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Best Laid Plans [PG-13]

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by D. Scott, Feb 5, 2011.

  1. D. Scott

    D. Scott Well-Known Member

    best laid plans​

    Yo, name's Chris. Chris Avrich. I'm a fourteen year old boy who's relatively normal: I like to watch TV, play with friends, play video games, and watch movies.

    I once heard the following quote in one of said movies:
    "The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray".

    Heh. I passed it off once I heard it: little did I know just how well that quote would soon fit my life.

    Chapter One​
    :Wake up in the mornin' feelin' like P-*shot*... Oh, come on guys! It's a good song!

    The brown-haired man placed a hand against the bald spot just above his forehead, letting loose a small sigh. "Joseph, I appreciate your enthusiasm, I really do, but can you please call me back later? I'm in the middle of some important research."

    Joseph spoke in an excited tone of voice. "But, Elm, this is worth it. Trust me."

    "...Just get it over with," Elm muttered.

    "It's real this time. A sonogram showed life inside: and nothing we have ever seen before."

    "Are you sure?" Elm asked. "Perhaps you just didn't recognize the Pokemon. It's not like we can all know every Pokemon off of memory."

    "Elm, trust me. I looked at all six hundred and fifteen species: it took me a while, yes, but I can positively identify that this is not a known Pokemon!"

    "Then I'll send someone over for it. I'll make the phone call in a moment: but I've got to go to do it. I'll speak more about this later, Joseph. Bye."

    Elm sighed, and put the phone into the receiver without bothering to give Joseph a chance to respond. He then picked it back up and began to dial the number of the Avrich house.


    "Mommm..." the boy whispered, gently batting at the arm that shook him. "I-... I dun wanna go 'ta school today. I wanna stay home 'n' bake cookies with youuuuu... ZzZz..."

    The shaking gradually got more violent, until Christopher Avrich rolled over and slipped his legs out of the bed, hitting the ground with a soft and lazy thud.

    "We can bake cookies later, dear," his mother said, her tone echoing obvious annoyance. "When Professor Elm isn't asking for you."

    "Elm's askin' fer me?" Chris asked, suddenly waking up a bit. It was an oddity. Sure, he usually accepted Chris when he went over to volunteer as a lab assistant, but never had he been summoned there. He sighed and stretched, letting a loud yawn loose.

    "Yes," his mother said. "Now, get dressed and hurry over there. He said it was somewhat urgent."

    Chris nodded slowly. "Then it might help if ya leave the room, 'cuz I sure as hell ain't gettin' undressed with you watchin', mom."

    His mother nodded, glaring daggers at him. He grinned in response.


    Elm examined his notes one more time, from the title down:

    Geology of Tohjo Falls: Possible 'Evolution Hotspot'?

    The recent discovery of a mysterious energy in Tohjo Falls has lead researchers to believe that Tohjo Falls may be a spot where Pokemon will have a boosted evolution process: some earlier, some outside their normal methods...

    It was then he heard the knock on his door, a light rap. He nodded toward Ian, who looked up from his own papers toward the door.

    "Answer it, it's probably Chris," he said.

    Ian, the faithful lab assistant he was, nodded back and set down his papers, before walking toward the door.

    Elm looked back down at the notes, and examined a few more lines, before a familiar voice rang through his ears. He grinned, set down the small stack of paper, and walked toward the lab's entrance, hands in his pockets.

    "It's nice to see you, Chris," Elm said.

    The boy was dressed in his usual attire: not much different from what Elm expected, otherwise he would have informed his mother on the phone to make him wear it anyway. He was not dressed for official matters, but this was good: business wear on a non-business trip was usually pretty problematic.

    Chris slipped a hand beneath the rim of his hat, black with an orange arch-shape on the front, and flipped it around on his head so he could see better. He slid that hand back into the pocket of his red hoody, and nodded toward Professor Elm.

    "Yo, Elm! What's up?"

    "I see you're energetic this morning," Elm said.

    Chris allowed himself a grin and nodded. "Surprisingly so, considering I'm up at nine-thirty A.M."

    "You don't get up as early usually?" Elm asked.

    "Nope. Usually asleep 'till a nice, healthy... say, one or two o'clock."

    Elm sighed, allowing his palm to slap against his face and slide on down, as if the friction of the action would erase all his woes. "You know, it's not healthy for a growing body- heck, it's not healthy for ANY body to get out of the natural human cycle. We are not nocturnal, Chris - we sleep through the night and wake up in the morning."

    Chris's grin disappeared, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

    "I didn't come here to be lectured, Professor," he said. "Let's get to the pointttt..."

    Elm nodded. "Fine, fine, we'll discuss your sleeping habits later. First, follow me."

    The two of them headed to the back of the lab, where Elm stopped the two of them in front of a computer. He clicked around a bit, typed in a few commands, and then pressed a single key dramatically. He turned around, hiding the computer from sight.

    "Alright, Chris. First thing's first," he said. "You know I've never -asked- for you to come here. But I need a favor from you. It's not urgent, but I feel like it'd be best to get it over and done with."

    Chris nodded. "Alright?"

    "I have an acquaintance north of Cherrygrove City named Joseph Estar. Of course, he prefers to be known in the world of business as 'Mr. Pokemon'."

    "Whoa, Mr. Pokemon? Isn't he like, the second most eccentric researcher out there?" Chris asked.

    "...And who's the most eccentric?" Elm retorted.

    "Pretty sure it's Professor Birch of Hoenn."

    "...Oh, I thought you were going to call me-"

    "You?" Chris said, practically biting his tongue to stifle a laugh. "You're boring."

    Elm flushed a deep red. "...S-shut up, Chris, let's keep going. Joseph discovered an egg he claims to be an unknown Pokemon. He wants the Elm Laboratory to come down and retrieve it."

    Chris nodded in understanding. "Sounds pretty interesting: but unknown? Is he sure?"

    "He sounds sure," Elm responded. "But I feel like it's probably a misunderstanding. Which is why, no offense meant to you, I want you to be the one to go and do it so my understaffed lab - consisting of a grand total of two people, excluding the occasional volunteer - doesn't waste time and resources."

    Chris's face flushed a deep red. He was worrying almost immediately, Elm could tell, and thus stepped aside to reveal what now sat on his computer desk.

    "I can read you like a book, Chris," Elm said with a grin. "I know you're worried about safety, since you don't have your own Pokemon. That's why one of these can be yours."

    Chris stood, jaw about to crash through the floor.

    "Take your pick. These are all, interestingly enough, gifts from Professor Birch of Hoenn except for one of them. Apparently a trainer who he supported gave them to him."

    On the desk, there were three Pokeballs.

    Professor Elm picked up the Pokeball in the middle. "First of all, let me introduce you to the one that's native of Johto... well, the entire Indigo Country, but you know." The Professor pressed his thumb against a silver, metallic button in the center of the ball. It puffed into a bigger size in his hand, then burst open. He had to keep a firm grip on the ball in order to prevent dropping it.

    A blast of white light burst out from the ball, and materialized into a small pink Pokemon, quadripedal with a tail waving around behind it. Its tail was tipped in white, while its muzzle was a creamy tan.

    "This here is Slowpoke: Referred to by many as 'the dopey Pokemon'. It's a little dopey, yes, but it's a lot more skilled in battle than most people think. It does not feel pain for a long while after an injury, and this can be an advantageous thing. A good partner for protection, but not the best company in the world."

    Elm turned around and picked up the Pokeball to the right. "Here's our second, located here in Johto as well but is actually quite findable in Hoenn due to a recent discovery - hence why I didn't say it's a native... we actually don't know where they originated from, now. Birch's supported trainer found them, and caught a few: this here is a baby, so be careful not to make any sudden movements, otherwise you'll frighten it."

    He pressed the release switch, and the flash of light occured, materializing into a Pokemon that he was sure Chris recognized, as they were often used as a villain's Pokemon in horror movies (though it was a common misconception: if treated right, these little guys were loyal).

    It was small as well, with black fur clinging tightly to its skin. A bit of protective cartilage over its head looked like a skull mask, and two stripes of cartilage on its back were also present. Its belly and muzzle lacked its fur, revealing its real skin color: a light, golden brown.

    "This here is called a Houndour. They are commonly seen as evil, and while they can be dangerous, they are very loyal if domesticated and would not hurt a fly unless told to by the person they trust. It's called the 'Dark Pokemon', and as I just said, it's a misconception. It conveys its feeling using different cries: some people have actually managed to interpret these, and basically be able to communicate with their Houndour."

    Elm turned around and picked up the last Pokeball on the desk. "And, finally, your last choice is the one that isn't found in Johto or Kanto, and very rarely even in Sinnoh. It's a Pokemon sent to me for later study, but I suppose I can just ask for another to be sent if you pick it."

    He pressed the release switch, the flash of light occured, and the light materialized into a Pokemon shaped into half an orb. It was a light shade of yellow, with green dots scattered across it skin. It walked forward and sat next to the other two Pokemon, momentarily revealing a green underside.

    "This one," Elm proclaimed. "Is called Shroomish. They live in damp, dark forests, hence why they're not here in Johto. If it senses danger, it scatters spores from the top of its head, a multitude of types that can cause a multitude of problems: such as poisoning, paralysis, and unconsciousness. Poisoning is the most painful..."

    Elm recalled the time he got an accidental inhalation of Shroomish poison spores. He was in bed for a week, and took another week to recover, all of it spent in total misery.

    "So, Chris - What's your pick?"

    Chris stood there for quite a few moments in utter silence. Elm saw his eyes darting from Pokemon to Pokemon, examining each carefully.


    Meanwhile, just outside the lab, unknown to Elm, Chris or Ian, a pair of eyes was watching them. They were a bright blue, but despite the traditionally soothing color, they had an odd malice to their feel. These eyes were joined by a second pair, these as black as night itself.

