This chapter has been updated on 12/29/2022 - if you've read it before this date, read it again.
Pokémon speech in Pokémon language = "Italicized"
Human Speech = "Regular"
Thoughts/highlighted text = 'thoughts/highlighted text'
Chapter 005 – Like Brock Like Gible
As the duo (and Charmander with Pichu on his head) made the trek through the Viridian Forest, three individuals were watching them, with the lone human slowly approaching.
With a shout of "HIEYAA!" a samurai katana sped towards Misty's neck. And as Ash went to block it with arms, completely forgetting the fact that katanas were sharp blades that could cut a man in half, his arm suddenly glowed blue, a warm tingle that tickled his skin. And when the katana struck, Ash was perfectly fine while the katana now had a 45-degree bend.
At the same time, twin hyper beams came blazing from the foliage, striking their assailant and sending him blasting off like the Rocket Trio.
"Wait! I recognize him. Isn't he that samurai guy we first met as kids, the one challenging trainers from Pallet Town?" asked Misty.
"Yeah, your right!"
"What I'm more concerned about are the hyper beams that sent him flying?" remarked Pichu, who sniffed around and sensed something. "Ash, there are at least two Pokémon, judging by the twin hyper-beam attacks.
"I know you're hidden there. Come on out." said the raven-haired trainer.
Said trainer was promptly swamped by a cream colored avian, which proceeded to nuzzle into his chest.
"Ash! You came!"
"P… Pidgeot… Is that really you?"
"Yes, but unfortunately, it's Pidgeotto for now."
A Butterfree then promptly landed on his hat.
"Butterfree! You too!"
"Hiya there guys! How's life been? Though it looks like either Charizard and Pikachu have been busy, or they got turned into baby Pokémon."
"HOW THE FRIGGIN HELL ARE YOU FULLY EVOLVED" screamed both Charmander and Pichu at Butterfree, both being pissed off at still being stuck as baby Pokémon.
"It took me a whole day to go from a Caterpie to a Butterfree."
…
"Dang it. Curse you bug types and your extremely fast evolutions!" swore Pichu.
"Butterfree, Pidgeotto...I've been a horrible trainer to you guys. I abandoned you guys and you don't hate me?"
"I've known something was screwing with your head for a while, and I've been visiting old Bulbasaur from time to time. He's the one who's been keeping track of it for quite some time.
Why, just a few weeks ago I decided to make my move on this really cute flying type of yours, a Talonflame I was planning on kidnapping to make some Pidgey's with when all of a sudden, I woke up back in the Viridian Forest as a Pidgey and the ranch was void of the rest of our crazy family. Soon after, I ran into Butterfree as a Caterpie and after spending two weeks training up a bit, just enough to use hyper beam again, I was able to evolve and then we ran into you and the samurai asshole" spoke Pidgeotto.
"And don't you forget that you released me at my request. And on top of that, I fully expected to never see you again. So in my book, you've done nothing wrong, and now I get to join you guys again!" continued Butterfree.
"You guys forgive me?"
"There was nothing to forgive in the first place. Now catch us." chirped the bug type.
And after catching the two Pokémon and filling them in on the time travel situation, the group continued their walk through the forest, stopping for the night under the stars, with both teens having their sleeping bags rather close to each other, not that they realized that, unlike the four Pokémon present that were shedding anime tears.
Unfortunately, just like the past two weeks, Ash was once again troubled by nightmares, reliving another one of the many horrors he had seen throughout his life, now the terror of fading away as Arceus was injured before them at Michina town in the past.
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In a large two-story home, the eldest son in a family of twelve was just about to tuck in for the night when he suddenly heard a window break, likely the one by the kitchen. Clutching a Poké ball and a baseball bat from Timmy's room, the young man tip toed to the kitchen, ready to strike at whatever intruder had broken into his home.
Looking around the corner, he could see the lights of the fridge on, implying that someone was rummaging around, possibly stealing food. And it definitely wasn't any of his siblings, seeing as none of them had any reason to enter the kitchen via a window.
Slowly entering the kitchen, he raised his baseball bat to strike as he flicked the light switch on, revealing…a Heracross drinking honey?
Said Pokémon, upon recognizing the young man before him, rammed into him with a bear hug, with the shocked human dropping his baseball bat and Poké ball in shock. Said Poké ball triggered, releasing a Geodude that blinked around in confusion.
"Umm…Brock? Why are we in the kitchen? Because last I checked, we were watching the World Coronation Series in the living room and wasn't the kitchen closed off for renovation. And is that Heracross?"
"Hiya there mate! Hi Brock! Do you have more honey?" asked the bug type, holding up a now empty jar of honey.
