Disclaimer: I don't own the Pokemon or places mentioned/visited in this story.
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Drama (later on), Suspense (later on)
And just so you're not confused:
"Example" is for humans and Pokemon speaking in their native tongues (meaning humans speaking English, and Pokemon speaking their names).
"<Example>" is for Pokemon-speech translated into English.
"Example" is for human/Pokemon thoughts.
Also, constructive criticism is highly encouraged. Always looking to improve.
PM List:
Blaziken10285
Griff4815
DMerle
Macroboom
All was calm on Route 39. A warm sea breeze from the south brought the salty scent of Olivine City well beyond the city limits. The sun shone brightly overhead, glinting off the wings of a Skarmory as it took flight. A herd of Mareep took to grazing, their fleece shimmering in the sunlight. Swarms of Ledyba buzzed overhead, as a couple of Nidoran nestled themselves in the grass. The only noise to be heard was the bleating of Mareep.
But the serenity was not to last, for the rumbling of dozens of hooves interrupted the peaceful scene as a herd of frenzied Tauros came charging down the hill. The Ledyba took to the trees at the thunderous noise. The Mareep and Nidoran scattered, hurrying out of the immediate path of the panicked bull Pokemon. A young man and woman, out for a midday picnic, leaped to their feet and stumbled backwards as the many Tauros approached, blind with hysteria. The woman’s Furret bristled its fur and retreated to a nearby tree.
“There’ll be no stopping those Tauros until they hit something,” said the young man, watching as the infuriated Tauros thundered by.
“But they’re headed right for the city!” the young woman gasped.
The man started to reply, but was interrupted by the cry of a teenage boy, as he bolted down the hill after the rampaging Tauros. “I’m gonna be so grounded after this one! Graham! Nero! Come on, guys!”
The man sighed. “It’s Marcus again. Should’ve known he was behind this.”
Marcus Lancing--brave as he was crazy--had lost control of the family ranch’s Tauros herd. Again. The last time they’d only made it to the edge of his grandfather’s field, but this time he hadn’t been able to stop them. He was skidding down the hill at top speed. His red-and-white raglan shirt clung tightly to his thin, athletic torso, and his gray cargo shorts followed the rhythmic motions of his strong legs as he ran. A pair of worn-out sneakers donned his feet. As the wind whipped at his wavy honey-blond hair (ever-plagued by a perpetual Miltank-lick), it snatched his black-and-white cap right off his head.
But not for long. A large purple bulldog Pokemon--a Granbull called “Graham”--leaped into the air and snagged his trainer’s hat in his huge jaws. The Granbull landed with surprising nimbleness and, with a quick toss of his head, snapped the cap back to Marcus as they ran. Marcus caught the cap and winked a blue eye at his partner. “Thanks, bud!”
With renewed vigor, Graham tore forward even faster than before. Behind him, a black crow Pokemon of impressive size--Honchkrow--glided low to the ground.
“Nero, carry Graham to the front of the herd!” Marcus exclaimed, calling out directions as he ran. “Graham, stop those Tauros with your Scary Face!”
The two Pokemon obeyed. Nero beat his massive wings and surged forward, catching Graham by the shoulders in his strong talons as he flew. The bulldog Pokemon felt his paws leave the ground and watched as Nero carried him over stampeding Tauros. The Honchkrow overtook the herd easily and dropped Graham several yards ahead of them. The Granbull rose on his hind legs, teeth bared. He pulled down on his ears, made the scariest face he could think of, and barked loudly.
It worked. At least, it seemed to. Several Tauros in the front of the stampede reared back or skidded forward in surprise. The rest just plowed into them, which only served to whip up the frenzy even more.
“MOOOOOOHH!”
“<Ohmanohmanohman!>” Graham howled in Pokemon language, as he stumbled backwards in fright. He cringed, hoping with all his might to escape certain squashing.
“Nero, Mean Look!” Marcus called--just in time.
The crow Pokemon dropped in front of Graham and spread his wings defiantly before the stampeding Tauros. He cocked his head and glared at them, and as if by magic--or out of sheer terror--, all of the Tauros froze and collapsed in a heap.
