KC's Pokemon Tales

[KC, Lover of Blaziken]

Pokémon Tales ( I )

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, young and old, wise and foolish. Welcome to the wonderful world of Pokémon. Surely you know all about this place, or at least something of it, for how else could you be here now? Pokemon cannot be seen by the nonbelievers.

Nevertheless, I shall tell you a little bit more about this world, because the world of Pokémon is very interesting, and its many infinite tales never get boring. So please, sit back and relax, as I recite to you the timeworn tale of a young trainer and his humble beginnings, a person who is not so unlike you.

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Pokémon Loco

NOTE: In case you do not know how to use the contents, highlight the title of the chapter you want to go to and copy it into the search box. Then hit go.

CONTENTS:
[PokeLoco000] Introduction
[PokeLoco001] Chapter 1: Making the Grade

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[PokeLoco000] Introduction

The boy was young, probably not much older than fourteen or fifteen. At least this much was made obvious by his sparkling eyes, and seemingly infinite energy.

However, this boy also seemed to have a sadness lurking in the depths of his ice blue irises, and a certain heaviness in his limbs. He displayed the sadness of a boy who has seen things that he wishes he had not seen, and the heaviness of limb that is characteristic of an elderly man.

But that aside, this boy was very happy and contented with the life he lead. And before getting any further, it shall be made known that this boy’s name was Omar (Jonathan Corey Desworthy was the boy’s full title, but it was long and tedious, so for reasons unexplained, some of his friends had bestowed him with the nickname of “Omar”).

His friends often described his physical appearance as that of being a tall person in a short person’s body. What they could have meant by that is questionable, but one look at a picture of him and you would have agreed as well, mainly because, although he was barely average height for a human his age, he had long, skinny arms that dangled down to his knobby knees (which were normally hidden in a pair of jeans).

He usually wore the colors navy blue and black at the same time in his outfit, probably because these two colors made his extremely pale skin stand out even more (though his mother always thought that the combination made him look rather unfortunately like a bruise).

His dark brown hair fell down to his shoulders, and was permanently styled in a part down the center, reason being that this is how it had been combed since kindergarten. His nose was slightly large and rounded, but was nothing hugely prominent, and his ears were pointed on top, giving him the childish appearance of an elf.

But perhaps the most distinguishing facial feature he had were his forementioned ice blue eyes, filled with itelligence and compassion, yet cold, and unemotional in a way that made you feel as if the tendrils of an icy mist was crawling down your skin.

However, Omar rarely revealed his darker side, instead choosing to try to be caring and kind.

His intelligence was vast and his athletic skills were above average, but he did not often display these traits to others because his nature was to be shy, modest, and quiet (contrarily, you would not be able to shut him up if he got engaged in talking, but the occasion for which he might strike up a conversation with someone was not brought up often). So instead, he sat in the back of all his classes at school, made straight A’s, and almost never talked to anyone.

When asked to tell the truth, he tried to be as honest as possible, no matter what the consequences may be, and this gave him a trustworthy reputation. People who did not even know him could somehow sense this honest aura and would sometimes come up to him and ask for his advice (and he would always oblige them with his opinion of their dilemma, because his statements often rang true).

However, he had one very unfortunate personality trait that made him intimidating even when peaceful, and menacing even when joyful. Omar, although extraordinarily patient, had an explosive temper, that would often frighten anyone around him, causing people to try to avoid him, even his friends. A full-grown man could not even stand up to Omar's dagger-point stare.

Even so, this boy, Omar, was a nice lad, and it is not altogether surprising that, due to his actions in times of crisis, he became one of the most famous and powerful Pokemon Masters of this world (and that of several others as well, but that is to come later in our tale).
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Now, I have just started this fic and I am hoping that it is satisfactory so far, but I would greatly appreciate any criticism you guys might have to help me improve this story. I also would like to add that I would like ideas PMed to me as to what events, places, people, etc. might appear in my story, for I have not progressed much yet. If I could get ideas, I would try my best to incorporate them into this tale, or possibly another tale I shall write.

Thanks in advance for all your advice!
-KC

 

[NoDayBut2Day]

This is a different way to start a fic by basically describing the character and nothing more. Guess its a way to start character development. But we just seem to know the basics of Omar. Interested to see what this fic will be about. Ill keep reading to see.