    "Sneasel," the boy said. "I suppose we'll be taking one of those Pokemon, too."

    The Pokemon nodded, the red feather adorned on its head shaking a slight bit.


    Chris was oddly excited at the moment. He hadn't even gotten the permission he knew was necessary from his mother, but his mind ran wild with the thoughts of a traditional Pokemon adventure. With a bit of impulsiveness, his hand extended, finger pointing to the Pokemon the far left: the half-orb, dotted with green. Shroomish.

    "Shroomish?" Elm said. "Excellent choice, Chris."

    Chris suddenly reached up, catching the Pokeball thrown to him. A flash of red light occurred, follow shortly by another, and the other two Pokemon disappeared.

    Chris didn't return Shroomish, however. Instead, he knelt down and motioned for the Pokemon to come toward him.

    "Is it a guy or a gal, Elm?" he asked.

    "A female," Elm responded.

    "Right... well, I'll call ya Bosca, girl."

    Elm seemed a bit surprised. "Advanced vocabulary for a fourteen year old," he said, speaking of the name's origin. "Boscage, right? Means a thicket of trees; like a Shroomish lives in."

    Chris shrugged. "I heard it in a movie once."

    This seemed to satisfy Elm as well as the nickname seemed to satisfy the Pokemon; Bosca walked over to Chris and stared up at him expectantly. Chris extended a hand, gently stroking the Mushroom Pokemon, eliciting a satisfied look from her.

    Chris nodded dutifully. "You and me, Bosca - we'll become the best of pals, okay?"

    "...mish," Bosca replied timidly.

    Chris stood up and faced Elm. "Well then, is there anything else, Professor? 'cuz I'm sure as hell ready to go."


    So, guys. Let me warn you now. The updates to this story will be few and far apart: it's my third project currently going on. I'm only writing this at the moment at all in order to be able to write and hopefully rid myself of the horrible case of writer's block I'm currently going through for my other stories.

    A bit of background information on this story: I've done it before. It was my second piece of written fiction submitted anywhere (I once did a fanfiction based off an online game I played). I'm revising it, and plan to complete it sometime this year (I made it to eight chapters before).


    • Shiroun
    • #1TrandsendTrainer
    Last edited: Mar 31, 2011
  2. Rediamond

    Rediamond Middle of nowhere

    Well, I'm not really sure how much I can say after a prologue. While I would normally say something along the lines of "I've seen this twenty-something times in the past week," I don't think it reply applies. While the apparent plot is extremely overused, the unique dialogue for each character and the fundamental differences between the story and the Gen II games (such as different starters) help distinguish it from the multitude of journey fics.

    The short version: While it apears to follow the plot of the average journey fic, this has the potential to be one of the better journey fics.
    Last edited: Feb 5, 2011
  3. D. Scott

    D. Scott Well-Known Member

    Thank you! As I said, this is a revised version of my second publicly introduced work of fiction, and at that time, I was extremely nervous about writing and simply went with something I knew: the plotline of the second generation.

    It changes later on, though - I don't quite know how soon I'll include it in the revised version, but it might just be next chapter. Depends. =p

    Anyways, I'm glad you dropped in to read, and aren't quite as upset over the cliche beginning as I thought people would be. XD Thanks for the review.
  4. NinjaScepSneasel

    NinjaScepSneasel Reviewer and writer

    Wow. You are easily one of the most best writers I have read on here(although admittedly U haven't read many) Your detail Is amazing, you characters are excellant. Whilst it obviously isn't the most original story ever, I can see no faults in it. You are definately a much better writer than me, and I will definately be back for the next part. Keep up the good work.
  5. D. Scott

    D. Scott Well-Known Member

    Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed reading, and it's good to know I've got someone guaranteed to come back. =p Thanks for dropping in a review.

    Progress on Chapter 2 is coming along smoothly, with about ten percent completion. Yeah, not much, but it's better than not having anything done it all. Just lettin' ya'll know.
  6. Breezy

    Breezy Well-Known Member

    I saw BNB review this over at PC, so I will try my best not to repeat stuff that he said.

    Personally, I also would have put a "slang" on "getting" by changing it to "gettin'" (to match "watchin'"). "Mom" should be also capitalized since it's being used in the place of a name.

    I'm glad to see you giving your characters a unique speaking voice in this story, even if it's just for the morning scene. It seems to have settled down a bit the more woken up he is, but there's still some informality in it.

    I actually thought all the "businesses" was a weird joke, and I wouldn't put it past you to do something weird like that. (I think I've been reading too much of your work. D=) I was actually gonna say there "needs more business" before I read your comment on it at PC. XP

    This is "srs bsns," however. *shot*

    When you want a character to drag out a word, the "drag" usually goes on one of the vowels of the word. I assume what you wanted was "pooooint." What you're doing here is having Chris stutter "t-t-t-t-t-t."

    I think you could blend the boscage information better since it reads like an author's note.

    Anyway, it's a little too early to judge, but what we have so far sounds interesting. The choices of pokemon was a nice touch instead of the usual starters (also, I love me some shroomish). I can't help but wonder if this is foreshadowing:

    It seemed a little random to tell us about that. I'm probably reading too much into it (and thinking about how many times you seem to throw your characters in the hospital).

    It's definitely a lot cleaner mechanically than your first go on "Sinnoh Stories." Always nice to see an author improve. =)
    Last edited: Feb 6, 2011
  7. D. Scott

    D. Scott Well-Known Member

    Thanks for the review as always, Breezy!
  8. D. Scott

    D. Scott Well-Known Member

    Yay, reviews! Don't have time to respond individually right now, so I'll just say: Thanks, you two! Glad you seemed to enjoy it.


    best laid plans


    The beginnings of all stories turned bad are good natured, right? The typical "Wake up in the morning feelin' like the world's at my bidding" scene, where the main character is giddy, happy to be where they are: and then just like as if nothing good ever existed, the main character's world is screwed into pieces at the whim of a few seconds time.

    I'm glad Death didn't visit me on that day. Very glad that I didn't meet him, and have my life taken from me by his gleaming scythe. I was happy.
    God, I miss that word. "Happy".

    Chapter Two:Happiness comes in many shapes and sizes. Kinda wish I had one of 'em.


    Christopher Avrich allowed the small Pokemon to ride on his shoulders and walked out the door, nodding to Elm. "I'll be back in about an hour, okay? I need to go pack some stuff.

    Chris was excited beyond belief as he walked down the street toward his home. He would soon be out on an adventure, just like all the famous Pokemon Trainers out there did once in their lives: it was an unspoken requirement of greatness that one must have had a Pokemon Journey. Or at least that's what all the good movies said, and how could they be wrong?

    "Bosca, gal, how do ya like the sunlight? I know ya like dark places, but it's pretty nice out here too, ain't it?" Chris asked.

    "...mish! Shroomish," Bosca replied, her tone filled with anxiety.

    Chris frowned then. He supposed she would get used to it after some time.

    He reached the door of his home, twisted the knob and walked in.
    "And this is my house! We won't be stayin' here long, of course, but I figure ya may as well get a good look at it while we're here."

    Chris stopped for a moment, allowing Bosca to take in the drab, brown scenery: and as he did so, his mother approached him, an eyebrow cocked, a dish sponge in hand.

    "'s that a Pokemon, Chris?" she asked. "Never seen one like it..."

    "Yep," Chris said, nodding slowly. "Her name's Bosca. She's a Shroomish, from the Hoenn region."

    "Hoenn? How'd it get here then?" His mother was obviously a bit skeptical.
    "Professor Elm's friends with Hoenn's Professor Birch," Chris responded. "And he sent this little gal here for some research."

    "... You didn't -steal- it, did you, Chris?" she asked. He could sense the doubt in her eyes, boring into him like a drill into the ground, searching for the oily truth.

    "He gave it to me, Mom," Chris said. "We need 'ta sit down 'n' talk."
    The two of them walked over to a kitchen table after his mother set down the dish sponge, Bosca leaping off Chris's shoulder and sitting down on the table. It seemed slightly more comfortable on wood than the fabric of Chris's hoodie.

    "... and that's how Bosca came 'ta be mine, and why I'll be gone for 'bout... a week or so," Chris said.

    "... Eh. It's nerve wracking for me, Chris," his mother said. Her lips were curled down into a frown, her eyes confirming the feelings she was telling him verbally. "You're my baby, and you're leaving New Bark for the first time... isn't Ian going along with you?"

    "No," Chris said, shaking his head. "I told you, they're sendin' me because the two man lab can't afford 'ta lose a man for a week. Elm needs to be there for research, and Ian needs to be there to assist him with it, otherwise they could risk gettin' shut down by the Indigo Association."
    His mother sighed and shut her eyes, nodding slowly. "... Go on and pack," she said. "But let me know before you leave, okay?"

    Chris reached into a pocket and pulled out a small device: rectangular and yellow, with an gray indent in the center, buttons placed all around it. A Pokegear.

    "I'll call you every day, 'kay? C'mon, Bosca, let's go pack."

    Chris scooted backward in his chair, Bosca making a leap toward his shoulder...

    ... and missing, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

    "...mmiiisssshhhh..." Bosca groaned.

    Chris believed that she was seeing stars. Sighing to himself, he knelt down and picked her up in his arms, holding her close to him while she recovered. They then bounded up the staircase, heading to Chris's room.


    It was dark, only the light of shoddily installed lights on the cave's roof giving him some sort of visibility. The man sighed. This was an inconvenience he would have to deal with, for now. He couldn't help that fact.

    He wondered if the boy would be back any time soon. He decided that if he wasn't back within the day, he would send the purple-haired nuisance out to retrieve him. Really, the only thing the purple-haired nuisance was good for was his Crobat. And, well, being a nuisance.

