Prologue: In The Beginning....
She took the Poké Ball in her hand, then looked up at the smiling face. The older gentleman’s hand ruffled her crimson hair, already grown past her neck. She squirmed. As her fingers traced the grooves that separated the deep red from the blanched white, her thumb brushed the circular button at the very center.
POP!
With a yelp, she jumped backwards. The ball dropped to the ground, a small flash of light accompanied by the smell of ozone suddenly bursting forth from within its confines. The elderly man began to chuckle.
“Flannery, dear, you have to be more careful. Poké Balls don’t grow on trees, you know.” Flannery pouted. They sure used to. For decades, Apricorns had been the sole source of artificial Pokémon capture; now, they were relegated to the form of antiques, peddled by wandering travelers who occasionally stopped by her small mountain town to challenge the local Gym. Usually, these travelers were distinguished by powerful Pokemon, having been forced to trek for days through the ridges of Mt. Chimney, until finally arriving in Lavaridge Town. There, they and their Pokemon could feast on the Lava Cookies and relax in the Hot Springs for which the town was so famous. For a day, maybe, the Gym would be pushed to a secondary status, until the traditional fighting spirit took hold once more.
Rumors of a new challenge would quickly spread, and Flannery would always try to enter the Gym, dressed in the apparel of the various Gym Trainers lucky enough to train and fight with their Pokemon deep within the walls of the Lavaridge Gym. But soon, she would be stopped; either by the watchful eyes of the Gym Advisor, or the large Magcargo and smaller Slugma that seemed to perpetually slither through the Gym, or even the legs of older boys and girls as they swarmed around the small arena, waiting for her grandfather and his Typhlosion to destroy the opposition. Rarely, a challenger would defeat Moore; but usually, they were forced, shamed, to retreat to the Hot Springs and plan out their strategy. Some would duck out of town entirely, instead moving on towards the larger Mauville City or perhaps even distant Dewford Town, to challenge Wattson or Brawly respectively. Moore was the traditional Eighth Gym Leader, the last major trainer to be defeated and the last badge to be acquired before the Hoenn League was opened. He had crushed many a young trainer’s dream, but as he said, those who were truly motivated would soon defeat him. And she would watch on in awe those few times when she caught a glimpse of his Pokémon and his fighting prowess, dreaming of the day when she would be able to do the same. And now, it was her turn. In her hand, she held the gateway to a new life as a traveler, a wanderer, a fighter…much like her father and grandfather before her, she would rise through the ranks and eventually defeat the Champion of the Hoenn League, Drake, the Dragon Master!
As she gazed at the Poke Ball where it rested, on the ceramic floor of the Pokemon Gym, she wondered where she would even use it. But her doubts were quickly put to rest by her grandfather’s next question:
“Flannery, you truly love Fire Pokemon, don’t you?” A look of youthful indignation crossed her face. Eyebrows furrowed, she shouted,
“Of course, Grandpa! How can you even ask that question?” He laughed.
“Good. Just making sure. Now, with that Poke Ball, you can begin your own journey, much like your father and I did in our time. Eventually, we settled down, but that will be a long ways away for you, if you’re anything like your grandmother was. So. Take that Poke Ball and capture a Pokemon.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. Catch a Pokemon? She had helped groom Typhlosion occasionally, but she always had the impression the Pokemon, older than her, saw her as more of a nuisance than a friend. Moore’s Wingull had always enjoyed playing with her, but at the same time preferred to roost in its nest atop the gym, basking in the sun. She had no idea how to even begin. A million questions struggled to burst forth. Where? How? When? The closest site to capture a Pokemon was the Jagged Pass, but the Spoink and Grumpigs that inhabited the area tended to be too powerful for any young trainer to defeat. Furthermore, no respectable Fire-type could be found there. And how? She had no idea how to use a Poke Ball…she’d seen people throw them at a Pokemon once they had defeated it, but that would require Pokemon of their own…
“Here.” He tossed Flannery a second ball, this time mostly blue with two red bumps raised from the upper hemisphere. “Within it is my Gully. He’ll help you out.” Eyes shining, he kneeled in front of her. “Go get ‘em, Flannery.”
