It was the Dragonite's jump that first knocked the wind out of him. That first burst into the air shook Beryl down to his core, and he wasn't able to regain his breath until they touched down in front of the Blackthorn Pokémon Center. The fly was exhilarating and terrifying, and it took the tiny residue of food hiding in his stomach, scrambled it, mixed in some bile, and shot it out of his mouth at full force as soon as they hit the ground.
The vomit splattering against the pale concrete (painting it a most interesting shade of reddish orange) distracted him from the fact that the Dragonite had not, in fact, returned him home, but instead chosen to take him to a more easily recognized location. His Dratini friend slithered up beside him to see if he was dying, and, upon feeling her tug on the leg of his pants, he immediately finished, stood up straight, wiped his mouth clean and looked around to make sure no one saw his embarrassing display of nausea. Only a few people did, but amongst them was a friend of his.
"Beryl!" she yelled over at him. The sight of her tiny, bouncy frame made Beryl think of pixies every time he saw her. The pink hair didn't help things.
"Oh hey Joy!" he answered back.
Joy was the daughter of the Blackthorn Pokémon Center's head nurse and chief administrator (also named Joy).
Beryl didn't realize this, having not been dealing with Pokémon or outside Pokémon Centers for the fourteen years of his life, but every head nurse, at every Pokémon Center, in every town, was named "Joy," and they all looked exactly alike. And when I say "exactly," dear reader, I mean exactly. Most of you probably realize this, but the reasoning for all of this has always remained a little vague to outsiders.
In reality, the curious nature of Nurse Joys held a rather simple explanation. A bizarre genetic phenomenon (we'll call it the Jenny/Joy Effect for obvious reasons) resulted in an odd sort of natural cloning. All of the females in the "Joy" line (the original surname is Kreutzfeld, but because of marriage that name long ago lost its prominence) have pink hair, very attractive features, and highly nurturing tendencies.
Keep in mind that not every female in the Joy line is named "Joy"—quite the opposite, in fact. However, by tradition, those of the family who take up a nursing profession (a group that accounts for roughly ninety-eight percent of the Joy family) take up the moniker of "Nurse Joy" upon receiving their degree. Think of it as a title of sorts.
Joy's mother, of course, was the sort of overzealous type who attempts to plan out their child's life from the day she's conceived. Her mother (born Jeanne Alexandra Fitzgerald, now Nurse Joy Hudson) eagerly named her child "Joy," knowing full well that the chances of her not possessing the nurturing, longing desire to help and heal Pokémon at various Pokémon Centers across the world were pretty slim.
Of course, Joy Hudson was none of those things. She had long ago cropped her bright pink locks to a short length, dyed streaks of black into it. She straightened it regularly, and wore heavy amounts of eyeliner. Fingerless gloves were a regular part of her apparel, as were black tank tops, chains and things that were studded. Nursing didn't appeal to her—it was the battling, breeding, and raising that caught her attention. She was a born Pokémon trainer, something her mother would doubtless never understand. She and Beryl had known each other since they were two (well, she was three at the time; they were roughly nine months apart, age-wise), and had been close friends for a long time. Well, as close as Beryl would allow anyway, considering his tendency to keep to himself.
"Where have you been?" she asked, as if she'd been waiting for days for him to show up at the Pokémon Center.
"It's… Well, it's kind of a long story," he answered honestly, seeing as how it did take about nine pages in Microsoft Office Word (single-spaced).
"Your mom has been worried sick! Here, come in the Center and we'll—oh!" she looked down at Beryl's periwinkle companion at this point, "who's this?"
"Oh, right…" Beryl answered, looking down at the Dratini, "That's part of the long story, actually. This is—well, I guess this is my… Dratini?" His question wasn't so much directed at Joy as it was at the tiny dragonthing at his feet. She looked up at him and nodded, then, and he nodded too. "Yeah, it's my Dratini."
"Where did you—oh, nevermind. Just come with me and we'll call your mom real quick," she said, pulling him along by his shirt sleeve, "She's been searching for you for the past twelve hours straight. There are posters up all over town!"
"She what?" Beryl asked, his heartstrings tugging at the display at the paternal concern, but a harsher part of his brain wondered if it was entirely necessary for them to start an all-out manhunt when he was gone one night. Dratini speedily inched along behind him, refusing to be lost in the shuffle.