-Danny

 

[KC, Lover of Blaziken]

Thank you, NoDayBut2Day for your comment that I am assuming was positive. I hope to delve much farther into the story in this next chapter. I hope you will keep reading, for I enjoy having others comment on my fics so I may improve. Thank you again.

 

[NoDayBut2Day]

Ok before I go on to review, is that it to chapter 1? also if you post chapters you post them in a new post. Before I said only edit if you have something add to the prologue/chapter. Also if that is chapter one it should be much, much longer than that. Try typing it on Microsoft Word and do at least 2 or 3 pages. It's a nice length to have an follows the rules.

 

[KC, Lover of Blaziken]

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[PokeLoco001] Chapter 1: Making the Grade

I am joyful.

No, he corrected himself, I am ecstatic!!!

Now that Omar thought about it, nothing this astoundingly awesome had happened to him for more than a year. Ever since the ship his father had been sailing on went missing, Omar had lost all passion that had once dwelled inside him. But now, it all came rushing back, like a sudden tsunami of caring.

For today was the day... The day that every young boy in the Pokemon world waits for, from the time the were told tales of legendary Pokemon in their crib, to the time they began to study all the stats and technicalities of owning a Pokemon.

Yes, today is the day...

Omar calmed down some and stopped jumping on the worn old couch in the living room. Then he rushed into the breakfast nook to hug his tired mother. At first, she was startled to have been attacked so compassionately by her son for no apparent reason, but when she saw the envelope that he was waving around, she smiled warmly.

"My, you're up early. How much sugar did you eat last night?" Omar's mother kidded.

"Guess what? Guess what?" Omar shouted, bouncing up and down in excitement, a little child once more.

"What, my son?" his mother smiled back.

"I got it!" Omar responded. "In the mail! I got my Pokemon Trainer Certification in the mail! And do you know what that means?" he blurted out.

"No, I don't. Please explain," she said, although she knew perfectly well what that meant.

"I can begin training my Pokemon for the Pokemon Gym Challenge! I'm gonna start right away!" Whereupon Omar dashed out of the room, banging his knee on a chair on the way. He then trampled up the stairs, to his bedroom on the second floor of the house to find where he had left his sneakers.

Omar's mother just continued to smile and shake her head, her shining long brown hair going below her shoulders, knowing how long that her son had waited to finally recieve his Trainer's License. After all, this was a big step for him.

Just like humans, most Pokemon had an aversion to Omar's explosive fits of rage, thusly trying their hardest to avoid him whenever possible. Because Omar was bright, he had passed the written part of the test on his first try, and with flying colors, plus he had finished reading the extensive booklet containing the secrets of Pokemon natures and abilities, and how to take advantage of them, in less than twenty minutes, but no matter how many times he read through the booklet, he couldn't get a Pokemon to be friendly towards him.

This was obviously a major obstacle to getting his Trainer's License, because half of the test depended on how well the applicant and a random Pokemon of any given species reacted to each other.

Until last week, Omar had never been able to get the other Pokemon to come within three feet of him, no matter whether it was a timid baby Igglybuff or a towering rock-hard Onix. But Omar had finally had some success with a Pokemon besides the household pets, Meowth and Persian. The Meowth was named Scout, and Omar had raised it since it was a tiny mewling kitten, while his father had bred the Persian, Dusty, since before he was married.

Although his mother regretted the fact Omar would soon be spending less and less time in the house, whiling away time reading books and playing videogames, she was nonetheless overjoyed to know that his constant brooding about not having his license would be over.

She propped her slippered feet on a nearby chair, sipped at her boiling hot, fresh-brewed coffee and sighed gently.

...

Eventually, Omar found his ratty old sneakers under his bed, and headed back downstairs. He had been anxious for this event to occur for quite some time: the becoming of an official challenger of the Pokemon League.

But now he was slightly nervous. Try as he might, he still had self-doubting thoughts run through his head every now and again. His main concern was that the Pokemon that had responded to him with keen interest and friendship had only done so by luck. After all, the Pokemon had been a Psyduck, and Psyducks do not have a good track record of being aware of their surroundings, to state Psyduck's mental state lightly.

However, Omar decided that he would be a trainer anyway, because if he was not a trainer, what would he be? All his friends had gotten their license up to a year earlier, so he was behind as it was, despite being the most intelligent kid in his grade.

Now he would hit the ground running with a Pokemon of his very own. He had guides upon guides upon guides of how to properly train a Pokemon, how to care for it, how to check its stats, what to do in certain situations in a battle, etcetera, etcetera, and he was more than eager to put his acquired knowledge to the test, but there were several problems.

