This story, which - for the time being - is rated PG-13, involved a brand new island, Tenta, along with 151 new Pokemon inhabitants.
I won't say anymore. That's what the story is for.
Prologue
A flock of Boltlarks raced by overhead, a chilly gust of wind chasing close behind. Professor Larch, recently returned from his seminar in Ochre City, stared at the electric birds as they disappeared into the distance.
“Now isn’t that odd,” he commented to himself. The Professor hurried back to his lab, and – after feeding the Pokemon in his care – delved into the migration patterns of mature Boltlarks.
“That’s what I thought. They never travel this far north.”
The Professor leaned back in his chair, puzzled. In all his years of Pokemon research, the only places he’d ever seen that species of Pokemon was to the far south. Boltlarks weren’t adapted to the frigid temperatures of the area and, if they weren’t rescued, they would surely die.
Reluctantly, but with a peppy fervor, the Professor reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Dialing the only person in town that he could think of, he waited for her to answer.
A young boy answered instead.
“Ben,” the Professor said. “Is your mother around?”
“No. I don’t know where she is,” Ben, the boy (the young man, the Professor admitted to himself) replied.
“Well that’s all right. Are you busy this afternoon?” The Professor could hear Ben running off a list of things he had to do.
“I suppose I’m free for a while,” Ben said. “Should I come by?”
“Yes, please do. Promptly, if possible.”
Twenty minutes later, the lab’s doorbell rang. The Professor ran to the door, opened it, and quickly escorted Ben inside. The Professor was amazed at how much Ben had grown since he’d last saw him. It couldn’t have been more than a few weeks; just before he left for his seminar.
“Ben, I’m so glad that you could come on such short notice.”
“No problem. How was your trip, Professor?”
“The trip? What trip?” Then there was a pause, as the Professor’s mind caught up with his mouth.
“Oh… that trip. Fine, fine. It was fine. But there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
The Professor took Ben into his main study, which was littered with stacks of Pokemon research and countless encyclopedias towering against the walls. Disproportionably-large bookshelves brought a claustrophobic air into the room. It usually put Ben off, but the Professor’s mood kept him focused.
Not wasting a moment, the Professor sat Ben down, then started pacing around the room. “Earlier this morning I witnessed several Boltlarks flying to the north.”
Ben swallowed, slightly confused. “…and?”
“Well, you see, Boltlarks are strictly warm-weather Pokemon. They can’t survive our harsh winters. In all my years, I’ve never seen them in this area.”
“So what does this have to do with me?” Ben asked.
“Actually, it has more to do with your mother, Caroline,” The Professor said.
“My mother? Now you’re just confusing me.”
“I was hoping your mother could follow the Boltlarks north to see what they’re up to, and to rescue them if circumstances call for it.” The Professor paused, suddenly unsure of his memory. “She is a Pokemon trainer, right?”
“No, she used to be. She hasn’t had any Pokemon in years. I barely remember any of them.”
“Are you serious? Tell me you’re joking!” The Professor’s pace quickened. He was at a loss.
“Is there anyone else that can go? I’m sure there’s another trainer nearby…”
“No. Your mother is the only person I trust to take care of this situation.”
Ben couldn’t think of anything to do. He sat, mind racing for a solution. That solution came to the Professor first.
“Ben! I have it!”
Without another word, the Professor rushed out of the study and down the hall. Ben, smile on his face, followed.
They came to the Pokemon storage room. Red-and-black Pokeballs rested on shelves and displays, each labeled with a Pokemon’s name and catalogue number. The Professor began searching the horde of Pokeballs.
“Ben, look for a Pokeball numbered For-Nine-For, One-tee. We’ll need it.”
Each taking one side of the room, the Professor and Ben scanned the shelves for the Pokeball. Ben’s eyes were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of Pokemon the Professor had collected over the years. He was familiar with some of them, but there were many Pokemon he had never heard of before.
Suddenly, his eyes fell on the Pokeball in question. The label underneath it read 494/1T.
“Professor! I found it!” Ben removed the Pokeball from the shelf and brought it over to the Professor. The Professor took it from Ben’s hand, and held it out to his side.
“What Pokemon is in there, Professor?”
The Professor smiled. “A very rare Pokemon, which should come in handy.”