The danger now averted, Nero turned his head around to Graham and crowed, “<These mortal bovines have learned an invaluable lesson this day: Fear the terrifying gaze of Darkness itself!>”
Graham plopped back onto his rear, panting, and muttered, “<Nero, for the last time, you’re not the embodiment of Darkness. Dimness, maybe. Darkness, no.>”
Nero ignored the remark. “<Fret not, my canine confidant,>” he replied with a cackle. “<With a bit more training, you too can transcend the limits of mortality and partake of the nectar of gods.>”
Graham rolled his eyes. The two Pokemon had known each other a long time. Nero had been the faithful (if somewhat eccentric) partner of Marcus’s mother, the late Tamara Lancing, who had disappeared during a Ranger mission in Kalos eleven years before. Of the commissioned team, only Nero had returned. Just three years prior to his mother’s disappearance, Marcus’s father, Paul Lancing, a field researcher under Professor Elm, had died in an avalanche inside Mt. Mortar.
Thus orphaned, Marcus had been raised largely by his grandparents on his mother’s side, who owned a Pokemon ranch north of Olivine City. The ranch had formerly been known as the MooMoo Farm, due to its famous MooMoo Milk, but due to the passing of its elderly namesake, MooMoo the Miltank, the name had slowly lost prominence. The owners--Marcus’s grandparents--had since widened their ranch’s emphasis, taking in domestic Pokemon of any sort. One of these was a Snubbull named Graham, who grew up alongside Marcus for nearly ten years as the ranch’s loyal guard Pokemon.
Graham immediately took a liking to little Marcus, as did all the other ranch Pokemon. The Miltank, Tauros, and Mareep, as well as both Graham and Nero, soon became like family to the orphaned boy.
“<Nero, you’re crazy.>”
“<Erroneous. I am perfectly sane.>”
Marcus, having finally caught up with them, skidded to a stop among the terrified--possibly petrified--Tauros. He placed his cap back on his head and pulled it backwards. “Whew! That was a close one! Good job, guys!”
He paused and poked at one of the Tauros. It didn’t budge. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Now how are we going to get all these Tauros back home?”
Nero raised a wing. “<Not it.>”
*****
As Marcus, Nero, and Graham herded the Tauros back into their enclosure, a massive, burly bull came trotting up to Graham, puffing his chest up arrogantly.
“<Well, if it isn’t Grahamps!>” the Tauros declared loudly, drawing the attention of a few Miltank as they passed by their pen. The Tauros swaggered in a circle around Graham.
“<I’m trying to do my job, Zeus,>” Graham growled, trying to avoid a direct confrontation with the much larger Tauros, “<so if you’ll just excu-->”
“<Oh, and a splendid job you’re doing of it! I’m feeling herded already! HA!>” Zeus guffawed, trotting proudly right in the Granbull’s way. He winked in the direction of the Miltank, who had gathered at the edge of their pen to watch and giggle as Zeus harassed Graham once again. It was starting to become a regular thing.
“<You should’ve seen your face, Grahammy!>” Zeus prodded, poking at Graham with his hoof as the bulldog Pokemon stomped past, grumbling. The Tauros sat back on his hind legs and cupped his face with his hooves, exclaiming, “<You were all like, ‘Help me! Help me! Nero, swoop in and save me from the mighty Zeus!’>”
He made sure to flex his beefy muscles as he emphasized “mighty Zeus” for the watching Miltank.
Graham snorted. “<Funny. I seem to remember you wetting your fur when I used my Scary Face.>”
Zeus cast a glance in the direction of the Miltank and laughed nervously. “<That was a pity-pee, Grahamps. I was feeling sorry for you.>”
“<Uh-huh. Sure.>”
*****
“Grandma? Granddad? We’re back!” Marcus called, throwing open the door to his grandparents’ home. The Tauros had returned to grazing peacefully (as peacefully as Tauros could) out in the Pokemon ranch’s field.
As Marcus entered, a grinning purple monkey swung into the hallway and grabbed onto Marcus’s face. His tail served as an extra appendage (a literal appendage, with a hand and everything), and he used it to snatch Marcus’s hat and place it on his own little head. The monkey then swung onto Marcus’s shoulder and laughed.
“Aipom pom!”
Marcus chuckled at the little Aipom’s antics. “I was only gone an hour, Shimmy!”
“Oh, Marcus,” he heard his grandmother call from another room, “did you manage to get all the Tauros back?”
He reclaimed his cap and followed her voice into the kitchen, where the sturdy old woman was busily chopping vegetables. “You bet, Grandma!” he replied, dropping into a chair. Shimmy slid off his shoulder and onto the table, where he proceeded to lift himself up on his tail and bounce up and down. “Shim, get off the table!”
“Pom pom!” the monkey declared, laughing. He leaped onto the hanging lightbulb and swung up into the rafters.
Graham plodded into the kitchen and took his seat next to Marcus at the table--just like a person. A purple, big-jawed person. Marcus patted him on the head. “Graham here was a big help. He and Nero managed to rein the big ol’ beef-heads in!”
