A brand new, retelling of our favorite games and franchise...because that's NEVER happened before! ...Never!
Generational Versions depicts several young people, journeying across places they thought they knew, bonding with the mysterious species known as Pokemon. Some of these young people even change the world they inhabit with their partners and friends. How do their tales unfold? Read to find out!
Enjoy!
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A series of composed sprites began to surface upon yet another screen. It took a while, but the video finally booted itself within the limitations of the technology it had to work with.
It began, with a series of shooting stars crudely animating across the black screen, and it was shorted.
A white flash---and the crudness continued. Now, mimicking an interesting scene, the presentation presented itself underwater. Where living shells, awkwardly phrased to dance, were dotted onto the ocean floor, the confusing waves within still waters were displayed by technological manipulation--rising bubbles an added detail. The screen began to rise, slowly moving away from the digital sea--but “swimming” redfish indicating the parting of ways. On surface of the sea; a slender, long necked creature was cruising gracefully against the slow, chopped footage it was created from. It, gleefully excited, venturing to the cutoff unknown that is the left border of the screen.
Yet, another white flash, this time a transition, within a forest. It flatly housed a singing balloon with eyes, it’s pitch animating into notes cutely. This doesn't last long, as a yellow mouse tackles it with, seemingly, annoyance.
The flashes become rapidly intertwined; images of unrecognizable beasts shrouded in both black, white, and minimal detail. But one image was prevalent; a orange beast descending from the upper screen, landing until he puffed balls of choppy fire--finally launching the program, much to the young boy’s delight.
Lewis Elm, the boy in front of his living room TV, relapsed his head back in relief.
Lewis: Goooooosh! That took, freakin’, forever and a half! (Fiddling with the controller plugged into the TV, mumbling to himself) So, just push start… (He does so, opening a menu, reading out loud present abridgedly) “Boy or Girl”? ...Do I LOOK itchy in any way? (He selects and continues on, facing yet another menu) … (Relapsing his head again, yelling) MOM! WHAT’S THE TIME NOW--EXACTLY?
Lewis’ echoes bounced off the walls, which were striped with yellow and green, then soon the entire homey room. Lewis’ mother, Linda Elm, was sitting at their family table observing her son with his challenge with smug parental warmness only she could have.
Linda: (Smirking, hand on the side of her cheek) I thought you didn’t want any help? That Training Master Lewis Elm of New Bark could handle it on his own.
Lewis: But that was before I forgot the time! This is my learning at stake, woman!
Linda: (Sternly, stating in a fast, void pace) Lewis, what did Mommy say about word phrasing?
Lewis: (Frighten, says in polite tone) Would you kindly take time, to provide me the time, Mother dearest?
Linda: (Smiling again) About 6:30, my wittle learning man. (Puts hands on table) You only got one hour before dinner’s whipped up, so learn what you can!
Linda rises from the table, the weight shifting to her feet, allowing the floor to become alive again, creaking. She walks past pictures, decorations, and shelves filled with the brim with memories, varying age for each one--some below, current, and even exceeding her age. Nearing the exit, she pets one of the ferns, satisfying her habit, which developed very recently.
Lewis: Oh yeah--MO- (She turns around, causing him to lower his voice again) Uh, Mom? Can I turn up the sounds now? Is Gold finished yet?
Linda: Lewis, you know how thin our walls are. It’ll only distract him, and you know how he likes to concentrate tackling new things.
Lewis pouts and returns his attention towards the TV, not even the orange hue of the sun rays emitting from the window bothering his temporary angst. Continuing on, Linda steps outside, feeling the last of the conjured breeze the town of New Bark had to offer, the very same newly born winds that’s a trademark of the town. As Linda stepped down the stairs, noticing him, she often wished another element was known a tad better. She stops at the middle, paying attention to a boy, at least, a few feet above what he’s normally used to, working to fix yet another milestone of sorts importance to town.
The boy with burrowed tools acting as, oddly, an anchor of weighted balance, works on a technological box perched in the air by a pole, where the bag is latched on. Swapping out metal assistance nearly every minute to fiddle. mess or realign, scraps of metal and fascinated grunting was the only harmony available.
Hardworking Boy: (Putting some tools away, looking at hands at the moment, moving them from the ache, in a rather puzzled tone) … Why do my hands hurt more than usual?
A rather obese man, wearing a pink shirt and suspenders off, was worried about the boy weighed in the sky, speaking out once more after a hour.
Pink Rounded Man: (Shouting, even causing slight ripples exciting his flabby flesh) K-kid? Why don’t we call it a night...and maybe call an expert on this kind of thing? I can still pay you for help, ya’ know!
Hardworking Boy: (Looking down, replying to the man) I’m almost done, sir! I think I got it this time, don’t you worry! (Smiling) I could spend even more hours up here, I don’t mind!
Pink Rounded Man: (Scratching head, shouting more) I dunno, I would feel kinda bad letting you slip or something!
Hardworking Boy: (Nodding head) Of course, of course! I wouldn’t do something you wouldn’t allow! I’ll be down there, right after this tweak! (Looking at hands again, clutching them, to himself) Alright, one more… “omph”, I guess…
Rubbing his hands, flushed with pink, the Hardworking Boy uses his human tools to whack the box structure with all his might, slightly wincing in pain for a moment, it subsiding to the other sharp ones. He closes the mechanical compartment, sliding the golden shell back into place. The Hardworking Boy then smiles again down at the rounded fellow, also giving him a thumbs up. The man, in return, does the same meekly, almost like the boy’s charm matched the glowing, gentle rays now setting. The Hardworking Boy descends down the pole, admiring the familiar houses, sand and grass of the town, glad that he’s coming back down to walk on it once again. He lands, a splatter of sand created by the shockwave, removing the belt and returns it to the big boned man, afterwards departing with him.
Once again, while chuckling lightly to herself, wonders why a boy like Gold is so overlooked. She thought personalities like his are hard to keep, and it’s even more enduring that he still has his at such a young-ish age. Instead of just “being there”; he should shine, like his namesake suggests. She stops pondering, and proceeds down the stairs, walking into her husband’s pride and workplace.
Contrast to the homey wooden floors upstairs; the sleek, carefully plotted mint marble squares were far more advanced. Linda’s shoes agreed, as she walked across the open space, completely empty and dimly lighted. She walked over the thousands of papers, boxes, and ink pens around the floor, eyeing the opened white cabinets laced together in a straight line. She shook her head, stopping at the only soul present, them facing a laptop.
Linda: (Hand on hip, raising an eyebrow) You sent the aids home early? I figured by the amount of mess only you could do in 30 minutes…
The soul was housed in a skinny, scrawny body--the body, as it moved around franticly, was clothed in sizable shirt, pants and labcoat. And despite differences in size, were drenched in sweat and possibly tears. Truly, it is Professor Elm.
Linda: (Smiling, preparing for what’s to come in one, understandable, sigh) What’s the situation now, Hunbun?
Elm: (Running to a large paper pile up, scrambling finding documents as fast as he can) I---Just got a “Email” from Mr. Pokemon.
Linda: Mr. Pokemon?
Elm: Mr. Pokemon.
Linda: (Twisted lip in wonder) Hm. How long has it been? He’s literally spoken to you tw--
Elm: Twice, that is right--Twice! If you count 30 minutes ago--Now it’s three times! (His fingers burrowing within his short hair, rushes back to his desk, rapidly searching through his laptop, Linda just nods in agreement across from him, moving closer)
Linda: (Hand on desk) What was it about? Was it important--?
Elm: Important doesn’t even begin to describe it! (Clasps head into hands) It turns out, he has my research notes I left at the Professor Conference. I don’t how he’s gotten them, but you do you know what this means?!
Linda: ...I can only imagine.
Elm: (Laughs, his chuckling uneasily blended with stress) I wish I could imagine! Just--poof--here they are--So I don’t have to worry about three months of skewed data that’s on my hands now!
Linda: (Tilts head, her expression shifting to an understanding one) Three months?
Elm: (Slowly bumping head on desk) Three. Months.
In a way, Elm recreated his own countdown to cool down. After many bumps, Linda gently hugs him from behind, rocking side to side slightly, how he always found comfort in. Realising the only sounds that broke this reassuring moment was his own plight; Elm ceases the banging, again returning his--pretty aching--head to his hands.
Elm: ...I-I needed that. Thank you.
Linda: You always needed this when you overwork yourself, silly.
Elm: ...Which, admittedly, is all the time. (Chuckes) Decent excuse to use to get more, I suppose.
Linda: (Smiles, nuzzling his back before breaking away, putting hand on shoulder) At least they aren’t lost, right? I’m sure you could just pull them in--and remove any errors. Not to mention; it’s Mr. Pokemon, he’s knows how precious Professor research is; you act like a theft is holding them for ransom…
Elm eyes the picture taken long ago at the Conference. Judging his smiling, yet stressed face; he understands the point his wife is making--this causing him to face her and pace the floor. Linda, in turn, sits down in Elm’s discarded chair that also faced his wrath.
Elm: (Inhales deeply) Now, the problem is getting there. Should I go?
Both husband and wife exchange looks at each other.
