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Old 10-01-2009, 10:49 PM
Giratina's Avatar
Giratina Offline
Join Date: Dec 2007
Location: Never-Turn-Back, pestering Zero
Posts: 2,673
Default Wings Have We



Welcome to Wings Have We. I can't say this is my first story or anything, with the actual first being my little Sinnoh babeh Metal Coat, and a side project I like to call Castle of Comic Torture: Elite Fail. So since there's nothing we can do on that account, I strongly suggest you bear with me as I wade through the introductory lecture chapter. Yes, it's long. Yes, there's a prologue and first chapter in the same post. So... yeah.

Pi Day 2011: I've just found out that Wings won the Chaptered Fiction (Under One Year) award in the 2010 PE2K Fanficiton Awards. I wasn't aware of this... but thank you! All of you!! Even through all the crap and life-eating that I've been dealing with lately, of the variety that prevents me from writing Wings, I love you all. :3

Oct 27 2011: Forty chapters, and a navigation page!

wings have we

trainer fic (original league)

{0} the beast of the sky stirs

Somewhere out in the vast reaches of space, a levitating red Pokémon was attacking empty air.

Well, at least, it looked like empty air. What this Pokémon was clearly aware of was that there was really something there – it was a sort of force field, a barrier designed to prevent that very same red creature from entering the range of the funny blue-and-white planet down below. And yes, the red monster with multicolored tentacles and a jewel in its chest certainly wanted to be there! Even though it had no idea what ‘there’ was called, he was receiving distress calls from fellow members of his species, and that was reason enough to go down and save them.

What this torn Pokémon did not know was that the distress calls from his comrades were not distress calls from his comrades at all. Instead, they were the (mostly) harmless byproduct of a machine so enormous it required a room the size of the average school gymnasium to house. This machine was referenced by its owners and creators as merely “The D-Cannon” (give or take a few ‘mrrrrr’s), and its existence was very much unknown, even to those who lived in relatively close proximity and who saw the results of its existence every day of their lives.

Where The D-Cannon was located, it was causing no harm. The D-Cannon and its immense housing made their home inside what seemed to be an obnoxiously large tower, out in the middle of the desert within an area with no other traces of life for miles and miles every way around. Indeed, even the usual Trapinch and Cacturne who tended to dwell around these rough areas weren’t present.

Those stupid enough to venture into the desert and find The Cannon’s holding area were simply told that it was nothing they should be concerned with and were booted out into the sand-coated wilderness (but not before a meal and good night’s sleep – what desert-dwelling building owner would deny that to idiotic travelers?).

This couldn’t be further from the truth.

For what those morons were not informed of was that the absolute worst calamity to ever occur in that particular Region could be blamed upon the scary big building in the desert. When the building absolutely had to be brought up, people would insist that “Oh, it’s just an old government building. You know the government officials – always making things and not using them.” The belief was held.

But, then again, these people weren’t exactly known for their independent mindsets.

{1} fate knows where you live

A young boy sat slumped in his seat, watching the rain continue its attempt to be as loud as it could while crashing against the window. Limp brown hair flopped against the glass, letting gravity take over entirely. His face was set in a thoughtful frown, and though dull blue eyes watched water pound upon glass he never really paid it any mind. He had average height and build, though it was difficult to tell from his current scrunched-up position. Overall, the sort of boy you expect to be cautious and unwilling to try new things. Of course, he was actually something like that, but his thoughts were upon clearly more important things.

Like Pokéballs, for instance.

‘Come on, Casey,’ the boy silently scolded himself, ‘quit thinking about that! It’s over! It’s going to get found and I never even touched that thing and nobody can possibly link its appearance to me!’

Casey, you see, was a kid with a dilemma. That morning, while waiting for this very bus to arrive to drive him to school, he had found an extremely disturbing object sitting underneath some nearby shrubbery. It was an object about the size of a softball, colored red and white with a black stripe running around the center. Commonly known as a ‘Pokéball’ or ‘Poké Ball’, it was a manmade object designed for the capture and control of animals known as Pokémon.

Both Pokémon and the objects that tame them were fully and entirely illegal in the fine land of Calda.

Without getting into specifics, quite a while ago (before he was born, in fact) the local regional government had decided it was better for the region and its human inhabitants if super-powered monsters weren’t running around the cities and nearby land. Pokémon and the spherical things that share almost the same name were no longer allowed, and hunts immediately ensued to catch and destroy all remaining wild Pokémon (which, seeing as Calda is an island surrounded entirely by water, is slightly easier than it sounds).

As a matter of fact, the only reason anyone even knew about the Pokémon anymore is because children were having a message constantly drilled into their heads that Pokémon are very dangerous – which usually leads into brief explanations on how dangerous they are. For many people, excluding those who have lived in a different and more Pokémon-friendly region for some part of their lives, this was all they knew. Many also shared the mindset that Pokémon were far too dangerous to be interacted with.

Casey was among them, being a victim of the common juvenile method of determining an opinion: their beliefs were a direct offset of their parents’.

This Pokéball that seemed to have spawned from a bush should have left his memory by now – but despite his brain’s pleads to wipe it away, the small object kept nagging at the fringes of his conscious mind.

Thankfully, the bus came to a final, screeching stop just as he concluded this.

Following the stomping masses of kids trailing into the massive building they called a ‘school’, being surrounded by the familiar buzz of people talking and subsequently being late for class helped to clear his mind of all illegal phenomena. After retrieving all necessary textbooks for the morning, Casey did his best to mask a loud yawn (it didn’t work very well) and set off for the ever-important class known as Social Studies.

Slipping in a seat just as the final bell tolled the fanfare of glory for some students and the screech of death for others, a middle-aged man with slick black hair stood up from his previous sitting position. He was wearing a rather formal white shirt and black pants, as well as thick glasses that caught the radiance of the fluorescent strips of lights that shone above him.

“You have five minutes to review your notes,” droned The Teacher, otherwise known as Mr. Thomas. He taught in almost every subject in the school for a year or two, and those unfortunate enough to be landed with him for more than one year quickly dubbed him The Teacher according to that criteria. “The tests will be handed out when that time is up.”

The usual shuffling of papers ensued as almost everyone whipped out one notebook or another to review one of the briefest chapters in the course: Pokémon Studies. Casey’s eyes glazed over the small amount of notes he had been provided with – the reasoning behind this strange topic was something along the lines of ‘if you’re ever presented with a situation in which Pokémon interaction is required, you must know at least something about them’.

“Time is up. The tests are being passed out now. Please put away any notes, textbooks, and cell phones you may have on your person.” His eyes fixed on one girl in the back of the class, who looked up with makeup-caked eyes from her previous position of hunched over a small machine. She gave a petite frown and shoved the object in her purse.

The papers were slowly passed around the room, and once everyone had a test The Teacher said blankly, “Begin.”

The first question was, ‘Name all types of Pokémon.’

Casey heard a resounding moan echo from some other people. How were they supposed to remember that?

Sighing, Casey tapped the eraser end of his pencil against the desk. 'It's probably a question meant to catch us off-guard,' he thought. 'We barely even skimmed the types...' Finally, he bit his lip and decided that if he was going to screw up the question, he would at least screw it up with an attempt at an answer. The boy began to write.

‘Normal, Fire, Water, Grass, Flying, Steel, Dark, Dragon, Ice, Rock, Ground, Psychic, Bug, Fighting, Poison’. He was fairly sure that was correct.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Casey moved to the next question.


“I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it.”

Somewhere in a vast stretch of white, there stood a large and imposing-looking wooden desk sitting on what seemed to be air, but was in fact a floor the same color as the surrounding area: white. All of it was fully and entirely white. Upon this imposing wooden desk was a computer (quite blatantly labeled ‘Dea Procol Machina’ in black marker ink) with an oversized keyboard and a giant monitor, with smaller monitors springing off at various points to create the sort of thing you would expect a French boy genius to have in his dorm room while he converses with his friends who are all running around in cyberspace, slaying monsters.

Of course, there was no French boy genius sitting at the computer. For one thing, there is no France. Ha ha, what could have ever put such an absurd thought in your mind? No, there was something much more impressive than a boy genius from a surely made-up land called ‘France’.

There was the highly brilliant, attractive, intimidating, and very fearsome Giratina the most wonderful and incredibly skilled ringleader of the best Alternate Universe ever crea-

Oh, forget it.

Sitting at the Dea Procol Machina in a large swivel chair was I, Giratina The Celestial Librarian Of Arceus’ Archives and The High Goddess of Never-Turn-Back The Interdimensional Bus Terminal (or Giratina for short).

If you have ever seen me before in my two more often-used forms, which you probably haven’t, I look like some sort of cross between those two. My body is long and gray, with the only thing breaking the serene gray-ness being a black-and-red stripe that goes down the lower part of the body, Gyarados-style. Upon my head is a strangely shaped golden head ornament that looks almost exactly like the one in my Earth Fo- oh, wait, you silly mortals have never seen it before. Well, it’s very hard to describe, but on the forehead of my black, muzzled face lies a golden sideways-crescent dealie, and to the side of that two large gold horns that twist oh so slightly, and to the side of THAT, sticking straight out, is two thicker golden horns that don’t twist at all and make my head look like a, how you say, ‘football’. Oh yes, and I have no arms. Instead, I have black wings that have transformed themselves into three-clawed hands.

What? You’re wondering why you’ve never heard of this awe-inspiring third form in your feeble studies of Legendaries?