Grandma laughed. She was about to say something when Granddad swung open the backdoor and walked in, overalls muddied from work outside. An old Growlithe trotted in behind him. “Hyee-doggy! Those young Mareep know how to give an old man a shock! Good thing I wore my rubber gloves to give ’em a good wool-trimmin’!”
He snapped the large shearers a couple of times to emphasize his point.
“Oh, hey, Marco!” he said, bushy eyebrows raised. “Were those Tauros okay for ya?”
Marcus and Graham looked at each other and shrugged.
“Oh, yeah. Same old, same old.”
Graham nodded. “<They’re just as dumb and slobbery as ever,>” he muttered in Pokemon-speak. To the humans it sounded like the low bark of a dog.
Shimmy the Aipom hung upside-down by his tail from the beams overhead, clutching his toes with his hands. He grinned down at Graham and said, “<Look who’s talkin’! Hah!>”
“<Why you little--!>” the Granbull barked, leaping onto the table and shaking his jowls angrily. This only made the monkey Pokemon laugh harder.
“Graham! Get down!” Granddad exclaimed sternly, snapping his shearers angrily. “You know you’re not supposed to sit on the table!”
Graham pointed up at Shimmy and whined.
“I don’t care what Shimmy told you,” Granddad replied, accurately guessing what Graham had said, “I’m telling you to get off the table!”
Graham complied and, with an enormous frown (for his jowls were quite large), skulked out of the room.
“Wow, Granddad,” Marcus whistled. “It sounded like you actually knew what Graham was talking about that time.”
“I did,” Granddad said, sliding his shearers onto the counter and wiping his face with a dish towel (much to his wife’s displeasure). “It’s not hard to figure out what the problem is whenever that pesky monkey’s around!”
Shimmy laughed again.
“Oh, that reminds me--” Grandma mused, stabbing her knife into the cutting board and turning around, “--someone called for you earlier, Marcus. Someone from the city. Said his name was… Oh… Or… Or-something…”
“Orion?” Marcus offered.
“Orion! That was it!”
“City-folk? Nothin’ good can come from no-good city-folk!” Granddad declared--for the fourth time that week.
Marcus ignored the jab. “He’s a trainer in the Olivine City gym. An assistant of Jasmine. What did he want?”
“Didn’t say,” Grandma continued, turning back to her vegetable-cutting. “Just that he needed to speak with you. Best not keep city-folk waiting!”
Shimmy folded his little arms over his chest and hung upside-down in front of Marcus. “<Yeah. They hate that,>” he said smugly, though Marcus couldn’t understand him.
“I’m warnin’ ya, Marco!” Granddad said, as Marcus rose to leave. “Nothin’ good can come from city-folk!”
“Alright, I’ll watch out for ’em, Granddad!” Marcus replied with a laugh, hurrying out of the kitchen. Shimmy bounded after him.
Granddad reached down and patted the old Growlithe that had fallen asleep at his feet. “That’s right. Nothin’ good from city-folk…”
*****
His second trip down the hill was much more peaceful than the first. The picnickers had since left (probably fearing an encore of earlier events), but most of the Pokemon had returned to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Shimmy was perched on Marcus’s shoulder, pointing and snickering at Pokemon they passed that he thought were funny looking. Graham, despite his general dislike for the monkey, had insisted on coming along. He was as loyal as they come, and always stuck by his master.
Marcus was used to Route 39. He took it often when he delivered their ranch’s products--milk from Miltank and wool from Mareep--to the Olivine market. Many of the citizens had come to like him, but others were convinced he was a troublemaker. Still, they all had to acknowledge his way with Pokemon--befriending, training, and battling them.
He’d grown especially close to Jasmine, Olivine City’s gym leader and the city’s representative of the Pokemon League. For years it had been her Ampharos that had lit the port city’s lighthouse. But her Ampharos had grown old, and a new one had been needed. It was Marcus’s that had been chosen to replace it: an Ampharos named Ella that he had raised since she was just a baby Mareep. He made frequent visits to see her there in the lighthouse, as she guided ships safely to shore day in and day out.
As Marcus approached the edge of the port city, he noticed a familiar figure waiting for him. “Ah, Marcus! I was hoping you’d come!”
“Orion! Hey, man! What’s up?”
“<Besides your general weirdness,>” Graham commented.
