... (Just Another Trainer Fic?)

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Post #1
This fic is currently rated PG-13. The beginning doesn't have much of anything, but the later chapters…*gulp*

Gore, Violence, Sexual Reference, and, my favorite, twisted morals.

I'll try to warn you before any of this happens, however. Go crazy.

And, well, as I hope the name warned you, the plot of this fic is not the most original. It is just a trainer fic. You see, I've decided not to write something with a super complex plot, that is, until I'm a better writer. If it can entertain yo, well, so be it, but it's only meant to hone and polish my writing skills.

Chapter One

Samuel Johnson drowsily climbed up out of his bed after a long, sleepless night on the day of June eighth. He lay there for a bit, half-asleep, but then he realized what day it was

Like any energy filled youth, (eleven specifically) Sam almost literally flew over to his dresser, and quickly replaced his plaid pajama bottoms and white undershirt with jean shorts and a flaming red t-shirt. Sam considered brushing his teeth momentarily, but it was deemed trivial in his young mind.

The adolescent's aqua blue hair whipped past him as he grabbed his Pokèball belt that was lying on his kitchen counter, and then bolted out the door. His parents knew where he was going; they had all discussed it beforehand.

Pallet was never more peaceful than in the early morning. It was silent, of course, except for Samuel’s shoes beating the pavement and the occasional Pidgey chirping from a tree.

Sam continued running, about to burst of the anticipation. Where was the boy heading exactly? Everyone in Pallet knew about it. Sam was headed to the Pokèmon lab, where Professor Oak was giving out starter Pokèmon to beginning trainers. He was determined to be the first one there, so he would get the first pick of Pokèmon.

And that is when he saw it. The modest, dome shaped building where so many world-changing discoveries had been made. Sam quickened his pace, although his sides had begun to cramp up.

When examined closer, it was made evident that rust covered almost half of the gutter, and the dew-covered grass Sam was standing was about three inches long. Sam, although passing the building many times in a car, had never actually received the chance to come this near.

Sam pulled open the glass sliding door, (which looked more like it belonged in a summer beach house, but Sam didn’t notice at the time) to a room was way to clean to his liking. Computers with matching desks were placed systematically throughout the expanse of the room, (a few of the occupied) and bookshelves were lined up against a small stretch of the wall, on either side. Sam also detected a faint whiff of bleach.

However, the most prominent thing in the room were two machines with a red, dome, translucent cover that looked like plastic and a cylinder bottom littered with buttons. Each had a man guarding over it, the one on the left, someone whom Sam had no other name for: Nerd. He was wearing a white overcoat with oddly colored buttons, along with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that looked like they could be connected to his sandy colored hair. He also seemed to have a hunchback.

The one on the right, however, Sam recognized from seeing his face on television, and respected him immediately. He had gray hair that front looked like it stuck up straight in the air by itself, and an old, weathered, face that somehow gave Sam the impression that he enjoyed his life immensely. He was wearing a lab coat, however, it looked somehow stylish on him.

You can probably guess who Sam chose.

When Sam walked over to the professor, slightly panting from the jog to the lab, Oak, greeted Sam by saying in a quick, sharp tone that somehow didn’t seem mean in the slightest, “Hello. You’re here early. Better than in ninety-eight, I suppose… I’ll need to see your trainer card, then.”

Sam responded by using the word ‘yeah’ and reaching his hand into his pocket. He felt the smooth lamination of his trainer card, and he then gave it to Oak. For a moment there was a bit of an awkward silence.

“Well, I suppose you’re here for a Pokèmon, then? Well, if you’ll come to the side here, there’s a monitor,” Oak said very quickly. Then, giving a moment for Sam’s brain to catch up with his words, they went to the rightetermost side of the cylinder, where there was a small computer screen imbedded into the machine. The professor next pressed a button and the monitor flickered on.

“So, what would you like?” Oak asked in a tone that reminded Sam of one of those unnaturally nice service workers.