Well, because only four human beings have ever seen it. One of them isn’t allowed to leave this place and is no longer human at all, one of them probably forgot about me entirely, one of them is smart enough to know bringing me – and therefore this form – up in conversation would be a VERY bad idea, and one would probably rather not think about me ever again as long as he lives.

So that’s why you puny mortals have never seen it.

In any case, I was monumentally peeved.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked a slightly high-pitched voice from behind me. From somewhere else in the vast whiteness of Never-Turn-Back appeared the first person I spoke of – the one who is no longer mortal, and therefore no longer human. By now, he’s more of a… biologically advanced Aipom… assuming humans evolved from Pokémon in a different way than normal… thing.

Well, in any case, he looked human and his name was Zero. Dressed up in a baggy yellow suit with matching boots and gloves, one half of his white hair fell over yellow eyes that were now staring at me, intent to know what irritated me and possibly send the person responsible some flowers in gratitude.

This was my used-to-be-human assistant, Zero, rescued from a glacier after he tried to kill me and was subsequently ‘forcibly nominated’ to assist me in all of my Legendary duties as Head Librarian and Goddess.

My eyes quickly glanced over to him, but they soon shut in irritation. “I go through all the trouble to put that Pokéball exactly where he was supposed to see it… and worse, convinced Palkia to make him see it…he was supposed to… oh, when I get my claws on that pink fate-weaver I’m going to…” I gritted my teeth, as the fate that I intended to lay upon Palkia should probably not be revealed lest he suddenly disappear from his post one day.

“What’s gone wrong this time?” Zero asked again, this time slightly irritated (presumably from my lack of response).

“Well…” I said, wishing Zero could keep his mouth shut so I didn’t need to repeat the tragedy, “…I went to the trouble of doing something extremely difficult and doing something else hugely, incredibly, mountainously difficult. And then someone goes it and WRECKS IT ALL! PALKIA, I AM GOING TO—“

At that point a deafeningly loud moaning drowned out exactly what I was going to do to Palkia, courtesy of some Pokémon racing in levitating buses over our heads. I felt tempted to tell them off for misuse of equipment, but couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I banged my wing-fist on the computer monitor, and quickly made it levitate into the air once the giant machine threatened to fall over.

“So ‘Palkia’ did something bad, then,” said Zero dryly.

“Oh yes,” I said. “You’ve never met my relatives, have you, Zero?”

“I didn’t know you had relatives, Gi- um, Goddess.”

“Oh, just stop trying to call me ‘Goddess’, you’re going to look stupid when you mess up.”


“And yes, I have relatives. I have a lot of relatives. They’re… strange, and I don’t think you’ll be able to swallow all of their personalities and even existences at once.”

“So will you introduce them one at a time or something?”

“I’m hoping you never have to see them…” I said distantly, and then let my mind fly off in various directions. “There must be some way to get the Mewforsaken Pokéball to him!” I slumped my head in my claw-hands, making sure not to skewer something with the multitude of pointy things sticking off of it. “Think, Giratina, think…”

“Why don’t you just go down there and give it to him?”

“I can’t do that! I’d be noticed immediately!”

“What if you went at night?”

“Can’t do that either! There’s still too big a risk of someone seeing me!”

“There is not. Just cloak yourself in shadow or something.”

“Cloak- I can’t do that!”

“You could a few years ago in Sinnoh…”

“Th- that never happened! You have no proof I ever did that! I erased it from the Archives and from the memories of the mortal masses! And I don’t trust your judgment, because I’m the only other person here! Though… it’s not a bad idea…”

“See? I was right. There IS a way to do it.”

“Be quiet, you. I need to think. Go frolic in the Reverse World or something.”


That night, Casey was having sleeping difficulties.

It wasn’t like him, really; usually he was lying awake for a few minutes before conking out and awakening the next morning, refreshed and ready to take the world head-on. And tonight… tonight was something different. The shadows squirmed and moved ever so slightly with the shifting of other shadows outside, an action that Casey was accustomed to by now. And… it still wasn’t helping the boy’s cause.

And then there was a ‘thunk’ at his window.

Now, thunks at his window were not unheard of; there was occasionally some nut or branch or something that had decided to deviate from the tree or other place of origin in favor of toppling to the ground, occasionally making contact with his glass in the meantime. For this reason, Casey ignored it and turned around in his bed.

And then there was another thunk. And another.

The boy frowned, but didn’t move.

And another thunk. And another one. They simply did not stop.

Deciding that he could never fall asleep with this constant bombardment of his only source of moonlight, Casey grudgingly got up and opened the window. Sticking his head out irritably, the eleven-year-old looked around the yard below searching for the origin of the thunking. There were dents on the glass, and that much told him that it was somehow forceful enough to toss hard objects at such a height. This meant it was probably another person.

Though, the only thing that showed from the darkness below was a black blob shaped like a sort of six-footed dinosaur, with two arms it was using to presumably toss rocks with. The creature apparently didn’t notice he had opened the window, despite turning what looked to be its head up to gaze at him. Without any time to do anything but blink, Casey could only watch as another object went soaring…

…and came in direct contact with his forehead before landing on the carpeted floor with a light ‘thump’.

When he ran back to the window to check for the dinosaur-shadow, it had disappeared.

Casey was sufficiently creeped out by now. What was this snake doing outside his house, of all places? It couldn’t have been a trick of his mind, because that thing definitely looked like it was throwing rocks… and one of those rocks was now lying on the ground under his feet. He reached down to retrieve the rock, and found to his surprise that it did not feel at all what a rock was supposed to feel like. Suddenly suspicious and a little bit scared, Casey held the object up to the light.

And promptly dropped it again.

“I… I don’t…” he spluttered under his breath. Finally, he closed his eyes and attempted to compose himself. Failing that, Casey braced his mind for looking at the Pokéball one more time. Unfortunately, it was still there and was not a trick of his imagination.

The boy gulped. Reaching out one shaky hand for the object, he took it as if it were an explosive device. Slowly walking back to his bed with the red-and-white ball in hand, Casey turned the object slightly. “This is bad…” he breathed. “Really bad… but what can I…” Casey didn’t know what that snake had against him to want to get him arrested; as a matter of fact, he knew only one thing.

He wanted nothing to do with this Pokéball.

Gulping again and trying not to think about the consequences of what he was about to do, Casey unceremoniously dropped the Pokéball behind his bed and fell asleep, ignorant of the red glow that was being sprawled on the wall behind him.


I feel really nervous right now. o -o And Grassy, if you're wondering where DS+ went, I think I'm going to start it next chapter.

~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

(vpp da)

Last edited by Giratina; 10-27-2011 at 05:20 PM.
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Old 10-04-2009, 01:47 AM
Giratina's Avatar
Giratina Offline
Join Date: Dec 2007
Location: Never-Turn-Back, pestering Zero
Posts: 2,673
Default Re: Delta Species [PG, warning when it goes higher]

{2} you should watch this transformation

Casey was woken at about one in the morning by a noise.

Unable to register that there was some sort of mysterious noise-maker in his bedroom (and thinking the noise was his alarm clock) thanks to his half-awake state, Casey merely performed the standard morning ritual: moan, grumble, flail his arm around near where the bedside table was, search by touch for the black box, and hope his poked the part that made it shut up.

And then he heard giggling.

“Whoz’sere?” he grumbled, seemingly unable to speak clearly.

“Me, silly,” replied a high, childish voice.

Now, Casey didn’t expect a reply; when he got one, it took him by surprise and successfully woke the kid up. He straightened in his bed, and kept his eyes firmly clamped shut. “And who is ‘me’?”

“You’re you…” said the voice. “And I’m me!”

“Who’s speaking?” he asked, becoming annoyed with the carefree way this person was taking his (very serious) conversation about waking him up.

“You were, but now I am…”

Casey sighed irritably and opened his eyes, mentally bracing himself for whatever horrors surely laid in the room beyond. All seemed normal except for a strange red glow coming from somewhere above him.

When Casey lay on his back, a large orange-and-blue mass that was giving off a bright red glow was beaming back at him.

The orange things were what looked to be metal half-circles, with two smaller ones cut into the front. Both of the half-spheres were identical, but one was turned upside down and attached so that they looked like eyes. Visible from inside the sphere was a blue orb of energy. It seemed to be what was keeping the two orange parts together, and looked a lot like irises in the ‘eyes’. All together, it looked like the face of a Duskull, except it was a sphere of its own accord, and it glowed red.

The Duskull-thing had a mouth. It was opened ever so slightly, and from that point – almost as if it were coming out of its mouth – came a glowing red stream of jagged red energy, which then widened out and turned into a very canine-looking head.

The orange thing was staring at Casey blankly, mouth open, but the dog head had its mouth open and was lolling around a red plasma-tongue. It seemed to be the one speaking.

The Caldan boy was about an inch away from screaming very, very loudly. He nearly did that before trying to halt the impulse with a shut mouth (the result was a strange guttural noise that sort of hurt his throat). When Casey had compiled himself enough to speak somewhere close to properly – and had pushed the creature a few feet backwards in the process – he spat out a few words.

“Who… what… are you?”

“I’m Rotom!” chirped the dog head. Casey took it to mean both the glowing appendage and the orange-and-blue ball, since the latter seemed to be preoccupied with keeping the former visible.