“<And your crazy hair!>” Shimmy added, snickering to himself. It was quite true, for Orion was a tad eccentric, and it showed most notably in his peculiar hairstyle. His steely-gray hair was parted right down the middle: half of it was standing on end, as if electrocuted, and the other half was sleeked back. His attire was mostly normal--albeit a bit formal--, consisting of a metallic vest over a white button-down, and a pair of black pants and shoes. He pushed a pair of glasses up his nose as he approached, smiling at Marcus.
A Pokemon floated behind Orion. It actually looked like three gray, one-eyed Pokemon stuck together with magnets. Marcus had seen it before, but it still confused him every time. Magneton, he remembered it was called.
“<That thing’s staring at me with its three eyeballs,>” Shimmy whined from Marcus’s shoulder. "<Make it stop.>"
Marcus turned his attention back to Orion.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” the Olivine gym assistant began, pushing his glasses up again--they seemed to slide down a lot--, “Miss Jasmine has a friend in Hoenn, and needs someone to pick something up for her. Ever heard of the Devon Corporation?”
Marcus shrugged, throwing Shimmy off-balance. “Yeah, sure. They’re pretty famous all over the place.”
“Well, their headquarters is in Rustboro City,” Orion continued, “and they’ve just developed some new equipment for gym leaders. Johto’s been a little slow on the uptake these past few years, but our Pokemon League’s making a comeback! Trouble is, there’s not a mail-carrier that runs from Hoenn to Johto, so Jasmine needs someone to pick her package up.”
“But why me?” Marcus inquired.
“<Yeah, why us?>” Graham echoed.
Orion grinned, sliding his glasses back up his nose. Again. “Well, naturally, it needs to be someone she can trust, and we’ve all got our hands full right now with the big trainer boom in Johto as of late. And since you’re a responsible guy and the toughest trainer this side of Ecruteak--besides us, of course--Jasmine thought you’d be a perfect fit for the job.”
“Well, gee, that’s cool and all,” Marcus replied, scratching his head, “but what about my Ampharos, Ella? She won’t have anyone to visit her if I’m gone.”
Orion retrieved a Pokeball from his belt and extended it to Marcus. “I anticipated that, and I have her Pokeball right here.”
Marcus received the Pokeball and raised an eyebrow. “What about the lighthouse then? If Ella is gone, who’ll guide the boats into port?”
“Jasmine says her Ampharos can hold down the fort until you get back,” Orion answered--he seemed to have an answer for every objection. “She may be old, but she’s still got plenty of light in her for that lighthouse!”
Marcus still seemed unsure. “Okay, so how will I get there?”
“<I’m not swimming,>” Shimmy resolved, arms crossed.
“<You can’t swim,>” Graham muttered.
“<Which is why I’m not doing it.>”
“Don’t worry about getting there! We’ll take care of it. We’ve already got a round-trip ticket for the S.S. Aqua to take you from here all the way to Slateport City in Hoenn.”
“Whoa. Sounds like you guys had this all figured out,” Marcus mused, looking down at the Pokeball in his hand. “A trip to Hoenn and back, huh? An adventure outside of Johto? Sounds like fun.”
He turned to the two Pokemon with him. “What do you think, guys? Should we take a quick trip all the way to Hoenn?”
“<Nope. Sounds like trouble. Let’s just go home,>” Graham woofed.
“<Do they have girls in Hoenn?>” Shimmy inquired. “<Because if they do, I’m totally in.>”
Marcus still couldn’t understand them, but it didn’t matter. He’d already made up his mind: “Great! That settles it!”
He turned back to Orion, who was eagerly awaiting his reply. “Orion, we’re in.”
“Perfect! Glad to hear it!” the assistant exclaimed. “Especially,” he thought, breathing a sigh of relief, “because those tickets were nonrefundable!”
Graham groaned. Shimmy laughed.
Orion handed Marcus a round-trip ticket. “This ticket will see you there and back. You can use it at your leisure; there’s no specified date on the return trip. The ship leaves at ten o’ clock in the morning, so I’ll meet you at the dock then. Sleep well, Marcus! You have an adventure ahead of you!”
Marcus couldn’t help but think that maybe he’d made a rash decision. His grandfather had told him many times that “nothin’ good can come from city-folk.”
But as he parted ways with Orion that afternoon, he was excited. Excited for a chance to explore beyond the life he’d grown accustomed to. Excited for a chance to see new things. Excited for…
…an adventure.
And it was just a quick trip, right?
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Drama (later on), Suspense (later on)
And just so you're not confused:
"Example" is for humans and Pokemon speaking in their native tongues (meaning humans speaking English, and Pokemon speaking their names).
"<Example>" is for Pokemon-speech translated into English.
"Example" is for human/Pokemon thoughts.