“Well, erm, what are there?” asked Sam in return, only thinking of Kanto’s national Pokèmon, Charmander, Squritle, and Bulbasuar, none of which he was particularly obsessive over.

“We have numerous kinds. We have, of course, Kanto’s original starter’s, along with Hoenn’s and Sinnoh’s, and two of Johto’s; Chikorita and Tododile. We have several regular Pokèmon, like Starly and Rattatta, and Pikachu, who has mysteriously grown in popularity since Ash Ketchum…” Oak said with a tone of distaste, “We have basically every baby Pokèmon, even a Smoochum. Anyway, that’s pretty much it.”

"How do you have that many?" Sam asked, curiosity taking over. His voice was like a child offered a chocolate factory.

Oak, however seemed a bit irritated. He obviously wanted to get through this as quickly as he could.

"Pokèmon can be transformed into data. Recently, all us professors (from Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh, that is,) made a communal server where we placed our Pokèmon in the beginning of training season. We can access starters from all over the world."

Sam gave an "Oh."

He pondered for a moment, trying to remember different kinds of baby Pokèmon, and contest them against other Pokèmon. At one point he asked Oak if they had Magnimite, and he said that they did, but then he remembered a horror movie he had watched where the electric Pokèmon shut down the world’s power supply and he sheepishly shied away from that Pokèmon.

Sam tried to decide, but why he was pondering, three more kids came in and walked up behind him, completely ignoring the other machine (meaning the other guy). This made Sam panic, and he tried to think faster, resulting in him thinking slower.

He was about to decide between Munchlax and Turtwig when a exhausted-looking assistant slammed open the door in the back of the lab and yelled, “Samuel!”

Sam whipped his head back thinking that they meant him, but Oak responded first.

“What is it?”

“It’s the Eevees! They’ve hatched!”

Oak whipped around and walked quickly through the door, his lab coat trailing behind him, and Sam automatically followed, without thinking what he was doing.

Sam was then taken into a long, tiled hall. After walking a stretch, they unexpectedly turned left, and Sam almost hit a door.

The room Sam was now in was also tiled, and completely barren, except for a small, metal table, on which were two, fox-like creatures and a green egg speckled with white. The Eevees had brown fur with a cream-colored mane and tail; however, they seemed to be covered in slime. Sam saw the reason why; next to them sat eggs that were shattered into pieces. They were obviously newborns. (Next to them was also a whole, green egg, speckled with white, but this did not interest Sam so much).

“Two hatched and you didn’t tell me?” interrogated Oak.

“I-I-Well,” stuttered the assistant.

“Never mind! Where are your notes?”

“I-I didn’t take any; I was too busy getting you!” the assistant answered.

Oak gave the assistant a screw you look, then pulled out a notepad and a pen from his pocket and began scribbling furiously into it. For the next few minutes he continued doing so, (a time span in which Max and the assistant remained frozen and silent), pausing only to glance up at the Pokèmon. Finally, he stopped to turn around and say, “Make yourself useful and go get a bottle of milk. And get Rowan on the phone.”

It was then when Oak noticed Sam, and the apparent look of envy on his face.

“Look. I know you really want an Eevee. Every kid does. They are just too rare and we need them for research.”

Sam wasn’t all that disappointed. He knew he couldn’t very well miss what he never had. However, he couldn’t help but wish he had obliged. Oak resumed his note-taking.

The next moment, the sound of pencil against paper stopped, and the last sound before a complete silence was a small mew from one of the kits. Then a small crack rang across the room. Sam stepped closer, and there was the unhatched egg, with a considerable chip taken out of it.

The scribbling on Oak’s notepad was more furious than ever.

The egg fell to its side. Another chipping sound was made, then another one followed, and an extra chip came off. The egg then wobbled and rolled, chips and cracks followed, and this all ensued that the egg burst open completely.