“Rotom…” Casey breathed. It sounded familiar somehow, but he couldn’t quite place a finger on it…

“Oh JEEZ!” To heck with keeping quiet – this was a Pokémon talking to him. But Pokémon weren’t supposed to talk, were they? And they weren’t supposed to appear out of thin air either.


The force of the matter hit Casey like a freight train. No way! How did it not occur to me that the Pokéball might not be empty? What do I do with it? Do I get the Pokéball and try to make it go back in? That’s what happens, right?

Casey peered down the dark, small crack formed between the bed and the wall. He couldn’t make out much in the lack of sufficient lighting, and a graze of the perimeter with his fingers resulted only in a small cut on his finger. But that wasn’t the most important matter at hand – there was a bigger problem going on.

Like where the way he was supposed to hide that thing went.

“But… that thing you were in… Pokéball, that’s it… where did it go?”

“It’s right in front of you!” sang Rotom.

Casey looked down at himself and all around the immediate vicinity, but there was no sight of the red and white sphere.

“No, really!” it laughed. “The Pokéball is right in front of you!” The dog head then commenced to curl in close to the ‘body’ before springing back out, saying, “Grr, I am a big ferocious Mightyena! I have come out of my Pokéball to tear you to shreds! Grr!”

It took a few seconds for Casey to understand this (mostly because he had no idea what a Mightyena was), but once he did the rest soon followed. “So…” he said, face paling considerably. “So you just…”

“One of the things that make Rotoms a cut above other Ghost Pokémon!” said Rotom proudly. “We’re able to possess some other electronic equipment and turn into a new form! This one spawned the second head, and guess what I took over! Guess!”

“You…” Casey spluttered. “…can you get out of it?”

Rotom faltered. “Well…” it hesitated. “…um… that’s the thing. I tried and… no.”


“No. I really can’t come out. I tried before, because it’s really weird having my energy in a form that looks like a Mightyena and I didn’t like it, but I think maybe the Pokéball thinks I’m in it and out of it at the same time.”

“In and out of it at… so you can’t come out because it won’t let you de-possess it. Have you tried entering the Pokéball entirely? They… Pokéballs can do that, right? They’re for storing Pokémon?”

“I tried that too. But there’s no way I can, because a Pokéball has to touch a Pokémon to catch or return it.”

“Oh…” Casey had not known this. The ‘Rotom’ was becoming something of a problem, and he could think of only one way to rid himself of it.

“I have an idea,” he said tentatively.

“What? What?” asked Rotom, voice getting higher in pitch from his excitement.

“You have to… well…” Casey hesitated for a second, and pointed at the window.

Rotom was devastated. “Why? Why can’t I stay with you?” asked the little Pokémon, the blue energy core in the center of his body getting wider from fright.

Casey gulped. It wasn’t going to be easy to explain to this Rotom – who seemed to have the mental capabilities of a six-year-old – that he was an illegal specimen that needed to be disposed of at all costs.

“Umm… the short of it is, you’re sort of illegal here.”

Rotom gave out a little gasp, but didn’t respond for a while.

“But… but you’re going to help me, right?” it said after a few minutes, staring at Casey with an enormous glowing core that somehow managed to make it look cute. “You’re going to… change it, right? Aren’t you?”

Under different circumstances (such as not being stuck with three other people currently sleeping and unknowing about the fugitive he was hiding in his room), Casey would have laughed out loud at this thing’s stupidity. But alas, he couldn’t, so he boy merely settled for staring at him.

“Change them?” he asked. “Change them? I can’t do that. Either you get out of here and never come back or we find some way to hide you.”






Casey had been aware since square one that Rotom was a bad idea, and he had originally tried to hide it somewhere in his room until he could decide how to dump the small electric Pokémon without being tracked down again (and there was still the matter of that dragon). However, it was evident after roughly an hour that stashing a hyperactive Pokémon in one’s drawers and expecting it to lie still was not going to settle well. And once Casey had simply returned to bed, promising Rotom that it could sleep with him (providing it stayed under the covers at all times and didn’t move), he had figured that he had the rest of the weekend to mull over it – at least he had until his mother woke him, demanding for the boy to go pick some things up for her.

Cut to Saturday morning, about eleven AM. Casey was now running as quickly as he possibly could in an attempt to get as far away from the highly-unpleasant-looking group of cops trailing behind him as he could.

All could be blamed upon Rotom.

Because that thing felt the need to possess its own Pokéball, and is apparently incapable of getting itself back out, Casey had to hide him somewhere at all times. And because Rotom doesn’t quite understand how vital it is that he keep still, by the end of the day his hiding place is either physically or metaphorically up in smoke.

Among the ‘physical’ category was Casey’s backpack.

So when a nearby policeman happened to notice that his book bag was on fire, he ran over to Casey and demanded to know what was inside. When the boy refused to show him, the cop simply pulled it off his body and practically ripped it open… to come face to face with Beast, Rotom’s talking dog head’s new name.

Well, Beast gave the policeman a toothy grin as the latter dropped the backpack in surprise. Rotom wormed out of it before the bag hit the ground, however, and much to Casey’s dismay he began hovering around the boy’s head, giggling madly. Not having enough time to even moan loudly before the policeman began calling up all of his blue-suited pals to catch the ‘troublemaker’, he grabbed Rotom’s solid form and ran.

And here we find our little protagonist, running and cursing all of the nameless creatures that wander on and above the Earth (particularly that dragon) for bestowing him with such a hyperactive, childish, and defiant little Rotom that he couldn’t get rid of. Meanwhile, Beast dangled from Rotom’s body like a pendulum, his exact position equivalent to the position of Rotom’s mouth at the time.

Within minutes, one man had multiplied to two, then four. Casey’s eyes flickered backwards to get a decent idea of how far away he was, but he quickly returned his focus to the road – just in time to hop over a trash can that had fallen down at some point in time prior to the chase.

He was dragged to the side with great force before his feet even touched the ground. Rotom squirmed his way out of Casey’s lightened grip before the latter fell to the ground, unconscious.


“Shut up,” said a deep female voice. “He’s moving.”

“Well of course he’s moving,” said another voice, this one more masculine and high-pitched. “It he had died here, I would have had it in my records, now wouldn’t I?”

“Hey! Don’t talk about those! What if he heard you?”

“Well then he’d-“

The voices faded. I descended into sleep again.


Once Casey was quite sure he was going to remain conscious, he opened his eyes. However, the boy quickly shut them again. The dragon-thing was returning (though she had a different body shape, the spiky head-dress was the same), and she had brought along a buddy just as scary and imposing as she was.

I recoiled with a rather feminine squeak, surprised at him actually waking up again. My body was long and gray, with red-and-black stripes in a horizontal pattern running down the center. The face was black with large red eyes, and upon my head was a complex gold headpiece with six horns in total. Huge, broad paws (actually shape-shifting wings, but whatever) , black as ink and tipped with blood-red claws, jutted out from my back.

Standing a bit farther away was my ‘accomplice’, a pink and-white dragon thing that stood on two legs, had wings that looked like a Skarmory’s. Wigs that looked like they were ripped off a Skarmory and spray-painted white before being stuck on his back. There was also pearls embedded in his shoulders, and what looked like a silver Mohawk running down his spine.

“Howdy,” said I. “My name is Giratina. This guy over here is Palkia, Rotom’s just fine, and I’m really hoping you’re not unconscious because… well…” I trailed off. “Well? Are you conscious?”

(Before you ask, ‘I’ was Giratina the Celestial Librarian of Arceus’ Archives, High Goddess/Conductor Lady of Never-Turn-Back the Interdimensional Bus Terminal (or just Giratina for short). If that wasn’t a clear enough description, I’m the person (Pokémon?) who chronicles everything everyone does and writes it down on a Word document, which is then processed into book form and added to the Archives. I put the best ones here for the heck of it.)

“Yes,” said Casey, sounding quite scared.

“Hey, now,” I tried to reassure him. “We’re not going to kill you or anything like that.”

“So… why are you here, then? And how do you talk? Do all Pokémon all of a sudden talk now…?”

I blinked for a second, thoroughly confused by his barrage of questions. Finally, I sorted the answers into some sort of order and responded. “No, not all Pokémon talk. Palkia and I are speaking in the Unown Dialect, which is very similar to your own language. As for why we’re here, well… there’s some stuff we need to explain.”

“Well, yeah, there’s some stuff you need to explain! Like...”

“Um, guys, we should really get this over with soon, we’re not all supposed to be here.” A small, almost whiny voice chimed from in the dark. Out floated Celebi, the small Forest Spirit who was apprentice to Dialga the Time God. She also had a head shaped like an onion with antennae.

“I have permission,” I said to Celebi, “and if it helps with the prophecy then Arceus should have no problem with it and will be very happy that we’re all here to smooth it out! And yeah, we sort of are all supposed to be here, because we’re needed for different things.”

Celebi pouted and sat down on a trash can.

“Now then...” said I. “I believe Palkia has something to say to you?”

Eager as Casey was to learn what Palkia wanted to tell him, the natural instinct to get the heck out of that place took over. He tried to scoot backwards towards the exit, but I noticed and blocked the escape with my wings.

“Fate Knows Where You Live,” I said sagely. “You, of all people, should know that.”

“Yeah, well Fate isn’t exactly here right now, is it?” Casey snorted.

Palkia cleared his throat loudly.


