Author's Note: It's been quite the while since my last installation. There is a reason for this…a string of reasons. I really hate that I'm basically going to make excuses, but here they are:

Family requires a majority of each day's worth of time in attention

My regular work computer recently decided to enter a coma

SOOOOO much packing and unpacking

Unplanned nights at friend's homes

Warframe

League of Legends

I don't like sleep

Brawlhalla and my frustration at not being able to maintain gold

College

Rediscovering the meaning of being an emotional and social human being

If I end up taking a long time with my posts, which is almost guaranteed, then please expect either college or something on the above list to be interfering with my writing.

As always, I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS AND CRITIQUES! It makes me a better writer. I LIKE being a better writer. Also, I like people—to an extent—and like more human contact, digital or otherwise.

Without further adieu … Chapter Two

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I can understand that many graduates of the Trainer School tend to have trouble with the test. I only submitted my test right when time was up. There's a lot of material in there, and I can respect the work of the fallen…

But did they all have to fail three times on average to such an easy test?

Let me give you an example problem: You are battling against a wild Lombre with the Rain Dish ability with a Zubat on your side. Your Zubat knows Toxic, Leech Life, and Screech. The wild Lombre has already used Rain Dance, and knows Fake Out and Water Gun. How will you defeat the pokemon?

I don't blame you if you don't know what to do, but this is too easy to answer. Use Toxic right off the bat, throw in a screech every time it tries to use Fake Out (which only works at the start of the battle) and destroy it with Leech Life, heeling yourself every time you take damage. Really, I'm surprised children couldn't pass on at least their second attempts.

Come on, Trainer School. Teach your students how to be Trainers.

As I tried to come up with more clever ways to roast the incompetents among me, one of the assistants I hadn't met scurried in my direction. I stood up, anticipation almost making my mouth water at the oncoming mystery challenge, when he rushed past me to a child… a child who's only defining characteristics were a firefighter hat on her head and tears. The assistant wore a lab coat with more pockets than should have been necessary for an assistant, and produced from one above his heart a lollipop that should not have fit inside of a breast-pocket, all rainbows and spirals and sugar.

Consoling the child wasn't his primary objective. I know this because I was, and I'm not being a narcissistic person with an overblown ego; the man told me himself, almost as if he were excited about a surprise party, but almost excited enough to shout it at the top of his lungs, so excited that it took all of his self-control to keep his voice at a very audible whisper,

"You are to walk into the Professor's office in exactly 36 seconds."

With that, he scurried back to wherever he came from, as if he had a Krabby for a dad.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-thirty-six seconds later-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

(admit it, you read that in the spongebob narrator's voice 😝)

Walking through a pair of doors never felt so intriguing.

Before me was a sparse office. The room was white with revelation, the filing cabinets and bookshelves stuffed with paper-based information, and the chairs green with envy at all things that weren't sat upon regularly. The most envious of these chairs was the one behind the desk and before the monitor, for that chair—despite its wheels—was depressed in both senses of the word; it not only had a depression on its cushion, but the cushion was forever enforced by the person sitting on the chair, never letting up on its chair-based torture, and thus giving the chair a sense of hopelessness only a concussed Makuhita would deny the proper diagnosis. The chair was occupied by a Professor Birch who looked nothing like Professor Birch should look.

While living in the market, I had the idea that Birch would be a relaxed and happy man. I'd heard of his multiple excapades-gone-wrong with nearby wild pokemon, when he'd require the services of a trainer because he forgot his belt in his rush for soil samples. I'd listened to numerous stories of wannabe-aristocratic hags "almost vomiting [their] dentures out" at the sight of his cheap Alolan button-down cloaked in his state-of-the-art lab coat (made of shed Cinccino fur to repel all sorts of dirt), the two compliments exacerbated by field shorts so plain that a Normal type would have gotten bored. I'd even heard some of his corny dad jokes, and for those my only descriptor is not safe to say in public.

The man before me was…different. The man was dressed the same as the famous Pokemon Professor, the same Cinccino lab coat and the same Alolan button-down, the same boring shorts. Of all the things that should have screamed to the world "Hey guys, Professor Birch is here!", his demeanor was completely off. The inviting smile was out, and an empty line occupied his lips. The smile lines on his face were dying out, what little remained marking only how tiring field work was for an aging man such as the Pokemon Professor. Hoenn society's most influential figure sat before me, who's discoveries had only bettered mankind, and the only thought in my head regarded how little Hoenn gave him back.

I sat down as ordered, and could tell that my chair specifically had bipolar depression. I didn't even get the chance to confirm my diagnosis when the Professor decided I was worthy of questioning.

"How did you do it?"

I looked at him as if he had brought a Houdour to my Budew nursery: I didn't like where this was going, and I could already smell the shit.

"What did I do?"