The Evolution Pokèmon that the egg resulted in surprised both Sam and Oak. In fact, the latter gasped in surprise.

Sam, at first was mildly amused on how the small creature was able to fit into the even smaller shell without breaking its spine. But then he realized the color. The Eevee, Sam recognized, was a bluish tint of gray.

It was then the door behind Sam and Oak opened; a weary-looking assistant pushing a video telephone and holding a Pokèmon-friendly bottle being the culprit.

“Rowan’s on,” the tired assistant said, putting the telephone in front of Oak, then going over to feed the crying kits.

On the screen was a world-weary man. Sam recognized him; his father used to live in Sinnoh and had befriended Rowan. When his father moved to Kanto with his wife, Rowan had visited whenever he came to see Oak, which was relatively often.

“Rowan,” began Oak, “We’ve got a shiny.”

Sam stood there for the next ten minutes, completely ignored by everyone. A few people ran in that were taking pictures, or, as it seemed, just to stand there with their mouths hanging open. That is, until, Rowan used his extremely sharp eye.

“Sam, is that you??” the snow-hardened professor asked.

"Yep" was Sam's sole response.

"Why are you back here?" He seemed a bit suspicious.

"I-I was just about to get my starter Pokèmon, then O-Oak got called back here and I accidentally followed," Sam stuttered.

“Did you get your Starter Pokèmon yet?” inquired Rowan.

“N-No. I didn’t.”

Rowan’s eye sparkled, and Sam knew what he was thinking right before he said it.

“Well Sam," Rowan asked calmly, "What would you think about having the shiny Eevee as your first Pokèmon?”

Oak’s pen dropped.

“What?” He asked in the coldest tone Sam had heard yet.

“I just asked young Sam here if he would like to have the newly born shiny Eevee.” Rowan seemed as if he was quite enjoying this.

“Well, no, Rowan. You know he can’t. Stop teasing; you’ll make him feel bad. Sorry, Sam.”

“Well, Oak, why not? We still have yet to do our research on Shiny Stat Gain, Changes on Evolution, and how traveling with trainers effects their behavior.” Rowan said reasonably.

“Oh, very well. But we’ll still have to keep it a few days so it can grow to the point it can fight, and in the meantime, we’ll be doing some extensive research.” Oak said, obviously displeased.

“OK. I’ll fly over there as soon as possible. Good day.”

“Good day,” Oak said back quickly.

The phone flickered blank.

“Well, you heard that,” Oak said to Sam, who was in a bit of a daze. “I’ll contact you when I now when it’ll be ready.”

Sam blinked twice. “Oh, okay,” he said dumbly, and he walked out of the room, into the long hallway, and through that until he went within the lobby. Everyone was in a long line to the nerdy guy, and they all stared as the dark haired-boy with no Pokèball and no Pokèdex as he walked out of the overly-clean laboratory into the open air of the suburban town.

He didn’t mind though. The realization had just set in.

Just because he happened to be at the right place at the right time, he had just gotten one of the rarest Pokèmon in the world (that wasn’t one of the so-called ‘Legendaries’). He had good reason for sheer euphoria!

I'd like to know… was that too unlikely? Review, please, but don't intentionally rip apart, or use a hug box. Oh, and suggestion on the name of the fic are welcome.


  • Posts: 123
Post #2
Great made. I cant describe it…it was obvious he will get an eevee when you said they were born, then you make us think that he wont, then he gets the SHINY. Great made!

Torterra will save us!

…We're doomed if turtwig wont take the job….

Sands Buisle

  • Posts: 351
Post #3
<b/>You can change the name of the fic?!<\b>

Anyway, you forgot a couple of letters, added unnececery comas and put down some discriptions I don't understand, but the shiny starter thing (yet unoriginal, like the starter, region and proffessor, this isn't like you!).

Please check out my Fan Fics (They're in this forum).

I'm not always rational, but I think people think I am.

… errazib nialp tsuj era serutangis emos ,wonk ouy.

