Written Story Kanto Critique Lv.3 Teen All The World's A Stage

[Tookie]

hello there! it is i, tookie, that one horrible isekai writer that lives in a cave somewhere in creative. and today, i have... an actual storylocke. lord help me, i'm on my bullshit again, but this time we have an actual nuzlocke run this is based off of

it's fire red! except i randomised the encounters and curated the starter.

Spoiler: Rules of Engagement!

1. If it faints, it be boxed. Write it out how you will.
2. First catch of each route.
2a. Gift and Shiny clauses are on.

Spoiler: 0. Seeking Salvation

There were, perhaps, occasional moments when Arceus regretted Their choices. Not many, mind- being a God, such as the term applied, They had ample opportunity to avert the consequences of Their actions, and perchance even act as though they never happened.

But then They had created fellow beings of unfathomable Power, and the thing with Power is that it ached to be used. There was a thrum under the skin, coursing through the veins, that simply begged to be let loose. Now, while They would never willingly admit it to them, it was entirely possible that They had… miscalculated, ever so slightly, with some of Their creations.

No One was an island, and it should definitely be noted that They were often thankful for the existence of beings that understood even some of Their struggle with Power. Having said that, there were also moments where They were filled with the deepest regret, and questioned some of Their more immense decisions.

This was one such moment. To be clear, They were fond of Dialga and Palkia, as They were of all of Their children- how could They not be? But there were moments when Their patience was tested. Rare moments, of course, but they happened.

“No,” They said, Their nigh-infinite patience still shining through. “You cannot bend Space and Time to summon a mortal from another plane for no reason.” That was Their domain, and not something They undertook lightly. Within Their own plane, yes, that was a much simpler affair- and They Themselves had done such a thing on multiple occasions- but never for idle frivolity, as it was that They suspected Their spawn of attempting to concoct.

“But,” Palkia said, a vast grin showing off the gaping void that was their mouth. “But, have You considered; it would be very funny.”

… It was to be one of those days, then; one where They did, in fact, question whether They had put their power to the best of uses. “To reiterate, My child; not without a good reason.” It would be a simple matter, of course; They knew this, and- perhaps unfortunately- so did Their spawn. But the Matter itself, in this instance, was not Their sole concern. “Their Gods are not Ones I would willingly negotiate with without due necessity.”

“So, You’re telling us,” Dialga intoned- and quite how that worked when the Warden of Time had no mouth, They had never truly contemplated- “that that Pantheon would actually miss one of the eight billion mortals on a single one of their worlds?”

“Every One will be missed by some.” They had seen this countless times; even one who seemed so insignificant in the grander scheme would be missed. A disappearance as mysterious as the one that Their children were concocting would have a profound effect on those around said One, and intent and effect so rarely entwined when divine mischief was involved. They also had concerns about the oft unpredictable consequences of transporting individuals across and beyond time and space; Their dabbling in that arena had taught Them much, and left Them with a profound understanding of the gravity of such antics. “I have seen the One you propose, and his sudden departure would have consequences in his immediate sphere.”

“Sometimes, consequences are good!” Palkia spoke next. “Besides, we can always put him back right when and where we picked him up from, once we’ve had our fun!”

They sighed. “And in so doing, risk creating all manner of instabilities- and once you have created, it is rather more difficult to uncreate.” They would know that better than many- being, as They are, so very attuned to Their universe. “I can think of two such examples right now, actually.”

Dialga fixed Them with a flat stare. It did not move Them, but They appreciated the effort from the Warden of Time. “You love all of Your creations, don’t lie to us like that.”

They returned the emotionless gaze. “Love takes many forms, Dialga.”

“Ooh!” Palkia spoke once more, bouncing on the balls of their feet. “I can think of a reason to move the mortal!” They grinned brightly- “Think about it! He goes on a jolly little adventure, gets some joy back into his dreary little life, and learns some life lessons, right? That’s what happens when you co-exist with our favourites!”

They would never admit to any sort of weakness, but in Their innermost thoughts? They felt a deep dread as they followed Palkia’s thoughts. “Would you, perchance,” They said, “be contemplating intentionally causing problems for another Pantheon and their subjects?” Yes, it was possible- with good reason. Shaking up a mortal’s worldview and then sending them back to their old existence with new perspective and drive, though, needed a good reason- and feigning interest in the one mortal’s affairs, alone, was not such a reason.

“But it’s a good idea!” Palkia wouldn’t be deterred. “If he gets a bee in his bonnet about the way things could be, think! We could be making their world better for them!”

“Or,” They said, emphatically, but not angrily, “ripping him away from his life- such as it is- not once, but twice could send him into a self-destructive spiral. In such an instance, questions would be asked of Us, eventually- of you. And I would prefer not to tangle with their Pantheon solely over your personal amusements.”

“We could give him a choice,” Dialga said. “Instead of just yanking him to and fro- the second time, anyway- let him choose his fate; his stars, or ours?”

They closed Their eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply. They knew Their creations- they would fixate on this matter. In fact, they would likely choose to act of their own accord, in time. But, with consent… They could oversee the matter. “... Very well, then,” They eventually said. “I will permit this- if you agree that his Pantheon can stop your fun at any time, and that his decisions are to be his decisions. Your fun is tertiary to his wishes, and those of his Pantheon.”

In truth, They rather doubted that the mortal’s Pantheon would be an issue; that was a Pantheon that was rather more hands off than Their own. No, if anything, it would be the mortal’s decisions that They would insist be respected.

Few could boast that they had seen the Wardens of Space and Time dance merry jigs without a care in the universe. But, being Arceus did have some advantages. Dialga and Palkia cheered, bounding with joy and embracing Them as best as their physiology would allow.

“I shall speak with Mew,” They said. “Mew has lurked among the humans of our world far longer than any other among us- they will know best where to place your performing monkey.” And, perhaps, the words to break the matter gently to the new arrival. “You will only get one- do not let your show end before it can begin.”

Once the rambunctious children They called Wardens had left- no doubt to watch over their chosen target until they got the all-clear to extract him, Arceus allowed Themself to relax. A smattering of mischief, They would ultimately allow, if only to prevent greater disasters such as those Their more unruly children could create.