Joy shoved the phone in Beryl's hands, and yelled to her mom. "Here, you call your house. I'll take your Dratini over to get healed." She looked down at the small, blue creature, "Would you like that? If I take you over to get taken care of?"
The Dratini looked up at Beryl, as if to ask if that was such a good idea. He simply shrugged, and the Pokémon nodded to the pink-haired teenager, inching along behind her speedily.
Beryl dialed the number for his house as soon as the two were out of his sight. The phone rang once before his mother's face popped up on the screen. "Hello?" she said, before her eyes widened in shock, "Beryl? Where have you been? We've been looking all over for you. We thought you were dead and we sent the police out to find you and—"
And it went on like that for a few minutes. Beryl tried to listen, he really did, but there comes a time in a conversation like this where the young teenager realizes that his parent, while looking out for his best interests, is really just repeating herself.
He waited for her to take a breath before attempting to explain himself. Little moments like that are the kind that need to be taken advantage of with a person like Tanya Finnegan. "Mom, I'm fine, I really am. I'm sorry about everything, but it really wasn't my fault."
"Well you come home right this instant!" she answered. The look in her eyes brought to mind a protective Ursaring.
"I… I can't, Mom… I have to wait for… someone."
"Someone? Someone like who? Is it that girl?" Beryl's mom had a peculiar habit of trying to set her son up with various young females, the most recent of which was a girl named Bethany Oserlausitz. Neither she nor Beryl were particularly interested in each other, though, and they'd only spoken to each other twice.
"No, Mom. I have… I have a Pokémon now."
"Oh well that's –what? No, no, this is just too much for me right now. What would your father say if he was with us to hear all of this?" she was tearing up now. Beryl's father wasn't dead—he was on a mining expedition in Sinnoh, chipping out bits of one of the larger mountains to make room for a tunnel between a cave in the mountain and the Unown Temple on the other side.
"Mom…" Beryl sighed.
"Come home right this instant, you hear me? I'll let the police know you're safe and they don't have to look for you anymore," she said.
"What—you had the police looking for me?" Beryl started.
"Oh-cshhhkshhhh—you're breaking up—kshhshhkkk—I l-ve you!" she said, blatantly making the "breaking up" noises with her mouth in the phone, before hanging up.
Beryl shook his head, then caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. A young girl came rushing into the Pokémon Center, a look of panic on their face. She ran up to the counter, many of the people in the Center watching the person warily.
"I need you to heal my Pokémon…" the girl gasped.
"All right, just give them here. There's no need to panic," Nurse Joy told him.
"You haven't heard? Oh, no, there's a lot of reason to panic. Team Rocket's—" the girl began, before being cut off by a rush of other trainers bursting through the doors. They were all screaming, scrambling to beat others through the doors. Each and every trainer was haggard and worn-looking. This wasn't unusual, considering that a lot of trainers come to Blackthorn City through the Ice Path to the north, but the number of trainers, and how worn down they looked, was a major issue.
They all ran to the counter, nursing wounds and Pokémon alike. The trainers all had a sort of frantic look in their eyes, their words mumbled and rushing. They wanted—no, needed—to get out of town as soon as humanly possible. Beryl ran up to Joy and asked her what was going on.
"Apparently," she answered, brushing her black-streaked bangs out of her face, "Team Rocket attacked Mahogany Town hardcore, took over the radio tower, used some kind of signal to force a bunch of the Magikarp in the Lake of Rage to evolve, and totally obliterated the Pokémon Center and Mart. All of these trainers have come here as a last resort, and a bunch of their Pokémon have been taken out by the Rockets."
"Oh… Well, that's… Not good," Beryl answered lamely.
"No, Beryl. No, it's not," she told him patronizingly, before handing him a pastel blue-and-pink pokéball. "Here's your Dratini."
"It's in a pokéball?" he asked.
"Of course. She's yours now, after all, and you're her trainer. Now help me in the back with all of these other Pokémon."
"She's a she?" Beryl asked again.
"Shh," Joy answered, pressing a finger to his lips. His face promptly turned blood-induced shade of pinkish red, prompting a coquettish smile from her. "You're so cute when you're like that. Now, come with me."