    The boy was the key. He was the leader's boy, but he would toss him aside. The apple fell far from the tree in that case... when the boy had done his work, his usefulness would be outlived. It was only gruntwork anyway, but he didn't seem to realize: in his young age, he imagined the boy felt like a "secret agent", running in to steal "top secret files".
    The man laughed heartily.

    The "top secret files" were those things that would assist him in getting out of this dank, depressing place. He worked paperwork out on a shoddily cut wooden desk, no electricity except for the dim lights above him. They would help him conquer, and they would help him retrieve the true leader of the group once again.

    The leader would be pleased. That was all the man ever wanted: he was even sure that the loss of his boy would prove nothing to the leader in light of what the man really did to assist the leader.

    The man grinned, nodded to himself, and got back to work.


    Chris stood outside the Elm Laboratory, gently knocking on the door.
    Right now, he waited outside in a new outfit. An outfit he liked, one that he decided would look good for his travels. His only quirk with it was the lack of a hat.

    The door opened, and Chris was met with the friendly face of Ian. "Hello, Chris."

    "Hey, Ian - back to talk to the Professor for a few minutes," he said. "He's still here, right?"

    "Of course!" Ian exclaimed. "He's in the back preparing for a short trip to the Tohjo Falls. Caught him just in time. Oh, nice outfit, by the way..."

    "Thanks," Chris said.

    He stepped inside and headed toward the back, slinging his yellow backpack off his arms and letting it fall onto the floor next to a bookcase. It hit the ground with a soft thud, a variety of small convenience items rattling around upon impact. Chris made a mental note not to do that anymore: he had a few bottles of hand sanitizer in there, and if that broke, it would have been a disaster for his clothes. Plus, the sound startled Bosca.

    "Mish!" Bosca exclaimed.

    "Sorry, gal," Chris said apologetically. The sound of his voice alerted Elm to his presence, it seemed, as the Professor looked up and nodded.

    "Hello, Chris," he said. "What can I do ya for?"

    Chris sighed. He didn't want to do this to the poor man, but if he was going to do what he was asked, he would need to. "Mom can't spare any cash. Gonna need to borrow some from you."

    Elm stared at him blankly for a few moments and then nodded. "Right. I can spare about a hundred bucks for you. That'll last you the entire trip if you're careful. Will you be?"

    "Of course, Professor - Careful is my middle name!"

    Elm cocked an eyebrow. "I thought it was Lawrence."

    "...Quiet, Professor," Chris muttered.

    Elm laughed good naturedly, breaking the tension of the moment in an instant. "Right, right. Well, let me go find my wallet."

    Chris stood there and waited patiently, watching Bosca with mild interest as her own eyes darted around, examining the silvery, metal feel of the lab's insides. Finally, the man walked over to him and handed him a small stack of bills, each labeled with a number and a large P in the center.

    "A hundred PokeDollars. Be careful with them, Chris," Elm said. He seemed to eye him with such intensity that Chris flinched back.

    "...Right. Will do, Professor. Thanks - I'll call you on the VidPhone the moment I get to Cherrygrove, okay?"


    Chris turned around and headed for the door, kneeling down to grab his backpack as he passed by the bookshelf he set it down by. Before he left, he was stopped by a voice.

    "Wait up a moment, Chris!" Ian called.

    Chris turned around and saw the lab assistant running toward him, the tails of his lab coat gently slapping his lower thighs. He stopped, and extended a small rectangular package toward him.

    "Here, take these," he said. "These will help you on the trip. They're potions, for if your Shroomish gets hurt."

    Chris peered inside, looking at the contents with interest. A small array of bottles were inside, each clear but filled with a strange purple liquid. They were spray bottles. He nodded and took the package, flipping his backpack around and holding it against his stomach, zipping open the top compartment and sliding them in.

    "Thanks, Ian," he said, winking. "I'll miss ya. Can't wait to do some studyin' on this egg once I get back."

    Ian nodded, grinning. "Indeed. See you later, Chris."


    Ian remained in the lab for a long time that night, past the time when his normal schedule ended.

    It was a relatively uneventful time, even with his sudden burst of research vigor. Until about one o'clock in the morning.

    Ian stretched and placed a hand over his mouth to cover a yawn, stepping back from the table. The subject, a small red stone with a flame pattern on it, was now inside a protective plastic covering.

    "Well, little man," Ian said. "I suppose I'll see what secrets you hold for me tomorrow, perhaps? I can't wait."

    He smiled and nodded toward the stone, before moving toward the front of the lab. Once he got there, he took his coat off and hung it on a rack. At that time, he heard a slight thud, and turned around to check out the source.

    "Did I set the stone too close to the edge of the table?" he thought aloud.

    "I'd best go check... it's probably just my mind playing tricks on me, though. It's late."

    He was thinking aloud on purpose, sheerly for the purpose of comfort. He heard a second thud, and the light sound of breath.

    He froze, and moved his hand toward his belt. "... Professor Elm? Is that you?"

    The phone on his belt was detached now, and he flipped it open. "Hello? Who's there? Last chance to identify yourself..."

    He felt the phone slip from his hands, an icy chill coming over him. He saw a flash run before his eyes, and a sigh escaped someone's lips. The voice was almost demonic to Ian's ears, with how low it was.

    "I thought you were gone," he said. "****. Now I get to do the dirty job of witness removal. But first..."

    A flash of light suddenly illuminated the area, and Ian saw the red-haired form suddenly appear in front of him. He wore a thin jacket, black as night with a red stripe down the middle. His bottom half was covered by jeans.

    And then the figure was blocked by a black and yellow flash, now at his side. He felt sharp metal up against his neck, and the light buzz of a Beedrill's wings: it made sense. He had the barb of a Beedrill up against his neck, prepared to kill him at any moment.

    "Let's keep down the causalities. I'll find the Professor and kill him too, assistant. But..."

    The red-haired person turned and pointed toward Elm's computer in the back. "...if you get me that Houndour, I'll let him live. Understood, assistant?"

    "... U-...understood," Ian stammered.

    The red-haired person turned to face him and flashed a grin that echoed, what appeared to be to Ian, a devilish sense of enjoyment from his hostage's fright.

    "Now walk forward. Beedrill, careful not to impale him, but make sure you keep close. If he tries to do any funny business, kill him."

    Ian slowly walked forward toward the computer. He had no idea what the Professor's password was, but he could at least stall for some time by hacking into the system to get it. Maybe Elm would come by early and be able to call the police.

    He placed his hands on the keyboard and began to work.


    At the same time, Christopher Avrich slipped into his sleeping bag, finally losing his adamant will to stay up any later. He supposed it would be best to get on a better sleeping schedule, at least for the week.

    He extended a hand toward Bosca, gently stroking the sleeping Shroomish.

    "Night, gal. Had fun today. Sleep tight."

    And, as his head hit the ground, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


    Ian sighed. He could not stall for any more time: he had gotten the password quick. He entered a few commands, and from a small slot in the side of the computer, a Pokeball popped out.

    He heard a thud as the boy's other Pokemon, the black freezing flash, jumped up on the table next to him and grabbed the Pokeball, tossing it back. He assumed toward its trainer.

    And then he heard a snicker and the sound of flesh meeting flesh: before he felt a flash of sudden pain as his own flesh was broken, his carotid artery letting loose in a warm, bloody gout. He turned his head just barely, and his world went black, all he saw was a flash of black and red, then a small leaflet hitting the floor. It donned a dark red R.

    A flash of horror hit Ian just before his world went dark.


    Chapter 2! Yay. Hope you guys enjoy it.

    Also, I forgot: PM list. I'm starting one up. Anyone who wants to be PMed/VMed when a new chapter comes up, just let me know!
    Last edited: Mar 31, 2011
  9. NinjaScepSneasel

    NinjaScepSneasel Reviewer and writer

    Wowee. A death! That was good as always - I didn't expect anything as darastic as Red haired boy killing Ian! That part especially was well written, and it was the first bit of a fan fic that actually gripped me. I saw one bit that could of been improved though -
    I think you should of described it, as I was left puzzled about what it was. But overall, another great piece from you, and I can't wait for the next Episode.
  10. Breezy

    Breezy Well-Known Member

    While I do like the narrative (it's nice to see you write in first person, which I figure you'd do well in), the structure is a bit ... sloppy. Like why is "Morning" capitalized? The part in bold is a bit convoluted. You might need a comma somewhere.

    ... and then just like that, as if nothing good ever existed, the main character's world is screwed ...​

    Yeah. Try putting a comma between "that" and "as" and see if it makes the read a bit easier for you.

    Capitalize "Death" since you're treating it like a person.

    You're missing a quotation mark after "stuff".

    Idk why, but that "mish!" is adorable to me. ^_^

    Nice simile. =P

    The slang is interesting. What did you base it off of?

    Oh, you and your ellipses abuse. ^^

    Nah, I get what you're trying to do, but sometimes you should rely on narrative to create pauses instead of ellipses. Ala the "She stared at him for a few seconds" or even "She paused, eyebrow raised." Narrative also gives you more room for emotion, like fidgeting or wringing your hands might mean you're nervous or rolling your eyes could mean "Whatever, I'm sick of yo ****."

    You're missing a "to" between "sighing" and himself."

    Bosca is a cuties. =)

    "inconvinience" should be spelled "inconvenience".

    "Nuisance", though I do like the repetition (see, that's why I thought all them "businesses" in chapter one was a joke P=).

    "Convenience" and "around". There are a few typos in here that could have been caught with the automatic spell check. Forget to run it? D:

    Mish! ^^ I like Chris's and Bosca's relationship so far. It's endearing and cute and quite believable.

    SUPER MINOR NITPICK, but "a red-haired form" instead of "the red-haired form." Actually, I don't understand that. What's a red-haired form? Lol.