Buisle is the ruler of the seven seas of sand, it is the terror of all Floatzel!

Man, I wrote Fics of three different Pokemon story types! What's next?! A wild Pokemon fic?! Hmmmmm…


  • Posts: 200
Post #4
^I know, I know. Didn't you read the name of the fic? I really want to improve my writing before I do anything with a super-complex plot. Butterfree says that trainer fics are great to start out with.


  • Posts: 123
Post #5
I started out in a trainer fic, but acctualy, I hate writing about humans- I like to write aboout cats, dogs and poket monsters.

Torterra will save us!

…We're doomed if turtwig wont take the job….


  • Posts: 200
Post #6
Erm, OK.

Well, Butterfree's giving me a few pointers. You might expect a giant edit soon.


  • Posts: 123
Post #7
here. chapter one is good, waiting for next. HOWEVER, you should say before each chapter whats disturbing IF its disturbing-
I can handle sexual and violent stuff, but tell, is gore meaning the details about what violence creates?

Torterra will save us!

…We're doomed if turtwig wont take the job….


  • Posts: 200
Post #8
Yes, that's what gore is~

Isn't it great?

Anyway, I've been getting some great reviews on Serrebii, and it'll be much more sensical soon.


  • Posts: 123
Post #9

Torterra will save us!

…We're doomed if turtwig wont take the job….


  • Posts: 200
Post #10
…Didn't I already say that I would warn you?


  • Posts: 200
Post #11
All edited. ^.^


  • Posts: 200
Post #12
Chapter Two time!

I'd like to thank my Beta-reader, Awesome Rapidash for doing her job. Kudos~~

Chapter Two


The next few hours were a bit of a blur.

Sam barely remembered the trip home. The town had probably not woken up yet, so it’s not like there was anything to see anyway.

When he got home, his parents were in their pajamas, sipping cups of coffee. They sat on wooden stools at an island. Sam’s extremely excited face was expected.

“So, what did you get? Go ahead and show us,” Sam’s father said.

“Nothing,” Sam said, sounding extremely satisfied.

Sam’s father gave his wife a what, ‘is he crazy’ look, and then seemed to realize that there had to be more to the story. “What is it, boy?”

Sam rushed to tell them everything that had happened, occasionally going too fast and stumbling on his words. By the time he was done, his parental units mouths fell agape.

“A-a-shiny?” was Sam’s mother’s first contribution to the conversation.

Sam nodded, not noticing the skeptic tone in his parent’s voice.

“Sa-Sam. You must have misheard. They couldn’t have given it to you. Now why don’t you go back and get a starter now,” Sam’s father suggested, though Sam’s mother gave a look that said that she agreed wholeheartedly.

“I’m positive. Dad, if you don’t believe me, call Rowan.”

Sam’s father obliged. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. Apparently it was busy, because he tried again. After a few moments, a small, undistinguished voice could be heard.

“Hello Rowan.” Sam’s father immediately carried on, in a voice like he was talking about a puppy, “My son is under the impression that you decided to give him a shiny Eevee, could you please”-Rowan than apparently interrupted.

Sam’s than nodded and Mm himmed a few times, and at the very end, his mouth fell open for the second time that morning. He closed the cell phone.

“Loretta, Sam is getting a shiny Eevee.”

Her mouth fell open again for a second time.

Sam had thought he had just told them that, but, meh, what did he know? He walked into his room, which was complete with an unmade bed and Coke stains on the turquoise carpet.

He sat on his computer chair that creaked when he put his whole weight on it. He booted it up and clicked the power button on the monitor, and soon enough it displayed a desktop of a Growlithe in pursuit of a Glameow on a farm.

Sam double-clicked Internet Explorer, and spent the rest of the morning and the majority of the afternoon looking up facts about Eevee. He also used a virtual battle simulator, using said Pokémon.


