Okay, nawt mine!! Pokemon is not mine…
**sigh**.. No matter how hard I try, I can't find the rights to Pokemon in my room.. shame really… I did however find some pencil sharpenings, a pillow-case full of nail varnishes, a Polaroid camera with no film aaaaaaaand: a 4 year old orange…. EWWWWWW!! **runs away from the orange that has definitely sprouted legs, and will probably give chase soon..** -.-;;;
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
In the darkness of the Pewter city gym, a phone rang…
A small shuffling, a few bumps, some choice words, and the ringing was stopped.
A sleepy voice droned into the dark "Hello… it's 2am, why on earth are you phoning…."
A loud noise was heard through out the gym, akin to a blaring foghorn.
The voice quickly awoke, and takes on a more familiar tone, but a tone laced with excitement, panic and just a hint of… fear?
"Oh, hi Sabrina! I didn't realise it was you!" Brock stuttered, the fear becoming more apparent with each stammered word…
"Yes.. 'that bastard Ketchum child', as you put it, is still here… oh, Misty's with you?! Misty Waterflower?! … No, I'm not stupid.. I was just checking.. last time I heard Misty was dead… she changed her name? To what? Misty Waters? Misty spelt M…y…s…t…i…e?…. strange….. okay….. Oh wow… I'll have to come visit sometime… " Brock continued
"Oh, you're coming here?! Okay.. when? … 10 minutes?! Damn!! Now I've gotta put clothes on and wake the others up! ….Who's coming? I need to get the rooms ready…. Okay, so there's you… Mystie… Rika? Oh, Erika… anyone else? No? good.. so it's 3 rooms?…. near to each other? Okay…. See you in ten then…"
Brock hung up calmly, then ran towards the others guy's rooms "I need to wake them up!"
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
On the other side of Indigo Isle, in an apartment in the center of Celadon City…
Sabrina hung up the phone, and then walked back into Erika's room, where Erika was nestled back in bed, and the window was wide open, allowing her to see the edge of Mystie's robe floating in the breeze
"Get packing, we leave in 10 minutes." Sabrina yelled, knowing how hard it is to wake Erika and bring Mystie out of her day-dreams
"10 minutes?!" a surprised voice exclaimed from the pile of covers on the bed, "How on Earth will I be packed?!"
"You'll manage it, Rika. You always do" Mystie said calmly, as Sabrina left the room.
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
Brock ran back into his room, having woken the other boys and got the girl's rooms ready, all in his boxers, of course.
"Gotta get dressed, gotta get dressed, gotta get dressed, Where are my CLOTHES!?!?! Oh yeah, the wardrobe! Gotta find the wardrobe!! Found it!! Gotta find my shirt, gotta find my shirt, found it!! Trousers, trousers, trousers, trousers, A-HAH!!"
Ritchie sat up tiredly, hearing loud yells from Brocks room about ….. clothes!?!?
"Brock?? What the-.. oh yeah, the girls will be here in…"
"A minute! Hurry, hurry, hurry!!" Brock yelled, trying to push Ritchie towards the front door.
"Brock, man, it's past 2am, and you're trying to push me outside in my BOXERS?!? Okay, this is too weird, I'm going back to bed…" Ritchie protested, then jumped out of the crazed boy's grasp and dashed into his room, breaking all records for the fastest running and bolting of a door.
As Brock was standing, open-mouthed, at the door that had just almost flown off it's hinges from Ritchie's speed and hurried locking, the 3 girls appeared before him.
Sabrina stood, hardly the right height for her 21 years of age, being of short stature, despite her fearsome height early on during puberty. Her long green hair hung to her waist, loose and free, but perfectly straight. Her violet eyes flashed slightly as the girls fully materialised, and dropped her small bag at her booted feet.
Erika, who was surrounded by a pile of green bags, barely stood, leaning on Sabrina for support. Her deep blue hair messed out of it's usual style by sleep, her green eyes drooping lazily. Her robe was hanging off one slumped shoulder, showing clearly to Brock that she had not gotten changed, and wasn't planning to either.
Mystie was the one Brock saw the most change in. She looked worn, yet still beautiful, but nothing like her true 19 years of age. She had changed a lot since her younger years, in many ways. Her long, now deep red, hair hung in waves to her slim waist. Her figured had matured, but she hadn't grown much vertically, leaving her short for her age. She also held herself differently, showing more grace and less of her violent temper in her posture and fluid movements. The biggest change, however, was in her eyes. As she looked up at Brock, her eyes blinking in almost disbelief, he saw all the pain that had forced her change. As he looked, unmoving into her deep blue eyes, haunted by sadness, with an air of internal turmoil that Brock soon leant never disappeared.
As Brock stared at Mystie, she stared back, nowhere near as surprised.
Sure, the last time she had seen Brock he had been 19, and she an immature 16, but he hadn't changed much. He had grown taller, a little, but he still had the wild hair, squinty eyes, tanned skin and horrendous brown trousers of years ago. However, he had grown more muscular, ditched those terrible orange shirts and green vests, and seemed, well, more mature personality wise too.
Mystie broke out of her stare first, and ran to her childhood friend, hugging him tightly, tears cascading from her eyes.
"Brock! It's you! It's really you!" she cried, as Brock dazedly put his arms around the sobbing girl, trying to comfort her…
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
TBC…