First, he had no idea which Pokemon he wanted as his starter, the one and only Pokemon that was to stay with him for life, for him to be best friends with until the end of time. After all, there were three completely different Pokemon up for grabs at Professor Oak’s lab in Pallet Town, as he had seen in a commercial on television, and he did not want to chose the wrong one.

But Omar shook his head and decided he would not dwell on problems such as this. In the past, he had overcome more difficult obstacles than deciding which Pokemon he wanted to have as a life partner, such as…

A sharp pang of hopelessness suddenly arose in his heart like a black hole vacuuming out all his willingness to live. He had just thought of his father going missing again. He had promised that he would not do that, and be strong for his mother, but sometimes it was just too overwhelming.

He did not know a single boy in the whole of Cinnabar Middle School who was missing a parent. Omar was alone in this aspect. And now that he thought about it, he realized that one more fear stood in his way to becoming a trainer: that of going to the mainland. Omar had refused to get on any boat, whether speedboat or luxury cruiser, ever since his dad had disappeared. This was bad, because if he was to get a Pokemon from Professor Oak, like he had planned, then he would need to board a ship to get him from Cinnabar Island to the shore of Pallet Town. He severely doubted he could conquer this fear.

Now that I think about it, the waves outside the window are looking rather choppy… he thought to himself.

“Omar!” a voice called in singsong from a nearby room.

Omar snapped out of his reverie. “Yes, Mom?”

“Come in here and gimme a kiss good-bye, before you say farewell.”

Omar jogged into the kitchen to find his mother cooking Cinnabar Island’s local famous treat: Cinnabar Volcano burgers. These tasty burgers were basically just the same as any other burger around the world. It had no special spices or ingredients in it. It was just a plain beef patty with whatever condiments you cared to put on it. However, there was one thing done differently to prepare the meat: cook it over a piece of charcoal that was gathered near Cinnabar Island’s own active volcano.

The local charcoal did not look any different than typical charcoal, but the flavor it gave to the burger... Omar almost salivated at the thought. An indescribable mixture of slightly-spicy and kind-of-tangy permeated the meat patty, mingling to create a strange sensation of Cinnabar flavor. No one could describe the exact taste compared to that of other burgers; instead the Cinnabarians relied on shoving a burger into a tourist’s mouth so they could discover for themselves what exactly they missed by not living on Cinnabar Island. All Omar knew and cared about was that, if he had his way, he would eat these babies three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year, breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

After devouring the burger noisily and thanking his mother immensely for helping him feel better about leaving the island, he gave her a peck on the check and slung his bulging backpack over his back. He then trotted to the front door and reached for the doorknob.

His mother rushed into the room crying, and Omar turned around and embraced her.

Omar's mother saw the steel will and determination of her own lost husband in her son's eyes, and after a minute or two, mother and son pulled apart.

Then Omar pulled open the front door, paused in the doorway to give a final farewell to his mother and Scout, the Persian, and started down the tree-lined dirt path that lead to Cinnabar's town.
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[NoDayBut2Day]

This is an ok first chapter. Kinda lack originality with the whole Pallet Town senario and getting one of the three starters as Omar's first pokemon. Length is ok but could always be longer. Description is ok but again could be more descriptive.

Just don't try to follow and game or anime type for this fic. Make it different and add twists. I still can't say much since its earlier and I have no idea what you have planned for this. Just giving my two cents. The begining was kind of different with getting a certificate. But just take your time with writing chapters and remember originality is very appealing to readers and will get their interest.

-Danny

 

[KC, Lover of Blaziken]

I don't want to reveal anything about the storyline and plot... So I won't! But I promise that this story will be original. I have the Pallet Town reference in there to lull readers into thinking this will be another Game Journey story, but I will shock them into submission with some very original (or at least I hope they are) ideas. I will focus on detail next chapter, and possibly add more to the first one. I thank you yet again for the criticism. I appreciate it, in a world where no one really gives a darn. I hope I can keep you interested enough to continue reading, and eventually get some more readers too. I may have Chapter 2 and 3 tomorrow, depending on how lazy I get.

Sincerely,
-KC

 

[Pinecone Tortoise]

Whoah. That was amazing. An entire prologue devoted to characterisation. *sniff* How beautiful.

