It was another uneventful day in the Pokémon world. Ash, Misty, and Brock were off getting lost in…uh, journeying the vast region of Johto. But behind the scenes, some other, very bored cast members were clicking away in Nintendo's local computer lab. Checking out, of course, their favorite Pokémon fanfiction sites.
Pushing a shock of long brown hair from her face, May bent towards the computer screen. Her face went through a veritable rainbow of emotions as she did: taking on an angry red glare, shifting into a pale, shaken frown, and finally, assuming a sickly green tinge. Trapped in a sort of morbid fascination, she placed a trembling hand on the mouse and scrolled down the page.
There was a strangled shriek as the young girl fell out of her chair. She twitched spastically for a few seconds before growing still.
Hearing the crash, May's little brother, Masato, poked his head around the corner of the computer terminal. "May, you okay?" he asked tentatively, stepping around the overturned chair. He knelt and poked his sister once, then twice, in the arm.
No response.
The screen of May's computer caught Masato's eye as he rose to his feet. "1,247,600,000 Ways to KILL May!!!!, by MistyRulz!" he read with a groan. His face, too, turned an ugly shade of green as he skimmed the first few items of the list. "Why does she even bother reading these things?"
"Hey, Masato! Hi, May! What's up?"
Masato turned as a friendly brown-haired trainer, a Pikachu balanced atop his shoulder, walked past. "Hi, Richie," he said, waving half-heartedly back at the other boy.
"What happened to May?" Richie asked, eyeing the unconscious girl with concern.
Masato sighed as he pulled a PokéBall from May's pack. "You don't want to know," he replied, tapping a finger against the PokéBall's silver release button. A bright-eyed, fluffy-feathered Pokémon materialized instantly at Masato's feet, tweeting happily. "Torchic," Masato commanded wearily, pointing to the fallen May. "Use an Ember attack."
Still chirping merrily along, Torchic obeyed.
May yelped as the flames contacted with her face. A bat of the eye later, she was on her feet, hair singed and smoke pouring out of her ears. "WHAT kind of people would DO something like THAT?"
Masato, with his infinite wisdom, ran. May, left with no little brother to take out her anger on, ended up blindly grabbing Richie by the shoulders. Sparky, fortunately, managed to jump off before May began to throttle its trainer. "DON'T they have anything BETTER to do with their SICK little minds?!!!" she ranted wildly.
"D-d-d-do wh-wh-what-t-t-t?" Richie choked out as May shook him back and forth.
With a howl, May released Richie and marched up to the computer. "Read!" she commanded him, pointing one gloved finger at the screen.
"Chu!" Sparky protested as it trotted back up, black eyes sharp with suspicion. Richie, however, had no such feelings of mistrust.
"Anything to help out a fellow trainer!" he smiled, propping up the chair and seating himself nonchalantly in it. May waited impatiently as Richie began to read. Sure enough, after only a few seconds in, a frown had begun to crease Richie's forehead.
"It's horrible, isn't it?" May demanded.
Richie nodded grimly. "I can't believe anyone would do something like this," he said with a despairing sigh. "I mean, everyone knows that Lists aren't allowed on FanFiction.Net. And look at this! The writer forgot to put in a comma, right there!"
Before he could point out the offending spot, May groaned and shoved his cap over his eyes.
"I can't believe this!" she cried. "I'll bet half these people haven't even seen me in an actual episode, yet they're already forming anti-May clubs! I mean, c'mon! Just look at the so-called reasons why this author says I should die! 'May doesn't deserve to take Misty's place. She's SUCH an ugly @#!% and she dresses like a slut!!!' "
Richie reflexively sunk a little lower in his seat. May's face had taken on an extremely dangerous look, one more characteristic of a rampaging demon than the slightly goofy, happy-go-lucky girl she was supposed to be.
"Honestly, MistyRulz, or whatever your real name is!" May seethed, blue eyes blazing and gloved fists clenching. "It's not like I pulled Misty off the show kicking and screaming! In fact, Misty and I are perfectly good friends! We play volleyball at the beach together every Friday! Of course, there was that one time I hit the ball into Togepi…but that was an accident! You people don't need to hate me for it!!!"
"Sorry to burst your bubble, May, but you'd better get used to being hated," came a new voice from above.
Looking up, May saw none other than Tracey Sketchit leaning over the barrier that separated her computer terminal from his own. "Sorry to butt in, but you have no idea what I went through when the producers stuck me in instead of Brock," Tracey went on with a long-suffering sigh. "Never went one week without hatemail overloading my inbox. But poor you, May." He shook his head pityingly. "Even I wouldn't want to switch places with you."
"It can't be all that bad," Richie said.
"Pika!" Sparky groaned, rolling its eyes at its trainer's naivety.
"Oh, yes it can!" May retorted, hands on hips. "Half the Misty fans from here to Antarctica want my blood! And that doesn't count all the people who hate me because they think I break up Ash and Misty."