“Now, I know you must be scared out of your wits, and it probably won’t help telling you that the police probably have you on file by now,” said I. “Hey, they’re just trying to keep Pokemon away from defenseless pedestrians. Can’t blame ‘em. Anyway, you happen to have a very lovely little Path. And the first thing to realize to follow this path is…” I paused, presumably for dramatic effect. “You don’t need this place anymore.”

“My… path?”

“Another word for ‘fate’, or ‘life’s direction’ or whatever you call it these days,” said Palkia from the corner.


“Right,” I said, trying to get this back on track. “You would be better off out of this region… and out of that skin.”

“Out of my SKIN?” Casey practically screamed.

“Shh, shh!” I said, waving one arm to silence him. “How are you supposed to move on in life if you’re stuck in the appearance of a law-breaking kid? You’d never be able to get off this island region, and especially not with Rotom along!” I gestured to Rotom, who was on the floor and sleeping soundly with Beast curled protectively around him. It might have been kind of cute in a different circumstance.

“What makes you think I’d go off this pla-“

“Would you rather be on the run for the rest of your life? Stuck like that?” I asked. “Or would you rather start fresh under an entirely new persona, in an entirely different region, with nothing anyone can hold against you?”

“Second option,” Casey mumbled. “But…”

“See my point?” I smirked. “So we’ve got to change almost everything about you. The only thing you can keep is your first name.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why do you want me at all? Why do you have to change me? Why am I even here? And don’t give me any of your ‘fate’ garbage, eith-“

“If you don’t help us,” said Celebi weakly, “then a horrible fate will befall all Pokémon…”

“I don’t care about your horrible fate!”

“Nor do you care about all of the Pokémon, the creatures that make up the vast majority of this world’s population…” I sighed. “What a terrible mindset for a young human to have…”

“With all the Pokémon gone, this place would be a lot better off, now wouldn’t it?” Casey snapped. He was being forcefully ejected from his comfort zone, and Casey planned on flailing to the end…

“Oh, so now he thinks everything in the world will just proceed as normal if I was dead, too,” said Palkia sarcastically. “And he thinks that time would still flow correctly, and that the waters of the Earth would remain clean enough to live off of, and that the very fibers that make the Universe itself would all surely stay in their rightful positions and even remain intact… Yes, you can go ahead and leave now. Celebi, Giratina, let’s go start designing our graves or something.”

…until that happened.

Palkia began to flap his wings, as if he were going to fly away right then and there. He actually got a few feet off the ground before my instinct kicked in.

“Wait!” Casey yelled. “Fine! I’ll do it!”

“Good!” I chirped. “It’s not like you had any choice anyway, so accepting the inevitable makes everything run so much smoother! Now, we’re going to have to knock you out again…”


“I was just getting to that.”

“Oh,” said Palkia flatly, “do you want to be awake to experience the thrilling sensation of your body going through complete, speeded-up metamorphosis and, even more so, changes to it that shouldn’t ever be experienced by a human being? Trust me, I’ve had to change shape before, and it isn’t pretty.”

Casey sighed, defeated, as I slowly progressed towards him with my wing-hands spread wide.

Another long chapter. Sorry. xD Anyway, I seem to have forgotten to introduce DS+. Well, it'll happen if you simply click the link below...

delta species plus 1: salutations, mortals!

~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

(vpp da)

Last edited by Giratina; 10-05-2009 at 01:13 AM.
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Old 10-08-2009, 01:52 AM
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Location: Never-Turn-Back, pestering Zero
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG] [Warning: this story may contain JOURNEY FIC]

{3} it's enough you're growing up in such a hurry

“Oh, you’re up,” said Celebi. “I must say, you look much more interesting now.”

It hadn’t taken long for the plan to be executed, and we finally got to sit back and admire the fruit of our many labors. ‘The fruit of our many labors’ was referencing, in this case, a person who looked nothing like he did yesterday. Naturally, the first thing Casey did when he woke up was look downward – but my wings were in the way to block his view.

“Palkia wants to unveil it for you,” I explained before he had time to complain (as he was probably going to do).

“I do,” said Palkia, “and I must say it looks better than I thought it would.” He turned back to his work, which was currently in the process of making obnoxiously loud whooshing sounds. Shards of light flew in every direction, illuminating the silhouette of Palkia (for he was blocking the view between us and the work) quite well.

“Watch in awe,” I instructed Casey. “You probably won’t see this again.”

He didn’t need to be told.

“Done!” sang Palkia happily a few seconds later. “Are you ready?”

“Go ahead,” I said to Palkia. He moved out of the way, and I whipped my arms away from Casey – and wisely relocated them to his mouth. The muffled scream still rang loud and clear in my ears, but at least it was soft enough to keep all of the nearby residents of Calda City (these humans can be SO original…) asleep and ignorant of approximately a million illegal things happening in their beloved safe-haven.

In Casey’s defense, though, it was a pretty drastic change.

The first, and most noticeable, difference was that he was quite a lot taller. This was thanks to Celebi, who used her time-travel-tweaking abilities to simply age Casey while she traveled forward into the future and retain that age when they made the return trip. This provided the effect – well, not the effect, because it actually happened – of kicking his age up from eleven to fourteen.

“What in the…” Casey spluttered after I had cautiously removed my wing from his mouth. He didn’t say anything more, and seemed to reflect upon the fact that his voice was deeper than he was used to. “This is going to take getting used to…” He shook his head slowly, and noticed as he did so the flops of hair that dangled in front of his face. They were crimson in color, and his entire hairstyle looked rather like mine. It was a multi-spiked masterpiece that I had convinced the Unown (otherwise known as the Gravity Gods and watchers of the Ancientpowers, the things which gave Legendaries their otherworldly skills) to lift – no pun intended – it from their standard rules of gravitational logic. Two of the spikes were limp and dangled on either side of his face, while the ones behind it weren’t so much ‘spikes’ as ‘thick cone-shaped wads of hair’. Two more stuck out at an upwards angle, and finally one spike poked out the back.

It was strange, I tell you. Palkia was entirely to blame, not me, so you can go and complain to the shrines of him if you want to.

In any case, his hair was really odd. The eyes had changed color too – what was once a rather dreary blue color had turned stormy gray. His face had grown narrower (probably an after-effect of Celebi’s ‘artificial’ aging process), which made the funky hair all the more noticeable. His outfit was a purple one-piece rubbersuit similar to the one that hyperactive Kanto Champion… ah… Lance. Yes. His rubbersuit was similar to that of Lance, down even to the boots (which pushed up the legs of the suit, and were black with red stripes and soles). The only exception was that Casey’s was roughly the shade of a Sableye. He was also wearing blue gloves, which basically limited the amount of exposed skin to his face and part of his neck.

Casey was evidently too shocked to speak. He slowly slid his eyes downward to stare into his palms, while Palkia and I (after sharing a glance) took the moment into our own hands.

“Do you like it?” we chorused.

Silence. Then…

“N… NO!”

I dove for his mouth a third time, but it was too late.

“Okay, nice job breaking the secrecy, hero. We’ve gotta speed this up,” I sighed in Casey’s direction before turning to Palkia. “The object, Palkia, if you will.”

“Certainly.” Palkia held out his arms once again, and in another small flash of light there laid a small square of red-and-gray striped fabric in his hands. I prodded the cloth tentatively, to make sure it wasn’t still hot or prone to falling apart due to the fact it was composed almost entirely of converted air molecules, and after it proved safe I picked it up and presented it to Casey.

“Tie it around your neck, making sure the rock tied in there is near your mouth.”


“Because that particular rock is not just any old rock. It happens to be a chip off of the Rock Megaphone, my personal instrument of choice…”

“A megaphone isn’t an instrument!”

“Um, yeah, it is. It makes noises. Heck, we’re playing instruments right now, just by talking. Anyway, by being tied into that particular bandanna it makes said bandanna indestructible. When you need to talk to me, duck your head down and hold Rotom in your lap or something. Speak into the Megaphone and, if you’re quiet enough, it’ll look like you’re speaking to Rotom.”

“Ah, I see…” he said absentmindedly, fumbling with the bandanna.

Celebi perked up at that point, scared. “Um, guys,” she said meekly, “there are people coming.”

“Noroi!” I hissed. Palkia and Celebi looked at me, startled. “Gah, stop looking at me like that and go back to Oort! They’re coming, you know!” Celebi nodded and disappeared in another flash of dim light, but Palkia hung around.

I turned back to Casey, who had gotten to his feet by now. “You need to get off of this island,” I said.

“To where?”

“Go head to the nearest airport, and find a young man with funny white hair waiting around in front of the entrance. Talk to him, and he should give you the ticket and directions on where to go. Now hide Rotom and scoot!” I pointed to the edge of the alleyway (not that anyone could see in the dim moonlight) and the voices became more obvious.

“But…” he began.

“If you have questions, just speak into the Megaphone Rock,” I said, as the light began to envelop me as well. “See ya.”

And I disappeared.

“Wonderful,” he mumbled as I left.

Palkia spread his wings to leave too, but before he did turned his head to face Casey with quite a serious expression on his face. “Fate knows where you live, kid,” he said. “Try to evade it, and sooner or later it’s going to come chasing after you and hint you down. And it’s now always going to be as forgiving as Giratina trying to get you to face the facts.” The light soon enveloped him too.

“Trust me on this one.”


I reappeared in Never-Turn-Back quite weary.

Not feeling like wandering around to find the Dea Procol Machina today, I simply teleported there. You see, those – and only those – who have been touched by the Ancientpower-G (brought to you by the Unown G, of course) may warp almost anything in Never-Turn-Back to their will. Basically, two creatures out of the entirety of them could do almost anything in here.