He ran to the back, and grabbed trays of pokéballs, one stacked on top of another. He ran with them, back and forth through the tiny, narrow aisles that led to one of the various healing stations scattered throughout the Center. A tremor shook the Center on his way back, however, sending pokéballs flying. Joy, following closely behind him, ended up tripping and falling, prompting Beryl to prop her up awkwardly with one arm while holding a tray of pokéballs in his other hand unsteadily.
"What was that?" Beryl asked, shaking.
"Team Rocket, I bet. Come with me." The young, pink-haired damsel left the scattered pokéballs on the ground and ran to the front of the Center, leaving Beryl to drop his tray and hurriedly follow after. Another tremor rocked the Center, and Beryl toppled over like a human Jenga set.
"Come on!" Joy shouted. He looked up—she was already at the other end of the hall. He stood up and ran quickly, attempting to make up for lost time, and then he heard the voice.
"CITIZENS OF BLACKTHORN CITY," came the voice. It was masculine and hollow, like it was being amplified through a megaphone, "WE ARE TEAM ROCKET. IF YOU COMPLY WITH US, AND COME ALONG PEACEFULLY, WE WILL SPARE YOUR LOVELY CITY FROM ANY DAMAGES IT MIGHT INCUR THROUGH OUR POWERFUL POKÉMON. HOWEVER, IF WE FACE A STRUGGLE FROM YOU, WE WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE DRASTIC MEASURES."
Beryl heard a few choice words being yelled at the Rockets. He ran to the front of the Center to look. There were between fifteen and twenty members of Team Rocket, all dressed in the iconic black and red of their organization. Each and every one of them was holding a black pokéball with red trim.
"Clearly they have something for the red and black," Beryl joked weakly. No one paid particular attention to him. A few of the townsfolk were leaving their houses now, holding pokéballs and every makeshift weapon they could muster (frying pans, rolling pins, etc.)
"I see we're going to have a fight on our hands," the lead Rocket muttered to one of his cohorts, before shouting to the rest of the group, "Ready the Gyaradoses!"
The Rockets spread out, then, and threw their pokéballs into the air. From each one was summoned a massive red sea-monster with teeth the size of a young boy. Fins lined their scaly red hide, with cracks and blisters indicating that their growth was recent—and forced. An attack order was given from the lead Rocket, and the Gyaradoses proceeded to spew forth the pressurized, electrified green air of Dragonbreath.
The citizens ran from the Dragonbreath, most of them escaping. Those without pokéballs in hand ran to their homes momentarily. Those with pokéballs hid, and waited. A significant amount of dust was blown up, prompting a demand of "Halt!" from the lead Rocket. The trainers in the Pokémon Center were hiding, fearing for what was to come. Flashes of red lit up the crackling, static-filled air like fireworks on a foggy night, spilling forth dozens of Dratini and Dragonair whose shimmery skin grew dull in the soil that settled with the air. The hair on the back of Beryl's neck stood up straight.
"You think you can handle the might of Team Rocket?" shouted the leader of the group, "Let's hit 'em with all we got. Make Giovanni proud!"
Then, before the townsfolk could react, a wall of green, electric Dragonbreath spewed from the gaping, toothy maws of two dozen ferocious red sea serpents. The unprepared citizens of Blackthorn, still in a purely reactionary mindset, were completely off-guard and unprepared. It was a slaughter.
The dragon-type move obliterated the poor dragons, which were, by their very nature, weak to the attack. The wall of electrified air tore through the squad, leaving trainers reeling with the force of the blast. Beryl watched, in terror, while the Rockets advanced, the hungry Gyaradoses still weak and starving from their recent evolution.
"We have to go out there and help them!" Beryl said through gritted teeth, gripping his Dratini's pokéball with white knuckles.
"What do you think you can do to get them out of there that the trainers out there haven't tried already?" Joy asked.
"I don't mean the trainers…" the round-faced trainer muttered, almost inaudibly. He stood, then, and ran outside, his eyes blinking in the bright sunlight that ripped through the dust clouds on the ground.
"Beryl!" Joy yelled, before cursing quietly to herself. She grabbed up a great ball that had been scattered to the floor, and quickly followed after the inexperienced trainer.
The numerous Dratini and Dragonair were being pulled back into their pokéballs, and the Rockets were readying themselves for the kill when Beryl ran to intercept. "Gyarados! Magikarp! Whatever you choose to call yourselves! Stand down!"