    You just love your hostage situations, don't you? =P You do them quite well, though; you're really good at making a situation tense, and the dialogue isn't corny/straight from an action movie. Poor Ian. D:

    Anyway, good chapter. It had a lot of stuff going on, but it didn't feel too heavy and weighed down by description and all that boring stuff (haha). I could probably gush on and make a really good general overview of your work, but I'm sure you're tired of that by now. ;P Plus I feel like I'm getting repetitive.

    I think it's cute that you say your updates are going to be late, by the way, even though you update like two times a week. I'm lucky if I can update once a month. x_X
    Last edited: Feb 10, 2011
  11. #1TransendTrainer


    Yes. It is the infamous violence luving #1TransendTrainer
    this is just........ Wow. I did not c this cuming. 2 chapters & I'm totally hooked. Awwww he's not gonna get the reckless record like Stutter the boy wonder??? O well. I feel bad 4 Ian. That is 1 evil red head. Btw, may I b on the PM list?
  12. D. Scott

    D. Scott Well-Known Member

    best laid plans​

    A lot of famous fictional characters have had a sidekick: Batman had Robin, for instance.

    I had Joey.

    He was a good kid. A light in the world of darkness, a spot of sunshine on an otherwise rainy day. He made my days a bit easier.

    Chapter Three:​
    Oh. There's some of it.


    Chris trotted happily along the side of Route 29, his mood a good one. One of the best he had been in for a while now, even. The sun shone down upon him, its rays meeting him and shaking his hand; the wind was gentle, a cool, refreshing breeze; and of course, the infamous green-dotted yellow Pokemon called Bosca riding on his shoulder.

    “You know, gal, it's a good day for walkin', ain't it?” Chris asked.

    Bosca seemed to be getting used to the idea of sunlight. This was a good thing: she would be exposed to it often if Chris were to keep her.

    “Mish! Shroom, shroomish,” Bosca replied.

    “My point exactly!” Chris said, and continued walking along.

    The end of his gleeful stroll was to come to an abrupt end, though: for, although he didn't know it, a pair of eyes was observing him from afar.


    Professor Elm let loose a sigh as he stood in front of the door of his lab. He had a stack of books under one arm, and his other hand was fumbling through his pockets, looking desperately for the familiar ring of keys.

    He felt his hand brush against cold metal in his pocket. He breathed another sigh, this one in relief.

    He slipped his keys into the door, turned them and then turned the knob. At that moment, he felt an odd sense of foreboding... and the sudden distraction made him oblivious to the fact that his books were slipping. They hit the ground with a loud thud, pages flapping in the light breeze that rushed through the area.

    “Damn it!” he cursed, before kneeling over them and scooping them under his arm again. He pushed his shoulder against the door and walked in.

    “Wonder why Ian's not here,” he thought aloud. “Usually a lot earlier than me.”

    He set his books down on a desk next to the doorway, then moved over to the coat rack. Ian's coat was not there.

    He walked through the bookcases that seperated his lab into halves, and stared at the scene in front of him with horrified awe.

    Speechless, Elm walked over to the nearby phone and pressed in the numbers for the Cherrygrove Police Department, wondering just how to regain his voice.

    He didn't know if it was possible.


    Chris came to a stop nearby a ledge, and slumped down to the ground. He muttered something about rest to Bosca, who jumped off his shoulder and landed in his lap. He lifted a hand to gently rub her head.

    “Nice Pokemon,” a voice said. “But mine is better! It's in the top percentage of it's kind!”

    Chris looked up to see a boy standing in front of him. He was barely over four feet tall, Chris estimated, and was dressed in blue jean shorts, and a bright yellow shirt. He wore a blue cap perched on his head, hiding what appeared to be (from small bits sticking out) a messy brown head of hair.

    “My name's Joey!”

    “Yer rather excitable, ain'tcha?” Chris asked. “I'm Chris.”

    “Of course!” Joey exclaimed.

    “...Righty'o, buddy.”

    “So then,” Joey continued. “Wanna battle?”

    Chris froze for a moment, thinking of a couple of problems that could arise from this proposition. First of all, he wasn't much of a battler. He had no skill in it whatsoever, even in those dumb computer game simulators. Seconds, could Bosca handle it? She seemed to be relatively young and inexperienced at this whole deal herself.

    “Buddy, I just sat down to rest. Can't it wait?” Chris asked.

    “Sure,” Joey said, before walking over to Chris and plopping down to the ground next to him.

    Chris stared at him. If there ever was an odd person, this Joey kid seemed to take the cake.

    “Righty'o,” Chris muttered again.

    Joey thrust his hand down into his pocket and removed an object. It was small, red on the top, white on the bottom, with a silver button in the center; a Pokeball.

    He pressed the release switch, and Chris recoiled at the closeness of the flash of light. But once it disappeared, a small purple Pokemon with a curled tail and visible sharp-looking fangs appeared in Joey's lap.

    “Rats!” Joey proclaimed proudly. My Rattata. He's real cool, like, in the top percentage of his kind!”

    “I hear they ain't that strong,” Chris deadpanned.

    Which was a mistake.

    “That is a common misconception, thank you very much!” Joey bellowed. “Rattata are fierce battlers, able to bite through even the toughest of hides! A Rattata once destroyed a building by eating its support beams!”

    “Okay, I gotta admit that's pretty impressive.”

    “Of course!” Joey said, and Rats chimed in with a light, chirping agreement.

    “Well then,” Chris said, picking up Bosca and standing up. “I suppose we can battle now, if you really want...”

    “Good! I'd never let you go without a battle anyways – not after you insult the wonderful Rats!”

    “'ta! Rattt!” Rats agreed.

    Chris ignored Joey for a moment, and sat Bosca down onto the ground, where she looked at him expectantly. She was obviously clueless as to what was going on.

    “Alright, Bosca, gal. I'm gonna need you to do me a big favor, 'kay?” Chris said.


    “You see that Rattata over there?” Chris asked, pointing toward Rats.

    Bosca turned around and looked at Rats for a moment, before turning back to Chris and nodding as best she could without a neck.

    “mish. Shrroomish, shroo.”

    “I want you to fight him. Try and beat him. If you can't, I understand, but please try.”

    Bosca immediately looked nervous. Chris could sympathize.

    “Bosca, gal, I know this is frightening. I'm kinda scared of it myself, and I'm not the one battlin'... just do your best and I'll be proud of you either way, 'kay, girl?”

    Bosca slowly nodded, before turning to face the opposing Pokemon.

    “Alright! You go first, Joey,” Chris offered.

    “Okay, Rats! Tackle it! Let's GGGOOO!”

    Rats lunged forward, slamming into Bosca with all the force he could muster. The attack hit Bosca hard, sending her onto her back.

    But she got up, and she looked very, very angry.

    “Mish! Miiishhh!”

    Bosca, without the commands of Chris, began to glow a bright shade of green. Rats did the same, and and Chris observed with awe as a small beam of tiny, white particles passed in between them, coating Bosca and sinking into her skin.

    “An absorb attack!” Joey gasped.

    “...Right! Good job, gal!” Chris said excitedly.

    “Rats, Counter it with a Bite!”

    Rats nodded, but it was with a bit less energy than he had shown before. He lunged forward though, and sank his teeth into Bosca's side before jumping back.

    “...miisshhh!” Bosca cried. A steady ooze of a gray-colored blood seeped from the wound.

    “Do...does your Pokemon normally bleed gray?” Joey asked.

    “I- I don't know!” Chris stammered. It was incredibly odd. “Oh well though, I guess she's kinda not yer typical Pokemon- Bosca, let's retaliate with a Tackle!”

    Bosca leaped forward and slammed herself into Rats. The purple rat Pokemon was sent skidding back a few inches, but smartly took the opportunity of Bosca being so close to sink his fangs into Bosca's skin again.

    They were locked together in a struggle.

    “Break loose!” Chris exclaimed. His eyes widened, imagining the pain the poor girl must be feeling.

    “Stay strong!” Joey cheered. “Don't let it go!”

    Oddly enough, Rats let her go.

    Rats now lay on the ground, dead asleep. Bosca pulled herself away, and ran over to Chris's side.

    Chris slung off his backpack and zipped it open, removing the potion pack given to him by Ian. He slipped out of the syringes and gently slid the needle into one of the holes in her skin from the bite attack, and pushed the top. He watched the purple liquid inside slowly drain out, and then removed the syringe, tossing it aside.

    “Good job, gal,” he praised. He realized he was beaming.

    He had won the battle.

    Joey recalled Rats, and walked over to Chris. He looked awestruck, like he had just seen the President of the Pokemon Association walk up to him and tell him that he was a good candidate for his replacement. He stood there, silent for a moment, before slowly extending a hand.

    Chris grabbed it and shook it, then kneeled down again and offered his shoulder to Bosca, who happily leaped onto it now that her injuries were gone (excluding the bite hole that hadn't healed because of the syringe's presence in it, but that would heal within days).

    “Your Pokemon is within the top percentage of Pokemon,” Joey praised. “I have no idea when it did the sleep powder, but it was sneaky! Like a Koga-clan Ninja!”

    Chris's beaming continued, and he nodded. “Your Rattata destroys the stereotype.”

    Joey looked as if he were about to cry. His lower lip began to quiver, and his arms crossed over his chest.

    Chris placed a hand on his shoulder. “So, I got a proposition for you – you available for a little travel?”

    Joey nodded. “... I- I live in Cherrygrove, but I just recently left on a journey. I'm available whenever- do you want my Pokegear number?”

    Chris nodded, and pulled out his Pokegear. The two exchanged numbers. Chris dialed in Joey's, and pressed the device against his ear.

    Baffled, Joey did the same.

    “Hello?” Chris said.

    “... Hi?” Joey responded.