The young man, Brock, blinked in confusion as several memories flooded his mind, before promptly swearing, using language that would earn him a mouthful of soap from Grandma Estella were she alive (were his parent awake, his mother would have done the same while his father gave him a thumb's up). Something weird was going on and seeing as there was always only one possible explanation for weird shit happening, he sighed. "Oh Ash. What have you gotten yourself into now?"
Heracross, uncaring of Brock's thought process, just asked for more honey.
At that exact moment, thousands of miles away in the marshes of the Safari zone in Sinnoh, a Croagunk had a sudden feeling that he needed to get to his trainer ASAP, sensing that his trainer's behavior towards the fairer sex might soon for the very first time actually get him killed.
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In the deserts of Unova, anyone foolish enough to traverse the dangerous environment would be treated to the unusual sight of a rusty shopping cart being propelled by a Torkoal using flamethrower on an old rail track.
Where said cart had been acquired and how it was riding on train tracks were questions that would never be solved, though the Pokémon on it was going with the flow, hoping to get out of the scorching desert and back to civilization.
And right now, the only thing the fire type knew was that he was no longer at Pallet town and needed to get back home. Unfortunately, he didn't know where exactly he was, which made getting back home a tad more difficult.
And in the heat of the desert, said Pokémon had a random thought - 'Do Uber drivers pick up customers in the middle of the desert?'.
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On the shore of a lake within the vast grounds of the Oak ranch, a Krabby could be seen shoveling through the earth, though its pace was rather slow seeing as it was using a pair of plastic shovels made for kids at the beach.
Seeing as he was somehow a Krabby instead of a Kingler, he'd need to get back into shape, and more importantly, get the H.U.B.B.E.R (Hidden Underground Bunker Base that's Extremely Rad) up and running once again, a task that would take forever.
This did not put a smile on his face.
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Sceptile was rather confused at his current predicament – it wasn't every day that one was devolved into a Treecko and found themselves at a lab of some sort, surrounded by others of his species and several of the other Hoenn starters. The situation was made even stranger by the fact that there was a green haired teen looking eagerly at the bunch of Pokémon present.
Next to him stood three other individuals, a large, bellied elderly man, another green haired teen, though this one had a more tanned skin tone, and finally the familiar form of Professor Birch.
"Grandson. I know that unlike your cousin, you wanted a starter from Hoenn. And fortunately, Robert here was more than happy to help." spoke the elderly man not far from his position.
"It was no problem sir – your grandson's a good kid and I'll know that any starter he picks will have a great trainer at their side." answered Prof. Birch
"Your right professor; Cousin Sawyer's an awesome guy, and I know that he'll be an awesome Pokémon trainer, just like me!" spoke the tanned teen.
"Yeah, yeah cuz." remarked the teen whose name was Sawyer.
"Now Sawyer. You have a choice between Torchic, the fire type, Mudkip, the water type, and Treecko, the grass type. And surprisingly, I was sent four of each species this year from the breeders, so you've got even more choices!"
Hearing that little fact, Sceptile (now as a Treecko) looked to the other three Treecko, one of whom was doing his best to get the attention of the teen whose name was Sawyer – apparently, he wanted to be the kid's starter, definitely the type yearning for adventures and battles, just like he was once was when he joined Ash and still was to this day, though tempered by the experiences he had. The other two were ignorantly lazing about.
Fortunately for him, the kid picked the other Treecko, the best species of the Hoenn starters in his opinion. But as Birch was about to recall the other starters, Sceptile leaped into action, snagging what was apparently his Poké ball and hightailing out of the lab.
Fortunately for him, neither Birch nor his assistants were marathon runners, and he soon lost them, giving him space to finally analyze the situation he was in and make plans on what needed to be done.
There were very few possibilities as to what his current predicament was, and none of them were promising. Being trapped in some sort of dream scape created by a psychic, ghost, or dark type was possible, but he was trained to recognize said energy types, and didn't sense either, implying that either he was wrong or that this was the work of a Legendary. The only other possibility was that somebody, most likely a nefarious individual of some sort had messed with reality, because what was it with bad guys and messing with reality, a fetish of some sort?
The other thing to note was that seeing as he had escaped from Prof. Birch's lab, he was most likely in Hoenn, not far from Petalburg City, where the Maple's lived and hopefully May or Max were at home. Though if reality itself was broken, there was the possibility that the Maple kids might not even exist, and Norman Maple might not even be the Petalburg City Gym Leader, though he did hope that his concerns were unnecessary.
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Two weeks later, Sceptile was starting to get pissed off. And he never got pissed off!
It had started with Petalburg City, which turned out to be a bust. Firstly, his fears were well founded seeing as where the gym was stood a children's hospital. And if that wasn't bad enough, right next door where the Maple residence was supposed to be was a construction site. The Maple family was also missing – no May, no Max, no Norman. Not even Caroline and her chocolate chip chunky cookies.