He looked at me with mild surprise in his visage, almost whimsical surprise. "So you do not know what I am asking you about?"

"I think my test."

"Of course the test, this is the interview portion! But do you know why I am asking you about your written exam?"

"No." I like to keep things obvious. I'd rather not drag out unnecessary conversations. Plus, I don't like talking much.

Birch cleared his throat, fixed his posture slightly, and splurged.

"You have not shared your name. You have no real home address, and no forms of long-distance communication. Yet you have somehow managed to get the highest score on a written exam we have seen at this facility in decades. 99%!" He hammered the table with his fists, being more excited than he had really been since that last high scorer came to his lab. Birch then realized how excited he was and toned it down about three notches.

"You show no form of schooling, no form of experience of any kind with Pokemon, and the only actual documentation of your existence is your record with the local police, and yet you've managed to completely outclass any of the best contenders for a Trainer Card!"

The man was awake now. After almost 15 years, I had somehow gotten Birch to emerge from whatever dark tresses held him, out of his draining lab act, and animated him. That was completely unintentional.

"What question did I get wrong?" I asked.

He pretended not to notice my question, and kept going with "This is remarkable!" and "Nobody has answered the Levitate-Team question with the Flinging of an Iron Ball in forever!" and, my least favorite, "Please, lead me through your thought process on how only three battles are needed to test a pokemon's Hidden Power." I repeated my question when he stopped to take a breath.

The Professor looked at me in confusion. He had been brought back from a funeral pyre without a single burn on his person, and I was asking about the small piece of ash clinging to his pant pocket.

"Young man," he said, carefully modulating his tone to not alert those outside the room, "you want to know what question you got … wrong?"

"Yes, I do."

The man opened a drawer and pulled out a packet of paper, printer ink, and mostly pencil marks, turned to the 5th page, and pointed at the one green mark on the otherwise monochrome collection of words and blank space.

"Son, whatever your name is, you have made my day. When I heard about your score, I personally checked over your test a total of 4 times! The fact that you passed already puts you in the top 90% of all people to have taken this test, but to almost perfectly pass is worthy of celebration! Of course, I don't want you giving out any trade secrets or anything to anyone, that's part of the contract, but there is one blemish aside from your lack of official paperwork."

My gaze fell on Birch's face after I finished reading the question, and I took my turn interrogating.

"Is my answer incorrect?"

Slightly shocked at my lack of excitement, he simple replied "No."

"Did I misspell something? Did I make a punctuation error? Is there anything I'm taking for granted here?" I did not raise my voice or get angry. I didn't show any form of excitement at all. All I wanted was to know why I lost that one point in a two-point question.

After a brief silence, the esteemed Pokemon Professor of Hoenn finally responded.

"Look," he started, voice calm and low, many decibels lower than his normal speaking volume, low enough that I had to lean forward slightly to capture his words, "there is just a single unsettling idea that you share in this answer. This question was designed to see how knowledgeable you are when it comes to pokemon first-aid and maintaining relationships. Your answer only applies to the former, while almost ignoring the latter. Not only that … it's a scary idea to have."

"In what regard?" I truly did not know what the man was hinting at then. I guess I've grown.

He rubbed his temples slightly, trying to maintain the level of candor he had shared with me previously, but obviously with a lot of struggle. "You mention that if none of your proposed field treatments work, you should dig a grave."

I nodded, and his lips tightened into what could only be called worry.

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After a few minutes grasping for words he could not find, the Professor sent me back into the waiting room with a contract. Signing it would permit me to obtain a Trainer Card, buy all supplies related to Pokemon at shops, full and free access to Pokemon Center health care, use the Pokemon Storage System to its fullest capabilities, a Pokedex, the use of a random lottery system to determine my Starter, and to participate in the Gym Challenge, the prerequisite to participating in the Pokemon League.

The contract also required a few things of me: that I do not share any information regarding my test and/or my interview with anybody who wasn't already fully aware of the specifics of both; that I always have a stash of naturally-formed Revive medicine, and of the highest potency at that; that I keep the number of the Professor's wife, a renowned pokemon psychologist, on my Pokenav at all times, and that I call her weekly to acquaint her with my pokemon and my relationships with them; and that I routinely check in with the Professor via the Pokenav provided as to my progress with the Pokedex and as to my well-being.

The document bore my first signature, stylized to avoid the forgery of my legal name in the Hoenn legal system.

Nemo Locke

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Ok guys, I need some help picking out a starter. Yes, the wait is over, Pokemon shenanigans are FINALLY HAPPENING!

I need you guys to help me narrow down the choices though, so please go over to my poll and pick which region. note: I don't like Alola too much. I don't know why, but that series of games made me kinda sad, along with the whole nostalgia thing. I'll probably like it more after I Nuzlocke it. Anyways, please do help me out here.

Thanks,

frozenshadow56