Elm: ...Yeaaah, better not. (Hands in pockets) I suppose I could wait for the aids...even though it’s going to be Sunday...which means, turning in later than usual.
As Elm rambles on, Linda spies Gold yet again outside the small window. He and the rounded man returned--the man holding various cables, all linked by a plug and socket. Gold has his hands behind his back, awaiting if his labor lives up to the results.
Pink Rounded Man: (Glances at Gold) Let’s see it this does it.
Gold smiles, nodding at the man’s hope. With a thrust, he connects the wires and awaits for sounds. Slowly, the box fulfilled it’s purpose, various noises struggling to please the departing breezes. Soon, those noises knew how they were and what they did; becoming the music that defined New Bark Town...but in the form of chiptunes. Upon hearing this, Gold groans and scratches the back of his head, his black hair mingling with the last of the sunlight, simmering.
Gold: (Sighs, puts hands on hips) Sorry, sir, I really--REALLY am; I’ll work on it again for the next few--
Pink Rounded Man: (Laughs) Relax, relax, kid! You did a great job. For a kid just jumping in and fixing the town’s music box, WITHOUT any tech know how, it’s amazing!
Gold: (Rubbing hands) I don’t know--I should’ve tried at least harder…
Pink Rounded Man: (Tapping back, making Gold lose balance temporarily) I think you did enough, kid. (Digs into pocket, handing out Gold’s just reward--a sum of Poke Dollars) You fixed the Box and that’s what you needed to do.
Gold: … (Takes the money, laughing) Yeah, you’re right sir. (Extends hand) Thank you for the reward.
Pink Rounded Man: (Grabs hand and shakes it) And thank you for your services! (Looks up, stops shaking) Technology is amazing...but boy, I’d tell you, we have the worst kind.
Gold: At least we’re getting better about that, right?
Pink Rounded Man: We are...in the next two decades if the pace keeps up.
Gold: … I guess that’s good for me, eh? (Smiles, raises hands)
The rounded man laughs hartley, again hitting Gold’s back, but this time, he does fall. The man panics at the harsh silence...only for Gold to break it with his own, both sharing a moment the first time in 9 hours spent. With the return to Linda, she now awaits for Elm to finish, to offer the best and obvious choice for her.
Elm: ...The Mailman? I mean, it wouldn’t be so farfetch’d, I suppose. He marches in snow, rain and terrain to deliver--he could do the same for receiving!
Linda: Annnnnnd, how much would that cost?
Elm: (Surprised, then ponders) … You pay mailmen for that kind of service?
Linda: I don’t even think they do receiving orders like that, not in this day and age. (Slides to) Buuuut, I know someone, while not free, that would be so glad to offer their service!
Yet another awkward silence glazed the room, Linda slowly connecting her face with her palm.
Linda: ...Still “overwhelmed”, dear?
Elm: (Chuckles lightly, combing hair with fingers) They ARE important notes.
Linda: Dear!
Elm: (Shaking hands) Okay, okay! I’ll calm down! ...But who would do the task?
To direct her Husband’s nimbly distressed eyes, her pointed finger assists. There, Elm sees a familiar Gold, who has risen and still conversing with the rounded man, both seem to be enjoyfully engaged.
Elm: ...You want Gold to do it?
Linda: He does Odd Jobs, doesn’t he?
Elm: Well, that’s true… (Strokes chin, counties pacing) He seems perfect, he really does… (Paces to Linda) But two problems already arise from this.
Linda: Really? Why? I mean, it’ll be great for him to travel for a bit, he’ll still earn money; and to add… (Looks at Gold) He’s passed due on becoming a Trainer, you know? At least we could offer that experience to him…
Elm: Well, those are the problems, Linda. (Linda turns her head at) 1.; that could be Emily’s own wish or reason to not Gold go on a Journey, and we have to respect it if that’s the case. 2.; (Gets an uneasy look, adjust glasses) The Bite Of Sinnoh happened for a reason, dear. And we can’t recreate that--especially if Gold’s involved.
Linda: (Looks down, nods) True…(Looks up and at Elm again) … Couldn’t hurt to ask, right?
Elm: What I’m stuck about is how Gold could get to Mr. Pokemon’s House. I know he’s well-trained, but I doubt he’s going to have a good run not encountering Pokemon…
Linda, once again, facepalms--the collision much harder than the last.
Linda: ...Honey. You’re a Professor, remember?
Elm: (Turns to) Of course I remember! (Slowly realizes) ...Oh...What did I forget this time?
Linda walks toward her significant other, digs into his pocket, pulling out a one button remote. She tosses it to him, and upon grabbing it, Elm’s mind seemed to finally click with the outer realms known as logic. He presses it, the walls emitting smoke and light. The couple faces it and are the only ones gazing upon it. Due to it’s nature, the smoke cleanses the air around the room, overcoming the stale and still element, while the light coats people and objects present alike.
Elm: ...To be fair, they were behind the wall.
Linda: That you designed to incubate them, Johto’s Regional Professor! (Motions to the subject that they speak of) He’s played with them as a kid, alike the others, so the Bonding is sort of there. Just let him choose and problem solved.
Elm: (Nods) Yeah, I can allow that. (Turns to) But wait, what if one does Bond with him? Do I let him keep it?
Linda: (Gets close to, shrugs) Well, that’s completely up to you, Professor. (Gives hand) But after dinner, you’re resting that brain of yours.
Elm: B-but I have to respond to the Email--!
Linda: Whiiiiiiich could wait tomorrow. Things can wait, deary.
Listening to his wife’s words, Elm’s solemnly worried profile worked against hearing them. He looks toward the answer to his problems and Gold’s presumed help. He presses the button again, ending the smoke and lights from interacting with the outside world. He looks again to his beautiful Linda, causing the face to calm itself in it’s doubts, Elm agreeing with it.
Elm: Tomorrow it is. (Smiles)
Linda returns the gesture, her husband taking her hand. While leading him upstairs, Linda knows what a great mind that Elm has, but also knows who it could takeover him in an instant. Knowing this, no matter how things could go wrong, must stick with him until it gets better. And frankly, no one could do it better than her. With the family meeting, preparing to eat dinner; Lewis excitedly says this to his parents:
Lewis: Mom! Dad! I’m in the “World of Pokémon” now! Isn’t that great?!
Outside, with the repressed night skies rolling in and over the gleaming blue skies, Gold is walking back home. Listening to the chiptune New Bark theme is both crippling and bittersweet to him. As he waves to nearby passerbys, returning to their homes, he looks at his hands, them returning to his black, puffy shorts in shame. Gold always tries to due to the best of abilities, even it does exhaust and hurts, but will heed the words of others if his service is satisfactory to them. As he fiddles with his earnings within his left pocket, he spots a moving shadow, it creating a low, crisp sound of shaking bushes. Turning his head back upon the trail of home, he ignores this, writing it off as wild Pokemon, kinds that appear in New Bark around night. Whatever it was, it had a crimson hue about it, something Gold never saw before. It sort of puzzled him.
Moving on toward the town’s sign, a great landmark for him, Gold has his house in sight. Before getting close to the rather large cabin; he spots another shadow across, but this one wants to be seen. The shadow also dances, grunting in excitement and doesn’t care who watches. By outline, and obvious guesting, Gold knows who the shadow is, but is interested why she’s dancing. He wanted to approach her, but decided against it. It’s been a few years and he doesn’t want to be punched in the face due to the dark, knowing her. He continues on to his house as the dancing shadow run back into hers.
Gold opens the door and peers around, expecting the same old when he walked in, smiling that his expectations were met. He closes the door, locking out the darkness of outside in a brightly lit room.
Gold: (Hops out of yellow boots, covered in grime next to the door) Mom!
Emily, sitting at the table, smiles at her boy, opening her arms, Gold coming over to hug her. Gold stops giving her his funds.
Emily: (Counting it) Hm, you've made a lot today. (Patting his head) I’m proud of you.
Gold: (Laughs) Thank you, didn’t do a GREAT job today, but that’s what practice is for, eh?
Emily: (Putting the money away) Gold? (He looks at her) Why can’t you hold on the money for yourself? You would look so nice without those torn clothes…
Gold glances at his old, riddled tanktop, the red Pokeball emblem faded and diced away, Also, presses his finger along his shorts, lifting it to see the gathered dust on his finger.
Gold: (Shakes head, moving his index along his thumb to brush off the dust) You know you need it more, Ma. Besides, how else you’re gonna save up that car you need?
Emily: (Giggles) I’m definitely saving for something, alright.
Gold was, strangely, caught off guard by that, but continued on the conversation.
Gold: Anyways…(Squinting) So, how much did you do today?
Emily: (Looks at, slowly tents hands, smirking behind them)
Gold: (Tilts head) Juuuuuuust out of curiosity.
Emily: ...Cleaned your room.
Gold: I organized my closet.
Emily: Clipped coupons!
Gold: (Slides closer) Trimmed neighbor’s lawns!
Emily: Planned tomorrow’s lunch!
Gold: (Points) Fixed the town’s music box!
Emily: ...Fixed the toilet.
After the final claim; both couldn’t help but laugh. Emily clapped with joy while Gold covered his face, it was a good “Nice War”--possibly the best one they’ve had. As the laughter dies down, Emily hugs her son again.