And, though They would never acknowledge such, a small part of Them did enjoy seeing mortals attempt to acclimate to entirely different environs without warning. It was, to be sure, an entertainment that very few could truly claim to have access to- many mortals had composed fictions of the concept, and creative souls often echoed through the aether, but there were worlds of difference between the fiction and a reality that They could allow.

—

He stirred, slowly. Very slowly. Something didn’t feel right at all about this morning, and Michael didn’t trust enough to make sudden movements right now. For starters, the sheets were all white- like the generic hotel bedsheets you get in those cheaper places, that are comfortable enough and good and fluffy. No personal touches or anything, but they kept a man warm and snug of an evening, and that was good enough. He wasn’t going to complain about a nice enough thing.

No, it was the bright sunlight shining down on him and the decided lack of an alarm that he found pretty- forgive the pun- alarming. There was no way this could be right- he’dve set an alarm for work, at least. Had to have- and there was no way that this didn’t count as massively oversleeping. And he couldn’t see his phone, either- that definitely wasn’t right, he never fell asleep without that thing in arms reach!

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath- he was going to be so late for work- and he’d been in the process of that lovely transfer as well, this was the last thing his professional life needed! “Alright, I know I probably needed sleep- badly- but really? That much?”

Keeping his movements slow and steady- this did not feel like his bedroom, and there was no way he was making a production of getting out of someone else’s bed- he lifted himself from the pillows. Stretching slowly and moving his head to and fro just to limber himself up for the day, he saw, just out of the corner of his eye, another person. Specifically, an older gentleman half reading a book, half watching him from a comfortable-looking chair.

“Well, shit,” he said, taking on the distinct look of a deer caught in the headlights as the implications of this certified Goldilocks moment crept into his mind. “Um… hi there!”

The older man puts his book down on the arm of his chair. “Ah, you’re finally awake!” That is… an amount of cheer that has Michael both confused and concerned. “Welcome to the world of Pokemon!”

And, of course, being that he was fresh from the land of slumber, his brain hadn’t entirely woken up at that moment in time, and his initial response was far from eloquent.

“What.”

“The world of Pokemon!” The older gentleman repeats. “A wonderful world of–”

He holds up one hand. “No, sorry, sir, but that can’t be right. I know all about Pokemon- have done for most of my life.” He looks the older man directly in the eyes- deep, brown eyes with a slight pink-ish glaze over them. “And they’re not real. Could you turn your cameras off for us, please- I think this joke is past its sell-by date already.”

“Not real? Nonsense!” The man pulls out a red and white sphere, pushing a button on it to reveal a small, four-legged creature with big red eyes and a massive leaf growing from its head. The creature sits on the man’s lap, looking over at Michael with those big eyes it has, and a wide smile that should be downright criminal. Both seem oblivious to Michael’s eyes widening to match, and to the way his breathing suddenly hitches.

“Chiko!”

“Do you hear that, Chikorita?” The man says, ruffling at what must be the creature’s… skin? Fur? Michael can’t be sure. “Our guest thinks you aren’t real!”

“Nope,” Michael says, not entirely sure how this is happening, what he’s dreaming of- or, alternatively, who would put all of this time and effort into a truly intricate practical joke on him and only him. “Nope, not dealing with this- I’m going back to sleep.”

And he does. Or, rather, he tries to. He does shut his eyes again, and there is relative silence in the room, but before long he feels something very foreign rubbing against his face. Something very much like a plant of some sort. Opening his eyes again, he looks over in the direction of the man and his pet, to see vines resting against his face- and quickly retracting into the green lumps circling the Chikorita’s neck.

… So he’s ruled out the dream. He can definitely still feel things, so it’s definitely not that. And the practical joke is… well, he can’t prove or disprove that either way, and it’s perhaps too absurdly intricate to be a casual prank. But if it’s not a dream, and this isn’t some elaborate ruse on him personally…

“Well,” he says, entirely eloquently. “Well, fuck.”

Where the hell can this day go from here?

Spoiler: Post-Update

honestly i just wanted to play kanto with a potat son boy, please say nice things about little basil- he was very shy about being on screen

but the isekai boy is in an actual nuzlocke now! i'm sure this will have no consequences for him or the world(s) around him (:

 

[Trollkitten]

As someone who shamelessly includes theologial dissertations in her own nuzlockes, I was very intrigued by the opening with Arceus trying to convince Their own disaster children that no, they cannot foster a pet human from another dimension (and eventually agreeing to it anyway).

Poor Michael, though. Yoinked into another dimension without so much as a warning. Although to be fair if Palkia had stuck its enormous head through his window and told him he was going on an adventure, he probably wouldn't have taken that any better than he's taking this either. Arguably, it would've been worse, because Palkia's head is not something you want to see in your face the moment you first wake up.

 

[RoseQuartz_18]

"But," Palkia said, a vast grin showing off the gaping void that was their mouth. "But, have You considered; it would be very funny."

Something about Palkia grinning is unbelievably unsettling to me with the way it looks. Especially if it's grin is the void 😬😂

Also, Michael, believe it or not— this is your new life, now! Hopefully, he can go home after the game is over like the Wizard of Oz, but if not... well, only time (and space) will tell. I wonder if he'll question it being a randomizer, or will just be aware of it off the bat?

Great first chapter! Loved reading it.

 

[Tookie]

Spoiler: Replies!

I was very intrigued by the opening with Arceus trying to convince Their own disaster children that no, they cannot foster a pet human from another dimension (and eventually agreeing to it anyway).

I've always been a big lover of the idea that the Gods of a setting are just... really big, powerful people, and sometimes that means that they do some very silly things with that power. Like borrow a pet human from another dimension because one of them thinks it'd be very funny.

Yoinked into another dimension without so much as a warning. Although to be fair if Palkia had stuck its enormous head through his window and told him he was going on an adventure, he probably wouldn't have taken that any better than he's taking this either. Arguably, it would've been worse, because Palkia's head is not something you want to see in your face the moment you first wake up.