Eh, this is one of the most skillful renditions of 'new trainer off to get first pokemon' I've seen in a long time. Stunningly detailed and relatively believable characters, plenty of description without going overboard and a highly original uniqueness.

Character with scary temper... it's probably been done before. Character with scary temper that affects his interaction with other people and with pokemon... if it's been done, I can't remember it at the moment. In a lot of stories, characters are mentioned as having some trait... but very little if anything is heard of it again - not so here. ^^ Plus, this trait is quite a 'normal', believable thing. Very smooth. Too often, characters are burdened with 'speshul' characteristics that make them somehow more tragic or 00ber than the others in the story. But Omar's trait is something you can almost imagine 'real' people struggling with. And the way you've gone about portraying his character, he seems 'normal', not too angsty or courageous. Just average. ^^

Hmm, if I pick something for you to improve on, I'd probably pick the fluidity of your writing - especially the characters' speech.

“Please come here and give me a kiss before you say farewell.”

Somehow, that seems a little forced. It doesn't sound like something a regular person would say - too formal, perhaps? Might I suggest you introduce a bit more slang or colloquialisms here? Otherwise, your characters might come across as rather stiff and unnatural. Or, if you're trying to have them behave formally, perhaps add something in the description to let the reader know that it's deliberate. Actually, even the rest of your writing could stand to be a bit more relaxed. Just a little. Cause there's a few points where it reads strangely.

These tasty burgers were basically just the same as any other burger around the world, because it had no special spices or ingredients in it.

This sentence makes sense, but it just seems to me to be a bit wordy and long.

Meh. I'm being picky here - but that's a form of compliment. It means I think you can handle the criticism and have managed the basics to the extent that you can move on to more subtle points.

Anyway, you've got an amazing beginning here - put it to good use! Keep in mind how your writing actually reads and try to keep it smooth. Oh, and please don't use numbers in place of words - it looks kind of lazy and unprofessional. Keep up the good work!

If you want anything else in your story commented on or if you want anything in this review expanded on, let me know! Best of luck and fun to you!

Piney.
;204;;324;

 

[KC, Lover of Blaziken]

Alright! Another criticism! And its a good one to boot! Thank you Pinecone Tortoise, for your great criticism.

I have noticed that my character's speech is slightly formal, and I've been thinking about how to fix it. And yes, I know some sentences are wordy, but you should have seen how the story looked before I edited it.

I'll fix the numbers-instead-of-words immediately, and I'll remember all your criticism for my next chapter, which I hope will be done soon. I was not sure if my story was original enough, but thanks to you, I have been reassured that it might actually recieve some attention. I'm glad that you are enjoying it so far.

Sincerely thanks,
-KC

P.S. I have now fixed what you pointed out, and am working on making the speech more natural in Chapter 2.

 

[KC, Lover of Blaziken]

Pokemon Loco Chapter 2: A Storm is Brewing

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[PokeLoco002] Chapter 2: A Storm is Brewing

Omar had just set off from his two-story house on the outskirts of Cinnabar Island’s town, when he suddenly felt rather ill. Partly because he was already homesick, but also partly because he didn't want to get on a boat and go to the mainland, no matter how eager he was to get his first Pokemon.

Sure, Bulbasaur the sprouting seed, Charmander the fire lizard, and Squirtle the tiny turtle were all good Pokemon for any beginning trainer. But Omar felt he was more than just a beginning trainer.

He had spent all his life with his father, who often took him to the Pokemon Mansion at the bottom of the volcano, where he did research on Pokemon genetics. It was his father who was the one who had introduced him to the world of Pokemon, and Omar knew that he needed more than a simple, although admittedly strong, starter Pokemon from Professor Oak.

So Omar’s train of thought went, debating with itself about problems such as whether or not he would try to find a ship to board so he could get to Pallet Town, and if he did, whether or not he would pick one of the three beginners’ Pokemon from Professor Oak as he meandered along the path, through the shade of the scraggly trees as the sky overhead turned gray.

After four minutes of walking down the gently-inclining dirt road into town, Omar’s thoughts stopped racing and he stood as he breathed in the scent of salt-tainted air. Something about the scent of the sea always calmed him, despite the incident that had occurred at sea with his father.

No, Omar could never hate the sea for anything it did, because the sea had raised him as much as his father had. The volcano was to blame for his father’s disappearance; the boat was at fault because it could not go fast enough; the sea was almost a second father to him, calling, lapping gently on the shore that surrounded the island. The sea had raised him lovingly, just as his parents had. Then a sound broke Omar’s concentration.