The other creature who could do almost anything in here was Zero, but since he’s rather new to the concept his abilities are more limited than mine…

…Oh, look. Here he comes now.

“‘Funny white hair’?” was the first thing he said. I knew that was going to come back and bite me.

“Well, there’s really no other way to describe it…” I started, shifting my red-eyed gaze of doom in Zero’s direction. He got my hint and dropped the subject.

“Right. Well, I suppose I’m supposed to go give that kid the ticket?”

“Well, I’m not, and the bus drivers are…” I paused to wave at a nearby Primape, who was eating Chestnuts on the job— “pretty much illegal, so you’re the only one left. Go give it to him. Here.” I conjured some ‘dollars’ (the currency used in Calda), which then fell into his hands.

“But the time limit…”

“…doesn’t apply when I give you a mission. You’ve still got your hour of roaming.”

Grumbling about something involving laziness and glaciers, Zero disappeared.

He appeared in front of me a few hours later.

“I delivered them,” Zero said flatly. “Happy now?”

“Quite. Thank you, Zero.”

“Hmm.” He turned on his heel and stalked away, probably itching to get to the Reverse World or something. I watched him for a few seconds, afraid he was going to trip or something skulking like that.

…And if he tripped, he would, um, be on my case about how dangerous Never-Turn-Back was. Yes. That was it. No end to the complaining on that one.

I'm surprised nobody noticed that the only types Casey forgot way back in chapter one were Electric and Ghost...

delta species plus 2: for ease of imagination

~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

(vpp da)
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Old 10-10-2009, 02:08 AM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG] [Warning: this story may contain JOURNEY FIC]

{4} the way the universes go

Dawn was breaking.

Somewhere farther along the horizon than Casey cared to look at the moment, the sun was just barely scraping the visible sky. This painted a rather nice-looking blast of colors upon Calda City, as the rays of overly-described radiance slowly squirmed out from the other side of the world.

Of course, it was still just as frigid as the interior of a frozen Metagross.

It was then Casey found himself very fortunate to be in an airplane, where there were some body-heat generators at the least. One of these body-heat generators (otherwise known as human beings) was sitting next to him, staring vacantly out the window. Fortunately, Giratina hadn’t made his hair look too stupid to be sticking straight up, though the part that was out behind him was sort of irritating when he happened to be in a seat with a back taller than his own. The odd glances did not stop, but they were something to be expected; after all, he wasn’t out of Calda yet.

Once he touched ground at… wherever he was landing at, Solun or something, then he should be in the clear. After some further interrogation of Giratina, she had said that the island region was used for scientific research in the distant past but had made a return as one of the Regional Leagues entered under the giant listing of them kept somewhere in the Orange Islands (this, at least, he knew of). This meant a lot of Trainers running around – and, by extension, a lot of people in stupid clothes.

According to Giratina and his own immensely limited experiences, anyway.

Of course, someone was bound to mis-label Casey as a skilled Trainer based entirely on the stupidity of his outfit, but the woman sitting next to him made him feel slightly better. Her skin was somewhere between light and dark, about the shade of chocolate milk. Her trench-coat, which seemed to reach down to her knees, was roughly the shade of a paper bag. Wearing a gray shirt and some khaki pants, she had her legs crossed to show off the rather unimpressive black-and-green sneakers on her feet.

Like most people Casey had met since this whole thing started, the most fascinating thing about the woman was her head. Her eyes happened to be an emerald green, and though her face was positioned away from Casey and towards the window, he noted in the reflection her eyes flicking around nervously every once in a while. Her hair was yellow-blonde and tied into a ponytail, with the tips of her bangs and ponytail dyed a mint green slightly lighter in shade than her eyes.

Overall someone who, going on appearances alone, would look more like a teenager than a woman in her early twenties. But, alas, a twenty-something was what she was. She had one hand constantly in her pocket. Casey noticed her arm moving ever so slightly, and his brain set to work wondering what she had stored in her longcoat that was so immensely important that she couldn’t let anyone else see.

He noted the look of relief showing on her features as the plane landed, and she shuffled down the line with not much more than an “excuse me”.

‘Interesting,’ he thought. ‘I wonder what other abnormalities I’m going to see on this trip?’

As he found out upon exiting the plane, terminal, and finally airport, quite a lot.

The entire city he was in seemed to all twirl around a central point – a giant tower poking above the skyline in the distance, with three shorter ones at strategically-placed points to form a sort of triangle. It looked rather imposing against the blue sky, but was either one of two things: one, it didn’t have a purpose (but it looked far to complex and un-stylized for that) or two, it did have a purpose and wasn’t being used right now.

That, or it was doing something invisible. Casey preferred option number one.

After some impressed wandering around the metal-coated city (the place looked so stylized and hi-tech that it was easy to jump to conclusions), he finally came across some sort of open park in what appeared to be one of the city’s many cobblestone squares. Checking out a map, he found (much to his dismay) that a certain arrangement of city, country, and remarkably straight waterways basically made the entire place look like an enormous Pokéball. He also found something more comforting: the people who named this city had no sense of originality. It shared a name with the region it was in.

The region it was in was called ‘Holon’.

“Holon?” Casey wondered aloud. “Why would someone name a region Holon?”

“Because,” said a voice from behind him, “whoever was stupid enough to name the region and city the same thing also noted that ‘holon’ means – in some form or another, I don’t remember which – something that’s a part or a whole at the same time.”

Casey turned around, only to look into the smiling face of a fifteen-year-old boy – presumably the owner of the voice.

“Do I understand how that’s possible?” he continued rhetorically, snorting and seemingly unaware he was talking to a complete stranger. “Nope.”

“Um… hello,” said Casey awkwardly, not sure what this kid was up to. Was it some sort of Holon custom to walk up to people and ramble about the meanings of stuff?

He was relatively tall for his age, though his exact frame was hidden by the baggy clothes he was wearing. (‘At least,’ thought Casey, ‘there were no spikes or bandannas.’) He was wearing an orange hoodie and a red shirt – either the hoodie was too short or the shirt was too long, because the bottom of the shirt went below the hoodie’s hem as well as behind its deep V-neck. The hoodie was splattered with yellow periodically – on both elbows there was a round dot, and a half-oval coming up from the bottom hem. There were also two black triangles on either side below the armpits, dipping downwards rather steeply.

The hair was the same color as his eyes – chestnut brown. It was evidently remarkably spiky; some stuck a little into the air, and some fell into his eyes as bangs. Compared to the rest of his get-up, the bottom half was decidedly less impressive; somewhat worn blue jeans and brown leather boots were nowhere near as exotic as everything else, but Casey – growing up in the closest region to ‘normal’ that most people knew of - had never seen someone dress like that before.

As he fished around in the pockets of his pants for something, the boy turned his head and Casey got both a profile view and a shock – instead of more spikes on the back of his head, he had it tied back in a rather short ponytail. Finally, the boy found what he was looking for, and passed Casey a small mechanical object. On the screen was what looked like some sort of license.

It was difficult for Casey to stop himself from wearing an expression of utter confusion. ‘Who in their right mind would name a child ‘Caro’?’ he wondered.

“My name is pronounced Cay-roe, not Car-oh. It’s a common mistake, really, but accents are just such a pain to type into a computer that most people ignore it on registration sheets.” He snickered. “So, who are you?”

“Ah,” Casey replied, “my name is Casey.”

“Hey, cool, we’ve both got the first two letters in common. It’s pretty clear you aren’t exactly native… so what’re you doing in Holon this fine day?”

Casey bit his lip. Had Giratina told him what he was supposed to do?

Just as he was pondering this, a whisper was emitted from the rock settled in his neckerchief. “You need to sign up to be a Trainer,” Giratina’s voice mumbled.

His eyes shot upwards ever so slightly at finding out that the rock actually did what it promised to, but Caro seemed too preoccupied to notice his reaction. “Did you hear something?” the boy mused.

“What? No,” said Casey quickly, hoping to cover up the blunder. “Um, anyway, I’m here to sign up as a Trainer.”

“Oh, signing up to be a Trainer! Cool. Well, I know where you’ll need to go to get that done, then.”

“Really?” asked Casey. “Where?”

“I’ll tell you…” Caro started. “…but there’s a condition.”

Casey bit his lip, but didn’t respond. There was always a condition.

“Assuming that you are actually accepted into and listed in the Holon Trainer Database, I want permission to come along with you on whatever journey you choose to tread.”

“Um… what?”

An exasperated sigh echoed from the rock. “You’re going on the Holon League Challenge, Casey,” said Giratina’s voice. “Tell him that; he’s not deep enough to ask more.”

‘How does she know what Caro is like?’ Casey wondered, but relayed what she said anyway. “I’m taking the Holon Challenge, actually. Sorry, blacked out there for a bit…” But Caro didn’t seem to be listening. His features had taken on the same confused expression, and he was looking off into the distance at an angle.

“Wow, that is really weird. There must be something wrong with my ears…” He snapped out of the trance suddenly, and turned back to Casey. “Oh, so you’re following the Challenge. You know, a lot of people say it’s easier here than in other regions. You know, because of there being six Gyms and whatnot.”

Casey nodded, not knowing any of this but pretending he did.

“Most of the gyms – and their Leaders – are harder, creepier, stranger, or just more off-beat than what they’re used to, and it’s not a really big region in the first place.”