I love that you put that idea in my head, actually- it's such a beautiful mental image! (:

Also, Michael, believe it or not— this is your new life, now! Hopefully, he can go home after the game is over like the Wizard of Oz, but if not... well, only time (and space) will tell.

That is a very good question that all such protagonists must answer.

I wonder if he'll question it being a randomizer, or will just be aware of it off the bat?

It's a good job I read this comment before I finished this chapter, to be honest, because the foible of just taking the half-formed idea in my head and running with it immediately is that I hadn't actually thought of that before I started writing this one. But thanks to the comment, this very chapter has an answer to that question!

Great first chapter! Loved reading it.

Thank you! I loved writing it.

Spoiler: 1. Asking the Real Questions Here!

Mew was ever the Trickster among them. Arceus moved with purpose (benign as corralling Their children may be in the scheme of the cosmos, Purpose was Purpose), but the Progenitor Pokémon was often to be sensed- if not seen- frolicking amongst their descendants with whimsy in their heart. Approaching a kindly, trusted figure such as the Professor in a vision and securing consent to influence his words? Easily achieved, and desirable to boot; better that the subject be gently eased into their new circumstances than… well, the extremely blunt approach Palkia had lined up.

And even Palkia had to admit that poking their head through the subject's bedroom window and screaming "LAST CALL FOR THE COSMIC MYSTERY TOUR" was blunt. Funny, but far too blunt- the goal was to relocate the Subject, not give him a heart attack and risk killing him before the show began!

But no, such had been Arceus' role in this little scheme. A delicate touch was needed; the gentle prod and poke while their chosen One (not to be confused with Chosen One, an entirely different affair) slumbered. In fact, when he awoke, he would not even remember Their actions. There were downsides, to be sure- the state of confusion he would find himself in on arrival, for one. But, They hoped, the Progenitor's nature and perhaps a blessing from the Dreamweaver would ease that particular worry. … Or, looking at the one that Palkia had chosen, perhaps it wouldn't. But that in itself might be to Their advantage; it would amuse Palkia, and keeping Palkia amused with this would defer further shenanigans from Their most wilful of children.

Though, They had to note that the Progenitor felt a certain uncharacteristic anxiety when the topic of the One’s destination was broached; Mew was such a bright, innocent soul among the greater wills that surrounded Arceus. They had probed for answers- such was Their prerogative- but found Mew to be reticent in ways they’d never been before. Perhaps a point of concern for the stated plan to plant the circus monkey in the southern ends of what mortals referred to as the Kanto region.

… They Themself might have to pay closer attention to the One’s journey, then. The Progenitor’s worries merited further observation of the area, and it would no doubt warm Palkia’s heart to see Them appearing to enjoy the show after all. There was the concern that this would perhaps embolden their chicanery now that they’d achieved this victory, but there would be time enough to fight that battle with Their child later.

And Later it would be, for the One had stirred- and, as They might have predicted, hadn’t taken the news well.

—

“Sorry, sir,” Michael said, raising his hands in what he hoped was a placating enough gesture. “Could you- could you put the… the Pokemon away again and give me a minute?” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s a cute enough little lad, don’t get me wrong, but I’m suffering a slight case of Major Worldview Collapse and I don’t want it to hear me screaming loudly into a pillow.”

The older gentleman shook his head. “They’re quite wilful when they want to be, I’m afraid, young man.” He shot Michael a particularly winning smile. “Would it help if you held him?”

“If I–” Michael didn’t even have time to finish the question before the Chikorita had bounded across the room and into his lap. It was… quite sweet, actually, nestling into him and trying to use its vines as arms to hug him. Little emotional support plant-dinosaur-thing. It… it definitely helped ground him, that was for sure. Now he just had to remember all of those breathing exercises he’d read about so many times and try and figure out which one- with shallow breathing, of course- would be the best one to deal with ‘my most frequent hyperfixation was, in fact, based on true events and not just a work of fiction, and I don’t know how to process that’.

“Right!” He ultimately said, deciding that he’d burn or cross that bridge when he didn’t have a happy little dinosaur thing in his lap being lightly petted. “So. Pokemon… Pokemon. Either this is a really banging practical joke- top of the line, gourmet japes, very well done and all that, or… I have a lot of existential questions.” But, what to ask first? What question would rise to the top of the very long list of things he wanted to ask. “... Actually, let’s start with the simple one- where am I?”

Something in the man’s eyes shifted, but hells if Michael could work out what. “Why, you’re in my laboratory, of course!” He seemed cheerful enough with that answer- or, he did, until he caught the continued look of utter confusion in Michael’s eyes. “The Oak Research Laboratory, in Pallet Town, Kanto, that is to say.”

“K-Kanto.” Michael just about chokes out the word. “... I’m guessing that that’s not Kanto, Japan.” Because that’d make his life much too easy, now, wouldn’t it? He could just hop on a plane and fly back home without any… wait, shit. No, he couldn’t, because he didn’t have any money for a plane ticket. It’s the little things that trip a man up, really.

“No.” Of course it was a no. “You’re not having a particularly good morning, are you?”

“That might be an understatement,” Michael said. Just a baby simplification of events, that- no money, having an idea of where he is but no idea how to get back to his actual life, woke up in an old man’s house and, oh, just for funsies, those funny little creatures from the videogame? Very fucking real apparently. “... Still, could be worse- at least there’s no language barrier.” When in doubt, laugh it out and look on the bright side. Granted, the light at the end of the tunnel might as well have been an oncoming train at this point, for all Michael was actually concerned, but he had to try and put a good spin on how absolutely this was not what he had planned for his day. Or week, month, or even his year. “... Okay. Right,” he eventually said. “So me sitting around here isn’t actually going to get anything done or make me feel better- so, Basil, you might have to move for a second.” Did he believe a word of what he was saying? Almost definitely not. Did it make him appear slightly more together? Perhaps. And wasn’t that what mattered, somewhere, in some way, to someone?

(Why did he feel like the universe was laughing at him?)

“I don’t know how I got here,” Michael said. “But… well, I got here, right? So there has to be a way back.”

“That would follow, yes.”

