There are worse places to grow up than the rocky, barely fertile plains and treacherous mountainsides surrounding Pewter City. Food is scarce, the wildlife is dangerously unpredictable, and when it's not suffering a drought the storms can leave you housebound for days. Pewter isn't a place that forgives, or even tolerates, weakness.
And that's why I love it.
The world we're in isn't any place for the weak. Not one of us chose to be born into it, and not all can cope with the struggle of working, fighting, and loving among monsters. I'm not just talking Pokemon, though we'll get to them. Many of the biggest monsters I've met were other people. If I hadn't had that foundation of strength beaten into me by the rugged wastelands of Pewter, I'd be buried so deep none save Diglett would find me.
My true adventure got started the night I nearly had my head ripped off.
\-/-\-/-\-/
My full name is Calvin Stone. I know, ha ha, last name stone, figures for someone who lived in the number one stone export depot of Kanto. Actually, my family fled there from Hoenn when I was but a babe. It was during a period of excessive PokeTeam violence; well, more excessive than is usual for that region anyhow, and offshoots of the Stone family were being targeted specifically, being practically royalty. It's why I don't look like a Pewter native; I'm not. Paler skin, lighter hair, too tall, even. You wouldn't think height to be a disadvantage in life, but when you're dodging rock throws from unfriendly geodude or bending down all day to pick gnarled excuses for root veggies, it doesn't help.
Despite my physical differences and overall growth-induced clumsiness the local kids tolerated me. They'd even occasionally invite me to the outskirts of town to play tag, hide-and-go-seek, or to throw things at other things just for the hell of it. Truly, childhood is a magical time. Our favorite place was an abandoned Onix nesting field. Plenty of trenches or piles of rubble for hiding, lots of debris for throwing. It was even close enough to the city limits to be relatively pokemon-free; the odd non-docile Rattata or Ekans were easily driven off with some stick waving and yelling.
As the neighborhood kids and I grew that field became less a place for fun and games and more a place to loiter, smoke herbs, and drink whatever excuse for alcohol our local 'breweries' could whip up that month. The adults didn't care; my mother did nothing but sulk and live off what she had saved along with what I could bring in from farming or laboring in the quarries, and my father didn't survive the trip from Hoenn. I had, occasionally, asked her what happened to him; never got an answer out of her, though eventually I did find out.
Anyways, one evening my pal Bernard and I got our hands on some halfway decent brew. Well, I say we; he got it, a gift from his older brother, our resident Gym Leader, Brock. It was also a bit of a bribe; Bernard and I were 16 and in one year we'd be old enough to join the local Rangers. The Rangers work under the Pewter Gym protecting the city from bandits, rampaging beasts, and covert incursions from the surrounding cities. They were always trying to draw on what little resources we had for their own benefit. Brock desperately wanted us to enlist. He needed all the help he could get, as the job wasn't a particularly safe one. Often Rangers took their pokemon for a late night patrol and just never ended up coming back.
Even with the mortality rate, it was a more appealing prospect than lugging rocks for all time. Barely. So, bemoaning our lives as only two sloshed teenagers can, we staggered around the Onix Field.
"Caaalvin! Sunshhetting!" Bernard shout-slurred almost directly into my ear. He reached up and grabbed me roughly by the shoulder.
"Bernard, I canshee that! Leme'go," I replied, barely more coherent. "We'll head 'ome inaminute."
To this, Bernard nodded in a wise, sage manor, and reached up to stroke what I assumed was an imaginary beard. He held up his other hand, opened his mouth, then promptly tripped and fell into a nearby ditch. This, of course, was met by uproarious laughter from the both of us; a pidgey flew out from a local shrub, though from fear or annoyance, I'll never know. I shuffled over to help him, still chuckling to myself.
The side of the ditch proved difficult for my drunken mind to navigate, though after a minute or so of effort I managed to slide my way down backwards, scraping up my stomach and igniting some additional laughter. Upon helping Bernard stand, and looking at the side of the ditch, we realized climbing back out in our current state wouldn't be easy, so we decided to walk down a ways and see if there was a lower wall to pull ourselves up on.
Darkness around Pewter isn't like darkness around a real city, like say Saffron or Rustboro. Power is a precious resource so all but the emergency exterior lighting for the gym, pokemon center, and border towers is turned off at night. This, on anything but a full moon, means it's pitch black. The stars do nothing. If they had, maybe things would have turned out differently.