She took the Poké Ball in her hand, then looked up at the smiling face. The older gentleman’s hand ruffled her crimson hair, already grown past her neck. She squirmed. As her fingers traced the grooves that separated the deep red from the blanched white, her thumb brushed the circular button at the very center.
POP!
With a yelp, she jumped backwards. The ball dropped to the ground, a small flash of light accompanied by the smell of ozone suddenly bursting forth from within its confines. The elderly man began to chuckle.
“Flannery, dear, you have to be more careful. Poké Balls don’t grow on trees, you know.” Flannery pouted. They sure used to. For decades, Apricorns had been the sole source of artificial Pokémon capture; now, they were relegated to the form of antiques, peddled by wandering travelers who occasionally stopped by her small mountain town to challenge the local Gym. Usually, these travelers were distinguished by powerful Pokemon, having been forced to trek for days through the ridges of Mt. Chimney, until finally arriving in Lavaridge Town. There, they and their Pokemon could feast on the Lava Cookies and relax in the Hot Springs for which the town was so famous. For a day, maybe, the Gym would be pushed to a secondary status, until the traditional fighting spirit took hold once more.
Rumors of a new challenge would quickly spread, and Flannery would always try to enter the Gym, dressed in the apparel of the various Gym Trainers lucky enough to train and fight with their Pokemon deep within the walls of the Lavaridge Gym. But soon, she would be stopped; either by the watchful eyes of the Gym Advisor, or the large Magcargo and smaller Slugma that seemed to perpetually slither through the Gym, or even the legs of older boys and girls as they swarmed around the small arena, waiting for her grandfather and his Typhlosion to destroy the opposition. Rarely, a challenger would defeat Moore; but usually, they were forced, shamed, to retreat to the Hot Springs and plan out their strategy. Some would duck out of town entirely, instead moving on towards the larger Mauville City or perhaps even distant Dewford Town, to challenge Wattson or Brawly respectively. Moore was the traditional Eighth Gym Leader, the last major trainer to be defeated and the last badge to be acquired before the Hoenn League was opened. He had crushed many a young trainer’s dream, but as he said, those who were truly motivated would soon defeat him. And she would watch on in awe those few times when she caught a glimpse of his Pokémon and his fighting prowess, dreaming of the day when she would be able to do the same. And now, it was her turn. In her hand, she held the gateway to a new life as a traveler, a wanderer, a fighter…much like her father and grandfather before her, she would rise through the ranks and eventually defeat the Champion of the Hoenn League, Drake, the Dragon Master!
As she gazed at the Poke Ball where it rested, on the ceramic floor of the Pokemon Gym, she wondered where she would even use it. But her doubts were quickly put to rest by her grandfather’s next question:
“Flannery, you truly love Fire Pokemon, don’t you?” A look of youthful indignation crossed her face. Eyebrows furrowed, she shouted,
“Of course, Grandpa! How can you even ask that question?” He laughed.
“Good. Just making sure. Now, with that Poke Ball, you can begin your own journey, much like your father and I did in our time. Eventually, we settled down, but that will be a long ways away for you, if you’re anything like your grandmother was. So. Take that Poke Ball and capture a Pokemon.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. Catch a Pokemon? She had helped groom Typhlosion occasionally, but she always had the impression the Pokemon, older than her, saw her as more of a nuisance than a friend. Moore’s Wingull had always enjoyed playing with her, but at the same time preferred to roost in its nest atop the gym, basking in the sun. She had no idea how to even begin. A million questions struggled to burst forth. Where? How? When? The closest site to capture a Pokemon was the Jagged Pass, but the Spoink and Grumpigs that inhabited the area tended to be too powerful for any young trainer to defeat. Furthermore, no respectable Fire-type could be found there. And how? She had no idea how to use a Poke Ball…she’d seen people throw them at a Pokemon once they had defeated it, but that would require Pokemon of their own…
“Here.” He tossed Flannery a second ball, this time mostly blue with two red bumps raised from the upper hemisphere. “Within it is my Gully. He’ll help you out.” Eyes shining, he kneeled in front of her. “Go get ‘em, Flannery.”