Michael clapped his hands. “Well, then! That seems like as good a place to start as any, doesn’t it!” And it is! The logic followed… just. There was a vague enough goal to get him moving out into the world, and a few hints to work from (it’s not here). “I’ll just… be on my way then.”

“Just like that?” Oak’s smile was… not something Michael could place. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Michael shrugged. “I’m probably forgetting a lot of things, actually.” And whether or not he was, in his mind, was to be dealt with later when it became an actual problem. “But, go on then, what have you thought of that I haven’t?” Or, more specifically, what was the most important of the many things that counted?

“Why, you can’t be thinking of heading out into the wild by yourself, surely?” Oak laughed at the expression on Michael’s face. “It’s far too dangerous, my boy- you’ll need a Pokemon of your own for protection!”

(Now Michael definitely felt like someone was laughing at him- though, to be fair, if he’d seen the way his face went absolutely slack at that statement but on any other human being in the known universe? He’d be laughing at them, so this was entirely deserved.)

“... Right.” Michael was suddenly very interested in such great importances as the patterns of the carpet underneath his feet and exactly what shade of grey-black his boots were. His voice, needless to say, had lost a lot of its confident bluster at the sudden resurgence of actual sense. “Yes. A Pokemon. To protect me from… other Pokemon.” He sighed. “Sorry, I’m… still getting my head around that. So, hypothetically, if I was looking for a Pokemon to do Pokemon fighting with, who would I ask?”

“Do you know,” Oak said, “I think that Chikorita seems quite taken with you.”

“Is he now?”

“Now,” Oak continued, “as much as I might like to say that he’d be a gift for you, young man… I do have something of a request.”

Which, Michael was sure, would still feel entirely reasonable and not be one of those overly onerous errands that would take him to the ends of the earth… well, some of the ends of the earth that he wasn’t already probably going to off of his own back. “Alright, name your price for Basil.” And, fuck, did he have to name the Chikorita that fast? That was instant attachment- in fact, at the negotiating table, that was leverage! Leverage he didn’t have!

“The relationships between humans and Pokemon are many,” Oak said. “Perhaps the first and foremost among them is that of Pokemon and Trainer. Now, there are as many approaches to training as there are trainers, you see, but one particularly reckless one leads me to what I would ask of any trainer leaving Pallet.”

“I’m listening.”

“Overbreeding,” Oak said. “Trainers seeking the finest pedigree of offspring have rather overdone their work, and not all of that offspring has found good homes.”

Michael sighed at that. “Invasive species, then?”

Oak nodded. “Some, perhaps. Others, perhaps not. I just don’t have the first-hand experience that I’d want, if I were to deliver an actual statement with my recommendations to the proper authorities.” He gave a wry smile and shrugged. “You may have noticed that I’m a little past the age for gallivanting around the country.”

“So, if I take Basil here on my search for answers as to how I get back to my life, all you want from me is… to pay close attention to what’s going on around me and report back to you?”

“Not just… Basil,” Oak said, stumbling slightly at the new name. “Your phone… do you have a phone?”

“Not… on me, I don’t think…”

The sound of loud static diverted both of their attentions to… Michael’s pocket. “GOT THE PHONE, PROF,” a high-pitched, tinny voice said from the depths of the aforementioned pocket. “GOT THE PHONE.”

Michael clutched at his chest with one hand, and exhaled sharply. “Well thank God for that-” his other hand reached down. “I do have my phone!”

“CAREFUL WITH THOSE HANDS, PAL!” … Evidently, he didn’t have his phone entirely to himself now, which was… not something he really wanted to consider not long after he’d woken up.

“My haunted phone,” Michael belatedly adds. “Apparently.”

“Apparently, they’re all the rage in Alola,” Oak said. “My cousin, Samson- he was desperate to send me a Rotom Phone, but I think mine must be defective. The thing has a mind of its own.”

“A BORED MIND,” the Rotom added. “Y’ALL WANT ME TO GET SOME APPS ON HERE?” Which, Michael quickly agreed to- just to make the phone shut up. … For a few seconds at least. Any port in a storm, as the saying went.

Michael sighed; evidently, nothing about this day was going to go his way- except, perhaps, gaining custody of Basil. “Please tell me that a Rotom is going to be useful for my phone?”

“YOU’LL NEVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT BATTERY AGAIN!” The Rotom is… very chirpy at that. “BUT I MIGHT JUDGE YOU. … I MIGHT JUDGE YOU A LOT.”

“A small price to pay for an eternal phone battery when I need it.” He’d just have to… curate his phone. Probably. Almost definitely, even. “So I get Basil and a phone that never dies, and you get evidence of what your invasive species are doing and… peace and quiet from this thing?” That might not even be the worst trade deal in the history of trade deals, ever! Mostly because Basil is very cute- especially when he’s curled up in a ball on the freshly-vacated bed. “Considering that the alternative is sitting on my backside and twiddling my thumbs waiting for the world to right itself…” He offered one hand to the Professor to shake. “I’d say you have a deal.”

“Splendid!” Oak took the offered hand and shook it eagerly. “Now… what was your name, again?”

… Oh. Right.

He did forget that, didn’t he?

Spoiler: Post Update

See, this is why Michael needs to be fostered in every universe! He forgets basic shit like how to introduce himself! And only half so I could do the "Oak questions names" bit without implying that this otherwise sharp-witted man can't remember his grandson's name.

#PalkiaWasRight #DialgaDidNothingWrong

 

[Trollkitten]

I don't know what I love more: the reference to Palkia sticking its head through Michael's window, the EXTRA ENTHUSIASTIC AND SNARKY ROTOM PHONE, or how you actually managed to explain the randomization in-universe so that it made complete sense. (Darn competitive breeders!)

 

[Tookie]

Spoiler: Reply time!

I don't know what I love more: the reference to Palkia sticking its head through Michael's window, the EXTRA ENTHUSIASTIC AND SNARKY ROTOM PHONE, or how you actually managed to explain the randomization in-universe so that it made complete sense. (Darn competitive breeders!)