From Petalburg he made his way to Slateport, where he hoped he'd run into either Infernape, Corphish, or Glalie – all three of them were assigned to protection detail for three V.I.H's (Very Important Humans) who were going to be there for the Grand Festival in three weeks. Though after a twelve-hour ride on the roof of a bus, he was once again disappointed when he couldn't find them or any information on the upcoming grand festival. The situation was made even worse by the fact that none of the calls to the H.U.B.B.E.R from a nearby telephone booth were going through, which was making him think that either A. this was some sort of really bad prank or B. something really bad had happened.
By this point, he was tired, grumpy, slightly panicking, and mentally exhausted. So, when a Riolu pounced on his exhausted form as he was attempting to get some rest by the woods outside of Slateport, he got really mad. NOBODY. Nobody messed with his nap time. And with that thought, a pissed off Treeko fired off a point-blank solar beam in the Emanation Pokémon's face, causing it to be a one-hit-KO. Unfortunately, the grass type had forgotten one small fact - he wasn't a Sceptile who could rapidly fire solar beams all day long, let alone at all, anymore. And Treecko promptly collapsed, exhausted from successfully performing a powerful grass type move that should've been impossible as a Treecko.
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In an old cottage not far from Vermillion, an old lady, approaching nearly eighty-years-old, could be seen resting on a cherry-wood rocking chair, just by a warm hearth. The fire warmed her old bones as she knitted a sweater for her grandchildren, knitting being one of the few pleasures said elder still had in life. Looking to a photo of three six-year-olds hugging onto the waist of a once much younger version of herself, she was reminded of a simpler time, back when all that mattered was the battlefield and being a mother to three, where her nightly ritual of reading stories to her children before bedtime were the highlights of her life.
Though twenty years later, nothing was left of the trio that once promised to change the world. Benjamin, Richard, and Gwendolyn all dead, a hero's death protecting Mossdeep while on duty as rangers. All three she sadly knew were no more – her gifts made themselves remembered that day all those years ago, the cold feeling deep within one's soul when someone loses a loved one.
The trio that had so much going for them, now reduced to the memories that their very few loved ones had. But all of them had suffered – two children never knowing their fathers, two wives left to never again share their love to their husbands, and parents cursed to attend a funeral for their only children, three empty graves and a tombstone being a reminder of what they were and what they would now never get the chance to be.
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In an unknow location, stored within a glass case covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust stood an ancient artifact, a staff made of lifeless wood and a cold, grey sphere, a relic of the past that had no power at all in the modern world, not a soul in the world that could bring it back to its former glory.
But slowly, over the past few days, something within the staff had changed. A connection forcefully broken with the passing of a soul, now reforged anew, slowly charged the staff. Had anyone been observing the staff, a very faint twinkle of light could be seen from within the cold sphere, now very faintly beating with mystical power.
Eventually, one day, the staff would awaken, bringing forth the power within. And when that day came, there might be a little more hope in the world, for both people and Pokémon.
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In a tunnel somewhere underground, Noibat was frustrated at his ability over sonar failing him – sonar was great in a cave but in a tunnel being actively dug, it was next to useless, with only Gible knowing where to go.
But soon, Gible stopped digging forward, and proceeded to make a path upwards to the surface, much to the confusion of Noibat and Goomy. And for some reason, he seemed to be…blushing and…giggling? Though upon prompting him for an explanation, the answer the duo received was rather…vexing.
"Guys! It's her!"
Two voices questioned him with a "Who?"
But instead of replying, Gible continued to dig upwards, and eventually broke through to the surface and ran off, with Noibat and Goomy in hot pursuit. The two dragon types, unlike Gible, weren't distracted for some unknown reason, and found themselves in what appeared to be a hallway of a rather tasteful building of some sort. Following Gible, they found the wayward land shark hiding behind the doorway to the living room and making love eyes at the most terrifying Garchomp the duo had ever seen, one that was just under twelve feet tall, dwarfing Professor Sycamore's partner Garchomp.
Said Garchomp had noticed Gible and her response to it well…broke the poor dragon type's heart.
"Oh, aren't you just the cutest little thing! You remind me of the time I was just a little Gible myself."
"My queen! You don't recognize me?"
"I haven't seen another Gible in years! Just the sight of you makes me want to find a strong mate and have some baby Gible's of my own. Maybe my own children will be a cute as you."
"No…NOOOO!" cried out Gible to the heavens, before curling into a ball and sobbing, processing the emotions and conditions known as a broken heart and depression, oddly reminiscent of what Brock did whenever someone mentioned Professor Ivy, or whenever he was seriously rejected by a woman, not that any of the other Pokémon present knew that little tidbit seeing as neither Noibat nor Goomy had ever met Brock before.
"There, there, little one. I have some sturdy chunks of ore to chomp on to make you feel better" replied Garchomp, picking up the small dragon type and taking him outside, her motherly instincts kicking in – young Gible loved chomping on boulders and metal, a necessity for them to build up their infamous jaw strength.