Emily: (Inhales greatly, releasing one final laugh to calm herself) ...What would I do without you?
Gold: (Clearing throat, returning the favor what his mother did) Yeah, I say the same…(He makes a uneased smile, knowing that his mother can’t see it) Have a good rest, okay?
Emily: (Stops hugging, which Gold follows suit, grabbing his shoulder while fixing his wild hair, crafting a bang) I say the same. (Smies)
And with that; Gold beings to end his day. He begins climbing up the stairs, putting his legs in the last bit of stress. Reaching the top, he begins to scan the room, Emily keeping her promise on exactly recreating it, this causing relief and a tad of odd dissatisfaction. Crawling into his bed, he begins to feel his aches vanishing instantly, closing his eyes due to the sensation. With one final exhale, Gold departs into his mind, the body lulling to sleep, awaiting the next day. The next day, he begins his Journey, after a long wait.
The next day waits no longer, Gold awakes.
He rubs his eyes, rubs his hands, combs his hair--stopping mid-stroke seeing the bang his mother made, warmly crafting it back. He gets up, patting the grunge of yesteryear from himself, walking down the stairs. Coming downstairs, Gold meets his mother again, still sitting the same chair from last night, watching TV and drinking tea.
Emily: (Stops mid-sip, finishes) Good morning, Gold.
Gold: Good morning. (Begins to walk away)
Emily: (Raises arm, revealed to be holding mail, Gold comically sneers at her) Already on it.
Gold: (Returns to table, sits on) So--anything important?
Emily: ...Well, you have a errand today. (Hands mail)
Gold: (Raise eyebrow) Around this time? Really? (Gets it, opens, pulls out letter)--
Emily: You don’t have to read it...It’s from Professor Elm.
Professor Elm--those words struck at Gold. He looks at his mother, feeling uneasy due to her reserved expression and closed eyes, the sound of her sipping becoming audible knives.
Emily: ...Best get out there, it could be really big.
Gold: (Stuffing letter into shorts) R-right. (Standing up, walking towards door rubbing his arms, turns head to) Have a nice day?
Emily: I will.
Closing the door, Gold’s mood heavily contrasted with the peaceful tone of New Bark. As he walked to Elm’s, the suspense was telling to call it off and do something else. The Oates’ house needs painting, he DOES need to check on the Formans’ locks and such; and what was the last time the Kreis every need any--
Gold entered the lab. Instantly; he puts his hands behind his back, and walks toward Professor Elm, who surprisingly, is up and dressed.
Elm: Gold! ...I-is it already if I call you Gold? (Approaches)
Gold: O-of course. (Smiles meekly, shakes hand without Elm’s permission, shaking his whole body) A-and good morning, Professor Elm sir!
Elm: (Is shaken immensely, slowly stops Gold’s hand, making him retract it quickly) ...Huh, the years must’ve been rough; you’re shaking more than me when I’m nervous!
Gold deeply sighed, caging his high-strung storm within.
Gold: (Laughs) Yeah, I’m just...anxious, to receive this errand! I feel that it’s going to be a good one, Sir!
Elm: (Laughs also) Please, you can stop calling me “sir” if you want. But, back to the errand at hand. (Paces around lab) You see, a good friend Mr. Pokemon has my research notes for quite some time now, and I forgot them at a conference...you know, hence why he has them--but anyways.
Gold gulps.
Elm: Gold, I want you to just travel to his house to get them back. Could you do it?
Gold is dumbfounded.
Gold: OH! (Elm questionably looks at, Gold coughs) S-sorry--bit of a sore throat, but really? That’s it?
Elm: That is it!
Gold: (Shakes head calmly and gleefully) Oh--oh of course---I’ll be happy to do such a task!
Elm: (Smiles) Well, I’m glad that you can! We were actually a tad worried that you couldn’t...Anyways, we can’t send you out there alone, of course. Due to grievous events that you were too young to remember about, you need a Pokemon that can help you fend off wild Pokemon.
Gold: (His eyes widen, his voice filled with enchantment) ...A Pokemon? You mean...the ones I used to play with?
Elm: (Nods) Now, Gold...I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I am. This set of Pokemon are extremely hard to find. This set, among many, are treasured for their closeness to us Humans. We Professors love these Pokemon to death. I am trusting you to take care of one you end up choosing--like family, like a brother almost. Can you do this? Will you do this?
Gold: ...Yes. I will.
Gold immediately saw the smoke engulf around, doing a double take at the wonder. Elm steps back, remote in hand, joining Gold by his side. In awe, Gold looks upon the high technology that demanded his attention, it spinning slowly, shoving the smoke around it. In his eyes, he witnesses the object converting gracefully--parts folding, spinning and plugging it, and it’s new form causing Gold to bite his bottom lip. The machine was bound to the floor, sleekly white, blue, mechanized streaks build in, with thick glass filling in a gap in between two components--the top sporting a huge, crimson lid. Elm snaps his fingers, and the thick glass settles within the machine, the machine honorably containing three, clean PokeBalls.
Elm: (Displays that motion activates turns the table the Pokeballs are on, Gold yelps in amazement) Just present your hand before the machine and choose for yourself.
Gold: (After staring at Elm for a moment, he looks towards the machine) …
Elm: We have Chikorita, the Grass Type. Cyndaquil, the Fire Type. And Totodile, the Water Type--left, middle and right. (Looks to Gold) Who will you choose?
Once again, Gold stares at his hands.
He slowly outreaches with his right, the blue light tinting his palm. The plate begins to shift to the left.
Elm: Chikorita?
Gold shakes his head, Elm nods in return. He motions to the right, causing the plate to do so, clockwise.
Elm: Totodile?
Gold once again shakes his head, retracting his hand, clutching it with other.
Elm: Hesitation is completely fine. Choosing your partner is a very important thing. Take your time.
Gold’s hand took on a form also, the form of a clenched fist. This could be the most, if not THE, significant moment of his life, as well as the lifeform that’ll be with him. With a swift motion, the machine catches it, it shifting back to it’s original stance. Gold grabs a Pokeball, chucking it in the air.
Gold: I choose you!
Upon hitting the ceiling, the Pokeball snaps on impact. Free, roaming energy is released, molding itself into a bipedal, tailless form. It reanimates, the energy, becoming overwritten by cream skin and blue fur. It was a Cyndaquil; a small, shrew-like creature--roundish head with a long snout, stubs connected to a body, with hind stubs, met with claws at the ends. It turned into a new form; becoming a ball as it plummets out of the air, it shrieking.
Both Elm and Gold joined in; shouting and panicking as Gold lined up in order to physically catch it, running around to track it’s free falling movements. The Cyndaquil is now heading near the entrance causing Gold to dive, catching it just nearly. It seems their heartbeats are already in sync.
Elm: (Panting) Hah! Woo! ...I-I guess that was a good enough first impression. (Catching breath, adjusting glasses, extending his arms out towards the new partners) Congratulations! Gold, you have chosen Cyndaquil as your Starter! (Grabbing his legs, putting head down) Whoo!
The Cyndaquil uncurls from it’s defenses, it and Gold know nose to nose. It makes a angry look, igniting the flames from it’s back--preparing it’s offenses.
Gold: (Panting, amazed and scared) Y-yeah, I DO deserve whatever you’re going to do to me. I can owe you that much so we could start fresh-h…
The Cyndaquil heeds his words, sniffing him as a survey. It’s face changes to a mildly annoyed, reminiscent one, it recognizing Gold. It, in turn, puffs smug in his face before stepping off, out from his arms, Gold smiles awkwardly as he gets up.
Gold: (Kneels to) I’m sorry Cyndaquil; it’s my first time handling my own Pokemon...That, and I saw throws like that on TV…
Cyndaquil: (Tilts head, eyes Elm) …
Gold: (Looks, sees the hunched over Elm, and helps him) Are you okay, s--Professor Elm? I’m sorry also.
Elm: (Adjusting clothes) It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s...usually the time I have my Shock Intake anyways, so I should be okay for the rest of the day! Anyways, excellent choice! Oh, and as a addition, both of you can agree on a nickname to name Cyndaquil!
Gold: ...A nickname, hm? (Taps chin, then snaps) Cynda!
"Cynda": (Glares at) …
Elm: …
Gold: ...Right. (Rubbing chin) ...Zynda? With a “Z”? (Chuckles embarrassedly) I’m not the best with names, unfortunately… (Kneels to “Zynda” again) Completely up to you, buddy.
Zynda: … (Nods, playfully bumps nose to stomach)
Gold: (Chuckles, pets Zynda’s head) Zynda it is!
Elm: (Hands Gold his discarded PokeBall, Gold grabs it) Do you need anything else? Supplies--Adventuring goods?
Gold: (Snickers) Trust me, I don’t think I’ll need “adventuring goods” who knows how long. (Hands on hips) Point me in the direction?
Elm: Route 30; but you have to cross...well, Route 29 and through Cherrygrove City. (Points as he gives more information) So, go left from here, then rear upwards.
Gold: Got it. (Shakes Elm’s hand) Again--no, no amount of thanks can be said, Professor Elm! I’m so glad you gave me this opportunity!