Honestly, as soon as that comment came through, I knew I had to make a reference to that. Palkia's incredibly blunt-force approach to causing chaos has so much potential. Almost unfortunate that I'm doing Kanto and not a Sinnoh randomizer, because I can just see a Palkia showing up in the most unexpected places. the gods take influence from the Yakuza franchise and we get the Palkia Everywhere System

The effects of competitive breeding on their local ecosystems are something that we'll probably never see explored in official media, but that's what fanfiction is for, eh?

Spoiler: 2. Hold the Phone! (No, seriously! It won't stop talking!)

There were perks to this whole thing, Michael had to admit to himself. Eventually. Specifically, once he was out of that laboratory and taking a hike through the wilderness north of Pallet Town. He had been feeling like he needed a break from the grindset, there were no two ways about that one. Not a terribly long break, mind, and he was rather hoping that this would magically resolve itself as quickly as it happened, but for the moment? This was just an unplanned, unexpected countryside holiday, surely. He'd wake up the next morning, or in a few days, and he'd be right back where he belonged, wouldn't he? He'd just have to make the most of the time he had while it lasted.

Basil trotting along beside him helped; the plucky little potato was definitely the biggest perk going at the moment. It’d be an unfortunate moment when the little escapist fantasy ended for Michael, and he was back to reality now sans Chikorita, that was for sure.

But that was a bridge he’d burn when he came to it, he told himself. He had two options right now; he could either curl up in the fetal position somewhere and rock himself gently until he woke up back in his actual bed, ready to get on with his life, or he could not do that. As much as he might worry about what his friends and family would think with his mysterious disappearance (and possibly laugh at the idea of his employers panicking about his shifts not being covered), sitting around and fretting about it wasn’t going to fix this. No, the only real option Michael had right now was to get stuck in. To take the nature trails that’d been highlighted by the incredibly helpful phone.

“D’YA REALLY NEED ALL OF THESE FILES?” That is, the incredibly helpful and not at all judgemental phone. “I COULD USE SOME OF THAT SPACE, YA KNOW.”

Michael sighed; now, helpful as the Rotom personal assistant haunting his smartphone might prove to be, the personality on it was very much lacking. “Eh, some of those apps can go, I think- I’d been meaning to downsize on those, anyway.” Which was true! “Don’t touch my photos or ebooks, though.”

“YA SURE? SOME OF THOSE BOOKS ARE PRETTY–”

Michael shook his head and deliberately widened his eyes, forcing the widest and most unsettling smile he could concoct. “Buddy, I will find the vilest shit your internet has created, turn on text-to-speech and make every single depravity known to man pass through your Rotom lips if you even think about touching my ebooks or the puppy photos.” He paused for a moment. “Understood?”

“UNDERSTOOD, BOSS! I’LL LET YOU DEAL WITH ALL PHONE STORAGE DECISIONS, THEN!” The phone actually shivered in Michael’s hand, the Rotom seeming desperate to avoid cruel and unusual punishment. “I GOT YOUR POKÉDEX APPS, MAPS AND A BANKING APP YA CAN ACTUALLY USE, THEN. YOU JUST LET ME KNOW WHEN YA DO YOUR SPRING CLEAN, AND I’LL LEAVE YA ALONE UNTIL THEN, EH?”

Michael quickly schooled his expression back into something you’d actually expect to see on a functioning human being. “So glad we understand each other, bud.” He stopped for a moment, pocketing “Now, then… we are supposed to be on the lookout for wild Pokémon that may or may not belong.” Talking to himself was probably not the sign of the sharpest tool in the shed, but it helped him concentrate so he was going to keep doing it. Which would– augh!” He ducked suddenly as a loud squawk drew his attention to a low-flying Taillow. “Right, well you’re clearly a menace to society in need of rehoming- Basil! You’re up!”

“Chiko!”

“Get their attention for me!” Michael grabbed a Pokeball from his belt, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t incredibly excited to be doing this thing right then and there. “That one looks feisty- I want them on board!”

There was, however, one very small issue; throwing a small sphere at a similarly small, highly mobile target is tricky, and Basil’s vine-shooting techniques were likewise stymied by the blue bird’s agility. And, to be fair to Michael, he also had the handicap of trying to keep a steady aim while he’s shaking with excitement. It was an underdeveloped skill- he was enthusiastic enough about the whole thing, but there was a definite skill issue involved here, so to speak. Needless to say… his first pass with the ball went well wide. But! The thrown ball actually distracted the Taillow for long enough for Basil to get a cheap shot in, and that gave Michael a better opportunity to fling a ball on course.

It was a long moment as the ball landed in the grass, shaking to and fro ever so slightly as the Taillow fought against their technological prison. Almost unbearably long, even; Michael crossed his fingers and held his breath, squinting slightly. He needed to watch, of course- this could be him catching a Pokemon!- but nobody’d told him that it took so long for Pokeballs to work their magic!

But the moment of anticipation did eventually end, and Michael was entirely restrained in his reaction to the Pokéball settling–

"LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO!!!" … Completely restrained. Very casual about the whole thing, yes.

"TAILLOW CONFIRMED, BOSS!" The Rotom piped up, reminding Michael that there was, in fact, someone around who could call him out for his silliness. "SO, WHAT D'YA WANNA CALL HIM?"

Oh, right. That was a thing he had to do every time he caught a Pokémon. Name them. Come up with something insightful, cool or otherwise appropriate for them… every single time. That wasn't going to get tricky at all, no, definitely not. "I dunno, Zephyr? I don't have to make sure that the name hasn't been taken, do I?"

"THIS NAME HAS–" Rotom started to make the joke, but there was a very quick change of tune. "... BEEN REGISTERED, BOSS! IT’S ALL CLEAR, ZEPHYR IT IS!"

Michael walked over to the Pokéball still sitting idle in the grass and flopped down in front of it. None of this felt real at all; there was still a little voice in the back of his mind, trying to make itself heard and expressing the belief that his alarm was bound to go off soon. It had been… an eventful morning, so far.

“... Right, then,” he eventually said, fixing his second Pokemon’s ball to his belt and signalling to Basil that it was time to carry on northwards towards the next town over. Armed with his two Pokémon and a phone, he also set about the slightly more tedious job of trying to document what passed for the new local species. Which… Well, to put it bluntly, Michael was not a scientist, and he had no idea what actually passed for serious consequences to the invasive species dilemmas that Professor Oak and the Pokémon League faced. What he did have, though, was a camera on his phone, and a general idea of what he’d suggest.