"Oof!" yelled Bernard, accompanied by the telltale thud of a body falling on something hard.
"Yookay buddy?!" I yelled from a bit back in the trench; we'd walked a little while with no luck on an easier exit.
"Yeh," Bernard groaned, "just-"
He was cut off by a sort of screeching roar, and there was a wet crunch. I froze. Bernard screamed, drowning out the roar for a moment before there was an awful SNAP, and silence.
I didn't move, or make any noise. Just stared into the blackness where my friend had fallen. There was a shuffling sound, and I could just barely make out a short, humanoid shape growing closer. I took a step back. And, of course, tripped and fell on my ass, causing me to cry out in pain and surprise. The figure roar-screeched again and jumped at me, so quickly it seemed to just appear in front of my face. From so close I could see wide, flat teeth, blank crimson eyes, a ridge atop it's head, and so much blood. It grabbed me by the neck and threw me, and I blacked out.
\-/-\-/-\-/
Pokemon Centers are one of the few buildings in any mid-to-large sized settlement that actually receive League funding. They're not just for injured Pokemon, they're for any living thing. Every specially-trained Nurse Joy holds within her hospital walls extraordinarily advanced healing technology, potions and sprays that can fix up burns and gashes with no scarring, antidotes for every known poison and then some. On top of the medical care there are several floors of empty bedrooms where Pokemon Trainers get to stay, on the taxpayers dime. You know trainers. Those lunatics who travel across regions challenging Gym Leaders (and each other) to Pokemon sparring matches, increasing their own strength on the vague hope of gaining League employment. Or fame and fortune.
Anyway, despite all that advanced science, funding, and prestige, the human hospital beds are so Arceus-damned uncomfortable.
That's where I found myself, alone, with wires and tubes attached to various parts of my body and my head firmly secured to my shoulders by some kind of metallic monstrosity. There was a TV in the corner, muted, playing a rerun of one of last year's Pokemon Conference matches; it looked to be a Nidorino versus a Gengar, though the damn thing was phasing through the air so fast it was hard to tell. I spied the remote on my bedside table and decided to turn the volume up. Surely the commentators would know.
My arm wouldn't move. I tried the other arm. Both legs. No response, couldn't move them at all. That's when the panic really set in; I tried to call for a nurse, but though I could flex my face and jaw somewhat, my vocal cords refused to work. In short, I was completely trapped, and quite possibly paralyzed for life.
About a half hour of freaking out and staring at the TV later (turns out it WAS a gengar) the nurse walked in and smiled brilliantly at me, for no apparent reason.
"Mr. Stone! How are you this morning? Oh, no need to answer that, silly me," she giggled, pissing me the hell off. What kind of bedside manner is that to a paralyzed man? "You were out for quite a while! And will be out again soon, I'm afraid; we've fixed most of the damage to your right leg and ribs, but your neck is quite beyond healing!"
If I could have throttled her for the jovial way she said that I would've. As it was, it was all I could do to keep from crying. My life was over. Even if my mother could find some way of keeping me on life support, I'd never move again. No more walking, or alcohol, or opportunities for the finer things in life...
"Ah, oh, I almost forgot!" the nurse exclaimed, slapping her forehead. "The ditto cells we ordered from Viridian should be here in a couple days, and then we can work on regrowing your spinal cord. Isn't modern science wonderful?"
She gave me one last beaming grin, and practically skipped out of the room. Then, in equal parts shock and relief, I once again passed out.
When I next awoke, I had a visitor.
Brock Harrison himself sat on a nearby chair, his head in his hands. I tried to make a noise, to let him know I was awake, but I found that I still couldn't. So instead, I stared.
What I could see of his face looked worn, like he hadn't slept in days. His close-cropped brown hair was as in-disarray as such a short haircut could be, and his clothing was stained and wrinkled. I wondered why.
After a few moments, Brock glanced up and saw my eyes open. I got a half smile, and a "Hey Cal."
I tried to nod, but couldn't. So I wiggled my eyebrows a bit.
"I'd ask how you're holding up, but the nurse filled me in. You're gonna be just fine. You're one of the lucky ones," Brock said. He held the half smile for a second longer, and then his expression crumpled into one of exceptional sadness. He looked away.
It just didn't make sense that Brock would visit me here, when I'd just be out in a few days. We were never particularly close; I'd met him a few times through Bernard, but...
