Scyther
i write erotic novels. for children.
This fic is currently rated PG-13. The beginning doesn't have much of anything, but the later chapters...*gulp*
Gore, Violence, Sexual Reference, and, my favorite, twisted morals.
I'll try to warn you before any of this happens, however. Go crazy.
And, well, as I hope the name warned you, the plot of this fic is not the most original. It is just a trainer fic. You see, I've decided not to write something with a super complex plot, that is, until I'm a better writer. If it can entertain yo, well, so be it, but it's only meant to hone and polish my writing skills.
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Samuel Johnson drowsily climbed up out of his bed after a long, sleepless night on the day of June eighth. He lay there for a bit, half-asleep, but then he realized what day it was
Like any energy filled youth, (eleven specifically) Sam almost literally flew over to his dresser, and quickly replaced his plaid pajama bottoms and white undershirt with jean shorts and a flaming red t-shirt. Sam considered brushing his teeth momentarily, but it was deemed trivial in his young mind.
The adolescent's aqua blue hair whipped past him as he grabbed his Pokèball belt that was lying on his kitchen counter, and then bolted out the door. His parents knew where he was going; they had all discussed it beforehand.
Pallet was never more peaceful than in the early morning. It was silent, of course, except for Samuel’s shoes beating the pavement and the occasional Pidgey chirping from a tree.
Sam continued running, about to burst of the anticipation. Where was the boy heading exactly? Everyone in Pallet knew about it. Sam was headed to the Pokèmon lab, where Professor Oak was giving out starter Pokèmon to beginning trainers. He was determined to be the first one there, so he would get the first pick of Pokèmon.
And that is when he saw it. The modest, dome shaped building where so many world-changing discoveries had been made. Sam quickened his pace, although his sides had begun to cramp up.
When examined closer, it was made evident that rust covered almost half of the gutter, and the dew-covered grass Sam was standing was about three inches long. Sam, although passing the building many times in a car, had never actually received the chance to come this near.
Sam pulled open the glass sliding door, (which looked more like it belonged in a summer beach house, but Sam didn’t notice at the time) to a room was way to clean to his liking. Computers with matching desks were placed systematically throughout the expanse of the room, (a few of the occupied) and bookshelves were lined up against a small stretch of the wall, on either side. Sam also detected a faint whiff of bleach.
However, the most prominent thing in the room were two machines with a red, dome, translucent cover that looked like plastic and a cylinder bottom littered with buttons. Each had a man guarding over it, the one on the left, someone whom Sam had no other name for: Nerd. He was wearing a white overcoat with oddly colored buttons, along with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that looked like they could be connected to his sandy colored hair. He also seemed to have a hunchback.
The one on the right, however, Sam recognized from seeing his face on television, and respected him immediately. He had gray hair that front looked like it stuck up straight in the air by itself, and an old, weathered, face that somehow gave Sam the impression that he enjoyed his life immensely. He was wearing a lab coat, however, it looked somehow stylish on him.
You can probably guess who Sam chose.
When Sam walked over to the professor, slightly panting from the jog to the lab, Oak, greeted Sam by saying in a quick, sharp tone that somehow didn’t seem mean in the slightest, “Hello. You’re here early. Better than in ninety-eight, I suppose… I’ll need to see your trainer card, then.”
Sam responded by using the word ‘yeah’ and reaching his hand into his pocket. He felt the smooth lamination of his trainer card, and he then gave it to Oak. For a moment there was a bit of an awkward silence.
“Well, I suppose you’re here for a Pokèmon, then? Well, if you’ll come to the side here, there’s a monitor,” Oak said very quickly. Then, giving a moment for Sam’s brain to catch up with his words, they went to the rightetermost side of the cylinder, where there was a small computer screen imbedded into the machine. The professor next pressed a button and the monitor flickered on.
“So, what would you like?” Oak asked in a tone that reminded Sam of one of those unnaturally nice service workers.
“Well, erm, what are there?” asked Sam in return, only thinking of Kanto’s national Pokèmon, Charmander, Squritle, and Bulbasuar, none of which he was particularly obsessive over.
“We have numerous kinds. We have, of course, Kanto’s original starter’s, along with Hoenn’s and Sinnoh’s, and two of Johto’s; Chikorita and Tododile. We have several regular Pokèmon, like Starly and Rattatta, and Pikachu, who has mysteriously grown in popularity since Ash Ketchum…” Oak said with a tone of distaste, “We have basically every baby Pokèmon, even a Smoochum. Anyway, that’s pretty much it.”