“Really?” Casey replied. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“There are,” said Caro as he began walking. “Come on, you’ve got to follow me or we won’t get to the Lab.” After Casey fell into step beside him (Rotom having realized that Planet Casey had merged with Planet Caro to become the Groupies Galaxy, and hovered around both of them), the new acquaintance continued with his speech. “Yeah, sure. There sure aren’t any other Gyms or Leaders like ‘em, I’ll give you that. Say, Casey. Have you entered any regional tournaments before this one?”

“Um, no.”

“Oh, I see. Don’t be surprised when you move up to Kanto or Sinnoh or something and find some pretty mediocre opponents compared to these guys…”

“Are they really that weird?”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Mhm.” Casey dragged out the first syllable slightly.

“Right! So we should be getting to the Lab now. Let’s go.” Caro pivoted on his heel and started strolling in the opposite direction. Now, normally this is a (mostly) normal thing for a person to do, but Casey couldn’t help notice that he actually turned on one heel and didn’t seem to lose his balance in the least.

Casey was, by this point, slightly confused. Hadn’t Caro pointed him in this direction a few minutes ago? Feeling incredibly foolish, Casey tailed after his tour guide.

Eventually, they came to the city’s limits. Caro stopped and stared at a building in front of him, smiling proudly with his arms crossed. Casey (who had fallen behind as Caro continually picked up the pace until he was practically running) caught up to him, panting, and looked up at the building as well.

It was a two-story building, wider than it was tall, with a forest green paint job. There were multiple windows, but only one door – it was on the right side, and painted a lighter green than the rest of the place. Caro explained that this was Professor Driftwood’s (not Dawn’s, as he was quick to point out, but her elder sister Delilah’s) laboratory, and was one of the certified locations in Holon where one could sign up as a Trainer and receive a starter.

“But you need to receive a starter, even if you have a Pokémon on hand already,” explained Caro in reference to Rotom, who was still floating around inside the Groupie Galaxy. “It’s so that while most people are starting out with Bidoofs and whatnot, nobody can walk in with their Gible and be all, ‘I’m here to sign up with this immensely powerful Pokémon!’ Of course, they could just keep the other Pokémon and trash their starter, but a freebie is a freebie.”

Casey’s head was whirling at all the indecipherable words, and so he merely changed the subject in the smoothest way he knew how. “At least this building isn’t covered with metal like everything else back there.” He glanced backwards at the more urban part of the city where skyscrapers did exactly what their name implied, with a pointy iron edge to boot.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Caro with a hint of sadness in his voice. “You know, that beg metropolis used to be some small scientists’ village when work was still centered on the Magnet Tower.”

“’Magnet Tower’? Was that the big metal structure in the center of the city?”

“The very same. A while back the people started messing around with electromagnetic… um… things, generated by something very hush-hush – people assume it’s a magnet of some sort, since the place is called ‘Magnet Tower’ and it has something to do with electroMAGNETism.” Caro put emphasis on the ‘magnet’ part. “But we know it was at the top of that Tower. Of course, after the scientists got pestered one too many times by Pokémon rights activists who were complaining that the electro-things were having a negative effect on the Pokémon in the area, the project was dropped. And then Holon – the city, of course – became used more for other things, and so the world continued to turn and eventually nobody was allowed in the Magnet Tower again.”

“Fascinating,” said Casey flatly, having not picked up much of it at all.

Rotom seemed interested, though, and halted his orbit to perch near Caro’s head about half way through his explanation. It was the first time (to Casey’s knowledge) anything had kept him occupied for more than five seconds.

Caro coughed loudly to signify the end of his rambling, and Rotom returned to orbit. “Well, um, we should, you know, get in there, then.”

for those of you who recognize our dear 'new' character...


~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

(vpp da)
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Old 10-10-2009, 03:02 AM
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Join Date: Jul 2009
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG] [Warning: this story may contain JOURNEY FIC]

Wow, this story's pretty fascinating. I'm surprised no one has commented it on it yet (unless I missed someone's comment) I read the first chapter when you first posted it but for whatever reason failed to comment. Hmm. Well anyway, I must say I am very impressed with this story - first of all, it's quite a creative plot. I like the general idea of the region where Pokemon are illegal, as well ast the fact that you are creating your own regions. I think it's awesome, and kudos to you for doing that. But even more impressive is your, I would say, perfect blend of seriousness and witty humor. Your story never gets too serious or too completely ridiculous and annoying, and the pace that it goes at is pretty much spot-on perfect. I never got bored with it. Great job with that!

I was also incredibly impressed with your detail. You used your own, made-up regions, as well as creating alternate forms for Rotom, and yet it was all vibrantly alive and you painted a clear picture in my mind with the words that you used to describe the environments and characters used in the story. Really, there was no lack of description, and, as far as I could tell, it never really got too tedious.

You also were very good with grammar and spelling and what-not. I don't usually go into editor-mode to scout out mistakes, but from my reading (not in editor-mode) I didn't spot anything, so good job with that!

I know, I haven't said anything bad - because I would say that anything bad would really just be nitpicking from what I've read, and I don't like nitpicking. You have interesting, creative characters, and a vibrant imagination and a very entertaining and polished writing style. This is a very unique story, and I'm sure it will pick up a lot of readers - it's nothing like anything I've read on these boards so far! Great job, and keep up the good work!

PS - I really like the DS+ things. It's a nice addition, so keep it up! :)
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Old 10-10-2009, 04:08 AM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG] [Warning: this story may contain JOURNEY FIC]

I would have commented earlier, but sometime's I get so shy. I'm a bad at criticing anyway and most of what I'll say might sound weak or confusing. ^^'
I'm definately going to be a reader, though. You got me hooked.

Anywho, wonderful story! My favorites are always the original pieces, and though you say that this is a Journey/Trainer fic, its really creative. ^^ I like the reluctant hero types. They can be so funny at times, lol. I really like your style too. Its a wonderful blend of personality, thoughtfulness, and creativity. Its evident that you've really been thinking every detail out, and so far its a wonderful plot.

Out of curiosity, when are we going to hear about Phione and Manaphy? Will that be a chapter up in the future?
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Old 10-10-2009, 03:02 PM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG] [Warning: this story may contain JOURNEY FIC]

About Phione and Manaphy, they will be mentioned again, but it will be a while. Manaphy is on 'sick leave' because somebody drugged his mystic vapors in the Temple of the Sea (he likes to use the ancient Greek method of prophecy-finding), and so his less experienced son Phione had stepped in to take control of the business until he returns. Phione only read the deal about Casey saving the Pokémon kingdom a day before I got ordered to bring Rotom to him, so Manaphy would probably be put out for a while. But he is coming back, and Phione will make a return.

I don't see a reason why a journey fic can't be creative - it's happened before. Ever read Pokémon Ultimatum? It's probably one of the most well-thought-out, detailed, brilliant, entertaining, creative, and British stories I've ever read, and guess what? It's Trainer fic. I also can't take all of the credit for Holon and the Magnet Tower and whatnot, even though nobody seems to remember it anymore. Calda is the only Region I made up, and the original script involved a trek through Kanto with something vague having to do with MissingNo at the end... IDR. xD

Really? It isn't that tedious? Seeing as the early chapters ended up being much of the information-dump ones (and not made any easier to understand thanks to Caro's unending kookiness), I felt like all that was happening was people were rambling about things we already knew. Of course, me being the author means I actually do know all of it, but... never mind. Ehehe. I am really, really glad you guys liked it enough to comment! I was afraid it was going to turn into Metal Coat at PokéCom, where nobody commented for the first sixteen chapters. |D

And I like nitpicking, unless you treat the nit as a big fic-breaker, it's nice to see what little inconsistencies and whatnot occur.

~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

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Old 10-10-2009, 05:41 PM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG] [Warning: this story may contain JOURNEY FIC]

Oh I'd never heard of Holon before. Maybe because the only time I played the card game was back when it first came out - I only played with the original sets, before Gold and Silver were released lol, and even then I didn't play very long or very well XD Still, that's cool that you're using a region not well-known or well remembered lol. And hey, since it's not in the games, that means there isn't as much seen of it or known about it - so your imagination still takes the foreground here, I'm sure. :)
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Old 10-12-2009, 02:11 AM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG] [Warning: this story may contain JOURNEY FIC]

Honestly, until I took a leisurely stroll around Bulbapedia, I didn't know what Holon was either. After reading the article on it, I realized that it was underdeveloped and sounded interesting, and it sort of clicked in with this original-region story I was planning at the time... the result was Delta Species. :3 And oh, there's definitely a lot of brainstorming going on in Holon! Just a few things had to be edited from the original in an entirely fake region, such as the name of Holon City, and that was about it. (It also saved me from making up an entire Fakedex! Tried and failed, yikes.)

~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

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Old 10-18-2009, 05:00 PM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG] [Warning: this story may contain JOURNEY FIC]

I come with chapterzorz. :D

{5} hyakugojuuichi


Casey was unable to say anything other than that. Upon entering the large building that was supposed to be a Pokémon laboratory, he hadn’t expected much – some bookshelves, a desk with a computer, maybe one or two Pokémon in cages, with the rest of the room being vacant space. Of course, he had clearly never met Professor Delilah Driftwood.

“Can I help you two?” asked a voice from somewhere in the darkness. Speak of Darkrai, here was the Professor herself.