Also, constructive criticism is highly encouraged. Always looking to improve.
PM List:
Blaziken10285
Griff4815
DMerle
Macroboom
**********
They say that even the tiniest beat of a Butterfree's wings on one side of the world can, through a remarkable string of events, trigger a tidal wave on the other... And with it, immense catastrophe.
This is how the sun was eclipsed, and its light snuffed out.
**********
Marcus Lancing:
Soleil Noir
Chapter One
En Route 39
They say that even the tiniest beat of a Butterfree's wings on one side of the world can, through a remarkable string of events, trigger a tidal wave on the other... And with it, immense catastrophe.
This is how the sun was eclipsed, and its light snuffed out.
**********
Marcus Lancing:
Soleil Noir
Chapter One
En Route 39
All was calm on Route 39. A warm sea breeze from the south brought the salty scent of Olivine City well beyond the city limits. The sun shone brightly overhead, glinting off the wings of a Skarmory as it took flight. A herd of Mareep took to grazing, their fleece shimmering in the sunlight. Swarms of Ledyba buzzed overhead, as a couple of Nidoran nestled themselves in the grass. The only noise to be heard was the bleating of Mareep.
But the serenity was not to last, for the rumbling of dozens of hooves interrupted the peaceful scene as a herd of frenzied Tauros came charging down the hill. The Ledyba took to the trees at the thunderous noise. The Mareep and Nidoran scattered, hurrying out of the immediate path of the panicked bull Pokemon. A young man and woman, out for a midday picnic, leaped to their feet and stumbled backwards as the many Tauros approached, blind with hysteria. The woman’s Furret bristled its fur and retreated to a nearby tree.
“There’ll be no stopping those Tauros until they hit something,” said the young man, watching as the infuriated Tauros thundered by.
“But they’re headed right for the city!” the young woman gasped.
The man started to reply, but was interrupted by the cry of a teenage boy, as he bolted down the hill after the rampaging Tauros. “I’m gonna be so grounded after this one! Graham! Nero! Come on, guys!”
The man sighed. “It’s Marcus again. Should’ve known he was behind this.”
Marcus Lancing--brave as he was crazy--had lost control of the family ranch’s Tauros herd. Again. The last time they’d only made it to the edge of his grandfather’s field, but this time he hadn’t been able to stop them. He was skidding down the hill at top speed. His red-and-white raglan shirt clung tightly to his thin, athletic torso, and his gray cargo shorts followed the rhythmic motions of his strong legs as he ran. A pair of worn-out sneakers donned his feet. As the wind whipped at his wavy honey-blond hair (ever-plagued by a perpetual Miltank-lick), it snatched his black-and-white cap right off his head.
But not for long. A large purple bulldog Pokemon--a Granbull called “Graham”--leaped into the air and snagged his trainer’s hat in his huge jaws. The Granbull landed with surprising nimbleness and, with a quick toss of his head, snapped the cap back to Marcus as they ran. Marcus caught the cap and winked a blue eye at his partner. “Thanks, bud!”
With renewed vigor, Graham tore forward even faster than before. Behind him, a black crow Pokemon of impressive size--Honchkrow--glided low to the ground.
“Nero, carry Graham to the front of the herd!” Marcus exclaimed, calling out directions as he ran. “Graham, stop those Tauros with your Scary Face!”
The two Pokemon obeyed. Nero beat his massive wings and surged forward, catching Graham by the shoulders in his strong talons as he flew. The bulldog Pokemon felt his paws leave the ground and watched as Nero carried him over stampeding Tauros. The Honchkrow overtook the herd easily and dropped Graham several yards ahead of them. The Granbull rose on his hind legs, teeth bared. He pulled down on his ears, made the scariest face he could think of, and barked loudly.
It worked. At least, it seemed to. Several Tauros in the front of the stampede reared back or skidded forward in surprise. The rest just plowed into them, which only served to whip up the frenzy even more.
“MOOOOOOHH!”
“<Ohmanohmanohman!>” Graham howled in Pokemon language, as he stumbled backwards in fright. He cringed, hoping with all his might to escape certain squashing.
“Nero, Mean Look!” Marcus called--just in time.
The crow Pokemon dropped in front of Graham and spread his wings defiantly before the stampeding Tauros. He cocked his head and glared at them, and as if by magic--or out of sheer terror--, all of the Tauros froze and collapsed in a heap.
