.

"I don't think you should use language like that around her" I told my younger sister. "We don't want her to panic".

Michaela snapped back at me. "We have to tell her the truth. She needs to live in reality, for goodness' sake!"

I shrugged. "Have it your way."

"What were you two arguing about just now?" Mom responded disapprovingly. "You two always seemed to get along well."

It's not important. It is absolute chaos out there, but it's not going to be that way forever. Eventually, we will get out of this.

My mother seemed to think it over for a few seconds. I can't speak for her, but she appeared to find those words somewhat reassuring this time.

Suddenly, she reached over and enveloped both of us in a hug. "I can't believe this is happening. But you're right, Michaela; we will help each other through this. Never in a million years did I think video games would come to life".

My sister laughed. Getting out of my mother's embrace, she typed some more. Yeah, well, we're living through history. August 21, 2019 will be a day they study about in history class fifty years from now.

Mom smiled. For a minute or so, the three of us sat side by side in silence. Eventually, my mother broke it.

"Well, it's early, but it's probably best that we get ready for the day. I'll cook up some breakfast. Does anyone know what Pokemon eat?"

For those wondering, the definition Michaela uses IS the actual definition on the Web dictionary for "Pokemon."

Also, if you want to contact me off of this site, feel free to add me on Discord at Lucas Whitefur#7822, or else join the PercentVerse Discord server. I don't bite, and neither do they. Until then, stay safe!