Oh. Bernard. 'One of the lucky ones'. I made the connection, and was hit by a wave of despair. One night of drinking in a supposedly safe field, one false step into the wrong ditch, had cost Brock's brother his life. No wonder he was so distraught.
I'd have loved to attempt to comfort him, to say it had been quick, to at least offer my condolences. But all I could do at that moment was look really upset.
We stayed like that awhile, me laying there, Brock occasionally sobbing. After he had pulled himself together, he once again looked me in the eye and said, "We caught the beast that did it." He shook his head in disgust. "It was a Machop. Half starved. Damn thing had taken a few good bites out of him when we..."
Brock took several deep breaths.
"They're usually so docile, Machop. You guys didn't attack it, right? You didn't provoke it?" I quickly glanced back and forth, to simulate shaking my head no. Brock seemed to understand.
"It's been killed. It won't hurt anyone else," he said. "Anything you need, after you're healed up, Calvin. You come see me."
Brock gave me one last, sad look, and walked out of my room.
I cried.
\-/-\-/-\-/
The couple of days before my transplant went by quite quickly, and soon I found myself in the recovery ward, gaining strength back in my limbs. The residing nurse here was a far cry from the bubbly, joyous one I had previously; this one was intensely serious and grim, and when she checked on my reflexes and muscle memory, it was like she was at my deathbed.
I wondered if perhaps the PokeCenter had mixed up those two nurses on the roster.
Finally, after a modified potion injection and a few hours recovery, I was headed home on my own two feet, a note of prescribed exercises in hand and a clean bill of health.
We had one of the smaller houses in town, quite close to what excuse Pewter had for a business center but cheap and run down. The walls were gray, the door was a lighter gray, and the windows, where not broken and taped up, were dirty enough to be gray. I have to take some responsibility for that; it was my house too, even if I was barely ever home. But really, my mother did nothing but sit around in there and mope; the least she could have done was cleaned things up. I creaked open the front door and yelled up the stairs.
"MOM! Your son's not paralyzed anymore!"
There wasn't a response. Figures.
I stumbled up the stairs; the handrail had fallen off long ago, and my muscle control still wasn't perfect, so they were a bit of an obstacle. Then I walked over to my mother's bedroom, and opened the door.
As per usual, there she lay. Blankets were layered on her scrawny frame; a dish of relatively fresh food, barely touched, sat on her nightstand. At least she'd eaten something this time. "Hey, mom."
She stirred, and glanced up at me with squinted eyes. "Oh, hello, honey. How was work?"
I sighed. "Mom, I've been gone for a week. I was in the hospital."
My mom's eyebrows raised, and she looked me over quickly. Then she said, "That's nice, dear," and closed her eyes again.
I shook my head, left her bedroom, and limped down the hall to mine. It wasn't a place I saw all too often. Whenever I could find a friend willing to let me stay over, or an excuse to stay out all night and rest intermittently during the day, I took it. It's no wonder, with how upsetting the place was. A dusty black blanket on a small mattress in the corner, a dresser full of old and often torn clothing, and finally, a closet with the only real things I owned in the world. Those were some interesting rocks I'd found, a raticate tooth necklace, a couple broken pokeballs, and an old Pokemon encyclopedia. When I was a kid I had spent hours reading that, committing everything in it to memory; it only had species native to Johto and Kanto, but I had dreamed of traveling all over someday. Of being someone that mattered. Instead I was stuck in that dead end home with an uncaring parent and a dead best friend.
Maybe it was the near death experience, taking in my dreary surroundings, or the loss of one of the last things tying me to that city. Whatever it was I realized then that I needed to get out. I had no idea how, but it had to happen. Otherwise I was going to die in that city. If not from a pokemon, then from sheer depression.
Curled up on my tiny bed I stared at the ceiling, leg throbbing, thinking. Tomorrow, I decided. Tomorrow I'll go see Brock, and ask if he knows what I could do.
\-/-\-/-\-/
The Pewter Gym wasn't huge or flashy like most others. It was a sturdy, compact building, made primarily of stone. The looks were meant to convey the philosophy of the gym; things don't need to be pretty or excessive, they need to be supported, kept solid, to weather the stuff that life throws at us. And no doubt, if a true hurricane were ever to hit Pewter, that building would be the last thing standing.