"How do you have that many?" Sam asked, curiosity taking over. His voice was like a child offered a chocolate factory.
Oak, however seemed a bit irritated. He obviously wanted to get through this as quickly as he could.
"Pokèmon can be transformed into data. Recently, all us professors (from Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh, that is,) made a communal server where we placed our Pokèmon in the beginning of training season. We can access starters from all over the world."
Sam gave an "Oh."
He pondered for a moment, trying to remember different kinds of baby Pokèmon, and contest them against other Pokèmon. At one point he asked Oak if they had Magnimite, and he said that they did, but then he remembered a horror movie he had watched where the electric Pokèmon shut down the world’s power supply and he sheepishly shied away from that Pokèmon.
Sam tried to decide, but why he was pondering, three more kids came in and walked up behind him, completely ignoring the other machine (meaning the other guy). This made Sam panic, and he tried to think faster, resulting in him thinking slower.
He was about to decide between Munchlax and Turtwig when a exhausted-looking assistant slammed open the door in the back of the lab and yelled, “Samuel!”
Sam whipped his head back thinking that they meant him, but Oak responded first.
“What is it?”
“It’s the Eevees! They’ve hatched!”
Oak whipped around and walked quickly through the door, his lab coat trailing behind him, and Sam automatically followed, without thinking what he was doing.
Sam was then taken into a long, tiled hall. After walking a stretch, they unexpectedly turned left, and Sam almost hit a door.
The room Sam was now in was also tiled, and completely barren, except for a small, metal table, on which were two, fox-like creatures and a green egg speckled with white. The Eevees had brown fur with a cream-colored mane and tail; however, they seemed to be covered in slime. Sam saw the reason why; next to them sat eggs that were shattered into pieces. They were obviously newborns. (Next to them was also a whole, green egg, speckled with white, but this did not interest Sam so much).
“Two hatched and you didn’t tell me?” interrogated Oak.
“I-I-Well,” stuttered the assistant.
“Never mind! Where are your notes?”
“I-I didn’t take any; I was too busy getting you!” the assistant answered.
Oak gave the assistant a screw you look, then pulled out a notepad and a pen from his pocket and began scribbling furiously into it. For the next few minutes he continued doing so, (a time span in which Max and the assistant remained frozen and silent), pausing only to glance up at the Pokèmon. Finally, he stopped to turn around and say, “Make yourself useful and go get a bottle of milk. And get Rowan on the phone.”
It was then when Oak noticed Sam, and the apparent look of envy on his face.
“Look. I know you really want an Eevee. Every kid does. They are just too rare and we need them for research.”
Sam wasn’t all that disappointed. He knew he couldn’t very well miss what he never had. However, he couldn’t help but wish he had obliged. Oak resumed his note-taking.
The next moment, the sound of pencil against paper stopped, and the last sound before a complete silence was a small mew from one of the kits. Then a small crack rang across the room. Sam stepped closer, and there was the unhatched egg, with a considerable chip taken out of it.
The scribbling on Oak’s notepad was more furious than ever.
The egg fell to its side. Another chipping sound was made, then another one followed, and an extra chip came off. The egg then wobbled and rolled, chips and cracks followed, and this all ensued that the egg burst open completely.
The Evolution Pokèmon that the egg resulted in surprised both Sam and Oak. In fact, the latter gasped in surprise.
Sam, at first was mildly amused on how the small creature was able to fit into the even smaller shell without breaking its spine. But then he realized the color. The Eevee, Sam recognized, was a bluish tint of gray.
It was then the door behind Sam and Oak opened; a weary-looking assistant pushing a video telephone and holding a Pokèmon-friendly bottle being the culprit.
“Rowan’s on,” the tired assistant said, putting the telephone in front of Oak, then going over to feed the crying kits.
On the screen was a world-weary man. Sam recognized him; his father used to live in Sinnoh and had befriended Rowan. When his father moved to Kanto with his wife, Rowan had visited whenever he came to see Oak, which was relatively often.
“Rowan,” began Oak, “We’ve got a shiny.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Sam stood there for the next ten minutes, completely ignored by everyone. A few people ran in that were taking pictures, or, as it seemed, just to stand there with their mouths hanging open. That is, until, Rowan used his extremely sharp eye.