It was Beryl's young voice that rang out along the street in front of the Pokémon Center, rending the orders of the Team Rocket member's in half and perplexing trainers and Pokémon alike. The Gyaradoses stopped, obviously, curious to see what this boy had to say. They were mean and vicious, but they weren't stupid.
"What's this?" the Rocket commander asked, glaring first at the Gyaradoses and then at the young trainer in front of them, gripping a pastel pokéball in a soft, scholarly hand.
"You don't have to do this," Beryl began, "You don't have to listen to these jerks who forced you into a shape that you didn't want. You don't have to be their pawns. Don't you see? These people need you to do their dirty work. They don't control you—you control them."
This set an evil glint into the eye of every Gyarados. The meek, obeisant personality of the Magikarp fled when the Gyaradoses realized the power that they now held over their malicious, overbearing captors. The Rockets' faces lost their color, and they started backing up fearfully. Even the townsfolk were curious now, each one retrieving their dragon pokémon and attempting to back away from the soon-to-be-wild Gyaradoses.
Just as one of the Gyarados began to take one of the Rockets into its mouth, a noise like the flapping of thick, powerful wings, filled the air. The Gyaradoses began to wail, distracted from their evil masters, and from above came a large stone creature, though not nearly so large as them. It had a strong, powerful jaw, pointed ears, and wings that bore powerful claws at their hinges. Riding on the aforementioned stone monster was a redheaded man wearing a cape and a dark blue suit, covered with intricate, orange, flame-themed designs.
The Aerodactyl swooped down to fifteen feet above the shrieking red sea serpents, and the trainer jumped down onto the back of one particularly active Gyarados. It thrashed wildly as soon as his feet touched it, and he released five pokéballs into the air, from which burst two Dragonites, a Charizard, a Dragonair and a blue Gyarados of his own.
"Everyone!" shouted the man atop the violently twisting Gyarados, "Use Thunder Wave on these Gyaradoses and we can eliminate this problem quickly and save our fair city! Everyone with an electric attack, ready it!"
"Who's that guy?" Beryl whispered to Joy, who was standing beside him, open-mouthed, looking up at the powerful trainer who was somehow maintaining a hold on the deadly Gyarados that was flailing underneath him. As soon as he asked, she turned to him and smacked him on the face.
"What?" he asked again.
"Sometimes you're really stupid, you know that?" She replied angrily.
"Yeah, but that's not really an answer to my question."
Joy sighed, "That's Lance. Get your Dratini and have her use Thunder Wave on these Gyaradoses, okay?"
"Wait, like, the famous Lance?" Beryl was just now realizing he was in over his head.
"Yes, now get out there!" Other trainers were now releasing their Pokémon, some tired and weary, others at full health and ready to battle—some Dragons, some Electric-types, and an assortment of others with Electric attacks readied.
"Right!" Beryl cried, throwing his Dratini's pokéball out to join the ranks. "Dratini, get your Thunder Wave ready!"
As soon as the red light spilled forth and his Dratini materialized, a wave of electricity burst forth from her wing-like ears. Static rippled through the air, arcing with the lighting produced before it hit one of the hungry red Gyaradoses.
"Yes!" cried Lance, as more and more Pokémon zapped the Gyaradoses into submission. He eyed Beryl knowingly, and jumped up to grab the leg of his hovering Dragonite.
"Get that one!" he cried to his Dratini, pointing to the Gyarados that Lance had, up until that moment, been on top of. Electricity arced once more through the air, and collided with the immediately-stunned Gyarados, as it fell to the ground.
When the last of the Gyaradoses hit the ground, Lance gave out a loud, booming command to catch every last one of them, to be handled by the Pokémon Center and himself. Joy tossed Beryl a pokéball calmly, and he threw it to the same Gyarados that Lance had, moments before, been standing atop.
"Where are the Rockets?" Beryl asked, looking around.
"They left, no doubt," answered a turquoise-haired woman beside him, "they're a licentious and cowardly lot, Team Rocket. They head for the hills at the first sign that they might lose."
"Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense," Beryl answered, nodding slightly.
"You did very well out there, young man," the woman commented, her cape billowing in the slight breeze. "I don't believe I've seen you around here before, though. Are you new?"
"Nah, I've lived here all my life," he smiled, obliviously, "I just today caught my Dratini, though, so that might be why you don't know me."
Her eyes widened at this. Joy ran over and whacked Beryl over the head.