    “Oh, Joey! Hey, dude, I got a proposition for ya. I like ya, and I've got some travelin' to do myself. What do ya say we do it together?”

    Joey hung up, and extended his hand again.

    “Partners?” Chris asked.

    They shook.

    Joey nodded. “Partners.”


    I apologize for the shortness of the chapter. The ending scene was just TOO PERFECT not to make it an ending scene in my opinion. Next chapter will be a little longer to compensate.

    Remember: If you like this story, I have two others running! Check out "Rescue" and "Sinnoh Stories - The Legend of Volkner"!
    Last edited: Mar 31, 2011
  13. #1TransendTrainer


    Awsum. It's fine. I like endings that seem so perfect & that definately was a good 1
  14. NinjaScepSneasel

    NinjaScepSneasel Reviewer and writer

    Very cool. I really liked the characterisation in this scene. It was fine that it was short, it suited it. I think you should of maybe explain Elm's feelings about Ian's death more. Oh, and I loved the Rattata bit. Cool.
  15. D. Scott

    D. Scott Well-Known Member

    #1TransendTrainer: Muchos Gracias!

    NinjaScepSneasel: Right, they'll be explained this chapter, along with a little more about this mysterious new outfit. =p

    best laid plans

    To say that the death of a family member can hit somebody hard is a bit of an understatement. I considered Ian my family; I had very few friends in the small town I called home, but he was definitely one of them.

    And there's an odd feeling that comes with learning of murder: at least for me.

    You want vengeance. And sometimes, you look back and find it ironic just how close you come to it.

    Chapter Four:​
    And there these bastards of the world come to take it away from me.


    Chris and Joey walked into the Pokemon Center the next day, Chris with an arm slung around Joey's shoulder.

    “Nice mom ya got, kiddo. Amazin' cook,” he said.

    “I know, right?” Joey responded.

    “Shame we're leavin' – SO staying with her on my way baaaack!”

    Chris also had to admit, there was another reason he had enjoyed the stay at Joey's home here: his mother was one hell of a looker. He grinned secretly with this knowledge.

    “So, anyways, I'd best go on and make my calls.”

    Bosca was walking happily alongside the two, eyes wandering around the building with interest.

    Joey nodded, and the trio walked over to one of the computers offered by the center.

    Chris flipped on the power switch and typed in the phone number to his mother, first. Having a tech-savvy mother was an advantage in contact, he thought.

    The screen flashed into life, and Chris saw his home in the background.

    “Chris!” his mother cried out. “You got to Cherrygrove already?”

    “Yep. Time flies when you're havin' fun.” Chris grinned goofily, drawing Joey in close to him and pointing to him.

    “Ah! I got'cha. Who's your friend?” she asked.

    Joey pulled off his hat, nodding toward the woman on the screen. “Joey Collins, ma'am.”

    “Elizabeth Avrich,” she said.

    “Nice to meet you, ma'am,” Joey responded.

    “So, mom – how're things back home?”

    “Nice, as usual. Pretty quiet... though I told Miss Mumper about Bosca, and her daughter wants to see. I imagine you'll be hounded when you get home.”

    “Oh, joy. Thanks, mom.”

    “Speaking of which, how is she?”

    Chris leaned over for a moment and picked up Bosca, hugging her close to his chest.

    Bosca narrowed her eyes, glaring at the screen. “Mish.”

    “Mish, Shroo, shroomish!” his mother said in response.

    “Shroomish!” Bosca's eye twitched.

    “Mish, mish!” Elizabeth Avrich continued

    “Shroomish, shroo!” Bosca exclaimed.

    “Mish, shroomish, shroomish, shroo!”

    “Calm down, mom,” Chris said, grinning from ear to ear. “I think you just insulted Bosca's mother.”

    “Mish, shroo!” Bosca cried, and slammed her face into the computer screen. She went limp in Chris's arms, and the screen seemed uneffected.

    “Right. Sorry, Bosca!” she said. “I just wanted to speak in your language.”


    Chris gently stroked Bosca's head, ignoring the fact that Joey had broken down laughing beside them. “Anyways, mom, I've got to call Professor Elm. It was nice talkin' to ya! I'll call ya when I come back 'round here.”

    His mother nodded, pressing her fingers against the computer screen. “I miss ya already, kiddo. I'd better see you soon...”

    Chris kept one hand hugged around Bosca, while he gave a thumbs up with the other. “You bet'cha.”

    And with a small string of key commands, the screen went blank.

    “Odd mom you've got there,” Joey noted, his breathe still short.

    “Thank ya.” Chris winked, and began to type in the number for the Elm Laboratory.

    The call almost went to a voice message, Chris estimated, but a face popped up on the screen seconds before. It was an unfamiliar one, one of a gruffness and stoic demeanor signaling an odd jaded personality. He wore a blue policeman's cap perched upon his head, and what was visible of the uniform only confirmed Chris's suspicions.

    The man regarded him with a rough glare. He was pressed up against the computer screen as if trying to hide what was showing behind him. Chris heard the sounds of people talking behind him.

    “Hello,” the man said. “What is your business with this Laboratory?”

    “...I'm lookin' for Professor Elm,” Chris responded after a moment of pause. “I'm runnin' an errand for him and promised I'd call 'im when I got 'ta Cherrygrove.”

    “The end of that errand may just come soon. What's your name?”

    “Christopher Lawrence Avrich,” Chris said. “Elm'll recognize it... where is he?”

    The man turned around, now hiding the entire screen with his broad back. Chris, for a few moments, only saw a dark, royal blue and only heard the sound of whispered conversation.

    Then Elm popped onto the screen.

    He was a ghostly pale, as if he had just witnessed the end of the world. He wore a shaky smile, and stared at Chris silently.

    Neither of them spoke for what felt like about three or four minutes.

    “Ian's dead, Chris,” Elm said finally.

    Chris felt a horror like nothing he had ever felt before wash over his being. Blood rushed toward his face, turning them a rosy pink. His muscles tensed, and his hands clenched into fists (Bosca had, by now, leaped down to the floor).

    “...H-...” Chris tried to speak, but only got a sound out. He waited for a few seconds, smacked his lips, and tried again. “...H-...how...?”

    “He was murdered, Chris. Evidence suggest that it was late last night, so far. His... his throat was cut.”

    The fists grew tighter.

    The officer pulled Elm away from the screen, and Chris heard the sound of a chastisement going on. Elm took it all with a head hung low, he imagined: it was what Elm would do.

    Chris was glad, though. He was glad Elm had apparently defied orders to inform him.

    “... Goodbye, Professor,” Chris murmured, and prepared to hit the computer's off-switch.

    “Stop it right now, Mr. Avrich.”

    It was the voice of the Police Officer. Chris stopped.

    “I'm afraid because of what Elm told you, we're going to have to cut your errand short indeed, and have you come back to New Bark. We'll send Police Escorts.”

    “...It's for the purpose of science!” Chris heard Elm interject. “Let him finish: do it with the escorts if he has to.”

    The policeman turned around for a moment, and Chris saw his neck move. He turned back around to the screen.

    “Fine. Wait where you are Mr. Avrich, we'll be sending two escorts to your location.”

    Chris shut off the computer, turned around, and headed for the door.

    “H-hey!” Joey intervened. He rushed forward, placing a hand on Chris's back.

    Chris did not stop. He picked up the pace, in fact. The automatic doors of the Pokemon Center slid open for him. He started running. His feet felt like they were not touching the ground, but instead gliding, gliding so far and so fast that he could never halt to a stop...

    Until he ran into the red-haired figure.

    It was a massive, forceful collision. Chris felt his head connect with the other person's, and a jolt of pain rushed through his body. The person who he had run took the brunt of the fall, and Chris was thankful for that: but the sensation of a man's shoe driving into your bare thigh was not pleasant. He wished he hadn't worn these god damn shorts. Plus the light blue color of them and his windbreaker didn't help: they would be stained with dirt.

    Chris rolled off the person, and examined him as he lay there, recovering from the shock of it all.

    It was a boy. Around his age, definitely. The hair topping his head was a bright red, not quite the color of fresh blood but eerily close. He wore a jacket as well, but this one was buttoned up, and a jet black color with a red stripe running down the center. On the right breast was a small, barely noticeable “R” patched in. It looked inexperienced, installed by someone who was a newbie to sewing. His pants were a jet black as well, and his shoes were as red as his hair. On his belt were two Pokeballs.

    Not the most original of dressers, to say the least.

    Chris leaped to his feet, and so did the red-haired boy. The two of them stared each other down for a moment, before the boy spoke up.

    “Watch where you're running, jackass,” he mumbled.

    Chris felt a sudden compulsion. He grinned from ear to ear, his eyes flashing with excitement.

    “You shouldn't have been in my way, ya bastard,” Chris retorted.

    The boy glared at him. “Excuse me?”

    Chris folded his arms over his chest, and nodded. It was rigid enough so that Chris expected it to squeak a bit, like an unoiled door squeaking on its hinges. “You heard me.”

    The boy nodded in response. “So I did.”

    “Mish!” Bosca approached Chris out of the crowd, and leaped up and down. Chris kneeled down for a moment, presenting a shoulder for the Shroomish to ride on; she accepted with a happy squeak, and Chris stood back up again.

    “Fine. You want to be a jackass?” the boy said. “Fine. By now you've probably figured it out – we're both Pokemon Trainers, aren't we?”

    Chris nodded. “Myself better than you,” he added, a sense of self-worth thrust into his voice last moment.

    The boy scowled. “... -and- so we both know how to battle. I'm gonna wipe that smug grin off your face. Follow me.”

    Chris nodded again. It wasn't the aggression outlet he had hoped for, but it would work. He would kick this red-haired jackass into the ground, then get out a good cry, maybe, and finally get the hell on with his life. It sounded so perfect.