“Sam, is that you??” the snow-hardened professor asked.
"Yep" was Sam's sole response.
"Why are you back here?" He seemed a bit suspicious.
"I-I was just about to get my starter Pokèmon, then O-Oak got called back here and I accidentally followed," Sam stuttered.
“Did you get your Starter Pokèmon yet?” inquired Rowan.
“N-No. I didn’t.”
Rowan’s eye sparkled, and Sam knew what he was thinking right before he said it.
“Well Sam," Rowan asked calmly, "What would you think about having the shiny Eevee as your first Pokèmon?”
Oak’s pen dropped.
“What?” He asked in the coldest tone Sam had heard yet.
“I just asked young Sam here if he would like to have the newly born shiny Eevee.” Rowan seemed as if he was quite enjoying this.
“Well, no, Rowan. You know he can’t. Stop teasing; you’ll make him feel bad. Sorry, Sam.”
“Well, Oak, why not? We still have yet to do our research on Shiny Stat Gain, Changes on Evolution, and how traveling with trainers affects their behavior.” Rowan said reasonably.
“Oh, very well. But we’ll still have to keep it a few days so it can grow to the point it can fight, and in the meantime, we’ll be doing some extensive research.” Oak said, obviously displeased.
“OK. I’ll fly over there as soon as possible. Good day.”
“Good day,” Oak said back quickly.
The phone flickered blank.
“Well, you heard that,” Oak said to Sam, who was in a bit of a daze. “I’ll contact you when I now when it’ll be ready.”
Sam blinked twice. “Oh, okay,” he said dumbly, and he walked out of the room, into the long hallway, and through that until he went within the lobby. Everyone was in a long line to the nerdy guy, and they all stared as the dark haired-boy with no Pokèball and no Pokèdex as he walked out of the overly-clean laboratory into the open air of the suburban town.
He didn’t mind though. The realization had just set in.
Just because he happened to be at the right place at the right time, he had just gotten one of the rarest Pokèmon in the world (that wasn’t one of the so-called ‘Legendaries’). He had good reason for sheer euphoria!
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
I'd like to know... was that too unlikely? Review, please, but don't intentionally rip apart, or use a hug box. Oh, and suggestion on the name of the fic are welcome.
Gore, Violence, Sexual Reference, and, my favorite, twisted morals.
I'll try to warn you before any of this happens, however. Go crazy.
And, well, as I hope the name warned you, the plot of this fic is not the most original. It is just a trainer fic. You see, I've decided not to write something with a super complex plot, that is, until I'm a better writer. If it can entertain yo, well, so be it, but it's only meant to hone and polish my writing skills.
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Chapter One
Adjourn
Adjourn
Samuel Johnson drowsily climbed up out of his bed after a long, sleepless night on the day of June eighth. He lay there for a bit, half-asleep, but then he realized what day it was
Like any energy filled youth, (eleven specifically) Sam almost literally flew over to his dresser, and quickly replaced his plaid pajama bottoms and white undershirt with jean shorts and a flaming red t-shirt. Sam considered brushing his teeth momentarily, but it was deemed trivial in his young mind.
The adolescent's aqua blue hair whipped past him as he grabbed his Pokèball belt that was lying on his kitchen counter, and then bolted out the door. His parents knew where he was going; they had all discussed it beforehand.
Pallet was never more peaceful than in the early morning. It was silent, of course, except for Samuel’s shoes beating the pavement and the occasional Pidgey chirping from a tree.
Sam continued running, about to burst of the anticipation. Where was the boy heading exactly? Everyone in Pallet knew about it. Sam was headed to the Pokèmon lab, where Professor Oak was giving out starter Pokèmon to beginning trainers. He was determined to be the first one there, so he would get the first pick of Pokèmon.
And that is when he saw it. The modest, dome shaped building where so many world-changing discoveries had been made. Sam quickened his pace, although his sides had begun to cramp up.
When examined closer, it was made evident that rust covered almost half of the gutter, and the dew-covered grass Sam was standing was about three inches long. Sam, although passing the building many times in a car, had never actually received the chance to come this near.
Sam pulled open the glass sliding door, (which looked more like it belonged in a summer beach house, but Sam didn’t notice at the time) to a room was way to clean to his liking. Computers with matching desks were placed systematically throughout the expanse of the room, (a few of the occupied) and bookshelves were lined up against a small stretch of the wall, on either side. Sam also detected a faint whiff of bleach.