After being stopped at the entrance and showing the guard my non-trainer ID I was allowed to go in. The lighting was low; it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did I saw a decent sized sandy arena with platforms off to the side full of freeweights and workout machinery. There were a few people here and there, lifting the weights or sparring on the sand. There were even a few pokemon out; a rather tough looking sandshrew was using some kind of weighted jumprope in the corner, and a geodude was relaxing by a pedestal in the far back. On that pedestal sat Brock, the man I came to see. I veered off to the side and walked past the weights on the platforms, steering clear of the sparring.
As I approached, the geodude looked up and growled. It sounded like rocks grinding together, and it awoke Brock from what I assume was his slumber; he tends to keep his eyes very narrowed when in his gym, supposedly to keep them adjusted to low light levels, but I know he sneaks naps every once in a while.
"None of that, geodude." Brock scolded. The pokemon looked as suitably ashamed as a rock can. "Calvin! Welcome to the gym, glad to see you back on your feet. What can I do for you?"
"Hey Brock." I said, glancing about uncomfortably. I was never all that good at asking for advice, and as a 16 year old kid, everything you do is pretty awkward. "Listen, I've gotta ask you something."
Brock looked at me expectantly, and I took a moment to study him. He still had lines and bags under his eyes, but he had changed his clothes and his hair wasn't as wild. It looked like he was coping, somehow.
"I need to..." I began, and thought better of it. "My life here isn't the best, and I was wondering if you knew how I could..."
"How you could?" Brock asked, focusing all his attention on me.
I took a deep breath. "Being almost killed really opened my eyes to the fact that I might not have that long here. I'm tired of being so weak and upset, I'm tired of going home to be a parent to my own mother, I'm absolutely sick of carting rocks and pulling half-dead crops and barely making ends meet. I was wondering if you knew how I could go about not... doing those things."
Brock regarded me silently for a moment, and then stood up. He motioned for me to follow him, and we walked through a door in the back, ending up in a small office with comfortable looking leather chairs and a stone desk. He sat behind it, and motioned for me to sit as well. The chairs' looks didn't deceive.
We stared at one another for a moment. Then Brock broke the silence. "Did you know that Bernard's dream, ever since he was a kid, was to be a Pokemon trainer?"
I nodded and frowned at the mention of my deceased friend. I'd learned that he had a closed casket burial a few days before my operation. I'll always regret not being there.
"But he was the closest thing I had to a son, with our age difference," Brock continued. " I had hoped one day he could take the reins of the gym, and so I pushed for him not to get his trainer's license, and instead join me via the Rangers. He didn't like it, but he was going to do it for me. I wonder now if I made the wrong decision." Brock stared me intensely in the eyes. "But maybe I can make up for it."
"What do you mean?" I asked, fighting off tears.
"How would you like to be given a trainer's license, Calvin?"
What? I gaped. A trainer's license cost thousands of Poke, which is why I and many of the poorer citizens of the region never got one. We just never had the money. However, to be just given one? I didn't know how to react. So I blurted out, "But I don't have a starter Pokemon."
Brock laughed. "That's easily remedied, bud. Hold on." He rummaged through his desk drawer for a moment, and pulled out an odd looking pokeball. It had a blue top, with red lines. "This is a Great Ball. Worth quite a bit, and it's practically guaranteed to catch any Pokemon in the local area. Only has trouble with the powerful ones. You go out this afternoon, find a Pokemon and throw it, then come right back here and we'll get you started training. Once you're set we'll send you off south, to visit Professor Oak for a Pokedex."
I was in awe. I took the ball and held it reverently, and said, "Thank you so, so much. But you would just give this all to me?"
Brock nodded. "For Bernard."
I wasn't about to let this incredible good fortune go to waste. So, thanking him again quite profusely, I hobbled out of the gym cradling my Great Ball. I headed to the outskirts of town, near the more wooded area to the southeast. It isn't a thick forest, has nothing on Viridian, but it had plenty of weak pokemon just waiting to be my starter. I had no idea what I'd go for but whatever it was I'd get it fast; I had no desire to hang around a bunch of wild pokemon unprotected after my last experience.
Finally reaching the forest I limp-jogged straight away from the well travelled path, into the parts where pokemon most made their dens. I was so excited that I didn't watch where I was going and stumbled into several bushes and small trees, scaring away Rattata and Sentret. I didn't want either of them though. Far too common.