Elm: (Chuckles light) It’s a part of my duties to provide joy to children like yourself--(Stammers) If, of cours-se, you WANT me to call you a child--
Gold: (Smirks, lets go of hand) Eh, I got a year left, you’re more than fine to. (Walks toward the door, waving) I’ll hurry back! (Realizes, slaps forehead) Ugh--right. (Calls to) Let’s go, Zynda!
Zynda: Gri-run! (Follows after Gold, Gold opening the doors first, it walks out)
Obviously, Gold emerged out of Elm’s lab completely different than before, but he doesn’t dwell on it at all. What does catch his attention is Zynda, who is sniffing around the bushes outside the Lab, with a angered look on it’s face, like the very smell has lingering hatred. While puzzled, Gold assumes the same.
Gold: (Walks over to) Zynda; it’s probably a Pokemon resting there.
Zynda: (Looks at Gold, tilting it’s head) …
Gold: (Nodding) Oh, yeah, wild Pokemon sleep outside. The whole land’s their bed and spread, really. (Silencing himself, hearing a low, rumbling sound, spooked by it) Yep--THAT is snoring if I ever heard it. (Motions) Come on, we don’t want to wake it. (Walks away)
Zynda, despite instincts, follows Gold, away from the provoking scent. The duo, now at the ends of New Bark and the beginings of Route 29, were unknown to the climbing hand that rested on the ceil. The arm attached to a skinny, shadowy figure, covered in leaves. The shadow stares at Gold. Then, laughs silently. He lets his whole body rise for him, allowing his limbs to stretch away the weakness trapped within them. With the crunching of his fingers, he leans toward the Lab’s outlet. All doing so with a grim smile on his face.
Gold constrained only on the errand, nothing else. The time was still fairly early, some of the wild Pokemon haven’t hopefully stirred yet, and the Route was a fair walking distance--Good. He checks on Zynda; still following, looks happy, sniffing around as they journey along--Also good. He itches his nose--very, very good. But then, something unusual happened, thoughts--Gold’s--began to fill his head. Looking at Zynda once again, the weight of now being partners slams itself against Gold. How could he take of it now? Matter of fact--what is it? Boy? Girl? None? Is that possible for a Pokemon, if his memory served him? How would he fit in the house...would it finally fill a hole? He doubts it, but again, it was a thought. Somehow do to time, they’ve reached the end of the Route, and the beginning of a rural city, a road of fence post and arrays of flowers welcoming him.
He walks, determined to reach Mr. Pokemon’s house, not much further. He jogs lightly on the road, scanning around only to find little activity among other things. Orange roof on his left? Oh, PokeCenter. Maybe he’ll take Zynda there--okay. Another thought, the trip was a complete breeze. Imagine, hiking to nearby towns like this one, all with Zynda’s help...even finally learning their names again. He stops pondering, glancing at Zynda, who’s still behind. They made it, already, to Route 30--perfect! Looking upon it, he scales the Route, becoming steep with the ground with each step, trying to adapt. Using it’s claws, Zynda scales it fine, with complete ease. With the goal in sight, Gold shakes away all of his thoughts. With Mr. Pokemon’s House in sight, he affirms his place in the world; being a errand boy of New Bark Town, and nothing more. Something he has to live with.
The wooden door is only just so far along. Gold is nearly at his destination, telling Zynda this, who responses happily at the news. Gold’s waist from below is free from the tall, bushy grass, Zynda crawling out. Gold straightens up as well as he can, inhales and moves forward, the curious onlooker Zynda noticing this, following him. Gold twists the knob...Gold twists the knob...The knob isn’t twisting, to Gold’s surprise. Then it hit him, letting the knob go. His guess proved right, it taking a life of it’s own, empowering the door open as well. Gold steps back, looking at the figure and begins apologizing.
Gold: (Clasping hands together) Sorry, sir! Really sorry! I, uh, thought no one was coming out. (His eyes shifting, scratching head) You...look familiar. Are you Mr. Pokemon?
The man--one of the men of his generation and transcending. He wore a golden jacket, iconic white shirt under it, with brown business pants. His face produced a smile, natural ridges around it, gray sideburn to the other. He humbly chuckles.
Oak: (Calls into house) I guess I’m staying a bit longer! You have another guest! (Goes back inside)
Gold: (Follows, Zynda right behind) Oh no; you don’t have to wait for me, sir. it’ll be quick.
Oak: Nonsense! I wanted to talk with Mr. Pokemon on another point, actually. (Sees Zynda) Ah! A rarity! (Gets up, kneels to Zynda, despite real apparent backache)
Zynda: ? (Looks at Oak) …
Oak: Let’s see…(Glances at Gold) What is it?
Gold: Oh; a Cyndaquil named Zynda. I was just given it today.
Oak: (Does a double take) TODAY?! (Gold jumps, as well as Zynda, prepared into attack mode, Oak laughs at this) Yet another case! Look at him, he’s already defending you!
Gold and Zynda look at each other, confirming what Oak claimed, then looked forward at the strange man.
Gold: (Surprised) Wait, really? …(Snaps, even more surprised) And him?
Oak: Of course! Your “Zynda” is a male, you could definitely tell by the quill pattern and fur. I AM relying on old tricks of the trade, though. (His chuckles intertwining with his speech) I do wish I had some new, concrete finds…
Gold: Well, I have played with Zynda in my early years, so it is kinda cheating… You really look familiar. Can I have your name, sir?
Oak: (Smiles) Samuel. In fact, I’m a colleague of Professor Elm. (Crossing arms, eyes closed) Knowing him, he’s the reason you didn’t know your Pokemon’s gender.
Gold: (Laughs) He is a tad forgetful.
Oak: (Scoffs, awkwardly looking around) Aren't we all...
Zynda: (Lowering his defenses, now has a good understanding of Oak) Gri-Grii!
A hatted man walked into the scene, dressed in old, washed out brown, darker shades among patches. Cleaning a blue orb, he instantly spots Gold with Oak.
Mr. Pokemon: (Going to his desk, placing the ball on it) Thought you were leaving, ya’ stickler!
Oak: I wanted talk about ONE more thing, but of course, you have other matters. (Sits at table)
Gold: Mr. Pokemon! (Approaches, shakes hands with)
Oak: (Silently) Oh, a gentleman.
Mr. Pokemon: It’s good to finally meet you, Gold! Elm talked a lot about you on the Email!
Gold: Really?
Mr. Pokemon: That you’re Gold, have a real name, some kind of age, and you do errands...Yeah, a lot!
They both laugh, Oak smirking by himself, reaching into pocket.
Oak: Gold. (Softly chuckles) It seems colors are so connected after all…
Mr. Pokemon: (Hands the notes within a white backpack, strangely plated and barring the same logo as Gold’s top) The notes are in there, didn’t touch ‘em much. (Whispers to) Wished I did; whew--condensing will not help at all!
Gold: (Snickers) Right. (Puts on, it fits nicely)
Mr. Pokemon: Now, did Elm say anything about something else?
Gold: (Shakes head, shifting face to remember) No… This was it, just notes.
Silence.
Gold: …He forgot something, didn’t it?
Mr. Pokemon: (Returns to desk, lifting, heavy to him, a miniature capsule, covered in frost) It’s a finding of mine; VERY important for research and important to handle with great care… (Eyes Zynda) Elm probably lectured you already--I hope you listened. Turn around?
Gold: (Does so, Mr. Pokemon opening the backpack and placing the capsule in--the bag fitting the capsules shape, Gold shifting due to weight, faces Mr. Pokemon) Thank you!
Mr. Pokemon: Tell Elm, “Remember this!” for me, will ya’, Gold? (Smirks)
Gold, once again shakes hands with Mr. Pokemon, telling him to have a nice day. Rounding up Zynda, Gold scrolls to the door.
Oak: Actually, Gold?
Gold: (Turns around) Yes, Samuel sir?
Oak: (Pulls out a red device, Mr. Pokemon watching with confusion and interest) This isn’t Professor Elm’s, but can you show him this? It’s a...life project that means a whole lot to me. It’s a Second Generation model, made just for this region. Gold, can I entrust you with this?
Gold: Of course, Samuel sir. (Reaches hand to receive it, Smiles) I’ll do anything for a friend of a friend.
With great pleasure, Oak hands Gold the “Second Generation” device. Yet another PokeBall symbol, but subtle with a huge black core. It’s red skin being sleek, itself being portable and compact, with a thick antenna among the top. Gold admired it, also thanking Samuel sir before departing.
Oak: ...Now, you think it was a bad decision?
Mr. Pokemon: (Uncertain look, pulling cloth out and split-shines the blue ball once again) Can’t ask me, Oak...You know what I always say…
Within the main square of Cherrygrove, Zynda gets defensive. The nice aroma of small flowers and sea breeze, a smell returned. Gold, surprised, sees yet another person his age--running towards the city, he stopping once he spots Gold. Under his crimson hair, he looks at Gold with extreme annoyed hatred. Spotting his hair, Gold’s eyes widen, so they could spot the Passerby Boy raise his own PokeBall, ready to throw it. Before the still, calm of a battle-heavy storm, Mr. Pokemon says what he always says:
Generational Versions depicts several young people, journeying across places they thought they knew, bonding with the mysterious species known as Pokemon. Some of these young people even change the world they inhabit with their partners and friends. How do their tales unfold? Read to find out!