Taillow, Skitty, Swinub and Surskit frequently sighted on Route 1. Slugma less frequently sighted, though still enough to be worth noting. Frequent Swinub sightings and increasingly common Slugma are likely causes for concern; Ice-typed Pokémon could potentially have adverse effects on the temperature, and Slugma’s frequent emission of sulphur-based gases definitely bear careful consideration. Less frequently sighted are Diglett and Marill; Marill may in fact thrive in slightly tumultuous temperatures with their layers of thick fat.

They weren’t comprehensive notes, of course, but them coupled with photos of what he’d seen would likely give Oak some better ideas to work from. Some of the soil off of the beaten path, for example, was looking very churned over, and the beaten path was seeing a lot of cracks that didn’t bode well for the Diglett population’s right to not be rehomed. Which was not a happy thought for Michael in particular, given that if he’s wrong about this whole fever dream idea then the idea of forcible rehoming would definitely strike an unfortunate chord.

But, on the other hand… was that his call? By his own admission, he had no actual experience or even a particularly relevant education. Yes, he was an educated man, but his social sciences background was more geared towards a society of humans that didn’t have collective access to a vast array of species that could cause massive amounts of destruction and also fit snugly in any passing child’s back pocket. This was, in several literal senses, a very different ball game to what he was used to. Perhaps it was best to just put that particular thought in a box somewhere in the back of his mind, never to be seen again, and then just let the big brained folks with an actual background in Pokémon research and conservationism deal with the tough calls.

No, his ball game definitely had to be working with his Pokémon and toughening them up. He’d have to let Basil and Zephyr fight the local wildlife while he took notes, and then get a feel for directing them while they were ‘just’ fighting fairly safe, nonthreatening critters… and the odd Slugma with horrible, nasty poisonous gases. Those, yeah, he’d probably suggest should be kept far away from all forests and general vegetation.

“HEY, UHH, NOT TO TELL YA WHAT TO DO,” the Rotom eventually piped up after a few hours of Michael trudging along at his own pace, “BUT YA MIGHT WANT TO MOSEY ON A WEE BIT FASTER IF YA WANT TO SEE VIRIDIAN SOME TIME TODAY.”

“And what if we are camping tonight?” Michael sighed to himself; arguing with his own phone wasn’t the lowest point of his life, but it had to be down there somewhere, surely. “We’re supposed to be doing field research, aren’t we? Natural nightlife is a whole different kettle of fish, right?”

“PUTTIN THE CART BEFORE THE RAPIDASH THERE, AREN’T YA? YA DON’T GOT ANY CAMPING GEAR IN THAT BAG OF YOURS, BUD!”

… That was an excellent point, unfortunately; if he did stick with that concept, there’d be much discomfort and he’d probably be up all night keeping an eye out for cheeky Pokémon that might want to rifle through his stuff. Which really didn’t sound worth it to him, pulling an all-nighter out in the wild.

“Alright,” he said after a few moments of deliberation (mostly over whether or not he’d verbally concede the point to his phone of all things), “we’ll do it that way. We can always come back tomorrow and plan an actual excursion if we need more data, right?”

“AGAIN WITH THE CART- WE’RE BROKE! HOW YA GONNA BUY THE STUFF YOU WANT FOR THAT EXPEDITION WITH NO CASH?” Text-to-speech couldn’t screech out of sheer exasperation, but Michael liked to think that the Rotom was only bound by the confines of current technology. Were these small victories incredibly petty of him? Of course they were, but he was in the unfortunate quandary of apparently having no real agency to speak of in his life now if he could just be yanked from one life to another without so much as a by-your-leave. Any satisfaction he could claw out of his situation (cool as some of it might be, he’dve liked the opportunity to think it over and maybe actually sort out his affairs before the mystery tour!) was to be cherished.

“So we find work we can do with… two free-range Pokémon, a trainer and a Rotom, then,” Michael said. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a nose for the stock market and investments underneath all that scathing common sense of yours, have you?” Would that even help him? Not in any reasonable timeframe, was the most likely answer, but that wasn’t the point. If he was here for the long-term, he might as well start preparing for the long-term. That seemed reasonable enough to him. Whether or not he actually would was anyone’s guess, and possibly a problem for future Michael.

“NAH, THERE’S LAWS AGAINST THAT NOW, PAL,” Rotom said. “A ROTOM A WHILE BACK BLEW A FEW HUNDRED MILLION POKÉ ON SOME BALLER INFERNAPE CLUB THING, AND WE GOT BARRED.” … Which Michael could definitely understand- unfortunate and unfair, certainly, but people got very protective over money. Dangerously so.

“Was it a mistake,” Michael said quickly- as quickly as the thought came to him, “or did the Rotom just think it’d be really funny?”

“YA KNOW WHAT, BUD? I THINK IT WAS A REALLY FUNNY MISTAKE.”

“Fair enough- also, I’m definitely in charge of the money here.” Now, this implied that Michael wasn’t a disaster himself in the arena of money- which, for the record, was patently false and he definitely couldn’t be trusted to stick to any sort of good intentions in the financial arena. On the other hand, if anyone was going to be stupid with his money, it was going to be him, thank you all very much. “But we’re not going to get much of anything done if I just stand around and argue the toss with you, am I?”

He didn’t pay much mind to Rotom’s no-doubt snarky response as he pocketed the phone and made sure both Pokémon were safely nestled in their Pokéballs before he set off at a jogging pace. He had an interim goal now- get to Viridian City, get their findings sent off back to Professor Oak and then get some money in his bank account! Simple enough stuff, right? Surely nothing horribly outlandish would happen between now and then, right?

… Why did he hear laughter?

Spoiler: Post-Update

surely nothing could possibly go wrong in viridian city this time, right? this is the cheerful kanto!

 

[Tookie]

Spoiler: 3. A Series of Fortunate Events???