"You're breaking up Ash and Misty?" Tracey said, aghast. "Wow, May, I had no idea…"
May's withering glare cut him off in mid-sentence, causing Tracey to hastily change the subject. "Well, like I was saying before…I'm sorry, Richie, but you just don't have any idea what it's like to be a replacement character!"
"I've had my share," Richie said sincerely. "There are at least a dozen sites out there calling me a boringly perfect Ash clone. Or saying that I have really bad fashion sense. Which, if I were really Ash's clone, would mean that Ash has really bad fashion sense, too…But there are still people who like me, you know!" he added, smiling with all the optimism he could muster. "So, naturally, there's gotta be people out there who like you guys, too!"
"That's what you think," Tracey said dejectedly. "But when you're a replacement character, it's perfectly normal to come home and find four new bash-fics on FanFiction.Net. It's just like…like…"
"Like the entire world hates you," May finished glumly.
Richie tried his best to reassure both of them. "Oh, I'm sure all those people don't really hate you! They're just mad because you…well…took the place of the characters they already liked."
Both May and Tracey glared, so he quickly tried to amend himself. "I mean, it's not that you guys aren't likable! Really, I'll bet if the series started off with you guys instead of Brock and Misty, then everybody would love you more than them! They wouldn't want to see you replaced by different characters!"
"Do you…really think so? Tracey asked hesitantly. "Come to think of it, I guess I do have a few fans. Maybe I grew on people or something during the Orange League." His clouded dark eyes suddenly cleared. "Hang on, I get what you're saying now! If I'd been there from the start of the series, then people would have had a lot more time to accept me. And the people who hate me now, they wouldn't hate me as much!"
"It only makes sense!" Richie said with confident cheer. "If Ash had traveled with May first instead of Misty, we'd have anti-Misty clubs and AAM...oh, we'd still have AAMR, wouldn't we? And if Tracey had come before Brock, people would throw 'Bring Back Tracey!' riots and march around with signs saying 'Destroy the Squinty-Eyed One!' Not that that would be very nice, either…"
"But that's just the problem!" May pointed out. "We weren't there first! Which means most everybody still hates us! If they wouldn't have hated us in the first place, that is."
Tears formed in both Tracey's and May's eyes. "It's not fair!" they howled in unison. May, in fact, was so upset she pounded her fists into the barrier between the terminals. Tracey, as precariously balanced as he was, went toppling over said barrier. He fell right on top of May's computer.
The computer crashed onto the floor, sparks flying in every direction. Richie winced as bits of plastic debris hit him full in the face. When the smoke had finally cleared, a very dazed looking Tracey was lying amid the smoldering remains.
"Ah! My MP3s!" May cried.
"Pikaah chu!" Sparky smirked. The Pikachu, of course, had just been about to launch into a lecture on the consequences of hoarding illegal music files, when its trainer cut it off.
"Sparky, get back!"
From its position atop the desk, Pikachu swerved about. Above the remains of the demolished computer, and right behind Sparky, the air was swirling in a very peculiar way indeed. Ripples of indigo formed in midair, pulsating and expanding like some enormous gulping mouth. When it had stopped growing at last, a glowing purple portal floated fully-revealed in the middle of the cubicle.
"Something really weird is going on," Tracey stated, backing nervously away from the hole. The purple portal lowered to fill the space he vacated.
"Sparky!" Richie called again. "You'd better get over here."
The Pikachu leapt down from the desk the computer had formerly rested on. Posture casual and undaunted, it made as if to dart around the strange portal. Unfortunately, the Pikachu failed to notice the piece of plastic directly in the middle of its path.
"CHU!"
"Sparky!" Richie yelled as his Pikachu slipped and went rolling across the floor. The gaping purple hole seemed to swell in anticipation. With a whoosh! of air, it swallowed the squealing Sparky, flailing limbs and all.
"No!" Richie screamed. "May, Tracey, quick! We've got to warn everybody about this!" Scrambling onto his feet, he began to run.
But before he could get anywhere, the purple portal swooped down upon him. Richie didn't even have time to scream as the hole engulfed his still-running body.
Both May and Tracey watched in horror as Richie's blue-and-yellow cap fluttered onto the ground, the only remnant of the young trainer.
Burping loudly, the swirling hole bulged outward. Then, gurgling maliciously, it gobbled up its remaining two victims. Only Tracey's wild screech escaped from the void's churning confines. "When it says delete them after 24 hours, May, DELETE THEM AFTER 24 HOURS!!!"
Masato, who'd been hiding from the wrath of his sister in a nearby cubicle, heard this bloodcurdling scream. "Guys!" he shouted, jumping up and hitting his head on the desk he'd been crouching under. Gingerly rubbing his new bump, he stumbled out and tore down the aisle. "May? Richie? Tracey?"
As he peeked around the corner, Masato saw his sister's kicking legs, along with Tracey's shrieking face, disappear into the monstrous portal. Gyrating wildly, the purple hole swelled in malevolent glee. Then, after ejecting a second burp, it turned onto a gulping Masato.
Masato, still as wise as ever, didn't give a second thought to his fallen friends. He ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.