Enjoy!
---
A series of composed sprites began to surface upon yet another screen. It took a while, but the video finally booted itself within the limitations of the technology it had to work with.
It began, with a series of shooting stars crudely animating across the black screen, and it was shorted.
A white flash---and the crudness continued. Now, mimicking an interesting scene, the presentation presented itself underwater. Where living shells, awkwardly phrased to dance, were dotted onto the ocean floor, the confusing waves within still waters were displayed by technological manipulation--rising bubbles an added detail. The screen began to rise, slowly moving away from the digital sea--but “swimming” redfish indicating the parting of ways. On surface of the sea; a slender, long necked creature was cruising gracefully against the slow, chopped footage it was created from. It, gleefully excited, venturing to the cutoff unknown that is the left border of the screen.
Yet, another white flash, this time a transition, within a forest. It flatly housed a singing balloon with eyes, it’s pitch animating into notes cutely. This doesn't last long, as a yellow mouse tackles it with, seemingly, annoyance.
The flashes become rapidly intertwined; images of unrecognizable beasts shrouded in both black, white, and minimal detail. But one image was prevalent; a orange beast descending from the upper screen, landing until he puffed balls of choppy fire--finally launching the program, much to the young boy’s delight.
Lewis Elm, the boy in front of his living room TV, relapsed his head back in relief.
Lewis: Goooooosh! That took, freakin’, forever and a half! (Fiddling with the controller plugged into the TV, mumbling to himself) So, just push start… (He does so, opening a menu, reading out loud present abridgedly) “Boy or Girl”? ...Do I LOOK itchy in any way? (He selects and continues on, facing yet another menu) … (Relapsing his head again, yelling) MOM! WHAT’S THE TIME NOW--EXACTLY?
Lewis’ echoes bounced off the walls, which were striped with yellow and green, then soon the entire homey room. Lewis’ mother, Linda Elm, was sitting at their family table observing her son with his challenge with smug parental warmness only she could have.
Linda: (Smirking, hand on the side of her cheek) I thought you didn’t want any help? That Training Master Lewis Elm of New Bark could handle it on his own.
Lewis: But that was before I forgot the time! This is my learning at stake, woman!
Linda: (Sternly, stating in a fast, void pace) Lewis, what did Mommy say about word phrasing?
Lewis: (Frighten, says in polite tone) Would you kindly take time, to provide me the time, Mother dearest?
Linda: (Smiling again) About 6:30, my wittle learning man. (Puts hands on table) You only got one hour before dinner’s whipped up, so learn what you can!
Linda rises from the table, the weight shifting to her feet, allowing the floor to become alive again, creaking. She walks past pictures, decorations, and shelves filled with the brim with memories, varying age for each one--some below, current, and even exceeding her age. Nearing the exit, she pets one of the ferns, satisfying her habit, which developed very recently.
Lewis: Oh yeah--MO- (She turns around, causing him to lower his voice again) Uh, Mom? Can I turn up the sounds now? Is Gold finished yet?
Linda: Lewis, you know how thin our walls are. It’ll only distract him, and you know how he likes to concentrate tackling new things.
Lewis pouts and returns his attention towards the TV, not even the orange hue of the sun rays emitting from the window bothering his temporary angst. Continuing on, Linda steps outside, feeling the last of the conjured breeze the town of New Bark had to offer, the very same newly born winds that’s a trademark of the town. As Linda stepped down the stairs, noticing him, she often wished another element was known a tad better. She stops at the middle, paying attention to a boy, at least, a few feet above what he’s normally used to, working to fix yet another milestone of sorts importance to town.
The boy with burrowed tools acting as, oddly, an anchor of weighted balance, works on a technological box perched in the air by a pole, where the bag is latched on. Swapping out metal assistance nearly every minute to fiddle. mess or realign, scraps of metal and fascinated grunting was the only harmony available.
Hardworking Boy: (Putting some tools away, looking at hands at the moment, moving them from the ache, in a rather puzzled tone) … Why do my hands hurt more than usual?
A rather obese man, wearing a pink shirt and suspenders off, was worried about the boy weighed in the sky, speaking out once more after a hour.
Pink Rounded Man: (Shouting, even causing slight ripples exciting his flabby flesh) K-kid? Why don’t we call it a night...and maybe call an expert on this kind of thing? I can still pay you for help, ya’ know!
Hardworking Boy: (Looking down, replying to the man) I’m almost done, sir! I think I got it this time, don’t you worry! (Smiling) I could spend even more hours up here, I don’t mind!
Pink Rounded Man: (Scratching head, shouting more) I dunno, I would feel kinda bad letting you slip or something!
Hardworking Boy: (Nodding head) Of course, of course! I wouldn’t do something you wouldn’t allow! I’ll be down there, right after this tweak! (Looking at hands again, clutching them, to himself) Alright, one more… “omph”, I guess…
Rubbing his hands, flushed with pink, the Hardworking Boy uses his human tools to whack the box structure with all his might, slightly wincing in pain for a moment, it subsiding to the other sharp ones. He closes the mechanical compartment, sliding the golden shell back into place. The Hardworking Boy then smiles again down at the rounded fellow, also giving him a thumbs up. The man, in return, does the same meekly, almost like the boy’s charm matched the glowing, gentle rays now setting. The Hardworking Boy descends down the pole, admiring the familiar houses, sand and grass of the town, glad that he’s coming back down to walk on it once again. He lands, a splatter of sand created by the shockwave, removing the belt and returns it to the big boned man, afterwards departing with him.
Once again, while chuckling lightly to herself, wonders why a boy like Gold is so overlooked. She thought personalities like his are hard to keep, and it’s even more enduring that he still has his at such a young-ish age. Instead of just “being there”; he should shine, like his namesake suggests. She stops pondering, and proceeds down the stairs, walking into her husband’s pride and workplace.
Contrast to the homey wooden floors upstairs; the sleek, carefully plotted mint marble squares were far more advanced. Linda’s shoes agreed, as she walked across the open space, completely empty and dimly lighted. She walked over the thousands of papers, boxes, and ink pens around the floor, eyeing the opened white cabinets laced together in a straight line. She shook her head, stopping at the only soul present, them facing a laptop.
Linda: (Hand on hip, raising an eyebrow) You sent the aids home early? I figured by the amount of mess only you could do in 30 minutes…
The soul was housed in a skinny, scrawny body--the body, as it moved around franticly, was clothed in sizable shirt, pants and labcoat. And despite differences in size, were drenched in sweat and possibly tears. Truly, it is Professor Elm.
Linda: (Smiling, preparing for what’s to come in one, understandable, sigh) What’s the situation now, Hunbun?
Elm: (Running to a large paper pile up, scrambling finding documents as fast as he can) I---Just got a “Email” from Mr. Pokemon.
Linda: Mr. Pokemon?
Elm: Mr. Pokemon.
Linda: (Twisted lip in wonder) Hm. How long has it been? He’s literally spoken to you tw--
Elm: Twice, that is right--Twice! If you count 30 minutes ago--Now it’s three times! (His fingers burrowing within his short hair, rushes back to his desk, rapidly searching through his laptop, Linda just nods in agreement across from him, moving closer)
Linda: (Hand on desk) What was it about? Was it important--?
Elm: Important doesn’t even begin to describe it! (Clasps head into hands) It turns out, he has my research notes I left at the Professor Conference. I don’t how he’s gotten them, but you do you know what this means?!
Linda: ...I can only imagine.
Elm: (Laughs, his chuckling uneasily blended with stress) I wish I could imagine! Just--poof--here they are--So I don’t have to worry about three months of skewed data that’s on my hands now!
Linda: (Tilts head, her expression shifting to an understanding one) Three months?
Elm: (Slowly bumping head on desk) Three. Months.
In a way, Elm recreated his own countdown to cool down. After many bumps, Linda gently hugs him from behind, rocking side to side slightly, how he always found comfort in. Realising the only sounds that broke this reassuring moment was his own plight; Elm ceases the banging, again returning his--pretty aching--head to his hands.
Elm: ...I-I needed that. Thank you.
Linda: You always needed this when you overwork yourself, silly.
Elm: ...Which, admittedly, is all the time. (Chuckes) Decent excuse to use to get more, I suppose.
Linda: (Smiles, nuzzling his back before breaking away, putting hand on shoulder) At least they aren’t lost, right? I’m sure you could just pull them in--and remove any errors. Not to mention; it’s Mr. Pokemon, he’s knows how precious Professor research is; you act like a theft is holding them for ransom…
Elm eyes the picture taken long ago at the Conference. Judging his smiling, yet stressed face; he understands the point his wife is making--this causing him to face her and pace the floor. Linda, in turn, sits down in Elm’s discarded chair that also faced his wrath.
Elm: (Inhales deeply) Now, the problem is getting there. Should I go?
Both husband and wife exchange looks at each other.
Elm: ...Yeaaah, better not. (Hands in pockets) I suppose I could wait for the aids...even though it’s going to be Sunday...which means, turning in later than usual.