She was a woman with black hair (which almost looked navy blue in the light), whose only apparent uniform consisted of a hanging white lab coat that was buttoned in the bottom half, but loose on the top. It was a strange look, and combined with the woman’s apparent fondness for deep V-neck shirts, it wasn’t surprising that some males felt uncomfortable (or quite the opposite) around her. However, Delilah makes up for this strange appearance with her straightforward attitude.

“You seem surprised,” she said in a rather flat tone of voice. “Is there something about my laboratory that surprises you?”

“U-um… no, not really,” stuttered Casey, who was currently recovering from having a woman in a lab coat hop out from the inky shadows. Most of the laboratory was either covered by complicated machines, books, or assistants. For, indeed, some people (also clad in lab coats, albeit ones that were buttoned normally) were squirming around inside the maze-like, dark mess of a lab.

“Good. So I repeat my previous question – what are you here for?”

Casey didn’t seem inclined to speak for the first second after Professor Driftwood had finished her own sentence, and this was enough for Caro to take the non-existent hint. “My friend here,” he said (seeming remarkably calm in the face of the Professor’s apparently stoic demeanor), “is here to receive a starter Pokémon and a Trainer’s License. He already has befriended a Rotom, as you can see, but the thing is not really a fan of battles. It likes hovering around things more.”

Driftwood did not look impressed. “So you were simply carrying around a Pokémon without proper authorization?”

Casey felt his stomach lurch, and figured that he might as well get it over with. After swallowing once, he replied. “Well… yes.”

The woman looked him over for a few minutes under severe hazel-colored laser beams, and then nodded. “Fine. Come with me, mister…”


She merely nodded again in reply (though Casey realized a second too late that she wanted a last name), and set off. Swerving calmly through the stacks of mazelike clutter, she gave off the impression that she knew this labyrinthine place like the back of her hand. The duo, of course, didn’t know very much about it at all; they kept their heads down to make sure they didn’t accidentally walk into some of the woman’s research.

“For a lady so uptight you wouldn’t think she has this much stuff lying around,” whispered Caro, sidestepping a scale model of a Luxray.

“It is sort of weird,” replied Casey in equally hushed tones, “but you can’t blame someone for acting differently than you thought they would.”

Caro looked at him, slightly puzzled. “How old are you again?”

“I never told you. I’m…” Casey hesitated. How much had Celebi aged him? Until he was fourteen years old, right?

Caro wasn’t amused. “You alright?”

“Yes, I’m okay. I just sort of blanked for a minute. I’m fourteen years old.”

“Fourteen? Really?”


Caro blinked and stepped carefully over an overturned stack of heavy books. “It doesn’t seem like it from the way you talk, I guess. Most people your age… I think they would act differently.”

“You ‘think’?”

“Yeah. More like…” Caro had unintentionally raised his voice at this time, and looked upward to see the glowering face of Delilah Driftwood.

“Is there a problem?” she asked without any concern for whatever their problem may be.

“No, ma’am,” the other two chorused.

The Professor didn’t respond except for a raised eyebrow. Instead, she stopped walking at the back of the enormous laboratory in front of a desk. After shuffling and reordering the papers on the table, she finally seemed to find what she needed and turned back around to Casey and Caro. Trying to put on a warm smile that only served to make it more obvious that she really ought to stick to blank expressions, the woman in the lab coat began to speak.

“Refresh my memory,” she said. “Who here has come to be a Trainer?”

Caro stepped back at once, leaving Casey a step closer to Professor Driftwood. The youngest of the pair considered saying that he was the one to get a Trainer’s license, but figured it would probably look redundant after Caro had gone to all the trouble of isolating him. So instead he merely nodded.

Professor Driftwood returned the gesture and turned around briefly to snatch some things from the desk. After this was done she swiveled back to face Casey, a clipboard (with appropriate forms) and pencil in hand.

“You need to fill this out,” said the Professor in practiced cheeriness. “It’s not too long. Sit anywhere you like, or stand; just try not to knock too many things over. Arceus only knows what would happen if something else crashes into this mess.” She giggled, and Casey smiled meekly, but it was clear to everyone present that she didn’t find it funny at all.

Taking the objects he was being handed slowly, Casey scanned the first line. The shadow of a grimace appeared on his face.

“What’s wrong?” asked Caro and Professor Driftwood at the same time.

“Oh? Uh, nothing.” Casey, startled by the synonymous question, looked up from where he was standing. Walking over to a chair that (miraculously) wasn’t covered with vitally important clutter, he crossed his legs and began writing.

‘Even at the first question it’s difficult for me,’ he thought. ‘What am I supposed to say to ‘List your full name, first and last’? Hadn’t Giratina said to make one up?’

Casey chewed the inside of his cheek; any lip-biting would signify that he was either thinking hard or panicking, and the act of writing down one’s name shouldn’t fall under either of those criteria. Finally, he cleared his head and wrote down the first surname he could think of.

The date of birth was next – changing the year a few notches fixed any of those problems easily. Home region was a little harder, but he decided to give the actual answer (albeit twisted slightly). ‘Region of Calda – moved to Hoenn at a young age.’ Casey was fairly sure he had spelled ‘Hoenn’ correctly – it was, after all, the only Pokémon-populated region other than Holon that he knew of that didn’t end in a long O.

Then the questions got a little nosier. They began to feature such wonders as “WHAT POKÉMON DO YOU HAVE AT THIS TIME? LIST ALL OF THEM AS WELL AS ANY NOTES OF INTEREST.”

‘Oh, lovely,’ Casey thought. Quickly, he scribbled down, “Rotom. Accidentally took control of his own Pokéball and is unable to get out. Obtained before entering Holon.’ No way was he going to admit he got a Pokémon in Calda, after all.


Finally Casey looked upwards.

Caro didn’t notice the movement at first, and was in deep conversation with and what seemed to be his Raichu. Figuring the Pokémon was just playing with his Trainer and the two different species didn’t know what each other were saying, Casey diverted his attention toward the Pokémon professor. She had grown bored of waiting for him to finish up, and had sat down in a computer chair. In her hands was a thick, well-worn volume entitled in gold lettering ‘The Care and Keeping of Dragon-Types’.

“Are you finished?” she asked, apparently forgetting to put on the ‘kind female Professor’ mindset. Caro and Raichu looked up from their thrilling discussion. Casey nodded and handed the Professor’s things back to her, which she took (tossing Care and Keeping back on the pile of books in the process) and began to read.

And read.

And read.

Finally, the woman looked up from the desk and looked at Rotom curiously, who was now sitting on top of her computer and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. Beast looked back at her and smiled toothily.

“Yes, he really did that,” said Casey before the Professor had time to open her mouth.

She cleared her throat and regained any lost composure she had shown in the act of gawking at Rotom. “Yes. Well. I believe this application is acceptable. Hold on a few minutes longer, please…” She pulled a clean sheet of paper out from under the mess upon her desk, picked up the pencil that Casey had used to fill out the application, and wrote some things down.

Silently, she handed the note to Casey and in the same motion made a waving motion with her hand.

Casey got the memo and Caro understood a second after; they both turned and walked out of the lab, saying about as much as the Professor did.

“Were you a little scared by her, too?” asked Casey the moment the duo got out, Rotom having returned to his normal orbit.

“No,” said Caro nonchalantly. “Not really. I must be used to creepy people by now or something… I’ve met far more than I should have.”

“Really?” It was at this point Casey realized that he didn’t know much about Caro at all. Steeling himself for the probable answer, he continued before Caro could give another reply. “You know, you never really told me about your history, did you? Since it looks like you’re not intending on leaving any time soon, you might as well tell me.”

“My… my history?” Caro seemed caught off-guard by this, as he stopped walking and blinked at Casey (the guy almost looked a little scared).

Casey nodded. “Mhm. I’ll need to know this stuff sooner or later, won’t I?”

The older boy gulped. “Um, yeah, I guess you would…” He didn’t go on any further. It was clear to Casey that he had just poked a rather unpleasant nerve, so he dropped the subject.

Caro rescued it from the ground and dusted it off. “Well, truth is, you’ll never have heard of where I came from,” he explained, losing the grim undertone and returning to his normal optimism level.

“Would I now?” Casey challenged light-heartedly.

Caro nodded, smiling. “I’m sure of it. It’s a place called Treasure Town, and… it’s not around here, that’s for sure.”

Casey raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please. Just ‘not around here’? I thought you knew better than that when trying to stump someone!” It was clear that they were both having a good time on this subject, despite Caro’s constant fumbling in the beginning.

“That place… it’s practically in a different universe.” Caro snickered. “‘Not around here’ is an understatement, that’s true.”

“Different universe? I wouldn’t go that far, Caro.”

Caro shook his head. “Another way you and I are different, then. Though it really is something like that!”

“Right…” said Casey. He meant to ask Caro more about the Holon League… whatever he was supposed to be doing, but then remembered that all of his information had been obtained by Giratina. She hadn’t bothered to tell him what the League challenge actually was.

“Right now, we need to get to a Pokémon Center,” said Caro out of the blue as they returned to the city square. “You do know why, don’t you?”

“I’m guessing it has something to do with this paper,” replied Casey uncertainly, holding up the paper in question.

Caro nodded. “See? You’re getting it already. What you need to do is turn in that note from the Professor for a JAWS.”

“A what?”

“Journey-Aiding Worldwide System, commonly shortened to JAWS. It’s sort of like the Pokémon Digital Assistant thing they carry around in Orre, except this one has a map, Pokémon identifier, e-mail system, Trainer ID, and it plays music when you shake it very, very hard.”