It was around ten o’ clock that night, and Sam was in his room going through his backpack to pull out the stuff that he needed to sleep. Originally he had intended to leave that very evening, but, as you know his plans were interrupted, for the better, naturally.

That’s when Sam’s dad came in.

“Hey, Sam,” he said in an unnaturally tender voice that Sam recognized for carrying bad news. His first conclusion was that he was going to prevent him from getting his shiny Eevee.

“Y-Yeah, Dad?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” he said, gesturing to the bed. Sam found it odd to be offered to sit down on his own bed, but he did it anyway.

His father kneeled down in front of him. “Sam, Rowan called.”

Oh, crap.

Sam’s father continued, “Sam. The Eevee…isn’t shiny.”

“Well that isn’t that bad,” Sam said in a matter-the-fact tone, even though he didn’t believe his father, “Eevees are still pretty cool.”

Sam’s father winced. Sam had already known something bad was happening, but that proved it.

“It’s…not a regular Eevee either. Sam, the Eevee has a birth defect. It changed the color of its fur and made it very weak.” Sam’s dad admitted.

“T-that’s OK. Can it still battle?”

‘…Well, yeah. But its moves are generally weaker and…well, it may not be able to evolve.”

Sam was speechless. He went from getting one of the rarest Pokémon in the world to one of the most useless.

“They said that they still have a few starters left.”

Sam still remained quiet.

“Sorry, kiddo. Think about it. Good night. I love you.”

“Good night.”

He closed the door behind him. Sam grabbed his pillow, turned off the light, and then got snug underneath his comforter.

The disappointment of the situation attempted to escape in liquid form. He screwed up his eyes, preventing this, and began to think of ways to solve it.

Let’s see, Sam thought to himself I could get a starter I really don’t want, or…


Or he could trade the ‘shiny’ Eevee for some super-rare Pokémon…

Sam smiled at his devious mind.


Three days later, Sam was in the unnecessarily large van with his father on the extremely short trip from Sam’s house to Oak’s lab.

Almost exactly two days ago, Sam had assured that he would rather have the disabled Eevee than any other Pokémon, who relayed the message onto the two professors. They were all under the impression that he was making the moral decision because he his intentions under a veil of deceit.

They arrived at the dingy laboratory very soon. Sam slid open the door, then closed it. In the moody, cloudy day, one could see that Sam was wearing his worn out Pokeball belt received from his brother and a backpack that looked like it was on the verge of exploding, despite everything inside it being minimized, something that very similar to shrinking a Pokeball.

Just before Sam and his father could walk inside, Rowan and Oak came out, lab coats and all.

“Hello,” they said, Rowan warmly, and Oak coldly.

“You’ve decided to take the Eevee, correct?” the Sinnoh professor asked.

“Y-yes,” Sam answered the irrational stuttering returning.

“Well, here you go,” Rowan said, extending his hand, clenched on to something. Sam reached out his hand, and Rowan dropped the small, red and white ball into Sam’s hand.

Sam was amazed. Was it really this easy? He just got the Eevee. He was now a trainer.

“You also might want these,” Rowan added, giving him back his Trainer Card that he had left in Oak’s possession the other day, and a blue, rectangular Pokedex that was flecked with white. This was, of course, protocol for the Professors to give.

Sam was in awe. As much he had imagined this moment for years before, it was more amazing then he could have ever anticipated.

“She’s really smart,” Oak finally said, like he had been restrained from doing this before, “She can already speak fluently in their most recent dialect.”

Everyone gave him an Erm, OK look, than continued on with what they were doing.

“Well, why don’t you send it out?”

Sam slid his Pokedex into its respective place on his belt. He then clicked the circular button on the ball, and it felt it increase in mass on his palm. He plopped it onto the ground.

“Eevee, go.”

The ball exploded open in a quick burst of white. Before his mind could comprehend it, the glowing blob on the unkempt grass formed into the recognizable shape, and then changed into normal colors. Well, as normal as it would get.