As Elm rambles on, Linda spies Gold yet again outside the small window. He and the rounded man returned--the man holding various cables, all linked by a plug and socket. Gold has his hands behind his back, awaiting if his labor lives up to the results.
Pink Rounded Man: (Glances at Gold) Let’s see it this does it.
Gold smiles, nodding at the man’s hope. With a thrust, he connects the wires and awaits for sounds. Slowly, the box fulfilled it’s purpose, various noises struggling to please the departing breezes. Soon, those noises knew how they were and what they did; becoming the music that defined New Bark Town...but in the form of chiptunes. Upon hearing this, Gold groans and scratches the back of his head, his black hair mingling with the last of the sunlight, simmering.
Gold: (Sighs, puts hands on hips) Sorry, sir, I really--REALLY am; I’ll work on it again for the next few--
Pink Rounded Man: (Laughs) Relax, relax, kid! You did a great job. For a kid just jumping in and fixing the town’s music box, WITHOUT any tech know how, it’s amazing!
Gold: (Rubbing hands) I don’t know--I should’ve tried at least harder…
Pink Rounded Man: (Tapping back, making Gold lose balance temporarily) I think you did enough, kid. (Digs into pocket, handing out Gold’s just reward--a sum of Poke Dollars) You fixed the Box and that’s what you needed to do.
Gold: … (Takes the money, laughing) Yeah, you’re right sir. (Extends hand) Thank you for the reward.
Pink Rounded Man: (Grabs hand and shakes it) And thank you for your services! (Looks up, stops shaking) Technology is amazing...but boy, I’d tell you, we have the worst kind.
Gold: At least we’re getting better about that, right?
Pink Rounded Man: We are...in the next two decades if the pace keeps up.
Gold: … I guess that’s good for me, eh? (Smiles, raises hands)
The rounded man laughs hartley, again hitting Gold’s back, but this time, he does fall. The man panics at the harsh silence...only for Gold to break it with his own, both sharing a moment the first time in 9 hours spent. With the return to Linda, she now awaits for Elm to finish, to offer the best and obvious choice for her.
Elm: ...The Mailman? I mean, it wouldn’t be so farfetch’d, I suppose. He marches in snow, rain and terrain to deliver--he could do the same for receiving!
Linda: Annnnnnd, how much would that cost?
Elm: (Surprised, then ponders) … You pay mailmen for that kind of service?
Linda: I don’t even think they do receiving orders like that, not in this day and age. (Slides to) Buuuut, I know someone, while not free, that would be so glad to offer their service!
Yet another awkward silence glazed the room, Linda slowly connecting her face with her palm.
Linda: ...Still “overwhelmed”, dear?
Elm: (Chuckles lightly, combing hair with fingers) They ARE important notes.
Linda: Dear!
Elm: (Shaking hands) Okay, okay! I’ll calm down! ...But who would do the task?
To direct her Husband’s nimbly distressed eyes, her pointed finger assists. There, Elm sees a familiar Gold, who has risen and still conversing with the rounded man, both seem to be enjoyfully engaged.
Elm: ...You want Gold to do it?
Linda: He does Odd Jobs, doesn’t he?
Elm: Well, that’s true… (Strokes chin, counties pacing) He seems perfect, he really does… (Paces to Linda) But two problems already arise from this.
Linda: Really? Why? I mean, it’ll be great for him to travel for a bit, he’ll still earn money; and to add… (Looks at Gold) He’s passed due on becoming a Trainer, you know? At least we could offer that experience to him…
Elm: Well, those are the problems, Linda. (Linda turns her head at) 1.; that could be Emily’s own wish or reason to not Gold go on a Journey, and we have to respect it if that’s the case. 2.; (Gets an uneasy look, adjust glasses) The Bite Of Sinnoh happened for a reason, dear. And we can’t recreate that--especially if Gold’s involved.
Linda: (Looks down, nods) True…(Looks up and at Elm again) … Couldn’t hurt to ask, right?
Elm: What I’m stuck about is how Gold could get to Mr. Pokemon’s House. I know he’s well-trained, but I doubt he’s going to have a good run not encountering Pokemon…
Linda, once again, facepalms--the collision much harder than the last.
Linda: ...Honey. You’re a Professor, remember?
Elm: (Turns to) Of course I remember! (Slowly realizes) ...Oh...What did I forget this time?
Linda walks toward her significant other, digs into his pocket, pulling out a one button remote. She tosses it to him, and upon grabbing it, Elm’s mind seemed to finally click with the outer realms known as logic. He presses it, the walls emitting smoke and light. The couple faces it and are the only ones gazing upon it. Due to it’s nature, the smoke cleanses the air around the room, overcoming the stale and still element, while the light coats people and objects present alike.
Elm: ...To be fair, they were behind the wall.
Linda: That you designed to incubate them, Johto’s Regional Professor! (Motions to the subject that they speak of) He’s played with them as a kid, alike the others, so the Bonding is sort of there. Just let him choose and problem solved.
Elm: (Nods) Yeah, I can allow that. (Turns to) But wait, what if one does Bond with him? Do I let him keep it?
Linda: (Gets close to, shrugs) Well, that’s completely up to you, Professor. (Gives hand) But after dinner, you’re resting that brain of yours.
Elm: B-but I have to respond to the Email--!
Linda: Whiiiiiiich could wait tomorrow. Things can wait, deary.
Listening to his wife’s words, Elm’s solemnly worried profile worked against hearing them. He looks toward the answer to his problems and Gold’s presumed help. He presses the button again, ending the smoke and lights from interacting with the outside world. He looks again to his beautiful Linda, causing the face to calm itself in it’s doubts, Elm agreeing with it.
Elm: Tomorrow it is. (Smiles)
Linda returns the gesture, her husband taking her hand. While leading him upstairs, Linda knows what a great mind that Elm has, but also knows who it could takeover him in an instant. Knowing this, no matter how things could go wrong, must stick with him until it gets better. And frankly, no one could do it better than her. With the family meeting, preparing to eat dinner; Lewis excitedly says this to his parents:
Lewis: Mom! Dad! I’m in the “World of Pokémon” now! Isn’t that great?!
Outside, with the repressed night skies rolling in and over the gleaming blue skies, Gold is walking back home. Listening to the chiptune New Bark theme is both crippling and bittersweet to him. As he waves to nearby passerbys, returning to their homes, he looks at his hands, them returning to his black, puffy shorts in shame. Gold always tries to due to the best of abilities, even it does exhaust and hurts, but will heed the words of others if his service is satisfactory to them. As he fiddles with his earnings within his left pocket, he spots a moving shadow, it creating a low, crisp sound of shaking bushes. Turning his head back upon the trail of home, he ignores this, writing it off as wild Pokemon, kinds that appear in New Bark around night. Whatever it was, it had a crimson hue about it, something Gold never saw before. It sort of puzzled him.
Moving on toward the town’s sign, a great landmark for him, Gold has his house in sight. Before getting close to the rather large cabin; he spots another shadow across, but this one wants to be seen. The shadow also dances, grunting in excitement and doesn’t care who watches. By outline, and obvious guesting, Gold knows who the shadow is, but is interested why she’s dancing. He wanted to approach her, but decided against it. It’s been a few years and he doesn’t want to be punched in the face due to the dark, knowing her. He continues on to his house as the dancing shadow run back into hers.
Gold opens the door and peers around, expecting the same old when he walked in, smiling that his expectations were met. He closes the door, locking out the darkness of outside in a brightly lit room.
Gold: (Hops out of yellow boots, covered in grime next to the door) Mom!
Emily, sitting at the table, smiles at her boy, opening her arms, Gold coming over to hug her. Gold stops giving her his funds.
Emily: (Counting it) Hm, you've made a lot today. (Patting his head) I’m proud of you.
Gold: (Laughs) Thank you, didn’t do a GREAT job today, but that’s what practice is for, eh?
Emily: (Putting the money away) Gold? (He looks at her) Why can’t you hold on the money for yourself? You would look so nice without those torn clothes…
Gold glances at his old, riddled tanktop, the red Pokeball emblem faded and diced away, Also, presses his finger along his shorts, lifting it to see the gathered dust on his finger.
Gold: (Shakes head, moving his index along his thumb to brush off the dust) You know you need it more, Ma. Besides, how else you’re gonna save up that car you need?
Emily: (Giggles) I’m definitely saving for something, alright.
Gold was, strangely, caught off guard by that, but continued on the conversation.
Gold: Anyways…(Squinting) So, how much did you do today?
Emily: (Looks at, slowly tents hands, smirking behind them)
Gold: (Tilts head) Juuuuuuust out of curiosity.
Emily: ...Cleaned your room.
Gold: I organized my closet.
Emily: Clipped coupons!
Gold: (Slides closer) Trimmed neighbor’s lawns!
Emily: Planned tomorrow’s lunch!
Gold: (Points) Fixed the town’s music box!
Emily: ...Fixed the toilet.
After the final claim; both couldn’t help but laugh. Emily clapped with joy while Gold covered his face, it was a good “Nice War”--possibly the best one they’ve had. As the laughter dies down, Emily hugs her son again.
Emily: (Inhales greatly, releasing one final laugh to calm herself) ...What would I do without you?