After a bit of rampaging about aimlessly I decided to take a breather. I leaned up against a tree, and stared at the great ball in my hands. Soon, very soon, my first friend on a journey that would last my entire life would be in it. I was so focused, I didn't notice an inquisitive pokemon drawing closer and closer, wanting a look at the shiny ball for itself. In fact, I didn't see it till it was directly in front of me, and then I let out a shocked yell and stumbled back.
A wide, flat toothed mouth, red, curious eyes, and a bony ridge along the top of its skull. I didn't think, I just reacted, and threw the Great Ball straight at it's head. The ball opened, and with a flash of light the creature was sucked into it. It wobbled once, twice, three times, then blinked red and lay still.
I had just caught a Machop.
\-/-\-/-\-/
There are times in life where you think you've made a huge mistake, and also know you've got to run with it. Consequences can be overcome, in time, and there can even be unexpected benefits. Unfortunately back then I wasn't the wisest of mistake-makers. I stood there for a long while unable to come to terms with what had happened. Then, I shoved the great ball into my backpack and started to run, residual leg pain be damned.
It was twilight when I got back to the Pewter gym, the grays and browns of the city somehow becoming even more washed-out. The guard from earlier was still on shift and so I was able to sprint past her without being stopped. The place was empty. The gym trainers must have gone home for the night. I cut straight across the arena and pounded on Brock's office door, to which I heard a muffled "Come in."
Brock was still sitting in his chair, furiously typing on a small laptop, which was (of course) a shiny gray. Upon seeing me his face lit up, and he said "Calvin! Welcome back, have you gotten your starter already?"
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, and asked, "Is it possible to release a pokemon from the great ball and reuse it?"
Brock's grin faded. "No, I'm afraid not. Any variety of PokeBall is one time use only. Why?"
"I..." I gulped. "I accidentally caught a machop. It just snuck up on me and I threw the ball without thinking and it turned red and I didn't mean to but-"
"Calvin!" Brock said, cutting off my stammered excuses. I froze with my mouth open and we stared at eachother for a few moments before he spoke.
"A machop is a good pokemon. Usually fairly pacifistic, which is good for someone with so little experience, and a true powerhouse when well cared for. I, being primarily a rock trainer, would not be your best bet for helping start to train it, but I've got a few fighting-type specialists in my rangers who can help."
I shook my head, and loudly said "But I can't train a machop! Not after... what happened. It wouldn't be right!"
"You've got no choice in the matter!" Brock yelled. "You caught it, you have a responsibility to that pokemon! It's your only ticket out of here, Calvin, I can't afford to give you anything else. Either you take that machop with you, or release it to me and lose your one shot to be a trainer."
At this point I slumped into one of his comfy chairs and put my head in my hands. I was conflicted. There was nothing more important to me at that moment than taking advantage of the opportunities I had been given, but... could I raise a machop? Could I look into those blood red eyes and trust that creature to protect me from a world of monstrous threats? I didn't know.
Lost as I was in my own thoughts, I didn't hear Brock stand up and around his desk to me. I jumped when he put his hand on my shoulder, and looked up, straight into his slate-black eyes.
"Bernard wouldn't mind, Cal. It's okay."
He pulled his hand back, and I stood up. Somehow we ended up in a manly embrace, and for the second time that day, tears fell from my eyes.
"Come back tomorrow morning," Brock said in my ear. "You can start things then. Go home and get some sleep."
And I did.
\-/-\-/-\-/
My rest was uneasy and fitful that night. Anticipation fought fear across my dreams.
\-/-\-/-\-/
Early the next morning I sat in my room, or prison, or 'home', staring at my few possessions. If I had any say in the matter, after today I'd never be returning. And it all relied on the pokemon I had caught yesterday.
I pulled a worn, dirty backpack from beneath my bed, and rummaged about in its main pocket till my hands closed on a familiar ball-shape. I took it out and stared at it. The two red bumps on the top seemed to stare back, challenging me, mocking my weakness and fear. Red like the Machop's eyes. Red like Bernard's blood. I dropped the Great ball back into my bag and stood, packed a couple changes of clothes and my Pokemon encyclopedia, and left the rest. Those things would just weigh me down.
Before I left I stopped at my mother's door and knocked. There was no answer, so I knocked louder. Still nothing. Typical of her, so lost in her own depression she couldn't even say goodbye to her only son. With a heavy sigh, I left her and my dirty, miserable house behind. I began walking towards the Gym.