The sound was that of broken glass, and a shrill alarm going off. Omar quickly dashed around the corner of the nearest urban house to find that a panic had arisen at the new Cinnabar Lab of Pokemon Genetic Study.

One of the windows in the back of the building on the upper floor had been shattered, jagged fragments of glass shining maliciously in the window frame, and between the green blades of the well-kept lawn. Someone had obviously broken out through the second-story window and climbed down the tall oak tree directly next to it; a worn black bandana had gotten caught on one of the upper branches.

Suddenly, Omar heard footsteps rapidly approaching him, so he ducked behind the oak tree in reflex. He swiftly located their source: they were coming from an alley between the Genetics Lab and the Pokemon Mart. Then Omar heard a voice shouting, magnified by the echoing of the alley.

"He's gone out the back of the building! Hurry around, or we might miss him!"

A man in a black business suit appeared around the corner of the building, and upon sighting Omar, called out to him.

"Hear me, young boy! A burglar has just stolen something that was very important to us. I would chase him to the ends of the Earth if I had to, but unfortunately, I am not in the best physical condition. Would you please run after him on your spry, young legs until we can get the authorities to help?"

Omar did not reply. He had already turned and began to sprint down the street, in search of the criminal the man had spoken of.

Omar knew which direction the man had gone, no doubt about it, because he had noticed a distinct trail starting at the broken window of the lab. The trail was that of blood, and he had seen some specks of it on the window, shining wetly on the lush grass, and now in spots of red on the street in increasing frequency.

The burglar was obviously not very smart, because 1) he had run off without even trying to cover his trail, 2) because he had run down the middle of the street in broad daylight, and 3) because Omar had just spotted him less than a block away.

Upon hearing the sound of pursuing footsteps, the burglar had looked over his shoulder and noticed the boy that was chasing him. Ordinarily, this burglar would not have been fazed that a boy was after him. After all, what could a small child do to him? He had friends in high places.

But this kid was more than a young boy; the burglar could see it in his eyes. Even at this distance he could see a certain anger and determination in his chilling blue eyes, almost as if the boy was hunting him. This scared the chubby man greatly, especially because this kid, whoever he was, had the guts enough to chase him alone, with no backup in sight.

Does he think he can take me? Or is he just stupid? the man wondered.

The clouds had grown even darker, a menacing shade of gray, and the burglar thought he felt a drop of water hit him on the bridge of his nose.

Oh man, I have got to get out of the street.

...

Omar did not know why he had suddenly decided to take on this man. He knew it was foolish, and that he might even get hurt doing this. But he had dashed off without thinking, in order to help a man he had never even seen before. And to make matters worse, it had started to sprinkle.

No, he told himself. This was the right thing to do. I wouldn't seriously have stood there and ignored the man in the suit, would I?

At least, I think this is right...

And then his anger took hold of him.

This is stupid! Why am I such a pushover? I shouldn't have let that man boss me around like he was my father! But now I am running down the middle of the street after what might be a highly dangerous criminal. What was I thinking!?

But this was the right thing to do, wasn't it? his innocent side told him.

His conflicting interests only fueled his rage even more. Omar's feet began to pound faster and faster on the rain-spotted pavement, almost into a blur, as he sprinted dead-on after the burglar who had just messed up his mind.

Just then, the man jumped off the road and over a brick wall into someone's backyard. But not with much success, for the man's foot got caught as he leaped over, and he fell headfirst into some rose bushes.

Omar had participated in track several years back. He had been good at long distance runs, and short distance runs both. But what he was known for was his skill at running hurdles. He would fly down the track and over the hurdles, almost as if they weren't even there. He never tripped, never stumbled, just flew... Except for that last meet, the one before he had quit...

Now, his hurdling skills came in handy, as he leaped over the short brick wall that bordered a garden of roses. He was careful to avoid landing on the bush, and got around the side of the house to find the man trying to scrabble over the four-foot-high wall.

The man stopped struggling and turned around when Omar came closer. He saw a strange conflict going on in those eyes, almost as if the boy wanted to snap his neck and ask him politely for the stolen goods at the same time.