Gold: (Clearing throat, returning the favor what his mother did) Yeah, I say the same…(He makes a uneased smile, knowing that his mother can’t see it) Have a good rest, okay?
Emily: (Stops hugging, which Gold follows suit, grabbing his shoulder while fixing his wild hair, crafting a bang) I say the same. (Smies)
And with that; Gold beings to end his day. He begins climbing up the stairs, putting his legs in the last bit of stress. Reaching the top, he begins to scan the room, Emily keeping her promise on exactly recreating it, this causing relief and a tad of odd dissatisfaction. Crawling into his bed, he begins to feel his aches vanishing instantly, closing his eyes due to the sensation. With one final exhale, Gold departs into his mind, the body lulling to sleep, awaiting the next day. The next day, he begins his Journey, after a long wait.
Generational Versions: Versions Gold and Silver
Episode 1: The Start of the Journey
Episode 1: The Start of the Journey
The next day waits no longer, Gold awakes.
He rubs his eyes, rubs his hands, combs his hair--stopping mid-stroke seeing the bang his mother made, warmly crafting it back. He gets up, patting the grunge of yesteryear from himself, walking down the stairs. Coming downstairs, Gold meets his mother again, still sitting the same chair from last night, watching TV and drinking tea.
Emily: (Stops mid-sip, finishes) Good morning, Gold.
Gold: Good morning. (Begins to walk away)
Emily: (Raises arm, revealed to be holding mail, Gold comically sneers at her) Already on it.
Gold: (Returns to table, sits on) So--anything important?
Emily: ...Well, you have a errand today. (Hands mail)
Gold: (Raise eyebrow) Around this time? Really? (Gets it, opens, pulls out letter)--
Emily: You don’t have to read it...It’s from Professor Elm.
Professor Elm--those words struck at Gold. He looks at his mother, feeling uneasy due to her reserved expression and closed eyes, the sound of her sipping becoming audible knives.
Emily: ...Best get out there, it could be really big.
Gold: (Stuffing letter into shorts) R-right. (Standing up, walking towards door rubbing his arms, turns head to) Have a nice day?
Emily: I will.
Closing the door, Gold’s mood heavily contrasted with the peaceful tone of New Bark. As he walked to Elm’s, the suspense was telling to call it off and do something else. The Oates’ house needs painting, he DOES need to check on the Formans’ locks and such; and what was the last time the Kreis every need any--
Gold entered the lab. Instantly; he puts his hands behind his back, and walks toward Professor Elm, who surprisingly, is up and dressed.
Elm: Gold! ...I-is it already if I call you Gold? (Approaches)
Gold: O-of course. (Smiles meekly, shakes hand without Elm’s permission, shaking his whole body) A-and good morning, Professor Elm sir!
Elm: (Is shaken immensely, slowly stops Gold’s hand, making him retract it quickly) ...Huh, the years must’ve been rough; you’re shaking more than me when I’m nervous!
Gold deeply sighed, caging his high-strung storm within.
Gold: (Laughs) Yeah, I’m just...anxious, to receive this errand! I feel that it’s going to be a good one, Sir!
Elm: (Laughs also) Please, you can stop calling me “sir” if you want. But, back to the errand at hand. (Paces around lab) You see, a good friend Mr. Pokemon has my research notes for quite some time now, and I forgot them at a conference...you know, hence why he has them--but anyways.
Gold gulps.
Elm: Gold, I want you to just travel to his house to get them back. Could you do it?
Gold is dumbfounded.
Gold: OH! (Elm questionably looks at, Gold coughs) S-sorry--bit of a sore throat, but really? That’s it?
Elm: That is it!
Gold: (Shakes head calmly and gleefully) Oh--oh of course---I’ll be happy to do such a task!
Elm: (Smiles) Well, I’m glad that you can! We were actually a tad worried that you couldn’t...Anyways, we can’t send you out there alone, of course. Due to grievous events that you were too young to remember about, you need a Pokemon that can help you fend off wild Pokemon.
Gold: (His eyes widen, his voice filled with enchantment) ...A Pokemon? You mean...the ones I used to play with?
Elm: (Nods) Now, Gold...I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I am. This set of Pokemon are extremely hard to find. This set, among many, are treasured for their closeness to us Humans. We Professors love these Pokemon to death. I am trusting you to take care of one you end up choosing--like family, like a brother almost. Can you do this? Will you do this?
Gold: ...Yes. I will.
Gold immediately saw the smoke engulf around, doing a double take at the wonder. Elm steps back, remote in hand, joining Gold by his side. In awe, Gold looks upon the high technology that demanded his attention, it spinning slowly, shoving the smoke around it. In his eyes, he witnesses the object converting gracefully--parts folding, spinning and plugging it, and it’s new form causing Gold to bite his bottom lip. The machine was bound to the floor, sleekly white, blue, mechanized streaks build in, with thick glass filling in a gap in between two components--the top sporting a huge, crimson lid. Elm snaps his fingers, and the thick glass settles within the machine, the machine honorably containing three, clean PokeBalls.
Elm: (Displays that motion activates turns the table the Pokeballs are on, Gold yelps in amazement) Just present your hand before the machine and choose for yourself.
Gold: (After staring at Elm for a moment, he looks towards the machine) …
Elm: We have Chikorita, the Grass Type. Cyndaquil, the Fire Type. And Totodile, the Water Type--left, middle and right. (Looks to Gold) Who will you choose?
Once again, Gold stares at his hands.
He slowly outreaches with his right, the blue light tinting his palm. The plate begins to shift to the left.
Elm: Chikorita?
Gold shakes his head, Elm nods in return. He motions to the right, causing the plate to do so, clockwise.
Elm: Totodile?
Gold once again shakes his head, retracting his hand, clutching it with other.
Elm: Hesitation is completely fine. Choosing your partner is a very important thing. Take your time.
Gold’s hand took on a form also, the form of a clenched fist. This could be the most, if not THE, significant moment of his life, as well as the lifeform that’ll be with him. With a swift motion, the machine catches it, it shifting back to it’s original stance. Gold grabs a Pokeball, chucking it in the air.
Gold: I choose you!
Upon hitting the ceiling, the Pokeball snaps on impact. Free, roaming energy is released, molding itself into a bipedal, tailless form. It reanimates, the energy, becoming overwritten by cream skin and blue fur. It was a Cyndaquil; a small, shrew-like creature--roundish head with a long snout, stubs connected to a body, with hind stubs, met with claws at the ends. It turned into a new form; becoming a ball as it plummets out of the air, it shrieking.
Both Elm and Gold joined in; shouting and panicking as Gold lined up in order to physically catch it, running around to track it’s free falling movements. The Cyndaquil is now heading near the entrance causing Gold to dive, catching it just nearly. It seems their heartbeats are already in sync.
Elm: (Panting) Hah! Woo! ...I-I guess that was a good enough first impression. (Catching breath, adjusting glasses, extending his arms out towards the new partners) Congratulations! Gold, you have chosen Cyndaquil as your Starter! (Grabbing his legs, putting head down) Whoo!
The Cyndaquil uncurls from it’s defenses, it and Gold know nose to nose. It makes a angry look, igniting the flames from it’s back--preparing it’s offenses.
Gold: (Panting, amazed and scared) Y-yeah, I DO deserve whatever you’re going to do to me. I can owe you that much so we could start fresh-h…
The Cyndaquil heeds his words, sniffing him as a survey. It’s face changes to a mildly annoyed, reminiscent one, it recognizing Gold. It, in turn, puffs smug in his face before stepping off, out from his arms, Gold smiles awkwardly as he gets up.
Gold: (Kneels to) I’m sorry Cyndaquil; it’s my first time handling my own Pokemon...That, and I saw throws like that on TV…
Cyndaquil: (Tilts head, eyes Elm) …
Gold: (Looks, sees the hunched over Elm, and helps him) Are you okay, s--Professor Elm? I’m sorry also.
Elm: (Adjusting clothes) It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s...usually the time I have my Shock Intake anyways, so I should be okay for the rest of the day! Anyways, excellent choice! Oh, and as a addition, both of you can agree on a nickname to name Cyndaquil!
Gold: ...A nickname, hm? (Taps chin, then snaps) Cynda!
"Cynda": (Glares at) …
Elm: …
Gold: ...Right. (Rubbing chin) ...Zynda? With a “Z”? (Chuckles embarrassedly) I’m not the best with names, unfortunately… (Kneels to “Zynda” again) Completely up to you, buddy.
Zynda: … (Nods, playfully bumps nose to stomach)
Gold: (Chuckles, pets Zynda’s head) Zynda it is!
Elm: (Hands Gold his discarded PokeBall, Gold grabs it) Do you need anything else? Supplies--Adventuring goods?
Gold: (Snickers) Trust me, I don’t think I’ll need “adventuring goods” who knows how long. (Hands on hips) Point me in the direction?
Elm: Route 30; but you have to cross...well, Route 29 and through Cherrygrove City. (Points as he gives more information) So, go left from here, then rear upwards.
Gold: Got it. (Shakes Elm’s hand) Again--no, no amount of thanks can be said, Professor Elm! I’m so glad you gave me this opportunity!