    The two of them traveled for almost fifteen minutes: Joey never showed up. Chris was a bit baffled at this, but otherwise didn't care.

    The two of them came to a stop a little north of Cherrygrove's borders. It was an odd spot to choose, Chris mused, but it was isolated. That meant Chris could go all out without worrying on drawing attention (because, at the moment, he was disobeying a direct order from a homicide detective with perfect legal rights to detain him (Chris knew this from a murder-mystery he had watched once on TV) and it would be the last thing he wanted).

    “So, guy,” the boy said. “I suppose you'd best know the -name- of the person who's going to stomp you, huh? Russo. Adrian Russo.”

    He was grinning from ear to ear, one Pokeball in hand. It was extended in front of him, hand curled around it.

    “Chris Avrich,” Chris responded, and nodded toward him once again.

    Bosca leaped off his shoulder, and stood in front of him. She chirped her understanding.

    The air in the area was tense: it was tangible, so much so that Chris could feel it compacting around him, falling in on him and making it hard to stand under the pressure.

    “Adrian Russo, huh,” Chris said. “Italian?”

    Adrian nodded.

    “****.” Chris let the word slip out, masking it as a cocky denial of what he was really thinking. “The movies paint Italians as mobsters. Real tough guys, badasses. Glad to see they're wrong.”

    Adrian scoffed. “We'll see about that! Go, Sneasel!”

    In a bright flash of light, a weasel-like creature appeared, black fur hanging tightly onto his skin. He had normal-sized eyes, but the pupils were a beady black. HE had no fingers, so to speak: instead, his fingers were razor looking claws. On his head was a single red feather, about two or three inches long.

    Adrian let his hand fell back down to his side, hooking the Pokeball back onto its belt.

    “Tagliate a dadi e il fungo,” Adrian said.

    Chris looked at the boy like he was growing lobsters out of his ears.

    Sneasel seemed to understand the odd language though, as he zipped forward. The only thing Chris could see was a black flash, before the Pokemon was in front of Bosca. He extended a single clawed hand, and swiped it across Bosca's face.

    Skin broke, and an ugly purple blood began to ooze from the three raking wounds immediately.

    “Bosca!” Chris cried.

    Bosca took it all with a grimace. Chris nodded slowly: she was willing to take the pain, it seemed.

    So he would take full advantage of that fact.

    “Bosca! C'mon in with... well, what you can do!” Chris said. He would have to trust Bosca for this... he had no idea what she could do other than Absorb or Tackle, and he had the distinct feeling that neither would be that effective.

    Adrian let an amused grin cross his lips at this, a light, breathy laugh escaping him.

    Bosca fell flat on her face.

    Chris scowled, until he noticed the faint shifting of Bosca's body. It was up and down, as if she were rubbing against the soil. He shut his eyes, anger pulsating throughout him.

    “C'mon, gal, I said do -something-! Stop being all lovey-dovey to the ****in' ground!”

    He hated himself for using such strong language on Bosca: he did it all the time by himself, but to use such words on a friend was almost blasphemic to his young mind.

    Bosca continued to do this, as if ignoring him, taunting him.

    Chris stomped the ground forcefully.


    A strangled sound came out of Bosca: it wasn't anything Chris could understand, but it was muffled, like someone speaking with their mouth full.

    Chris stomped the ground again, fuming.

    Adrian looked at this scene as if it were the most amusing thing he had ever seen. “A better trainer than me, huh? You can't even get your own Pokemon to listen to you! This is priceless!”

    Sneasel chirped in his agreement, nodding his head.

    “Alright! Cerchiamo di congelare i funghi questa volta, amico. Eseguire un vento gelido!”

    Sneasel opened up his mouth and blew outward: the breathe was visible in the suddenly frigid air. It floated toward Bosca slowly, but it seemed to literally freeze everything in its path, chunks of ice from the water in the air falling to the ground and snapping.

    Bosca leaped up to her feet and opened her mouth, a barrage of purple and brown pellets firing from her mouth at amazing speed. They froze in the air as they traveled, but only slowed down- a few hit the ground and exploded into whiteish purple pieces, but the majority of them pelted Sneasel and exploded there.

    Sneasel was now covered in cuts from ice shards, each one infected with a purple liquid.

    Adrian gaped.

    Chris threw a fist into the air, immediately feeling guilty for badmouthing Bosca, but finding the sudden redemption an almost euphoric sensation. He loved the look of awe on Adrian's face.

    Sneasel stood there, shuddering. He had lost control of the energy sent into the wind, and it suddenly seemed to die out just before hitting Bosca.

    But Bosca was shuddering as well. Chris could see traces of purple trickling from her mouth... she had swallowed her own blood. His eyes widened.

    The two Pokemon were poisoned, but Adrian had the advantage of being able to switch out.

    But he didn't. He returned Sneasel without so much as a word, but the scowl almost made Chris laugh. He looked exactly like your stereotypical movie villain, and Chris could imagine him twirling a mustache, or pounding a table in rage-


    Chris's heart stopped. His suspicions were right – Bosca had indeed been poisoned. Her blood seemed to have some sort of effect to it where it contained toxins to cause ailments if ingested. He remembered what Elm had said about Shroomish poisoning, and quickly ran over to Bosca, picking her up and hugging her close to his chest.

    “Si perde? Inutile! Hahaha!”

    He could feel her shuddering. He felt worthless at that moment. He forgot all about Adrian, he didn't even remember his anger and sadness on the subject of Ian's death: he turned around and began to fly.

    He ignored the pain growing in his legs. He deserved it in his mind. He deserved it for making this poor little girl suffer, even if she had done it out of her own will: she had done the combination of techniques because he had wanted to win some battle. A battle that wasn't even supposed to happen.

    His chest burned, and his lungs were about to explode. But he didn't care. He turned a corner, and narrowly dodged an oncoming person.

    He slipped into the Cherrygrove Pokemon Center's doors, and pushed past a line at the desk. His eyes were wide, and he couldn't bring himself to speak, only pointing to the purple ooze from the corner of the by-now-writhing-Shroomish's mouth.

    The nurse offered a kind smile. “...Poor Pokemon. Relax, child. We have antidotes – they heal poison in any Pokemon quickly.”

    The man in the front of the line placed a hand on Chris's shoulder. “I understand. It's scary to have your first poisoning, isn't it?”

    Chris heard the sounds of Joey's voice calling out to him from across the room, and the sound of more firm footsteps coming up – probably the Police Escorts promised – but he didn't care. He fell into the arms of the kind, older man and allowed himself to break down and cry.


    Author's Notes: My Italian is not perfect. In fact, I know none. The Italian in this chapter is done through Google Translate. If you know Italian and can help me make these phrases more accurate (as I doubt Google Translate does it perfectly), please don't hesitate to speak up! I'd appreciate the help.

    Also, at the end of any chapter in which foreign languages are spoken, translation will be provided at the end.

    Adrian Russo's Lines:

    “Tagliate a dadi e il fungo,” means, “Slice and dice the mushroom”.

    “Cerchiamo di congelare i funghi questa volta, amico. Eseguire un vento gelido!” means, “Let us freeze the mushroom this time, friend. Perform an icy wind!”.

    “Si perde? Inutile! Hahaha!” means, “You forfeit? Worthless! Hahaha!”
    Last edited: Mar 31, 2011
  16. NinjaScepSneasel

    NinjaScepSneasel Reviewer and writer

    Interesting again. I really liked the battle, although I do wonder what happened to Joey. I liked Elms reaction and I thought it was excellantly written. I did think that the first bit was a bit... Well, I don't know. I didn't really like it for some reason that I can't explain :p anyway, there is a word acidently in capitals in there that you need to check, but overall, good like usual.
  17. Breezy

    Breezy Well-Known Member

    Chapter three … I think:

    I like these introductions. They offer a new perspective from Chris, and plus they’re usually witty and fun to read.


    The contrasts between Chris and Professor Elm were interesting to pair up against since one has such sunny imagery and the other is more foreboding. (It’s actually been awhile since I read this story, so I forgot what happened, so I was kind of surprised at what happened when I remembered it.)


    I only just started reading about Joey, but I already like him. He was always one of my favorite NPCs in the games, what with his love for his rattata, so it’s nice to see you develop him into his own character. He’s a little quirky, a little weird, and super awesome.

    You’re missing a quotation mark before “My Rattata.”

    Yay defensive aggressiveness!

    The little conversation between Chris and Bosca was cuties. =) It was nice to see a trainer actually talk to his pokemon before the battle instead of just throwing them into one, especially since Bosca doesn’t seem much like a fighter anyway.

    You have two “ands” here.

    No need to capitalize “counter.”

    Interesting. I always wondered how plant pokemon worked in terms of blood and organs and all that fun stuff. I mean, they’re not exactly animals, but they’re not exactly plants either.

    Haha, I don’t know why Joey’s reaction to Chris’s statement made me giggle.

    The ending was nice, though I’m confused about Chris’s proposition. He asked Joey if he wanted to travel with him, and they traded numbers, and he called Joey to see if he wanted to travel again? Was the first proposition supposed to be for the pokegear number?


    Chapter four … I think:

    The introduction for this chapter was really nice if that’s not odd to say. Like I said, I love that these little introductions offer us a new insight to Chris that we might not normally see during the actual story.


    Unaffected. “Uneffected” isn’t a word.

    That said, the conversation between Bosca and Elizabeth was bizarre but cute at the same time. I loveee Bosca’s reaction to it. I wonder what Elizabeth thought she was saying and what she was actually saying in shroomish language.

    I like Chris’s reaction. =P Better than him getting angry anyway. I always liked ‘em a little more confident.

    Sounds like a good plan to me.

    Yeesh, why did they walk out that far? D=

    “He” is in all caps.


    Breath. =P If it helps, “breath” is a noun; “breathe” is a verb.