“Hello,” it said to Sam in a dreamy ‘out there’ voice that was obviously feminine, “I presume you’re my trainer?”

Presume? I thought she was just born three days ago! Sam thought, while saying, “Yes. I’m you’re new trainer.”

“Veeee!” she screamed, and then leapt up onto him.

Sam almost panicked, catching her in his arms. He looked at Rowan franticly, and he nodded ad if to say, “Carry on.”

“Er-Er-Erm. Hi. I’m Sam,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth, though he wasn’t sure he had said that before.

“Hi Sam, I’m you’re staaarter Pokémon.”

“Yeah, uh, you are.” Sam said uncomfortably.

“Well, good luck,” Oak said in a way that made Max certain that Oak didn’t want him here.

“Goodbye,” Sam said, beginning to walk away purposefully.

“Hold on there,” Sam father boomed accusingly, “You aren’t getting off that easily.”

Sam sighed, and dropped the Eevee.

“Now, don’t act like a delinquent. Feed yourself, wash every once and a whi-“Dad!” Sam interrupted.

“What, I’m just saying!” Sam’s dad countered, “Don’t eat only junk food. Remember to feed you’re Pokémon. Wear clean underwear.” Sam’s father continued listing (occasionally embarrassing) things that Sam should and shouldn’t do.

The last thing he said was actually a question, and a rather teary one at that.

“Are you sure you don’t want be to drive you to the outskirts of town?”

“I’m sure Dad,” Sam said, then embracing his father and a hug, which he tried to put a lot of unsaid things into. Sam’s father apparently got it, as he muttered, “I love you, Son.”

Sam wasn’t expecting his father to act like this, nor was he particularly surprised. Three of his four older siblings went on journeys, which should have toughened his parents up, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t be reluctant.

Sam glanced at Rowan, as Eevee was now attacking his leg.

Sam apparently caught his eye, because Rowan muttered into his ear, “Don’t worry, she’s OK. It’s the Rare Candies, she should be normal after a good battle.”

“Goodbye everyone,” Sam said, and he began to walk away, Eevee at his heels He was unhindered this time, however, he could hear his father blowing into his hankie.

After all, it’s only natural for a father to worry about his child.


Once they were on their way out of the large town, Eevee began to calm down a bit and flopped upon Sam’s head (which didn’t irritate him as much as it made him uncomfortable). They now had time to get to know each other better. Well, as much as they could, since Eevee only had four days of life experience.

Sam told Eevee that he was eleven years old that had always yearned to go on a Pokémon journey. He said that like the idea of battling with a team of rare Pokémon, which incidentally caused Eevee to grin. Sam also confided in Eevee on how he really wanted to win in the Pokémon league, without even showing a lack of confidence.

Eevee, apparently, was unaware of the fact that she had a birth defect. She also apparently liked some really sweet food that Oak had given her and the scent of something in a tree outside.

They were now passing some of the last and nicest homes on the outskirts of Pallet. They continued, still chatting, until they came across a short, dilapidated bridge, which had posts along the side to prevent one from falling, which looked, to Sam, remotely like giant marshmallows. They were, however, missing and broken in some cases.

They were soon across the bridge, and could see the long, grassy expanse, that was known as Route One.


  • Posts: 87
Post #13
This fic is Great!!! The Dad/Eevee part could use a little work, such as making it a little longer, also, the Eevee seems little cookoo


  • Posts: 200
Post #14
Nothing? Really?

Chapter Three:
Things Happen

And so they set off.
They chatted about things that neither of them really cared about, that is until Sam’s mouth grew dry and he cut the conversation short. The path was uphill, it was hot, and was as Sam noted sadly, absent of Pokèmon trainers.

Sam realized they were about halfway through, and had yet to have the fun a Pokèmon trainer was promised. Just when the though crossed his mind, a previously unnoticed bush rustled.