"Why do you keep doing that?" shouted Beryl.
"That's Clair, you dolt!" she whispered through gritted teeth in his ear. "She's the gym leader here. She determines who's good and who's not good, and—"
"Hello, Lance," Clair said, her attention torn from the two children and toward the tall, red-haired Champion who had approached.
"Clair!" he pronounced loudly, his arms outstretched as if readying a hug. Her resulting facial expression indicated that doing so might end with his head being separated from his body, so he put his arms down. "It's been a long time, Clair," he told her. His smile never waned.
"So it has," she responded crisply.
"And who's this young man?" he asked, clasping a hand over Beryl's unwitting shoulder. He stared up, gasping.
"Beryl!" he eventually coughed out, his trachea finally giving way to his demands for speech. Lance chuckled lightly. "Beryl Finnegan, sir."
"Well, Mr. Finnegan, I expect to be seeing a lot of you in the future. You showed a lot of skill out there, kid. A lot of talent, especially for someone so inexperienced and new to the field," Lance smiled down at him. Beryl blushed a little.
"Um… Thank you sir," he stammered, "I really appreciate that."
"It was no problem. In fact," Lance looked over at Clair, then back at Beryl, "if you'd like, I could have someone very skilled, very talented look after you in your Pokémon training journey. I know a lot of very adept trainers who could easily help you out."
"What are you getting at?" Clair asked, and Beryl attempted to explain that he wasn't at all interested really.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Lance, "Clair, if you don't mind…" He then took the blue-haired woman off to the side, and discussed things in hushed, secretive tones.
"What are they doing?" Beryl asked, whispering to his pink-haired friend.
"For the first time today," Joy responded, "I have no idea."
Clair and Lance stopped what they were doing eventually and walked over to Beryl and Joy. "Beryl," Clair said, "in light of your recent display of exceptional talent with regards to Pokémon training, I'd like to invite you to train at my gym."
"Um… Okay?" answered Beryl, not entirely sure what the implications were of whatever he was agreeing to. Joy stared at him, open-mouthed.
"Are you certain?" Clair answered, "It will be hours of rigorous training a day. I will pay you, but only a marginal amount. When you work for me, you work for your Pokémon and no one else. You live to train, Beryl. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to face a life of hardship, a life of Pokémon training?"
"I'm actually not sure, when you put it like that," he answered hesitantly. Joy grabbed him, and pulled him to the side.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked him, whispering angrily.
"I don't really know…" he muttered back.
"This is the chance of a lifetime! Do you think everyone gets to train at the greatest Pokémon Gym in all of Johto? You can't pass this up, Beryl! I won't let you."
"Joy, it's my life. I'll do with it what I want. Besides, what will my parents think?"
"Beryl, you have a gift," she brushed her black-and-pink bangs out of her face, "and you can't just throw it away. Your skill in Pokémon training has been recognized by two of the most amazing Pokémon trainers of the last ten years. Do you know what that means?"
"It means that I can be a Pokémon trainer If I want to, and no one is going to force me to do anything. Not even you, Joy."
She glared at him, though she was sincerely impressed by this sudden boldness of his.
"That's what I'm going to tell Clair, too," he continued, "I'm going to tell her that I'll think about it and get back to her, because right now, I'm not even sure I want to be a Pokémon trainer. I mean, my Dratini's awesome. She's great. But don't you think that's more reason to keep her out of battles?"
Joy harrumphed at this, but eventually rolled her eyes and nodded. "Fine," she said, "do what you want. I don't care; it's your life."
He smiled a little, "I suppose that's all I'm going to get, eh?" She stared him down, and he sighed, before walking back to Clair.
"I'll think about it," he said simply, before feeling prodded by Clair's gaze, "I'll get back to you when I decide. Right now, I don't know if this whole 'trainer' business is really for me anyway."
She nodded simply, "I suppose I can respect that. If you need to contact me, get ahold of me at this number." The blue-haired trainer pulled a business card out of her vest, then, and handed it to him. "If you need anything at all, even unrelated to this, and you know I can help you, call me. I'll do my best."
"Thank you," Beryl said, smiling, "I'm going home now. It was wonderful meeting both of you." He nodded to Clair and Lance, who nodded in return. He turned around, then, and walked past Joy, who followed after.
"What'd they say?" she asked, yearningly.