Camping sucked. It was official. It needed to be done at some point on the trip, there was no getting around it, but Michael was definitely the “sleeping difficulties” kind of person who needed to be nestled away in at least three different blankets before he felt comfortable. Tents? Sleeping bags? Not his speed, not in the least.

Still, his Pokemon certainly seemed to enjoy being out in the wilderness, munching away at their feed by a fire before they went back to whatever training Michael could concoct for them. Joining Basil and Zephyr on the trek north were a few new faces; Pepper, a very inquisitive Swinub (because those things were swarming the outskirts of Viridian on both ends); Nibbles, a Nidoran that was actually native to where he’d found it; and Baxter, a very gung-ho Tyrogue. It wasn’t like he’d tried to start rolling deep within two days; as much as Rotom had assured him that “IT’S WHAT THE OLD MAN WOULD WANT, BUD, HE LOVES LOOKING AFTER POKEMON,” Michael still didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the act of kidnapping.

Oh, catching Pokemon definitely felt cool and satisfying to him, but there was an uncomfortable parallel he saw in taking sentient creatures from their homes to make them serve his purposes. Did they seem happy enough with the new arrangements? Sure, but he seemed happy enough to be on an unplanned holiday for now. This was still the honeymoon period.

“SO YA KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, BUD?” Rotom had been entirely less than helpful when Michael had briefly voiced that concern. “JUST MEANS YA GOTTA BE A GOOD TRAINER TO ‘EM, DON’T IT?”

“SCARED? WORRIED YOU’LL MAKE A HUGE HASH OF IT?” And just how the Rotom had such a read on him, Michael didn’t know and was slightly afraid to ask. “TRUST ME, IT’S HARDER THAN YA’D THINK. US POKEMON ARE PRETTY EXPRESSIVE- PAY ATTENTION TO ‘EM AND IT’LL WORK ITSELF OUT, EH?” Rotom paused for a second to let that sink in, before flashing a smile from the screen of Michael’s phone- and it definitely didn’t overly enjoy the way he fell backwards off of the log he’d sat on, absolutely not. “BESIDES, Ol’ BUDDY OL’ PAL O’ MINE, YA GOT ME! WORST COMES TO WORST, I CAN TRANSLATE FOR ‘EM!”

One would think that that would make Michael feel better; a translator would certainly overcome the language barrier between him and his Pokemon. Instead, he ended up looking at the phone with suspicion in his eyes. “See,” he said, “that doesn’t make me feel that much better, because I get the feeling that we’re a bit too similar. How do I know that you wouldn’t be feeding me a load of shit because it’d be funny?” Which was perhaps pushing the bounds of reasonable concern and back into the realms of baseless paranoia. Perhaps.

“WHOA THERE!” The Rotom managed to put a lot of indignation into those two words; as impressive coming from a glorified Alexa as it was unnerving. “YOU THINK I WANT TO GO BACK TO THAT LAB SO SOON?”

“Well, no, I suppose you wouldn-”

“BECAUSE THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU GET THIS ALL WRONG!”

Michael yelped as his phone gave off a burst of electricity- nothing major, but he definitely got the impression that he’d pushed Rotom too far with that one.

“TRUST ME, I MIGHT LIKE A GOOD PRANK- AND, YEAH, THAT WOULD BE KINDA FUNNY,” and did Rotom just sigh? “BUT IF YA DON’T TRUST ANYTHING ELSE ABOUT ME? TRUST THAT I REALLY DON’T WANT TO BE SAT IN THAT LAB AGAIN WAITING FOR ANOTHER TRAINER TO SHADOW! BURNER PHONES WITH NO INTERNET CONNECTION… NOT A FUN TIME.”

Which was something Michael could definitely agree with, as glued to his phone as he often found himself. “Oof- fair enough, then. I can work with that.” He wasn’t going to apologise, though; Rotom’s own admission that it was guided solely by self-interest had scuppered that thought before it could take root. They would use each other for their own ends, he would keep it civil, but past that? That relationship would take time.

“So,” he continued, forcing the conversation past that awkward little millstone, “a night in the forest with all manner of creepy crawlies. And… struggling fish, apparently.” There were streams running through the Viridian Forest, true, but the Magikarp always seemed to manage to flop away from them. It would have been endearing if they weren’t such big fish to be hauled back to water so frequently. And then there were the Grimer polluting those streams… Lots of recommendations to write back to Oak with, that was for sure. “You wanna keep watch or just keep moving?”

“AGAIN WITH THE QUESTIONS I DON’T LIKE, PAL!” Rotom shuddered in Michael’s hands. “UGH… I’LL KEEP WATCH, THEN; BETTER YA ACTUALLY SLEEP THAN JUST PASSIN’ OUT WILLY-NILLY, EH?” Well, when he put it like that…

—

Thankfully for Michael’s desperate need for uninterrupted sleep, Rotom had refrained from any further shenanigans, and he did in fact awaken feeling… slightly rested. Rested enough to continue on the nature trail through the sprawling Viridian Forest, at least. His Pokemon had energy to spare, and Rotom seemed to have found Michael’s playlists, which had… mixed effects.

On one hand, there was a certain comedy to Rotom belting out sea shanties as his Pokemon ran along ahead of and around him. Well, four, at least; Pepper was very much enjoying the backpack experience while Zephyr flew overhead and the other three roamed freely. In fact, Michael couldn’t even fault the Rotom’s choice in songs- how could he? It was his playlists that Rotom had the luxury of choosing from. In any other circumstance, he’d probably be singing along with the sea shanties.

No, his concern was more along the lines of practicality. They were, after all, supposed to be observing nature. Not being particularly obtrusive, to be specific. And as fun as it might have been, there was still a voice in the back of his head urging him to not let Rotom blare out the contents of his Spotify downloads while they were ostensibly trying to keep a low profile. One of those irritating little voices that he was far too used to listening to.

… Oh, wait, his phone still had volume buttons, didn’t it? Would that actually stop or quiet Rotom down? There was only one way to find ou-

“WHAT SHALL WE Do with the drunken sailor? What shall we– Too loud, boss?”

“Just a wee bit, yeah,” Michael said. “Hate to be a buzzkill so early in the morning-” lie, he was always that- “but you’re scaring off the wild Pokemon, aren’t you?”