Omar stared back, not knowing what he was going to do next. Now that he was up close to him, he noticed that he was just a very chubby man wearing black sweats, stuck with thorns in many various parts of his body from the rose bush he landed in. A small burlap sack was slung over his shoulder. The burglar had sweat pouring in buckets down his flushed red face, which mingled with the raindrops that had begun to slide down his forehead, as he tried to gaspingly catch his breath. He was shaking slightly from the exertion he had had to put in to get this far, and seemed to be on the verge of crying. On his right cheek was a deep, jagged slash that was still bleeding freely. Just then, Omar snapped.

What the heck am I doing?

The burglar saw it in Omar's eyes, and took advantage of the moment. But instead of running, he simply held up his hands and said, "You got me, kid."

Omar looked confused at the statement. The burglar sighed, and held out the sack. Omar jumped as if the burglar was holding a snake. Surprisingly, the man just dropped the sack, where it landed at Omar's feet with a soft earthy thud, and pulled a thorn out of one of his cheeks with a small curse. He then turned away and took a deep breath, preparing to jump over the top of the weathered brick wall. He flung himself over it as ungracefully as a Hariyama trying to learn ballet.

At that exact moment, Omar heard police sirens wailing down the street. The garden was swiftly lit up by the red and blue flashes of the police car that had just pulled up next to the house. Two men in blue police uniforms climbed out and rushed over to the wall, grabbing hold of the burglar's arms as he struggled to escape their grip. Another car, white, with a fancy golden hood ornament and tinted windows, pulled in right behind the police car.

The man that climbed out was the man wearing the black suit, who had told Omar to catch the burglar in the first place. He opened a black umbrella over his head and headed in Omar's direction. A brief flash of anger flared in Omar's mind, but then it cooled off. Omar was too exhausted after sprinting and leaping around to catch the man who was now in custody.

The suited man walked up to Omar, rain pattering on his umbrella, and shook Omar's hand with his free one.

"Nice job, son. I couldn't have done it better myself. No, I correct myself. You did better than I ever could have done. I thank you. The Cinnabar Lab of Pokemon Genetic Study thanks you."

Omar pulled his hand back, with a disgusted look on his face.

"Don't call me son, old man," Omar sneered.

Ooh, a feisty little one, this boy is, the man thought. And did he just call me an old man? He sure has grown quite a temper.

But the man chose not to comment on the boy's attitude, instead choosing to say, "Would you please hand over that bag in your hands?"

Omar, consumed in one of his unreasonable rages, in which most of his actions became irrational, snarled, "Why should I? Why don't I just keep it myself, hmm?"

"Because," the man replied. "You don't need to be so angry. I know the reason you are so hateful."

At this, Omar's tight grip on the sack softened a little. The man gently took the burlap sack from Omar's hands and gestured for Omar to get into the white car with him. Dazed, Omar followed.

The man climbed into the driver's seat, and Omar into that of the passenger. Then the man turned the key in the ignition.

"Do you mind if we go back to the lab so I may return this valuable object?"

Omar did not reply, so the man shook his umbrella off outside, bundled it up, and stuck it in the back seat, waiting for an answer. Omar tried to crane his neck around to see the burglar through the back window. The burglar was being handcuffed by the burlier of the two officers, and then he was pushed towards the police vehicle. He seemed to get in almost willingly, too exhausted to even try to fight back. The burglar then looked up, and saw Omar staring at him. The man's sweat drenched face was lit up red and blue, as he smiled wearily at the boy who had captured him.

Omar stared for a second longer, and then, because the burglar's smile was creeping him out and his neck was beginning to ache, he turned around and stared out the front window of the vehicle, at the curtain of rain that was falling.

"May I close the door and start the car now?" the man queried again. "The seat is beginning to get wet."

"Sure, let's just go," Omar sighed, and they each slammed the door on their side of the car.

The drive to the Genetics Lab was quiet, the man choosing to keep his eyes on the now-slick road, rather than talk with the boy. Omar just sat slouched in his seat, feeling overwhelmed by how easily this man had taken over him once again, almost as if he could predict accurately what Omar would do. This man acted like he knew Omar... And this made him begin to feel his temper rise again.

But he suppressed his urge to just punch the man in the face for his arrogance, and then fling himself out of the car before it spun into one of the front yards of the urban subdivision they were driving through.

Omar was lulled by the constant drizzle of rain, and was hypnotized by the windshield wipers as they flicked drops of water back and forth, back and forth, off the glass and into the outside world, where they swiftly hit the pavement and shattered into millions of tiny water droplets.

...