To prepare for the day ahead, I pulled out my encyclopedia and flipped to the page on Machop. There wasn't much information, but it was better than nothing.
"Machop: The Superpower Pokemon
A Machop loves to build its muscles and practice various fighting styles. Despite its small size, it is exceptionally strong, and though it has a friendly and docile nature, it should be approached with a measure of caution.
Machop is classified as a Fighting type and has two additional forms on its evolutionary line; Machoke and Machamp. As with most Pokemon these forms are rarely achieved in the wild due to lack of resources and, in the Machop's case, a way to keep up its motivation. A Machop is naturally loyal and very vain; if you gain one's trust or admiration you have a friend for life, but beware. It holds grudges just as long.
The Danger Rating for Machop is E: Easily tameable and generally peaceful, but still a threat."
Well. Grudges. Fantastic.
\-/-\-/-\-/
There was a new guard at the gym today, and I flashed him my non-trainer ID as I walked in. Though it was still very early the place was packed. The humans were concentrated in the free weight areas and on the cardio machinery; the training arena, on the other hand, was full of sparring pokemon. Further towards the back I could spot two Graveler playing catch with a geodude, and the tough-looking sandshrew I saw yesterday trading blows with a small but vicious female Nidoran. There were paras, and raticate, and kakuna, and even a shifty looking meowth. It unnerved me a bit to see all these pokemon mostly unsupervised by their trainers. I walked around the far edge of the gym, past the free weights, and across the back to Brock's office door.
I knocked and called out, "Brock, are you in there?" There was no answer, so I raised my hand to knock again... and received a hard pat to the back. I jumped and whirled around, wide eyed, to find the culprit; it was none other than Brock himself, laughing at me and shaking his head.
"Bit high strung today, Calvin? Ha! Well, I'm glad to see you found your way here, at long last. Was beginning to think you weren't coming!"
At long last? It couldn't have been later than 8 in the morning. But I didn't comment on it; I knew how early the truly dedicated Rangers got up, after all. I nodded at him and said, "I'm ready."
Brock's grin faded to a small smile, and he nodded back. "Glad to hear it. If you'll follow me, your teacher for today is getting warmed up in the back."
He and I walked along the back wall and turned down a small hallway. Man, this gym just keeps going and going, I thought. At the end of the hall there was a heavy wooden door, and from behind it were the sounds of fists hitting flesh, grunting, and the occasional enraged monkey screech. What?
Brock pounded on the door a few times. "Liam! Take a break, your new charge is here!"
The noises stopped immediately, and after a moment the door opened to reveal a large, sweaty, dark haired man wearing a traditional karate outfit. His torso was bare, revealing rippling muscles and several nasty looking scars. His skin was tan and weathered, like he spent all his time conquering mountains or crossing deserts, and his face, while not ugly, was rough and mean looking, with a large nose and coal-black eyes. That changed immediately, though, once the man caught sight of me; his eyes lit up and his frown turned into a large grin.
"Brock! I was just finishing up sparring with Primeape anyways, great to see ya. And this is Calvin, eh?"
Primeape? I had read plenty about those pokemon. Vicious, powerful, and unpredictable fighters, known for going into rages and tearing others to bloody shreds. Surely he couldn't be fighting one of those? But, as I glanced behind the man, I could see the large monkey holding its left arm with one of its seemingly gloved hands. It looked a little worse for wear. What?!
As Brock and the apparently super-strong man stared at me, I realized I was being rude. I stuck my hand out to Liam and said, "H-hello sir. It's nice to meet you." Liam reached out, grabbed it, and shook vigorously.
"Nice to meet you too, lad! I look forward to helpin' ya along. A little timid, eh?" he laughed. Suddenly, instead of letting go of my hand, Liam yanked me towards him hard, stopping when our faces were inches apart. His expression became intense and he stared directly into my eyes, his black drilling into my pale gray.
I didn't consider myself weak. While I was tall and thin, one cannot survive working in the rugged fields and mines of Pewter without muscle, and I had a decent wiry bit of that. I tried to pull away from Liam almost immediately, but there was no resisting his strength. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing, though, he released me and I stumbled back.
"Some fire in you after all!" Liam laughed. "I could see it in your eyes, a spark." He nodded at me several times. "You and I are going to blow on that spark, feed it, until it becomes a raging blaze! A blaze so large that it'll take you as far as your ambition allows in life."