However, the most prominent thing in the room were two machines with a red, dome, translucent cover that looked like plastic and a cylinder bottom littered with buttons. Each had a man guarding over it, the one on the left, someone whom Sam had no other name for: Nerd. He was wearing a white overcoat with oddly colored buttons, along with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that looked like they could be connected to his sandy colored hair. He also seemed to have a hunchback.
The one on the right, however, Sam recognized from seeing his face on television, and respected him immediately. He had gray hair that front looked like it stuck up straight in the air by itself, and an old, weathered, face that somehow gave Sam the impression that he enjoyed his life immensely. He was wearing a lab coat, however, it looked somehow stylish on him.
You can probably guess who Sam chose.
When Sam walked over to the professor, slightly panting from the jog to the lab, Oak, greeted Sam by saying in a quick, sharp tone that somehow didn’t seem mean in the slightest, “Hello. You’re here early. Better than in ninety-eight, I suppose… I’ll need to see your trainer card, then.”
Sam responded by using the word ‘yeah’ and reaching his hand into his pocket. He felt the smooth lamination of his trainer card, and he then gave it to Oak. For a moment there was a bit of an awkward silence.
“Well, I suppose you’re here for a Pokèmon, then? Well, if you’ll come to the side here, there’s a monitor,” Oak said very quickly. Then, giving a moment for Sam’s brain to catch up with his words, they went to the rightetermost side of the cylinder, where there was a small computer screen imbedded into the machine. The professor next pressed a button and the monitor flickered on.
“So, what would you like?” Oak asked in a tone that reminded Sam of one of those unnaturally nice service workers.
“Well, erm, what are there?” asked Sam in return, only thinking of Kanto’s national Pokèmon, Charmander, Squritle, and Bulbasuar, none of which he was particularly obsessive over.
“We have numerous kinds. We have, of course, Kanto’s original starter’s, along with Hoenn’s and Sinnoh’s, and two of Johto’s; Chikorita and Tododile. We have several regular Pokèmon, like Starly and Rattatta, and Pikachu, who has mysteriously grown in popularity since Ash Ketchum…” Oak said with a tone of distaste, “We have basically every baby Pokèmon, even a Smoochum. Anyway, that’s pretty much it.”
"How do you have that many?" Sam asked, curiosity taking over. His voice was like a child offered a chocolate factory.
Oak, however seemed a bit irritated. He obviously wanted to get through this as quickly as he could.
"Pokèmon can be transformed into data. Recently, all us professors (from Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh, that is,) made a communal server where we placed our Pokèmon in the beginning of training season. We can access starters from all over the world."
Sam gave an "Oh."
He pondered for a moment, trying to remember different kinds of baby Pokèmon, and contest them against other Pokèmon. At one point he asked Oak if they had Magnimite, and he said that they did, but then he remembered a horror movie he had watched where the electric Pokèmon shut down the world’s power supply and he sheepishly shied away from that Pokèmon.
Sam tried to decide, but why he was pondering, three more kids came in and walked up behind him, completely ignoring the other machine (meaning the other guy). This made Sam panic, and he tried to think faster, resulting in him thinking slower.
He was about to decide between Munchlax and Turtwig when a exhausted-looking assistant slammed open the door in the back of the lab and yelled, “Samuel!”
Sam whipped his head back thinking that they meant him, but Oak responded first.
“What is it?”
“It’s the Eevees! They’ve hatched!”
Oak whipped around and walked quickly through the door, his lab coat trailing behind him, and Sam automatically followed, without thinking what he was doing.
Sam was then taken into a long, tiled hall. After walking a stretch, they unexpectedly turned left, and Sam almost hit a door.
The room Sam was now in was also tiled, and completely barren, except for a small, metal table, on which were two, fox-like creatures and a green egg speckled with white. The Eevees had brown fur with a cream-colored mane and tail; however, they seemed to be covered in slime. Sam saw the reason why; next to them sat eggs that were shattered into pieces. They were obviously newborns. (Next to them was also a whole, green egg, speckled with white, but this did not interest Sam so much).
“Two hatched and you didn’t tell me?” interrogated Oak.
“I-I-Well,” stuttered the assistant.
“Never mind! Where are your notes?”
“I-I didn’t take any; I was too busy getting you!” the assistant answered.