When they arrived at the Genetics Lab, Omar flung open the door and slid out of the seat into the rain before the man had even turned off the ignition. Omar then began to stride off, still slightly fuming that the man had tried to take advantage of him like that.

"Wait!" the man cried. "I have much to tell you!"

Omar ignored him. He just kept heading away from the lab, not knowing where he was going, but not caring, as long as it was not here. He needed to cool down, and he obviously was not going to do it as long as he was in the presence of this man. Plus he wanted to find a place to get out of the rain.

"Omar, please..."

Omar suddenly turned around. "What? How do you know my name?"

Lucky guess? the man joked, but did not share this wit aloud. That would only be stirring up the hornet's nest. Instead he responded by telling the truth.

"Because, Omar, I was trying to tell you earlier but you would not listen. I knew your father. I worked with him for seven whole years on an astounding project that brought us near-death experiences. We became the best of friends, your father and I, and he would constantly talk about his loving wife and enthusiastic child waiting for him back home."

Omar, once again, was shocked. Was this man lying to get Omar to follow him into the lab and control him again? Or was this the actual truth? Because if this was the truth, Omar did not want to hear it. He had had enough of thinking of his father for one day. He wanted to go home.

"Look, sir, I don't know who you are or why you are telling me this, but if you would please leave me alone..." Omar calmly said, in an attempt at politeness.

"Maybe it would be best then," the man mumbled, looking forlorn. His head hung and his hand was still on the door of the car. He began to turn around and head toward the lab. "I wish you best of luck on your Pokemon journey."

Omar hesitated. He hated it when things like this got confusing and complicated. So many choices, but the good ones were less appealing then the ones that brought about the easy way out. Omar vented his frustration by digging his foot into the muddy earth, then turned on his heel and called at the man's back.

"Look, old man. I'm sorry for my attitude. But you have just presented me with some disturbing information. I have tried to forget my father for the past year now, in an attempt to become stronger than before. But you have cut open an old wound, and I feel curious as to what you might say about my father's old project. Even I, his own son, nor my mother, his life partner, knew nothing about what he had done or where he had gone, when it came to his work. So please, tell me more of this project and I shall try to be civil to you."

The man smiled to himself in relief, then controlled himself. He looked over his shoulder and said, in a formal tone, "If you would follow me into my office, then, young sir, I shall tell you my part of the tale. Does that sound appealing to you?"

Omar nodded, and followed the man away from the expensive car and towards the front doors of the Genetics Lab.

I don't know who this guy is, but if he has a connection to my father's project, then maybe I should listen, Omar thought. He could reveal some valuable insight into what my father was doing away from home all that time.

Then he sighed inwardly. I'd rather be on a ship on the way to the mainland than here...

The sky suddenly let loose, and the steady drizzle that had occurred for the past fifteen minutes became a downpour. The boy pulled his jacket over his head and hurried after the mysterious man.

On second thought, maybe I wouldn't.

The rain closed up behind the boy as he followed the man to the lab. The only time the sea was ever hateful was during a storm, and a storm had definitely begun to brew. Omar, having been around the sea his whole life, knew the symptoms of a devastating storm, and right now, he did not want to be outside when it hit.
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[NoDayBut2Day]

Ok good start now. You do have it going in a different direction so far which is nice. Him feeling like he is more than a beginning trainer is a nice. Also the crime he witnessed was pretty cool.

Some things I noticed were,

The man that climb out was the man wearing the black suit, who had told Omar to catch the burglar in the first place.

In bold, it should be, man that climbed out. See how it sounds better?

The man's sweat drencehd face

The bold word should be, drenched.

But he surpressed his

Bold word should be, suppressed.

Those are just a couple errors I saw. Won't go full check mode here. But there just common little mistakes with one letter missing or one letter too many.

Overall it was a nice start and interested in seeing what will happen next.


-Danny

 

[KC, Lover of Blaziken]

Thanks for pointing out thos mistakes. They were very little, but they mattered to me, so I went and fixed them. I never would have noticed them otherwise. I am very tired today. I'm glad you agree that the plot has changed to become more original, and I am hoping that Chapters 3 and 4 both will be done by tomorrow afternoon.

Thanks for sticking with me so far,
-KC

 

[HB5squared]

well umm I feel that this tory has caught my interest but I really fear the third and fourth chapters. Some fics like this will probably get ignored but I'll continue to read to see where it goes. I didn't see th eplot change that much in the second chapter but still it was a good read