And as the Garchomp took the Gible now nuzzling into her outside, the other two dragon types present could hear Gible whimper, "She…doesn't recognize me…".
…
"What the fuck did we just witness?" swore Noibat, who had never before in his life used any form of impolite language.
"I don't know brother. I don't know." sighed Goomy.
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Meanwhile, just two doors down from the living room where said unusual incident was occurring, a strikingly beautiful woman could be seen staring at a half empty bottle of fifty-year old malt whisky.
Her long blond locks were left free, and she was dressed in a tasteful teal top with a pair of black slacks that were professional yet accentuating her natural figure. And based on her looks alone, many would mistake her for a top model barely in her twenties, but the Sinnoh Champion was definitely thirty-nine. And right now, she was definitely feeling all of those years as her thoughts were reminiscing on the past.
Memories of the past, long before she was the Champion of Sinnoh, back when she was but a child, back when she met the one she would one day call a sister in all but blood.
Two girls who had grown together, not just as people but as strong trainers, showing the world their capabilities as two near unstoppable and gifted battlers. They had both become successful in their own ways – she ended up becoming the youngest Sinnoh Champion at twenty-one while Diana became one of two trainers to ever battle the legendary Kanto Champion Red to a standstill, which was and still remained to this day a near impossible feat.
Soon after though, things changed. Diana stopped visiting her and begged her to stay away from Kanto for the next two years. And she humored her sister, knowing that she wouldn't ask of this without reason.
But as promised, two years later, she started visiting her in Sinnoh and Unova again, though she remained elusive as to why they had no contact for so long. But just as she promised that she would soon reveal her secret, she disappeared, never to be seen again.
And after spending nearly six months tracking her after that day, she finally gave up, not a single lead on her. For all intents and purposes, it was as if she never existed, the thought alone breaking her heart. And twelve years later, the anniversary of the day she disappeared was spent with half a dozen bottles of aged gin and whisky.
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It would be several hours later when the denizens of the household were fast asleep when the trio of dragon types came upon the sight of the alcoholic Sinnoh Champion, her sleeping form surrounded by empty bottles indicating what was going on. All three of them were concerned in their own ways, more so for Gible who had actually met the Champion at her best, made even worse when they heard the reason from her Majesty who was surprisingly trusting of them.
While Goomy and Noibat didn't know the Sinnoh Champion well enough to provide any meaningful input, Gible did, and at that moment, swore to help the Sinnoh Champion through her ordeal. Maybe he could get Supreme Command to accept this as a companion project to Project H.O.B.B.I.T?
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Just on the outskirts of Nimbasa City, a high-speed train could be seen making its way across the lands of Unova, specifically on the line to New Tork City, one of the major business hubs and of the region. What made this sight rather odd were anyone to look closely would be the fact that the train was void of passengers, save for two Pokémon. This sight would have been even odder had someone noticed that the driver was a Boldore smoking an Alolan cigar while reading a copy of The New Tork Times, something that was definitely against regulation, at least according to AmberTrack, the nation's rail network.
The other Pokémon present, a Leavanny, was busy making what appeared to be an unusually designed cardigan out of silk, something meant to complement the beanie that the Boldore was wearing.
Boldore for the most part was ignoring the actions of his comrade as he was attempting to solve the crossword puzzle on the back of the paper, though it was made rather difficult by the fact that he couldn't hold a pencil. For now, he'd stick to carving the crossword onto the wall of the train car, a much easier way of solving it. Now what was the Galar region famous for that was a seven-letter word that ended in 'AX'…
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Under the Alolan moon, a small flying type could be seen making its way to Hau'oli City, or more precisely, Hau'oli Melemele International Airport (HMM). The flying type, a young Rowlet, barely three weeks old, was attempting to pull off something rather stupid, something that was most certainly straight out of a TV show. Said Rowlet was attempting to hide inside the luggage compartment of a flight bound for Kanto.
However, Rowlet was rather sleepy, only being just a few weeks old, an age at which most baby Pokémon slept for over sixteen hours and didn't really do anything else, which was not what Rowlet was doing. Seeing as he wasn't really focused on which aircraft he was supposed to sneak aboard on to get to Kanto, he ended up flying into the open luggage door of the first plane in sight, which was an Air Latios flight bound for Lumiose City in Kalos, not that he knew that.
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On a cramped bus traversing the Kanto-Johto Expressway, Bulbasaur had a fleeting feeling of wrongness, something that only happened when someone violated the WISH protocols. In that moment, he felt the overwhelming urge to punish whoever knowingly did this without just cause. Because who in their right mind would be dumb enough to fail at reading and memorizing a four-hundred-page book on protocols (in eight-point font) when ordered to do so – reading four-hundred pages wasn't that hard…
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