    The battle was interesting. Was the attack Bosca used Bullet Seed? Either way, it was an interesting battle. The Italian was a nice touch and a creative advantage, even if you don’t know if you used it correctly. I was actually a little put off by Chris cursing at Bosca, but I understand why, what with Bosca not really doing anything (apparently) and the sudden news of Ian’s death. I wonder how long Ian’s death is going to toy around with Chris’s emotions.

    The ending was sad, touching, and sappy. =P Good, though.
  18. D. Scott

    D. Scott Well-Known Member

    AUTHOR'S NOTE: As of the time of writing, I have no net access, so I can't provide any links, but I can't go without saying: "Born to Run" is a song by Bruce Springsteen, and his wonderful E-Street band. Give 'em a listen.

    And please don't sue me, certain news networks.

    best laid plans

    Chapter Five:​
    So the day goes on, 'til it finally ends with a bang.


    Sometimes there are no words. No clever quotes to neatly sum up what's happened that day... sometimes the day... just... ends.

    - Aaron Hotchner (AKA Thomas Gibson- actor on Criminal Minds)


    Adrian Russo stepped up to the desk, extending a single gloved hand with papers clenched inside. The man behind the desk offered him a wicked, pleased smile.

    "These papers are more important than you think, Adrian," the man said. "I understand you're frustrated with the gruntwork. But with getting these for me, we have already taken a large step toward finding your father." The man took the papers, and set them down on the desk. He looked back up at Adrian, eyes gleaming with expectance.

    "Bastard," Adrian thought. He shut his eyes, drew in a deep breath and tried to keep his cool. His hands slid down into his pockets, and his feet shifted to stabilize his position.

    The man grew impatient, Adrian could see. Good. He was glad to see that the man's irritability was shining through now; he could manipulate it.

    "Adrian, with these papers, we can study and possibly find the rumored 'Evolution Hotspot' in Tohjo Falls. With that in mind, we can grow to a more powerful position - and in power, your father is bound to come back to us."

    "Okay?" Adrian said. "My father was a weak man. He shouldn't come back unless he can, you know, handle a ten year old kid. I know you think the same thing, Archer. Are you sure you don't just mean to take the power all to yourself, Mr. Loyalist?" Adrian snickered.

    "You understand little, Adrian," Archer murmured. "You're still a child yourself. You do not know everything about the world."

    Adrian turned around and moved toward the door. "But I sure as hell know enough about you." He heard the angry exhale of Archer, and he smiled widely. He slid the door against the rocky floor of this cave-base, shutting it, and prepared to head toward his barracks.


    Christopher Avrich approached the door of the small home, his eyes focused on the ground. On his left, Joey stood, his arms folded over his chest, eyeing the men standing just a little farther left. They were the police escorts they had been promised, staring at them with their stern eyes.

    "Are we going to stand here all day, or are we going to knock, Mr. Avrich?" one of them asked.

    Chris threw a simple, but annoyed glance at the one who spoke. He recognized from his outstanding mental database of movies that these guys were beat cops; the newbies. Their uniforms were the main giveaway, but he could also tell from their stern but obviously forced tone of voice that they were excited, feeling big solely because they were working alongside the big, bad homicide detectives, even if it was a menial job like escorting two kids on an errand. Chris reached up and gently knocked on the door.

    He heard the sound of creaky, swift footsteps. A voice called out something, but it was muffled, both by the barrier of the door and by some other thing Chris didn't recognize. The door swung open, and his sight was met with a rather short man. His brown suit was smeared with a red substance, the same thing that covered his face.

    "Mmph, howph camphi hamph phoo, offipherph?"

    Chris blinked.

    One of the officers, however, piped up. He apparently understood the man perfectly.

    "Please swallow your food, sir," he started. "And it's not us - these children are from Elm Laboratories?"

    The man's eyes lit up, and he chewed his food, swallowing it with a thick sounding gulp.

    "Oh, my! So sorry. You see, I was eating my favorite spaghetti when you arrived, and..."

    "Don't worry 'bout it," Chris said. "I'm Chris. Chris Avrich."

    The man extended his right hand and Chris grabbed it. They had a quick, firm handshake. "My name is Joseph Estar. I trust the Professor has told you my more common name, though?"

    "I believe it was Mr. Springsteen?" Chris asked with a grin.

    One of the escorts was now humming "Born to Run", and Chris couldn't help it. He broke down laughing.

    "I'm assuming that was a smart aleck response?" Joseph asked patiently. He too wore a thin smile upon his lips, but kept eyeing the police officers.

    "Aye, aye," Chris said. "Mr. Pokemon."

    "Bingo, Ringo!" Joseph said. "Now, care to come on in? I'll fix you some milk, or tea, or water, whatever you prefer."

    The officers glanced at each other momentarily, and nodded. So in response to that, Joey and Chris did the same.

    "Come on in, then!" Joseph said.

    The four of them moved inside, and Chris was awestruck at the lab equipment scattered across the small home. Beakers; test tubes filled with oddly colored liquids; desktop computers; empty cages; and the walls were dotted with small, silky patches, as if hit by a stringshot attack.

    And then they got to the kitchen. The kitchen was an absolute mess, scattered with papers, each dotted with their own stains; boxes upon boxes of junk, mostly mechanical parts, but some had old paper plates and cups, and some containing loads of silverware; and somewhere in there, mixed in with the mess, was a kitchen table, a stove, a refrigerator and a sink.

    Chris moved toward the table, and everybody else followed, except for Joseph. He approached the refrigerator, turned around and looked toward the four of them.

    "What can I get you gentlemen?"

    "I'll have a glass of milk, please," Joey said.

    "Water," one of the escorts said.

    "Tea," the other escort said.

    "I ain't thirsty, Joe, but thanks," Chris finished.

    Joseph nodded, and began to fix drinks for the four of them who would actually be drinking. He spoke as he prepared.

    "So, can I get the names of the rest of you men?" he asked. "If you'd prefer a last-name basis, that's fine with me."

    "Officer Bartelby," one of the escorts said.

    "Officer August," the other said.

    "Joey Collins," Joey responded.

    Joseph looked up, and cocked an eyebrow. He slid Joey his glass of milk, and then Officer August his water.

    "Any relation to Maya Collins?" he asked.

    "Yeah. Cousin."

    "Ah. How nice. She's one of CNN's younger journalists, isn't she?"

    "Yeah," Joey said. His face was slightly red.

    "Who in the world is she?" Chris asked. His curiosity had been admittedly peaked.

    Joseph looked at him like he was growing lobsters out of his ears. "Do you watch the news, Mr. Avrich?"

    "Pfft," Chris said. "As if. What fun is news? I prefer horror movies. Ya'know, alien invasions, murder-... murder, things like that."

    "My young friend, it's crucial to watch the news in today's day and time. Well, I'm assuming you've at least heard of CNN?"

    "Cherrygrove News Network, yeah."

    "Maya Collins is a journalist who works there. Currently doing an internship, but she's catching and even covering stories faster than anyone else can get their hands on them. She's awfully skilled at what she does, even at her young age. You see her face commonly."

    "Impressive," Chris murmured: he couldn't care less. It would have been more exciting were she a movie star or a popular rock singer.

    Joseph sat his glass down, and slid Officer Bartelby his. The five of them sat in silence for a few moments, before Joseph spoke up again.

    "So, officers, can I ask what these young men have done to deserve your company?"

    The officers looked at each other for a moment, and shook their heads.

    "I'm afraid not, sir," August said.

    "Not until we learn more ourselves," Bartelby finished.

    Joseph nodded. "Very well, then."

    The four of them finished their drinks, and Chris stood up. "Alright, Joe, ol' buddy'a Elm's, let's see this egg."

    Joseph stood up swiftly, knocking into one of the many boxes in the room, startling everyone else. He nodded toward Chris, and ran past him. Chris broke into a steady, careful (as to not trip on any of the things on the floor) jog after him. He heard the creaky sounds of everyone else following suit.

    Very soon, the five of them ended up standing in front of something Chris hadn't noticed on his way in, mixed in with those empty cages. On a small, pink pad stood a dark brown oval-shaped thing, dotted with red spots.

    Joseph handed Chris a flimsy sheet of paper, dark but with a blue spot in the middle. Inside this blue spot, a fuzzy form was visible: it was hunched up, but Chris could tell it was thin, but with ring-shaped extensions around its stomach. A slightly curved line was on its head, one on where Joseph had labelled "wrist".

    "This Pokemon," he said, "is definitely a Pokemon. But it is something we have NEVER seen before. I have meticulously been through a guide, and not even a single of Unova's a hundred and forty two - Unova's Pokemon are unique to Unova, by the way, which is why I'm using it as an example - have descriptions to even match this in the slightest. I want you to handle this thing with care, Mr. Avrich. This thing is potentially a major scientific breakthrough. If it's harmed, I will personally come and wring your neck."

    Chris flinched at this threat, and Joseph looked apologetic. But he did not verbally apologize.

    "Now, how about you and your Pokemon take a rest before you go? You look tired, and I'm sure if you are, so is your Shroomish."

    Chris nodded, but was hesitant to release Bosca. He was afraid that she was mad at him, and he didn't want to face that. Apprehensively, he followed Joseph toward his bedroom.

    Joseph nodded and shut the door.

    Chris reached down toward his belt, and removed the red and white sphere, moving it in close to his eyes, staring at it intensely.

    "Alright," he said, pep-talking himself. "You can do this. Bosca WILL understand."

    He pressed his thumb against the release switch, and held it there. He realized he was sweating, deciding whether or not to truly go through with this. He pulled his thumb off, felt the ball expand, watched it fly open and send forth a flash of light, and finally materialized into the yellow, green-dotted Pokemon called Bosca.