Elm: (Chuckles light) It’s a part of my duties to provide joy to children like yourself--(Stammers) If, of cours-se, you WANT me to call you a child--
Gold: (Smirks, lets go of hand) Eh, I got a year left, you’re more than fine to. (Walks toward the door, waving) I’ll hurry back! (Realizes, slaps forehead) Ugh--right. (Calls to) Let’s go, Zynda!
Zynda: Gri-run! (Follows after Gold, Gold opening the doors first, it walks out)
Obviously, Gold emerged out of Elm’s lab completely different than before, but he doesn’t dwell on it at all. What does catch his attention is Zynda, who is sniffing around the bushes outside the Lab, with a angered look on it’s face, like the very smell has lingering hatred. While puzzled, Gold assumes the same.
Gold: (Walks over to) Zynda; it’s probably a Pokemon resting there.
Zynda: (Looks at Gold, tilting it’s head) …
Gold: (Nodding) Oh, yeah, wild Pokemon sleep outside. The whole land’s their bed and spread, really. (Silencing himself, hearing a low, rumbling sound, spooked by it) Yep--THAT is snoring if I ever heard it. (Motions) Come on, we don’t want to wake it. (Walks away)
Zynda, despite instincts, follows Gold, away from the provoking scent. The duo, now at the ends of New Bark and the beginings of Route 29, were unknown to the climbing hand that rested on the ceil. The arm attached to a skinny, shadowy figure, covered in leaves. The shadow stares at Gold. Then, laughs silently. He lets his whole body rise for him, allowing his limbs to stretch away the weakness trapped within them. With the crunching of his fingers, he leans toward the Lab’s outlet. All doing so with a grim smile on his face.
Gold constrained only on the errand, nothing else. The time was still fairly early, some of the wild Pokemon haven’t hopefully stirred yet, and the Route was a fair walking distance--Good. He checks on Zynda; still following, looks happy, sniffing around as they journey along--Also good. He itches his nose--very, very good. But then, something unusual happened, thoughts--Gold’s--began to fill his head. Looking at Zynda once again, the weight of now being partners slams itself against Gold. How could he take of it now? Matter of fact--what is it? Boy? Girl? None? Is that possible for a Pokemon, if his memory served him? How would he fit in the house...would it finally fill a hole? He doubts it, but again, it was a thought. Somehow do to time, they’ve reached the end of the Route, and the beginning of a rural city, a road of fence post and arrays of flowers welcoming him.
He walks, determined to reach Mr. Pokemon’s house, not much further. He jogs lightly on the road, scanning around only to find little activity among other things. Orange roof on his left? Oh, PokeCenter. Maybe he’ll take Zynda there--okay. Another thought, the trip was a complete breeze. Imagine, hiking to nearby towns like this one, all with Zynda’s help...even finally learning their names again. He stops pondering, glancing at Zynda, who’s still behind. They made it, already, to Route 30--perfect! Looking upon it, he scales the Route, becoming steep with the ground with each step, trying to adapt. Using it’s claws, Zynda scales it fine, with complete ease. With the goal in sight, Gold shakes away all of his thoughts. With Mr. Pokemon’s House in sight, he affirms his place in the world; being a errand boy of New Bark Town, and nothing more. Something he has to live with.
The wooden door is only just so far along. Gold is nearly at his destination, telling Zynda this, who responses happily at the news. Gold’s waist from below is free from the tall, bushy grass, Zynda crawling out. Gold straightens up as well as he can, inhales and moves forward, the curious onlooker Zynda noticing this, following him. Gold twists the knob...Gold twists the knob...The knob isn’t twisting, to Gold’s surprise. Then it hit him, letting the knob go. His guess proved right, it taking a life of it’s own, empowering the door open as well. Gold steps back, looking at the figure and begins apologizing.
Gold: (Clasping hands together) Sorry, sir! Really sorry! I, uh, thought no one was coming out. (His eyes shifting, scratching head) You...look familiar. Are you Mr. Pokemon?
The man--one of the men of his generation and transcending. He wore a golden jacket, iconic white shirt under it, with brown business pants. His face produced a smile, natural ridges around it, gray sideburn to the other. He humbly chuckles.
Oak: (Calls into house) I guess I’m staying a bit longer! You have another guest! (Goes back inside)
Gold: (Follows, Zynda right behind) Oh no; you don’t have to wait for me, sir. it’ll be quick.
Oak: Nonsense! I wanted to talk with Mr. Pokemon on another point, actually. (Sees Zynda) Ah! A rarity! (Gets up, kneels to Zynda, despite real apparent backache)
Zynda: ? (Looks at Oak) …
Oak: Let’s see…(Glances at Gold) What is it?
Gold: Oh; a Cyndaquil named Zynda. I was just given it today.
Oak: (Does a double take) TODAY?! (Gold jumps, as well as Zynda, prepared into attack mode, Oak laughs at this) Yet another case! Look at him, he’s already defending you!
Gold and Zynda look at each other, confirming what Oak claimed, then looked forward at the strange man.
Gold: (Surprised) Wait, really? …(Snaps, even more surprised) And him?
Oak: Of course! Your “Zynda” is a male, you could definitely tell by the quill pattern and fur. I AM relying on old tricks of the trade, though. (His chuckles intertwining with his speech) I do wish I had some new, concrete finds…
Gold: Well, I have played with Zynda in my early years, so it is kinda cheating… You really look familiar. Can I have your name, sir?
Oak: (Smiles) Samuel. In fact, I’m a colleague of Professor Elm. (Crossing arms, eyes closed) Knowing him, he’s the reason you didn’t know your Pokemon’s gender.
Gold: (Laughs) He is a tad forgetful.
Oak: (Scoffs, awkwardly looking around) Aren't we all...
Zynda: (Lowering his defenses, now has a good understanding of Oak) Gri-Grii!
A hatted man walked into the scene, dressed in old, washed out brown, darker shades among patches. Cleaning a blue orb, he instantly spots Gold with Oak.
Mr. Pokemon: (Going to his desk, placing the ball on it) Thought you were leaving, ya’ stickler!
Oak: I wanted talk about ONE more thing, but of course, you have other matters. (Sits at table)
Gold: Mr. Pokemon! (Approaches, shakes hands with)
Oak: (Silently) Oh, a gentleman.
Mr. Pokemon: It’s good to finally meet you, Gold! Elm talked a lot about you on the Email!
Gold: Really?
Mr. Pokemon: That you’re Gold, have a real name, some kind of age, and you do errands...Yeah, a lot!
They both laugh, Oak smirking by himself, reaching into pocket.
Oak: Gold. (Softly chuckles) It seems colors are so connected after all…
Mr. Pokemon: (Hands the notes within a white backpack, strangely plated and barring the same logo as Gold’s top) The notes are in there, didn’t touch ‘em much. (Whispers to) Wished I did; whew--condensing will not help at all!
Gold: (Snickers) Right. (Puts on, it fits nicely)
Mr. Pokemon: Now, did Elm say anything about something else?
Gold: (Shakes head, shifting face to remember) No… This was it, just notes.
Silence.
Gold: …He forgot something, didn’t it?
Mr. Pokemon: (Returns to desk, lifting, heavy to him, a miniature capsule, covered in frost) It’s a finding of mine; VERY important for research and important to handle with great care… (Eyes Zynda) Elm probably lectured you already--I hope you listened. Turn around?
Gold: (Does so, Mr. Pokemon opening the backpack and placing the capsule in--the bag fitting the capsules shape, Gold shifting due to weight, faces Mr. Pokemon) Thank you!
Mr. Pokemon: Tell Elm, “Remember this!” for me, will ya’, Gold? (Smirks)
Gold, once again shakes hands with Mr. Pokemon, telling him to have a nice day. Rounding up Zynda, Gold scrolls to the door.
Oak: Actually, Gold?
Gold: (Turns around) Yes, Samuel sir?
Oak: (Pulls out a red device, Mr. Pokemon watching with confusion and interest) This isn’t Professor Elm’s, but can you show him this? It’s a...life project that means a whole lot to me. It’s a Second Generation model, made just for this region. Gold, can I entrust you with this?
Gold: Of course, Samuel sir. (Reaches hand to receive it, Smiles) I’ll do anything for a friend of a friend.
With great pleasure, Oak hands Gold the “Second Generation” device. Yet another PokeBall symbol, but subtle with a huge black core. It’s red skin being sleek, itself being portable and compact, with a thick antenna among the top. Gold admired it, also thanking Samuel sir before departing.
Oak: ...Now, you think it was a bad decision?
Mr. Pokemon: (Uncertain look, pulling cloth out and split-shines the blue ball once again) Can’t ask me, Oak...You know what I always say…
Within the main square of Cherrygrove, Zynda gets defensive. The nice aroma of small flowers and sea breeze, a smell returned. Gold, surprised, sees yet another person his age--running towards the city, he stopping once he spots Gold. Under his crimson hair, he looks at Gold with extreme annoyed hatred. Spotting his hair, Gold’s eyes widen, so they could spot the Passerby Boy raise his own PokeBall, ready to throw it. Before the still, calm of a battle-heavy storm, Mr. Pokemon says what he always says:
Life’s a delightful thing, ya’ know? New discoveries uncover every second.
Always, new discoveries have to be made.
Always, new discoveries have to be made.