Prologue: Of Deception
Mark’s favorite thing about the
local Ghastly was their sense of humor. Anyone moving into Jinne City learned
to memorize the amethyst welcome sign leading to the main street; there was
only supposed to be one painted purple vapor face on the board, in the lower
left corner, yet you could often find two or three on it, holding a steady
pose. It was not uncommon, when asking a citizen their favorite part of the
city, to hear about the screams of inquisitive visitors and trainers.
It was early enough in the morning
that the sun barely had its fingertips over the horizon. The Doudo-crow light
was not yet solid enough to scare the insubstantial wraiths back into their
hidey-holes. Mark, sitting on a bench just past the edge of town, was glancing
at the fleeing stars, unwilling and unable to sleep. It was his eighteenth
birthday; it was time to officially decide if he was going to become a Pokémon
trainer or not. His father, a researcher working on the next big HM at Rei’s
gym, had tried to awaken Mark’s curiosity towards technology and partially succeeded.
Learning about HM’s was a fascinating subject, but Mark also heard the calling
his mother’s side provided him. She was born and raised to become a Pokémon
trainer in Moxie City, and her adventure seeking nature had been passed on to
her oldest son.
Despite the dangers of being out so
early, Mark was not afraid of wild Pokémon for two reasons: one, because the indigenous
Ghastly had a tendency to protect humans from unwanted aggressors, for reasons
they kept to themselves and; two, not more than twenty feet away, the trainer Dalton
was guarding the main path towards home. His Butterfree Ulysses, a blue
butterfly half the size of a grown man with white wings as light as a breeze,
danced on the air near his trainer with the Flash HM mounted on his forehead.
It resembled a small searchlight resting against Ulysses’ skin, glowing like moonlight.
Mark hadn’t meant to look over at Dalton,
but when he did he caught the trainer’s eye. A small smile crept over Dalton’s broad
face, and Mark looked away swiftly. Before he could react, the seat shook
quietly as the giant trainer sat down on the opposite side of the bench.
“You’re still fiddling with your
balls, I see.”
Realizing that the gifts had found their
way back into his hands, Mark quickly set them down and mumbled, “I don’t
appreciate your innuendo.”
The rippling chuckle was barely
restrained enough to be respectable to the silent night. “Oh come on, lighten
up. You know I’m just joshing.”
Mark nodded, too pensive to say
more.
“Still brooding over your decision?”
Dalton asked lightly.
“No, I know what I want. I just…”
The pause was significant, but
eventually Mark continued.
“…My dad’s always had his
expectations of me, and I know I won’t be going the way he wants me to. I’m
just worried about how he’s going to respond.”
“Mark, I know your dad pretty well.
He’s always been proud of you because you do such a good job at anything you
try, and I know he won’t be disappointed if you become a trainer. He’s told me
the last time my patrols crossed his midnight wanderings.”
Relief began seeping into the edges
of Mark’s worry. The silence that followed was a bit gentler than the one that
came before it. Mark was abruptly made aware of Ulysses gracefully landing in
his lap. The young man began scratching the Butterfree right above the back of
his neck, causing his wings to shiver with delight.
Dalton just smirked. “Hey, no stealing
my Ulysses. He may like you more, but that’s only cause you’re too affectionate
for your own good.”
“Oh am I?” Mark responded as he
turned to look at Dalton. “Should I tone it down so you can save face with your
lover?”
Dalton choked on his response for a
moment before saying, “Oh no, y-you don’t have to do that. I’m just saying
you’re too good at making Pokémon love you. You’re gonna be a good trainer.”
Mark’s cheeks warmed at the
complement. “It’s just how my mom and dad raised me, even before Daisy did all
her pro-Pokémon stuff.”
Dalton nodded as Mark looked at the
sign, trying to hide from the unexpected praise. It was atypical again; Mark
counted a Ghastly in each corner and smirked at all the pretenders. However,
when he looked at the painted Pokémon, its mouth and eyes grew to terrifying
proportions. The startled teen threw himself backwards into Dalton’s lap,
sending Ulysses straight up and causing a spectral uproar as the four Pokémon
rapidly fled the humans’ sight, giving each other congratulatory chatter.
Dalton gave an inquisitive look, and
Mark responded, “They had a Ghastly over the fake one, and when it moved I
freaked out.”
Snickering, Dalton said, “That’s
new. They’re getting brighter. Better warn everyone about their new trick.” Mark
agreed as the two stood up.
When Mark turned to go back to the
City, Dalton stopped him and handed him the gifts his mother had given him.
“Don’t forget these. You’ll need them to start your journey properly,” he said
with a smirk.
“Thanks. I would have completely
forgotten about them.” The two men waved goodbye and Mark began walking back
towards home, finally relaxed enough to contemplate sleep. As he walked away,
he could hear the murmurs of a low soliloquy from Dalton to Ulysses.
You could never call Jinne City dead
even at its quietest; the various machines powering the street-lining homes and
businesses kept a pulse going in the town of the supernatural. But walking
through it at night seemed to bring that pulse to the edge of death; the human
element was quiet here, even as the Pokémon element was not. The pitter-patter
of Rattata held the street as Spearow owned the skies. None of the wild Pokémon
had an interest in the passing human, much to his relief. He was not in the
mood to deal with them.
Ambling through his hometown, Mark
began to wonder what his starting Pokémon would be. It seemed logical that he
would be sponsored through Rei’s gym, because of his father’s job at her gym, but
he didn’t really want a ghost-type starter. You could choose a Ghastly or one
of two other foreign Pokémon that were pure Ghost type if you could be
sponsored through her, but that didn’t seem appealing. He did like the idea of
going through Beatrix’s gym and getting a Psychic type, though. He could get a Mr.
Mime or a Drowzee or –
The sound of rending space, metal in
a blender, unexpectedly filled the night. The air in front of Mark became
distorted and bent and torn – a hole, the size of a man, opened up, and beyond
it he could see ĐΔřκΩΞ§ζ &ηδ Γ!ξĤŧ –
The hole closed, and lying before
Mark was a yellow and tan foxlike, humanoid Pokémon wheezing exhaustedly. Every
limb seemed to be bleeding viciously, and he heard a quiet mew from its broken
jaw as its tailed twitched beneath it.
A flurry of thoughts ran through
Mark’s mind. The arrival had scared him beyond belief, but eventually something
helped him focused on the problem: the Pokémon was seriously injured and there
was no way he could get it to the Pokémon Center in time without-
He stopped for one last moment; it
was an injured Pokémon, and he had a Pokéball.
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