The danger now averted, Nero turned his head around to Graham and crowed, “<These mortal bovines have learned an invaluable lesson this day: Fear the terrifying gaze of Darkness itself!>”
Graham plopped back onto his rear, panting, and muttered, “<Nero, for the last time, you’re not the embodiment of Darkness. Dimness, maybe. Darkness, no.>”
Nero ignored the remark. “<Fret not, my canine confidant,>” he replied with a cackle. “<With a bit more training, you too can transcend the limits of mortality and partake of the nectar of gods.>”
Graham rolled his eyes. The two Pokemon had known each other a long time. Nero had been the faithful (if somewhat eccentric) partner of Marcus’s mother, the late Tamara Lancing, who had disappeared during a Ranger mission in Kalos eleven years before. Of the commissioned team, only Nero had returned. Just three years prior to his mother’s disappearance, Marcus’s father, Paul Lancing, a field researcher under Professor Elm, had died in an avalanche inside Mt. Mortar.
Thus orphaned, Marcus had been raised largely by his grandparents on his mother’s side, who owned a Pokemon ranch north of Olivine City. The ranch had formerly been known as the MooMoo Farm, due to its famous MooMoo Milk, but due to the passing of its elderly namesake, MooMoo the Miltank, the name had slowly lost prominence. The owners--Marcus’s grandparents--had since widened their ranch’s emphasis, taking in domestic Pokemon of any sort. One of these was a Snubbull named Graham, who grew up alongside Marcus for nearly ten years as the ranch’s loyal guard Pokemon.
Graham immediately took a liking to little Marcus, as did all the other ranch Pokemon. The Miltank, Tauros, and Mareep, as well as both Graham and Nero, soon became like family to the orphaned boy.
“<Nero, you’re crazy.>”
“<Erroneous. I am perfectly sane.>”
Marcus, having finally caught up with them, skidded to a stop among the terrified--possibly petrified--Tauros. He placed his cap back on his head and pulled it backwards. “Whew! That was a close one! Good job, guys!”
He paused and poked at one of the Tauros. It didn’t budge. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Now how are we going to get all these Tauros back home?”
Nero raised a wing. “<Not it.>”
*****
As Marcus, Nero, and Graham herded the Tauros back into their enclosure, a massive, burly bull came trotting up to Graham, puffing his chest up arrogantly.
“<Well, if it isn’t Grahamps!>” the Tauros declared loudly, drawing the attention of a few Miltank as they passed by their pen. The Tauros swaggered in a circle around Graham.
“<I’m trying to do my job, Zeus,>” Graham growled, trying to avoid a direct confrontation with the much larger Tauros, “<so if you’ll just excu-->”
“<Oh, and a splendid job you’re doing of it! I’m feeling herded already! HA!>” Zeus guffawed, trotting proudly right in the Granbull’s way. He winked in the direction of the Miltank, who had gathered at the edge of their pen to watch and giggle as Zeus harassed Graham once again. It was starting to become a regular thing.
“<You should’ve seen your face, Grahammy!>” Zeus prodded, poking at Graham with his hoof as the bulldog Pokemon stomped past, grumbling. The Tauros sat back on his hind legs and cupped his face with his hooves, exclaiming, “<You were all like, ‘Help me! Help me! Nero, swoop in and save me from the mighty Zeus!’>”
He made sure to flex his beefy muscles as he emphasized “mighty Zeus” for the watching Miltank.
Graham snorted. “<Funny. I seem to remember you wetting your fur when I used my Scary Face.>”
Zeus cast a glance in the direction of the Miltank and laughed nervously. “<That was a pity-pee, Grahamps. I was feeling sorry for you.>”
“<Uh-huh. Sure.>”
*****
“Grandma? Granddad? We’re back!” Marcus called, throwing open the door to his grandparents’ home. The Tauros had returned to grazing peacefully (as peacefully as Tauros could) out in the Pokemon ranch’s field.
As Marcus entered, a grinning purple monkey swung into the hallway and grabbed onto Marcus’s face. His tail served as an extra appendage (a literal appendage, with a hand and everything), and he used it to snatch Marcus’s hat and place it on his own little head. The monkey then swung onto Marcus’s shoulder and laughed.
“Aipom pom!”
Marcus chuckled at the little Aipom’s antics. “I was only gone an hour, Shimmy!”
“Oh, Marcus,” he heard his grandmother call from another room, “did you manage to get all the Tauros back?”
He reclaimed his cap and followed her voice into the kitchen, where the sturdy old woman was busily chopping vegetables. “You bet, Grandma!” he replied, dropping into a chair. Shimmy slid off his shoulder and onto the table, where he proceeded to lift himself up on his tail and bounce up and down. “Shim, get off the table!”