Throwing the ball into the air, the Professor called to it: “Come on out, Snaldee!”
I won't say anymore. That's what the story is for.
Prologue
A flock of Boltlarks raced by overhead, a chilly gust of wind chasing close behind. Professor Larch, recently returned from his seminar in Ochre City, stared at the electric birds as they disappeared into the distance.
“Now isn’t that odd,” he commented to himself. The Professor hurried back to his lab, and – after feeding the Pokemon in his care – delved into the migration patterns of mature Boltlarks.
“That’s what I thought. They never travel this far north.”
The Professor leaned back in his chair, puzzled. In all his years of Pokemon research, the only places he’d ever seen that species of Pokemon was to the far south. Boltlarks weren’t adapted to the frigid temperatures of the area and, if they weren’t rescued, they would surely die.
Reluctantly, but with a peppy fervor, the Professor reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Dialing the only person in town that he could think of, he waited for her to answer.
A young boy answered instead.
“Ben,” the Professor said. “Is your mother around?”
“No. I don’t know where she is,” Ben, the boy (the young man, the Professor admitted to himself) replied.
“Well that’s all right. Are you busy this afternoon?” The Professor could hear Ben running off a list of things he had to do.
“I suppose I’m free for a while,” Ben said. “Should I come by?”
“Yes, please do. Promptly, if possible.”
Twenty minutes later, the lab’s doorbell rang. The Professor ran to the door, opened it, and quickly escorted Ben inside. The Professor was amazed at how much Ben had grown since he’d last saw him. It couldn’t have been more than a few weeks; just before he left for his seminar.
“Ben, I’m so glad that you could come on such short notice.”
“No problem. How was your trip, Professor?”
“The trip? What trip?” Then there was a pause, as the Professor’s mind caught up with his mouth.
“Oh… that trip. Fine, fine. It was fine. But there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
The Professor took Ben into his main study, which was littered with stacks of Pokemon research and countless encyclopedias towering against the walls. Disproportionably-large bookshelves brought a claustrophobic air into the room. It usually put Ben off, but the Professor’s mood kept him focused.
Not wasting a moment, the Professor sat Ben down, then started pacing around the room. “Earlier this morning I witnessed several Boltlarks flying to the north.”
Ben swallowed, slightly confused. “…and?”
“Well, you see, Boltlarks are strictly warm-weather Pokemon. They can’t survive our harsh winters. In all my years, I’ve never seen them in this area.”
“So what does this have to do with me?” Ben asked.
“Actually, it has more to do with your mother, Caroline,” The Professor said.
“My mother? Now you’re just confusing me.”
“I was hoping your mother could follow the Boltlarks north to see what they’re up to, and to rescue them if circumstances call for it.” The Professor paused, suddenly unsure of his memory. “She is a Pokemon trainer, right?”
“No, she used to be. She hasn’t had any Pokemon in years. I barely remember any of them.”
“Are you serious? Tell me you’re joking!” The Professor’s pace quickened. He was at a loss.
“Is there anyone else that can go? I’m sure there’s another trainer nearby…”
“No. Your mother is the only person I trust to take care of this situation.”
Ben couldn’t think of anything to do. He sat, mind racing for a solution. That solution came to the Professor first.
“Ben! I have it!”
Without another word, the Professor rushed out of the study and down the hall. Ben, smile on his face, followed.
They came to the Pokemon storage room. Red-and-black Pokeballs rested on shelves and displays, each labeled with a Pokemon’s name and catalogue number. The Professor began searching the horde of Pokeballs.
“Ben, look for a Pokeball numbered For-Nine-For, One-tee. We’ll need it.”
Each taking one side of the room, the Professor and Ben scanned the shelves for the Pokeball. Ben’s eyes were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of Pokemon the Professor had collected over the years. He was familiar with some of them, but there were many Pokemon he had never heard of before.
Suddenly, his eyes fell on the Pokeball in question. The label underneath it read 494/1T.
“Professor! I found it!” Ben removed the Pokeball from the shelf and brought it over to the Professor. The Professor took it from Ben’s hand, and held it out to his side.
“What Pokemon is in there, Professor?”
The Professor smiled. “A very rare Pokemon, which should come in handy.”
Throwing the ball into the air, the Professor called to it: “Come on out, Snaldee!”