Sam smiled, and Eevee jumped down from his head. The slowly approached the foliage and that’s when the trainer’s first battle began. He smiled.

“Rattatta!” screamed the rat-like Pokèmon, flashing its lithe, purple fur, and its tan underbelly. Not to mention its abnormally large front teeth! It was obviously rearing to fight, for some reason Sam didn’t know.

As Sam was basking in the happiness of his first battle, the Rattatta had already leapt forward to attack. Before the word, “Tackle,” had come out of his lips, the rats teeth had sunk deep into Eevee’s fur.

“Vuuuii!” his Pokèmon partner screamed. Then, hearing Sam’s orders, she ran forward at full speed, which to Sam’s dismay wasn’t all that much. But maybe it was just the power of suggestion. Eevee rammed into its opponent, knocking it down, but only just barely.

They both got back up and quickly recovered. The rat was just a tad faster than the Evolution Pokèmon. This was made evident in the fact that he rugby-tackled her, sending his Pokémon sprawling upon its back.

“Bite it, Eevee!” Sam commanded! Eevee was quick to obey. Sam watched eagerly as his Pokémon’s teeth clamped down onto the rat’s hind leg. Then, for a moment, Sam shook his head in disgust.

“Ra!” the Rattatta said in the form of some sort of snarl before it lunged at Eevee’s neck and…

“Vuuuuiiii!” Eevee shrieked, which eventually turned into but a small moan.

Sam knew there was no way to go on.

“Eevee, return,” the boy said, holding out the sphere in his hand and looking away in shame. His Pokèmon changed from a cat-like creature with blood pouring from its neck, to a pristine, red replication, to finally a deformed blob of red energy which disappeared into its Pokèball.

The Rattatta, which Sam had completely forgotten about, approached the trainer bearing its teeth in a way that showed that the Pokèmon was trying way too hard to menacing.

Sam kicked it as hard as spite would allow, then began running, running towards Viridian City with the Pokèball against his chest.

It was about a half a mile later when Sam finally slowed, panting.

He still kept Eevee’s temporary home close to his chest, all the while thinking, “I lost. I lost. I lost. I lost my first battle. My Pokèmon is hurt, and may die.”

Of course he was in deep shock, for he didn’t even remember that, because Eevee was in energy form, she couldn’t be hurt any further. Although it wasn’t like anyone reassuring him of this fact would make him feel better.

He saw Viridian on the horizon. He quickened his pace a second time, setting fatigue aside.

It was only fifteen minutes before Sam had gotten through the last stretch of land in Route One, through the immaculate suburbs, and into the heart of the city, where a pink topped building with elevator music that played to it owners heart’s content. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like, anyway.

Sam nearly ran into the automatic doors, which opened far too slow for his standards. He ran in a straight line to a pink desk which hid the lower half of a stereotyped lady complete with a name tag and hair that matched the décor.

“M… my Eevee!” Sam said in a tone that was much louder than necessary, “She’s hurt and…”

“Just hand her over,” Joy snapped, in an un-stereotypical voice.

Sam did so, a bit miffed at how Joy didn’t completely understand the enormity of the situation. She took the Pokèball into a back room.

When she did not come back after five minutes, Sam took a moment to look around the building that he would be staying in for the next three months.

It had a carpet that was 1redder then pink, cherry couches plopped randomly around the room, crimson video telephones not unlike the ones Oak used to talk to Rowan lined up across the side wall. A large mahogany bookcase filled with multicolored books finally gave Sam’s eyes a break.

A small noise sounding a bit like an ‘ahem’ came from behind Max, and he spun around like an upside down Hitmontop.
There was Joy, with an entirely different facial expression, and, more importantly, a Pokèball on the table which Sam quickly snatched up.

“A-Are you aware….” Joy began, but Sam pretended to not be within earshot, and he walked outside.

“Eevee” Sam muttered, and his Pokèmon burst out of its Pokèball. Sam squinted, expecting to see the bloodied figure from earlier, but was wrong. The beautiful, pristine fur of the Eevee was able to be seen in broad daylight.