I cleared my throat and gave Brock a sideways glance. He seemed to find our exchange very amusing, so I just decided to roll with it. "Well, sir, if it takes me far away from here, I'm all for it."
"Awh, Pewter ain't so bad!" Liam laughed. "But you're right, not much of life worth living if you aren't treating it like an adventure. Come on in, say hello to Primeape. Let's get started. Also, no need to call me Sir. I'm just Liam, no use being formal, I'm a laid back kind of guy."
At this, Brock laughed. "Laid back? In all my years of knowing you, Liam, you've never once missed a morning workout. You volunteer for our most dangerous missions regularly. Hell, you're more intense about protecting this town than I am!"
"Laid back where it counts, brother." Liam replied, and winked. I gave him a smile and stepped past him into the small training room, where the Primeape was nursing its wounds in the corner.
At the door, Liam muttered something to Brock too low for me to hear, and Brock laughed again. They patted each other on the shoulder, then Liam closed the door and turned to me. It was just me, him, and his pokemon now.
"Primeape! Front and center, we have a guest!" Liam said, and it shuffled over to him, looked at me, and hooted. "Well, lad? Introduce yourself to her! You can call her Primeape or Brunhilda, she changes her mind on which she prefers quite often."
"Hello, Primeape." I said softly, giving it a half-hearted wave.
"You call that a GREETING?!" Liam snapped. I reeled back, eyes wide. "The first thing you need to know about training a fighting pokemon; they respect strength! Weakness, fear, insecurity; they can SMELL it on you! Now, introduce yourself like a man, and show yourself as someone worthy of Brunhilda's time!"
I straightened up and loudly said, "Hello, Brunhilda! Good to meet you!" The monkey pokemon hooted back.
Liam grunted. "Better. So Brock tells me you caught a machop." I nodded. "Great pokemon, Machop. Once trained with a brother who swore by his machoke, got him through a lot of tight spots. You're lucky you got this particular fighting type; they tend to accept a certain amount of timidness. At the very least they can tolerate it. If you'd caught a mankey it would have torn you apart, Calvin."
I shuddered. There was no doubt in my mind he meant that literally.
"I was also told about the incident you had with that other machop a while back, that put you in the center and another good man in the ground. The whole town heard of it. You have my condolences." Liam inclined his head at me, then looked back up, maintaining eye contact. "Training pokemon is not a game. These are dangerous creatures, and not everyone gets away from an encounter unscathed. If you're going to be a trainer, you need to be strong just like them. You need to work with them, build your body, because they have practically no limit to their strength, and you, at least at the moment, do."
At the moment? That piqued my interest, but I didn't comment. Liam pressed on.
"Pokemon, when you form a true bond, are more than tools. They are friends. They are family. Few are truly sapient, but all have intelligence. Never underestimate them or assume them stupid and blind to the world. They know more than any of us think. Remember that." I nodded. "Good. Today, we will truly introduce you to your machop. You will get to know one another. Tomorrow, we will set out south for Viridian forest, where I will escort you as far as Viridian city. You will need to get to Pallet and back on your own; I have business with the Viridian gym. Once you return to the city, I will escort you back here, and then I would advise starting your journey east, through Mt. Moon. That is a true trial for any aspiring trainer, and will help you grow."
I stood there for a moment, comprehending what he'd told me. Then I realized, "Wait... we aren't leaving today?!"
Liam laughed, and suddenly the stern, threatening mentor was gone, replaced by the jovial 'laid back' man I'd first met. "So eager to get going already?" He said with a knowing grin. "You'll be getting your Trainer ID today, you can stay at the PokeCenter tonight like a real trainer. How's that sound?"
That was much better, and I told him so. I had already sworn never to go back to my horrible childhood house, and would have had to sleep on the street or in the fields. Finally seeing the famous PokeCenter hotel rooms sounded like a great start to an adventure.
\-/-\-/-\-/
"Now! Time to get to know Machop. Get the ball, Cal."
I walked over to the corner of the small room, to the right of the door, and took off my pack. After a moment of rummaging and cursing, I managed to grab the Great Ball and pulled it out. Liam raised his eyebrow at me but made no comment. He turned to his Primeape.
"Alright girl, pep up. Be ready to subdue if you sense a threat."
The monkey looked briefly puzzled before it spotted the ball in my hand. She let out a soft grunt and raised her arms, puffy hands curled into fists. It seemed like her earlier injuries weren't bothering her anymore.