“Pom pom!” the monkey declared, laughing. He leaped onto the hanging lightbulb and swung up into the rafters.
Graham plodded into the kitchen and took his seat next to Marcus at the table--just like a person. A purple, big-jawed person. Marcus patted him on the head. “Graham here was a big help. He and Nero managed to rein the big ol’ beef-heads in!”
Grandma laughed. She was about to say something when Granddad swung open the backdoor and walked in, overalls muddied from work outside. An old Growlithe trotted in behind him. “Hyee-doggy! Those young Mareep know how to give an old man a shock! Good thing I wore my rubber gloves to give ’em a good wool-trimmin’!”
He snapped the large shearers a couple of times to emphasize his point.
“Oh, hey, Marco!” he said, bushy eyebrows raised. “Were those Tauros okay for ya?”
Marcus and Graham looked at each other and shrugged.
“Oh, yeah. Same old, same old.”
Graham nodded. “<They’re just as dumb and slobbery as ever,>” he muttered in Pokemon-speak. To the humans it sounded like the low bark of a dog.
Shimmy the Aipom hung upside-down by his tail from the beams overhead, clutching his toes with his hands. He grinned down at Graham and said, “<Look who’s talkin’! Hah!>”
“<Why you little--!>” the Granbull barked, leaping onto the table and shaking his jowls angrily. This only made the monkey Pokemon laugh harder.
“Graham! Get down!” Granddad exclaimed sternly, snapping his shearers angrily. “You know you’re not supposed to sit on the table!”
Graham pointed up at Shimmy and whined.
“I don’t care what Shimmy told you,” Granddad replied, accurately guessing what Graham had said, “I’m telling you to get off the table!”
Graham complied and, with an enormous frown (for his jowls were quite large), skulked out of the room.
“Wow, Granddad,” Marcus whistled. “It sounded like you actually knew what Graham was talking about that time.”
“I did,” Granddad said, sliding his shearers onto the counter and wiping his face with a dish towel (much to his wife’s displeasure). “It’s not hard to figure out what the problem is whenever that pesky monkey’s around!”
Shimmy laughed again.
“Oh, that reminds me--” Grandma mused, stabbing her knife into the cutting board and turning around, “--someone called for you earlier, Marcus. Someone from the city. Said his name was… Oh… Or… Or-something…”
“Orion?” Marcus offered.
“Orion! That was it!”
“City-folk? Nothin’ good can come from no-good city-folk!” Granddad declared--for the fourth time that week.
Marcus ignored the jab. “He’s a trainer in the Olivine City gym. An assistant of Jasmine. What did he want?”
“Didn’t say,” Grandma continued, turning back to her vegetable-cutting. “Just that he needed to speak with you. Best not keep city-folk waiting!”
Shimmy folded his little arms over his chest and hung upside-down in front of Marcus. “<Yeah. They hate that,>” he said smugly, though Marcus couldn’t understand him.
“I’m warnin’ ya, Marco!” Granddad said, as Marcus rose to leave. “Nothin’ good can come from city-folk!”
“Alright, I’ll watch out for ’em, Granddad!” Marcus replied with a laugh, hurrying out of the kitchen. Shimmy bounded after him.
Granddad reached down and patted the old Growlithe that had fallen asleep at his feet. “That’s right. Nothin’ good from city-folk…”
*****
His second trip down the hill was much more peaceful than the first. The picnickers had since left (probably fearing an encore of earlier events), but most of the Pokemon had returned to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Shimmy was perched on Marcus’s shoulder, pointing and snickering at Pokemon they passed that he thought were funny looking. Graham, despite his general dislike for the monkey, had insisted on coming along. He was as loyal as they come, and always stuck by his master.
Marcus was used to Route 39. He took it often when he delivered their ranch’s products--milk from Miltank and wool from Mareep--to the Olivine market. Many of the citizens had come to like him, but others were convinced he was a troublemaker. Still, they all had to acknowledge his way with Pokemon--befriending, training, and battling them.
He’d grown especially close to Jasmine, Olivine City’s gym leader and the city’s representative of the Pokemon League. For years it had been her Ampharos that had lit the port city’s lighthouse. But her Ampharos had grown old, and a new one had been needed. It was Marcus’s that had been chosen to replace it: an Ampharos named Ella that he had raised since she was just a baby Mareep. He made frequent visits to see her there in the lighthouse, as she guided ships safely to shore day in and day out.
As Marcus approached the edge of the port city, he noticed a familiar figure waiting for him. “Ah, Marcus! I was hoping you’d come!”