“Hello,” she said in a calm tone, as opposed to the energetic, hyper voice of earlier, “T… that was fun wasn’t it? I guess the Rattata must have been trained before or something; it was rather hard to beat.”

Sam grimaced.

Eevee seemed to notice but she didn’t say anything, and just climbed back on to Sam’s head.

“So,” Sam began, in a very light tone, “What should we do now?”

“I suppose we should find the first gym, correct?”

Sam forgot about the Eevee’s lack of geographical knowledge, and had expected her to say the Viridian forest, so he did instead.

“O.K… Let’s go there then. Or I suppose we could train here.”

“Eh, that might actually be a good idea,” Sam admitted, while at the same time thinking he may have seen a small droop in Eevee’s posture.

They then continued, but Sam first decided he wanted to try something:

“Eevee, what do you think of evolution?”

She seemed rather taken aback.

“E… evolution already?”

“Well, yeah. You can’t learn many moves as an Eevee, and you’ll be much more powerful when you’re evolved.” Sam said, wondering if he sounded blunt.

“W… well, sure,” Eevee said, sounded positively unsure.

Sam pondered a bit, not because of Eevee’s indecisiveness, but wondering whether his Pokèmon would still look still look shiny when in her evolved form. But then again, Eevee may have regular power…

“OK, let’s go,” Sam said, looking at a nearby town directory, which revealed to him the location of the nearest Pokemart. He set out in that direction, Eevee’s ear’s drooping all the way.

An absolutely huge, blue colored domed shaped building stood in front of a dark-haired trainer and his abnormally colored Pokèmon. They were in awe.

Sam had been to a Pokèmon Market only once before. He was in first grade, and, well, he loved it. He loved the ‘Pokèmon-ish’ feel of it all. In fact, he was lucky enough to meet a trainer. A real, live trainer that wasn’t a sibling! Because trainers that were siblings were just plain annoying.

He wore a plain white T-shirt, or so Sam suspected, as it was brown and covered with dirt. He wore tan shorts with overly-large pockets. Sam, of course, remembered every detail.

He had a low, raspy voice. The trainer knelled down to Sam, asking, “Who are you?”

Today, Sam would find that immensely creepy. But when he was a six year old wanna-be trainer, he nearly died of excitement. It was like talking to a celebrity.

“I… I’m Sam”

“Hello, Sam, my name is Sean. Why are you here?”

Sam, stuttering again, answered, “F… field trip.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I’m a trainer.”

After a brief pause, Sean began to stand back up, but Sam grabbed his shirt asked the question he had been yearning to.
“C… can I see your Pokèmon?”

Sean smiled; he had obviously been expecting this. He reached towards his belt, grabbed one of the shiny spheres, then dropped it on the ground, saying, “Go, Cacnea.”

Sam stared in awe at the green, cactus Pokèmon that came from its Pokèball in a burst of white fireworks. Though rather unimpressive in appearance, it was most certainly enough for Sam.

“So, whadaya think?” Sean asked.

At this moment, a clerk in a blue apron stumbled upon the sight. He then proceeded to scold Sean, who put his Pokèmon back into its ball and smiled sheepishly.

“Woops, gotta go,” Sean mouthed as he scooped up his Pokèmon. He then disappeared down one of the many colorful aisles.

All the while, Sam’s mouth hung agape.


  • Posts: 56
Post #15
this fic was exacctly what i was looking for and you left an opening for a big plot change later if you decide to change it


  • Posts: 200
Post #16
Oh, well thanks, maxmaxholly. However, as the suggests, this /is/ just another trainer fix, no more or less.

For the record, I haven't quit writing this. I've just generally been writing it on paper, just because I'm too lazy to update the third chapter, after all of Butterfree's coaching. It'll be updated eventually, no worry, just wait, if your acually still reading this.

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