I took a deep breath, raised the great ball to chest height, and hovered my finger over the release mechanism. I noticed my arm shaking quite badly, and took several more deep breaths. Liam's Primeape shuffled closer and the man himself eyed me expectantly. I pressed down.
From the ball a bright flash of red light struck the ground several feet in front of me; the red light then seemed to condense into a small humanoid form and blink out, leaving me blinded for a moment. I rubbed at my eyes and looked upon the, my, pokemon.
The machop glanced around warily, a puzzled expression on its face. Upon catching sight of the primeape it tensed up, red-irised eyes narrowing and reptilian lips tightening. Then it spotted the shiny Great Ball I still held out, as I was quite frozen in place; previous caution forgotten the machop started forward, arm reaching out to touch the blue and red orb.
A furious hoot from the primeape stopped it in its tracks, however, and also snapped me out of my shock; I was able to lower the ball, much to the machop's apparent disappointment. Liam cleared his throat. I knew what I had to do.
"Machop!" I said, as firmly as I was able. "I've caught you, and I'm your trainer now. My name is Calvin. We'll be traveling together for quite a while, so I hope we can get along."
The gray skinned creature eyed me speculatively, and then looked back to the Great Ball. It's situation finally seemed to sink in; the machop's eyes widened and snapped to mine, staring incredulously and also, oddly enough, vaguely hopefully. Every instinct in my body was screaming to turn away from that crimson gaze, or at least avert my eyes, but Liam's earlier lesson had made quite an impression on me. Hell if I was going to ruin everything by appearing weak at our first meeting. I held eye contact and after a moment it nodded, seeming to approve. I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. The machop saw this and smiled itself; a mouth full of flat, wide teeth. I had to suppress a shudder.
"Well done!" Liam said, grinning, and once again patted me much too hard on the back, forcing me to take half a step forward. "Alright, Brunhilda. It's good now, you can stand down."
The primeape grunted at that, shuffled over to the corner of the room, and took a seat. It's eyes were still focused on the machop, who was glancing between me, Liam, and the Great Ball repeatedly.
"Well? Call it over, make friends!" Liam said, then gave me a wink and went to join Primeape in the corner. I gulped. Well, I thought, I'll have to let it get close eventually, may as well get used to it.
"Hey, uh, Machop. Come on over." I said, beckoning to the creature. It immediately dashed towards me, startling me, but somehow I was able to resist stepping back; it grinned up at me and, not really knowing how to proceed, I passed the Great Ball to my left hand and held out my right for a handshake.
The machop gave my hand a curious glance, then reached its own out and placed it in mine. I gripped it and began to shake up and down; the machop seemed to understand, then, and gripped back, nearly hard enough to crush my bones. I winced. From the corner both Liam and the primeape snickered at me; I gave them a dirty look, then turned my gaze back down to the machop, who continued to shake my hand up and down enthusiastically.
From this close the pokemon wasn't quite so scary; smooth pale-gray skin stretched across a face that was almost human; large, bright eyes that while red, weren't threatening, but instead curious and almost innocent; a wide mouth twisted in good natured grin, and a three rough, bony bumps forming a ridge atop its head in place of hair. Maybe... this won't be so bad after all, I thought, and returned its grin. Then, upon its release of my now somewhat aching hand, I held out the Great Ball for it to inspect. An expression of wonder came over the machop's face and it reached out and grasped the ball, no doubt wanting a closer look. Unfortunately one of its bulky gray fingers tapped the button on the front, and with a shocked expression and a flash of red it was gone. Once again it was just me, Liam, and Primeape slash Brunhilda in the smallish training room.
There was a moment of silence.
Liam started to chuckle. So did I. A few moments later we were both on the ground practically crying in laughter, even Primeape chimed in a few good-natured hoots. I was unsure how much of my laughing fit was due to relief as opposed to amusement, but it felt amazing, and having made it though my first true trial as a Pokemon trainer, I felt far more optimistic about the future.
Once we had all suitably recovered Liam grasped my shoulder and congratulated me. "I look forward to traveling with you two, lad," he said, "Especially if that kind of thing happens often. We're done for today; go see Brock, he should have your Trainer ID printed off by now. Enjoy the famed Pokecenter hospitality. I'll meet you at 8am sharp tomorrow morning in front of this gym. Don't be late," he finished with a sharp look. I nodded vigorously and thanked him for his time, then went to find Brock.