“Orion! Hey, man! What’s up?”
“<Besides your general weirdness,>” Graham commented.
“<And your crazy hair!>” Shimmy added, snickering to himself. It was quite true, for Orion was a tad eccentric, and it showed most notably in his peculiar hairstyle. His steely-gray hair was parted right down the middle: half of it was standing on end, as if electrocuted, and the other half was sleeked back. His attire was mostly normal--albeit a bit formal--, consisting of a metallic vest over a white button-down, and a pair of black pants and shoes. He pushed a pair of glasses up his nose as he approached, smiling at Marcus.
A Pokemon floated behind Orion. It actually looked like three gray, one-eyed Pokemon stuck together with magnets. Marcus had seen it before, but it still confused him every time. Magneton, he remembered it was called.
“<That thing’s staring at me with its three eyeballs,>” Shimmy whined from Marcus’s shoulder. "<Make it stop.>"
Marcus turned his attention back to Orion.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” the Olivine gym assistant began, pushing his glasses up again--they seemed to slide down a lot--, “Miss Jasmine has a friend in Hoenn, and needs someone to pick something up for her. Ever heard of the Devon Corporation?”
Marcus shrugged, throwing Shimmy off-balance. “Yeah, sure. They’re pretty famous all over the place.”
“Well, their headquarters is in Rustboro City,” Orion continued, “and they’ve just developed some new equipment for gym leaders. Johto’s been a little slow on the uptake these past few years, but our Pokemon League’s making a comeback! Trouble is, there’s not a mail-carrier that runs from Hoenn to Johto, so Jasmine needs someone to pick her package up.”
“But why me?” Marcus inquired.
“<Yeah, why us?>” Graham echoed.
Orion grinned, sliding his glasses back up his nose. Again. “Well, naturally, it needs to be someone she can trust, and we’ve all got our hands full right now with the big trainer boom in Johto as of late. And since you’re a responsible guy and the toughest trainer this side of Ecruteak--besides us, of course--Jasmine thought you’d be a perfect fit for the job.”
“Well, gee, that’s cool and all,” Marcus replied, scratching his head, “but what about my Ampharos, Ella? She won’t have anyone to visit her if I’m gone.”
Orion retrieved a Pokeball from his belt and extended it to Marcus. “I anticipated that, and I have her Pokeball right here.”
Marcus received the Pokeball and raised an eyebrow. “What about the lighthouse then? If Ella is gone, who’ll guide the boats into port?”
“Jasmine says her Ampharos can hold down the fort until you get back,” Orion answered--he seemed to have an answer for every objection. “She may be old, but she’s still got plenty of light in her for that lighthouse!”
Marcus still seemed unsure. “Okay, so how will I get there?”
“<I’m not swimming,>” Shimmy resolved, arms crossed.
“<You can’t swim,>” Graham muttered.
“<Which is why I’m not doing it.>”
“Don’t worry about getting there! We’ll take care of it. We’ve already got a round-trip ticket for the S.S. Aqua to take you from here all the way to Slateport City in Hoenn.”
“Whoa. Sounds like you guys had this all figured out,” Marcus mused, looking down at the Pokeball in his hand. “A trip to Hoenn and back, huh? An adventure outside of Johto? Sounds like fun.”
He turned to the two Pokemon with him. “What do you think, guys? Should we take a quick trip all the way to Hoenn?”
“<Nope. Sounds like trouble. Let’s just go home,>” Graham woofed.
“<Do they have girls in Hoenn?>” Shimmy inquired. “<Because if they do, I’m totally in.>”
Marcus still couldn’t understand them, but it didn’t matter. He’d already made up his mind: “Great! That settles it!”
He turned back to Orion, who was eagerly awaiting his reply. “Orion, we’re in.”
“Perfect! Glad to hear it!” the assistant exclaimed. “Especially,” he thought, breathing a sigh of relief, “because those tickets were nonrefundable!”
Graham groaned. Shimmy laughed.
Orion handed Marcus a round-trip ticket. “This ticket will see you there and back. You can use it at your leisure; there’s no specified date on the return trip. The ship leaves at ten o’ clock in the morning, so I’ll meet you at the dock then. Sleep well, Marcus! You have an adventure ahead of you!”
Marcus couldn’t help but think that maybe he’d made a rash decision. His grandfather had told him many times that “nothin’ good can come from city-folk.”
But as he parted ways with Orion that afternoon, he was excited. Excited for a chance to explore beyond the life he’d grown accustomed to. Excited for a chance to see new things. Excited for…
…an adventure.
And it was just a quick trip, right?
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