    Chris felt like slamming his head into the tangible tension he felt. He shut his eyes, and waited to hear the fearful squeak.

    But instead came one of happiness.

    "Mish!" Bosca cried. She leaped up onto the bed, and nudged up against Chris. Chris lifted a hand and gently stroked her. This elicited a pleased sound from Bosca, and Chris couldn't help but crack a thin smile.

    "Hiya, gal," he said. "Kinda missed ya."

    "Mish! Shroomish!" Bosca responded.

    "You too, huh?" he asked. "Righty'o, then. You feelin' alright, other than missin' me?"

    "Mish! Mish?" Bosca asked.

    "Glad to hear it: and yeah, I'm doin' just fine too. I was a little worried, though. You recovered just fine, though, it seems - hey, we're here, by the way! Over at Mr. Pokemon's place. We're just gonna get some rest 'fore we go."


    Chris fell back onto the mattress, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. He felt Bosca move in close to his side, and without a moment's hesitation, he allowed himself to drift off into sleep.

    The end of his nap came all too soon, though; it felt like just as he closed his eyes, he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently into consciousness. He flipped over to see who it was: it was Joey, Bosca on the floor next to him.

    "Eh, c'mon Joey, five more minutes..." Chris muttered.

    "Elm's called. The Police Chief wants us there within two hours. We gotta go, Chris," Joey said.

    "Screw thaaatttt- eh, I mean... fine. Let's go."

    Chris rolled off the bed, and fell to his knees quite purposefully, providing a shoulder for Bosca to jump onto. She did happily, and the three of them walked outside to the mess of the rest of the home.


    About an hour and a half later, the four people arrived at New Bark Town, and then not even five minutes after that, at the Elm Laboratory.

    "Police Cars are useful," Chris mused mentally.

    The outside of the lab was hounded, absolutely covered by morbidly curious New Bark residents, and of course, members of Cherrygrove's press. A murder story of quiet New Bark Town, especially in a famous Professor's domain, was too good for them to give up. What confused Chris was the fact that the police had tried to cover it up for now, and yet the press had found out so quick. He guessed that if they had rolled out Ian's body, that had probably done it.

    Of course, none of them were being let in. The morons were asking questions of stoic guards, each standing on the side of the door: each refusing to move, much less speak. As their group moved through the crowd, a reporter quickly moved toward them, asking questions.

    "Oh, they're letting you through? What makes you guys so special? Care to give a thought, some insight, as to what is going on?"

    Chris flipped the man off, and he could see visible anger in his eyes. But he forced a smile.

    "What's your name, young man?"

    "I suggest you move," Bartelby interrupted. The reporter complied, and they managed to squeeze past.

    They entered the lab and shut the door behind them just as quickly as they entered, walking toward the back of the place. Police tape blocked their path, so they simply ducked under it.

    What Chris saw at the back filled him with a mixture of anger, sadness and simple horror. The entire area was painted red, a spray of the color having showered papers, computers and the walls. It was dried blood.

    They were pulled aside by a man of large stature, looming over them like a building. Chris recognized his face: he was the one who had talked to them in the Pokemon Center, via VidPhone. He sighed audibly, causing Joey to give him glances. In these moments, Chris could see the fear in his eyes: with a child his age seeing this scene, he could understand it.

    They stopped in a corner of the office, where a long silver desk had been set up. The three of them took a seat.

    "So, boys. Can I get you anything? Water? Milk?"

    Both Chris and Joey shook their heads.

    "Alright," the officer said. "I know you children understand just what is going. Mr. Ian Donyer was murdered last night in this Laboratory. His throat was slashed, but we can't determine the instrument used just yet. Not even ten minutes after we arrived at the scene, you children called. It is taught to cops like myself: offenders tend to come back to the scene."

    Chris slapped his palm against his face. "Don't tell me you think either of us did it?"

    "Did you, Mr. Avrich?"

    Chris shot the man a glare that could kill a Tyranitar. "Of course not! Ian was a friend. A real good friend. What motive would I have? Do you really think I could do this?"

    Joey spoke up, nodding. "If the murder occurred last night, then you can call my mom - Tamara Collins. We were withb her all night long..."

    Chris had to resist making a comment on that. He let loose another, formidable sigh.

    "Well, my main concern is that you guys could be formidably sneaky," the officer said.

    "Do we look like the sneaky types?" Chris asked.

    "Things aren't often as they look. I dislike thinking that children like yourselves could perform such a task, but there are certain evidence items that broaden our horizons. August! Bring it out."

    Officer August nodded, and moved away for a short time. Within a minute or so, he came back with a plastic bag in hand. All Chris saw inside it was a blank sheet of printing paper.

    Then he turned it around.

    What was printed on this side was simple, but from the draw of breath Chris heard Joey perform, it was something important. It took him a few moments to recognize it - but he did the same thing.

    It was a bright red R.

    "...W-what...?" Chris asked.

    "Do you not recognize it, Mr. Avrich?" the officer asked.

    "...But what do they have to do with this?"

    He felt his limbs begin to shake. He was putting the pieces together.

    "We assume that this is fake, Mr. Avrich, as Rocket was disbanded over three years ago. But perhaps someone wishes to mimic them - a young group of gangsters who wish to make it big like they did. Would you know anything about this?"

    Chris had a feeling. He shut his eyes, drew in a deep, shaky breath and spoke.

    "It's real."

    "Excuse me, Mr. Avrich?"

    "The murder weh-...weapon... was a Sneasel. The murderer...is... gah, DAMN IT!"

    Chris slammed his fist down into the table, and began to breathe heavier.

    "...was a boy. My age. Red hair, black jacket. The jacket.. had-... it had an R, just like that, s-sewed onto it. His name is Adrian Russo."

    The officer across the table looked at him with eyes that glinted with excitement.

    "Like Giovanni Russo, Mr. Avrich?"

    Chris nodded. "Yeah."

    "I see. And how did you come upon this information?"

    "...Deduction. I battled the guy. He had a Sneasel. Those claws look perfect to k-..k..."

    "...Kill someone with, Mr. Avrich?"

    Chris nodded again. He felt tears of frustration began to rip at him. "Yeah."

    "I see. I'll allow you children to have some rest, then. Mr. Avrich, your home is just nearby, isn't it?"

    Chris nodded a third time. "Yep. Can we go over there?"

    The officer smiled. "Yes. We will have Officer August post guard, though."

    Chris sighed. "Good enough. Joey, you ready?"

    The boy nodded slowly. Chris could still see some hesitancy in this: but it was understandable.

    The two of them got out of their seats, and they, alongside Officer August, headed to the Avrich house.
    Last edited: Mar 31, 2011
  19. shinjiniisan

    shinjiniisan Dark Pokemon rule!

    Liked it... keep going like this
  20. Breezy

    Breezy Well-Known Member

    I told you I'd get to this eventually. >_> Lol.

    I’m a little confused. Somewhere between Adrian’s thought and the next paragraph something happened to make Archer grow impatient; I’m just not sure what. So it kind of reads random that he did suddenly get impatient. Maybe if Adrian had a lackluster reaction or something it would make sense but all he did was, well, breathe. Oh, shift too.

    I’m actually not sure if I talked to you about this or not (or if someone else told you about this), but since you’ve improved tenfold from when you first started, I think I can go into the more anal grammar nitpicks. ;P

    Commas before coordinating conjunctions (and, but, for, so, or, nor, yet) are only needed when you’re listing something (She had a towel, a bottle of lotion, and a plastic straw. Why these items, who knows?) or when you have a compound sentence (a sentence that has two or more complete sentences together). An easy way to figure out if you need a comma before a coordinating conjunction is reading the sections are their own sentence. Let’s use the above quote as an example.

    “Adrian turned around.” This can stand as its own sentence.
    “Moved toward the door.” This cannot stand as its own sentence. Therefore, you shouldn’t have the comma.

    If you had something like “Adrian turned around, and he moved toward the door,” then you would need the comma (Read “He moved toward the door” and how it can stand alone as its own sentence).

    Is it a big deal? Not really, but they can be distracting if you do it too often. Plus you may be putting unnecessary pauses in places where you might not want to pause.

    Even. Semicolon should be a comma.

    Nice set up for suspicion, especially with where this story is headed. =P

    I can’t help but wonder if “Ringo” was a smaller side joke to go along with the Springsteen joke. =P JOKES IN JOKES

    Go. I’m actually not too fond of the second person here since it seems kind of thrown out there with no purpose. Even stating “And then the kitchen” is saying pretty much the same thing.


    If you thought the comma lesson was super nitpicky, wait for this one. Even though “could have cared less” is becoming synonymous nowadays, the correct phrase is “couldn’t have cared less.” “Couldn’t care less” is saying that “it is impossible to care less.” “Could care less” is saying that you care less than you previously did, so you could “care less” but you could still be caring. Inorite?

    /end super-duper nitpick

    Period in red should be a comma, and “is” should be lowercase (reason why is because the dialogue is still continuing/still a running sentence even with the speech tag break. “This Pokémon,” he said, “is definitely a Pokémon.”)

    I wrongfully lol’d at the name. Chris Avrich is your ff.net name, right?



    Unnecessary sentence break up. All break ups are painful. ;-;

    Bre … nah, kidding. =P It’s right, hurrah!

    Anyway, pretty neat chapter. As always, liked your spin on the events that take place in HG/SS and how the interrogation scene was a lot … tenser. The police accusing Chris and Joey of doing it was a little overdramatic (police try to leak the answer out of the person instead of outright saying it right away) but I understand the time constraint and not making that scene longer than it needed to be. Chris was amusing as he usually it, though it’s nice to see how varied his emotions can be, especially in reaction to the crime scene and him being interrogated and connecting the pieces as to who did it. I also liked your zany characterization of Mr. Pokemon. His house was a fun setting. =P

    Anyway, until next time!

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