“Oh, right. Yeah. We were doing that, weren’t we? Right. Quiet time.” Did Michael feel slightly bad about himself now? Honestly, yeah, a little bit. “Sorry about that, boss. I’ll, uhh, keep quiet for ya.”

“Nah, you can sing along,” Michael said- perhaps a shade too quickly, but that was whatever. “Just keep it on the down-low, yeah? Can’t study the Pokemon if they’re avoiding your rendition of Drunken Sailor, can we?”

“Yeah, I guess we can’t.” There was a long pause, before Rotom birthed another horrible thought. “... How about The Black Parade?”

“... I shouldn’t be listening to you.” Michael sighed. “I really shouldn’t.”

“That’s not a no~.”

Being a responsible adult could wait a little longer, couldn’t it? There was always time for “WHEN I WAS; A YOUNG BOY;”

—

It was in much better spirits that Michael emerged from the forest’s canopy late in the afternoon. His throat was slightly hoarse from singing along with some of Rotom’s more choice picks from his collection- quietly sung, of course, he wasn’t a total hypocrite, and he was very much looking forward to finding somewhere to crash in the next city now, but it was a good day! He’d ticked a slightly better camping trip off of his bucket list, and was ready to get back to- not having his phone able to freely jolt him with static electricity when it really wanted to get his attention.

“Boss,” Rotom said with some urgency. “Boss, nine o’clock. You’ll want to see this one.”

“It’s a Zigzag… oon…” Michael trailed off; he’d seen a fair few of them already. What he hadn’t seen was that much brighter orange hue in the fur on them before. “That’s… not normal, is it?”

“Hell no, boss! That? Seriously rare, bud- the odds on finding one of them natively are low. Here, where they’re decidedly not native? You’ve got better odds with the lottery!”

Michael barely needed a moment to decide what he was going to do. “So what you’re saying is it’s going to be targetted by the kinds of people that want trophies,” he said slowly. “And it would be much better off with someone like me, who just wants to enjoy the ride while it lasts?”

“HELL YEAH, I WANT YOU TO CATCH THAT SUCKER!”

Unfortunately for Rotom, the Zigzagoon had perked up at that, and the chase was on. A test of Michael’s skill with the Pokeball- not great- and the speed that Zephyr could corral it into tripping on Basil’s extended whips. A simple plan. The Taillow gave a savage caw as it flew low, turning on a dime and herding the fleeing racoon straight into the oncoming vines. One clear shot was all Michael needed; eyes on a prize, he flung a Pokeball with such ferocity that the Zigzagoon couldn’t even think to struggle against the mechanisms before the capture was registered.

“... That was easy. Well, then- welcome aboard, Stardust.”

With that small hurdle taken care of- if, admittedly, with the lingering question of who would just let one of these rarities loose on the countryside- he picked up the ball containing his newest friend and continued on northwards to Pewter City. Hopefully there they’d find somewhere nice and affordable to crash for the evening. Or one of those fighting rings, at least- they could make a quick buck there!

If nothing else, he felt a bit more confident in his Pokemon training credentials now. Not by much, and he’d certainly like a bit of spare cash in his bank account, but it was a good note to close the evening out on, wasn’t it?

—

“I sense collusion.” Arceus’ eye wandered over the assembled spectators; the odds of the Human stumbling on that so far from its native environs, in such a way that no other humans had found it? Perhaps They were overthinking, but given that Their children had already shown inclination towards meddling with the natural order? Perhaps not. “That is quite the auspicious find.”

The look that Palkia gave Arceus was pleading- which, They noted, did not look right on Palkia’s face. “Now, why would we do that? We want to watch him as he is, not just poke and prod at him every five seconds!”

“Technically, it’s been three days, four hours, twenty-seven minutes and 36 seconds since we poked and prodded him,” Dialga added, shaking their head as they did so. “... 42.”

Arceus did not sigh; sighing was beneath Them. They would show no sign that Their patience was being in any way tested by Their creations. “And I’m to presume, then, that a human treating Pokemon as commodities would have no interest in such distinctive coloration? That they would let such a rarity slip through their fingers?”

Though, They would admit; the human that Palkia had chosen was like to provide a better home for… ‘Stardust’. The names that humans gave their partners were truly baffling at times. They shuddered; there had been times where, in Their quest to understand Their world, they had allowed human trainers to co-operate with fragments of Their consciousness, and the names those humans could conjure… Krillin was within the bounds of tolerable; the man that had chosen ‘DEERZ NUTZ’, however? Giratina and Yveltal had fought viciously over the ultimate fate of that one.

… The Wishing Star; perhaps? Such coincidences and contrivances, were they to be engineered, were Jirachi’s domain. The whimsies of fate and malleability of probability were a domain They had been reluctant to pass to another, but Jirachi was the purest heart of Their creations. If the Wishing Star had had a hand in this meeting… They would abide by it. Jirachi’s whimsical meddling was to grant a heart’s desires for the better of human and Pokemon alike; a far cry from some of Their other children’s antics. And They did sense Jirachi’s presence as the show continued…

Well, as long as the incidents stayed isolated, was it Their place to interfere, really? The humans knew they had a problem on their hands and were taking steps to resolve it peaceably. It would not do for Them to micromanage the minutiae of the world- how else would humanity learn accountability? … If they would at all, instead of the maintained status quo of those that didn’t care passing the buck onwards to whose who do.

… Perhaps They would intervene, after all.

Spoiler: Post Update

let me tell you i fucking SCREAMED when stardust showed up! he's real, i love my shiny son boy

and arceus is Concerned! surely nothing will happen to take this story off the rails now, right? r-right?

 

[Trollkitten]

If this tale goes off the rails then I am all for it. Although somehow I don't think Arceus will be (or Michael for that matter).

Congrats on shiny Ziggy! I always liked Zigzagoon. Never was a huge fan of Linoone, though; I'm glad at least Galarian Linoone gets an evolution. A freaky-looking evolution, mind you, but still better than Linoone.

 

[Chess]

SHINY BOY

still a big fan of how the gods(tm) are here. they knew what they were getting into though (deeply untrue statement)