Oak gave the assistant a screw you look, then pulled out a notepad and a pen from his pocket and began scribbling furiously into it. For the next few minutes he continued doing so, (a time span in which Max and the assistant remained frozen and silent), pausing only to glance up at the Pokèmon. Finally, he stopped to turn around and say, “Make yourself useful and go get a bottle of milk. And get Rowan on the phone.”
It was then when Oak noticed Sam, and the apparent look of envy on his face.
“Look. I know you really want an Eevee. Every kid does. They are just too rare and we need them for research.”
Sam wasn’t all that disappointed. He knew he couldn’t very well miss what he never had. However, he couldn’t help but wish he had obliged. Oak resumed his note-taking.
The next moment, the sound of pencil against paper stopped, and the last sound before a complete silence was a small mew from one of the kits. Then a small crack rang across the room. Sam stepped closer, and there was the unhatched egg, with a considerable chip taken out of it.
The scribbling on Oak’s notepad was more furious than ever.
The egg fell to its side. Another chipping sound was made, then another one followed, and an extra chip came off. The egg then wobbled and rolled, chips and cracks followed, and this all ensued that the egg burst open completely.
The Evolution Pokèmon that the egg resulted in surprised both Sam and Oak. In fact, the latter gasped in surprise.
Sam, at first was mildly amused on how the small creature was able to fit into the even smaller shell without breaking its spine. But then he realized the color. The Eevee, Sam recognized, was a bluish tint of gray.
It was then the door behind Sam and Oak opened; a weary-looking assistant pushing a video telephone and holding a Pokèmon-friendly bottle being the culprit.
“Rowan’s on,” the tired assistant said, putting the telephone in front of Oak, then going over to feed the crying kits.
On the screen was a world-weary man. Sam recognized him; his father used to live in Sinnoh and had befriended Rowan. When his father moved to Kanto with his wife, Rowan had visited whenever he came to see Oak, which was relatively often.
“Rowan,” began Oak, “We’ve got a shiny.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Sam stood there for the next ten minutes, completely ignored by everyone. A few people ran in that were taking pictures, or, as it seemed, just to stand there with their mouths hanging open. That is, until, Rowan used his extremely sharp eye.
“Sam, is that you??” the snow-hardened professor asked.
"Yep" was Sam's sole response.
"Why are you back here?" He seemed a bit suspicious.
"I-I was just about to get my starter Pokèmon, then O-Oak got called back here and I accidentally followed," Sam stuttered.
“Did you get your Starter Pokèmon yet?” inquired Rowan.
“N-No. I didn’t.”
Rowan’s eye sparkled, and Sam knew what he was thinking right before he said it.
“Well Sam," Rowan asked calmly, "What would you think about having the shiny Eevee as your first Pokèmon?”
Oak’s pen dropped.
“What?” He asked in the coldest tone Sam had heard yet.
“I just asked young Sam here if he would like to have the newly born shiny Eevee.” Rowan seemed as if he was quite enjoying this.
“Well, no, Rowan. You know he can’t. Stop teasing; you’ll make him feel bad. Sorry, Sam.”
“Well, Oak, why not? We still have yet to do our research on Shiny Stat Gain, Changes on Evolution, and how traveling with trainers affects their behavior.” Rowan said reasonably.
“Oh, very well. But we’ll still have to keep it a few days so it can grow to the point it can fight, and in the meantime, we’ll be doing some extensive research.” Oak said, obviously displeased.
“OK. I’ll fly over there as soon as possible. Good day.”
“Good day,” Oak said back quickly.
The phone flickered blank.
“Well, you heard that,” Oak said to Sam, who was in a bit of a daze. “I’ll contact you when I now when it’ll be ready.”
Sam blinked twice. “Oh, okay,” he said dumbly, and he walked out of the room, into the long hallway, and through that until he went within the lobby. Everyone was in a long line to the nerdy guy, and they all stared as the dark haired-boy with no Pokèball and no Pokèdex as he walked out of the overly-clean laboratory into the open air of the suburban town.
He didn’t mind though. The realization had just set in.
Just because he happened to be at the right place at the right time, he had just gotten one of the rarest Pokèmon in the world (that wasn’t one of the so-called ‘Legendaries’). He had good reason for sheer euphoria!
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
I'd like to know... was that too unlikely? Review, please, but don't intentionally rip apart, or use a hug box. Oh, and suggestion on the name of the fic are welcome.
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