“Music? What’s the point of that?”

“Well, see, it’s a certain song, and the JAWS are manufactured by a company whose logo is a Sharpedo…”

Oh, the JAWS. Man, I got a kick out of that when I made it up a couple years ago... still do, actually. And now for the DS+ that's a chapter late!

ds+ (character profile #1 - caro)

~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

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Old 10-19-2009, 05:20 PM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG]

Love it. Love it, love it, love it.

I love the suspense you put on the end of the chapters, I love your clever narration, and I love your cheeky characters (especially Beast). I urge you to write more, and I'll be watching this eagerly.
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Old 10-26-2009, 12:59 AM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG]

{6} we're gonna head down to the forest

“Krooow! Mur-mur-KROW!”

Casey grimaced. Who knew that merely walking through a forest path could irritate Pokémon to such an extent? He certainly didn’t. It hadn’t happened when he was walking through some of the other foliage-lined paths to and from Holon. However, as soon as he and Caro had stepped onto the path (Casey fiddling with a machine in his hands) a couple of black Pokémon felt the need to greet them in a rather loud and unpleasant manner.

Instead of turning tail and fleeing like any sensible person, Caro had perked up at the sight of these black crows.

“Casey!” he said excitedly. After he got no response, the boy turned around to see Casey backing away slowly, not wanting to startle the creatures into getting any closer.

Caro would have spoken, but apparently the look he shot in Casey’s direction summarized any expression of confusion and irritation Caro wanted to convey. He sighed and returned to Caro’s side, still looking at the Murkrows as if they were going to explode at any moment.

“So we’re not supposed to be escaping?” he asked.

“Nope,” said Caro. “We’ve gotta fight them. And now would also be a good time to deliver some good old-fashioned tutorial wisdom, wouldn’t it?”

“What are you going to tutor me on?” asked Casey. “Don’t we just tell our Pokémon to kill the other Pokémon or something?”

Caro stared at him as if the boy had suggested they run up to the Murkrows and tear them limb-from-limb. “Um, hey, let’s not get into the whole ‘killing’ business until you know how to go about knocking them out.”

Casey realized a little too late that killing the Murkrows was not standard procedure. Instead of dwelling on it, however, Caro took out a Pokéball from his left pocket. It was a teal blue one, with a black grid pattern on the top surface where the red was supposed to be. The bottom half was still white. He tossed it in the air and turned away from the Murkrows, now jeering immaturely (but not before pulling a disgusted expression at them).

“Net Ball,” Caro explained to Casey, who was staring at it. “A variation of the modern Pokéball that’s more useful for catching Water-types. Such as…”

“Azumarill! Azu-azu!”

Rotom noticed that there were a couple of Pokémon invaders of the Groupie Galaxy and immediately set to work trying to make them leave in true Pokémon World fashion – with a seemingly turn-based brawl to the knockout. Azumarill squeaked in Rotom’s direction, and he soon understood that it was not a three-on-one battle and floated into position. The Murkrow jeered loudly and…

…didn’t do anything else.

Everything was at a complete standstill.

“Um, Caro?”


“Aren’t the Pokémon supposed to be… you know… fighting?”

“Well, yes they are, but we need to give them commands first.”

“Commands? Why don’t they just start duking it out themselves?” The Murkrow were beginning to get restless, and it appeared that this was precisely what they wanted to do.

“The Pokéballs, Casey. Hey, the Murkrow are getting ticked off, they’re saying they’re gonna get out of here soon if we don’t make it worth their while. So… Azumarill! Water Gun on either Murkrow!”

Casey barely had time to object as he watched the rabbit-eared Pokémon open its mouth and simply fire a jet of water at the Murkrow on the left side, in front of Rotom. It cawed and gurgled angrily, but didn’t fall to the attack.

Rotom turned around. “Why aren’t you telling me stuff?” it asked, confused.

“I, um, don’t know what your… er… attacks are.”

“Oh! Oh! Right, right, there’s Thundershock, and Uproar, and Shock Wave, and Ominous Wind…”

“Um, okay, hold on… use Shock Wave, then.”

“I can’t do that!” Rotom laughed as if messing with Casey’s head was the most amusing thing in the world. The rather bewildered Trainer noticed the Murkrow sharing glances out of the corner of his eye, and it was obvious that they were amused by this incident.

“Well… what can you use, then?”

“Thundershock an—”

“Thundershock! On the wet one!” Casey-logic prevailed once more in its owner’s head.

Rotom snapped to attention and immediately began charging a Thundershock attack. The red plasma around it grew fuzzy, and even Beast seemed to buzz with the static being generated in Rotom’s blue-glowing core. Finally the ball of electric energy was released by way of simply discharging it all at once and using Beast to aim.

The Murkrow did not fall quietly. It howled and cawed until it couldn’t remain airborne any longer, and it fell through the ground.

Yes, through the ground.

“What?” Casey-logic had failed the boy again (though he really should have learned by now that his logic is simply not all fit for a world inhabited by Pokémon), and he was completely amazed by this recent development. “It just went right through the ground! What on Earth happened there?”

“Oh, right,” said Caro nonchalantly. “They don’t do that in other Regions. You must not know they do that. I don’t know how it happens either, ask any Trainer and they’ll probably say the same thing, but a lot of ‘officials’ on the subject say they’re all safe and are being transported for healing or something. Trainers' Pokémon don't do it, though, only wild ones do.”

“Focus on the fighting, please!” wailed Rotom. “I wanna get this scary Murkrow away from me!”

The Murkrow seemed to take offense to that comment and decided to aim its first attack of the session in Rotom’s direction. The crow Pokémon beat its wings a couple of times before cawing loudly, flying a little higher into the air, and swooped back down, subjecting Rotom to the full extent of Peck’s wrath.

Rotom wailed as the sharp beak came in contact with his orange shell. Beast, being after all a shaped glob of energy, failed to protect its origin from such a quick, pointy strike, and merely passed through the Murkrow as it sailed on the desired downward path.

Needless to say, the shock made Rotom crash to the dirty ground.

Part of Casey wanted to rush in to the fight, snatch Rotom, and run the other way very fast. But after catching a glance from Caro (which somehow managed to convey the messages ‘Don’t you dare go in there, you’ll get yourself really hurt’ and ‘Don’t wimp out now’ at the same time) he kept his feet firmly where they stood and watched with relief Rotom springing up again.

The thing that scared him about that scene was that he was watching Rotom with relief.

‘Relief?’ thought Casey. ‘Am I really relieved to see that Rotom is still alive?’ The thought, no matter how he looked at it, seemed to scare him. Was Rotom – a Pokémon, of all things – really so important that he felt relief when the thing survived an attack by a kamikaze bird?

Noticing Casey’s scared expression, Caro (who had now mentally fit himself in as Casey’s mentor) decided to help him out again.

“Catch it!” he yelled, pointing at the Murkrow. “Catch it!”

Obviously, the good intentions of the statement were all but lost. “Um… what?”

“You do know how to catch a Pokémon, don’t you?” Caro asked dubiously, before registering the severity of the glare Casey was sending back in his direction. Shaking his head sadly, Caro slowly walked over to his friend and self-proclaimed apprentice (keeping an eye on the Murkrow just in case), and handed him a small red-and-white object not too different from what Rotom was contained in.

“A Pokéball,” he said matter-of-factly. “P-O-K-accent-E-Ball. You should know what it is by now. Throw it at the Murkrow!”

Shrugging and figuring that it was going in the opposite direction than he was (and therefore posed no immediate threat to his forehead as Rotom's had done a few days ago), Casey chucked the ball in the black bird’s direction. It turned around just in time to see the Pokéball clock it clean on the base of its three-pointed crest. The Murkrow was slurped up in a flash of red light, and what was left to fall to the ground was a Pokéball, shaking like no tomorrow (and it hopped once or twice). Finally, it stopped quaking and stood still as a rock on the grassy ground.

And then opened again, leaving the Murkrow to be sent out again in a red glow and the cracked shell of a Pokéball to be lying on the floor.

“It… it broke!” Casey said in great alarm.

“Yeah,” said Caro. “Dangit. Well, throw another one, then.”

“I… uh… don’t think I have another one.”

Caro sighed. “I’m going to lose my entire stock on you, aren’t I? Well, let’s hope that some overkill gets the job done. Remind me to force you into the Pokémart when we get to the next city and buy some stuff.” He fished around in his pockets for a few seconds and surfaced with yet another type of Poké Ball, this one a bright blue with red streaks down the sides. “It’s a Great Ball; more likely to catch a Pokémon than regular old Pokéballs do. Chuck it!”

Casey flung the sphere in Murkrow’s general direction just as he had done before. And the scene began the same way too; Pokémon goes into Pokéball kicking and screaming, Pokéball shakes maniacally… and it stays intact.

The duo basked in their brief moment of glory, until…

“So is it going to not come out or what?” asked Casey.

Caro smiled. “It comes out only if you want it to. That Murkrow that was bombarding us a couple of minutes ago? You can use it in Pokémon battles just like Rotom now, because guess what? As immoral as it sounds, that Murkrow is yours! Just try not to listen to it too much, though, because that thing has something of a foul mou—” He paused mid-statement. “Um, I mean, it looked like it would have one. If I understood it, of course, which I most definitely don’t.”

Casey heard snickering flowing out of the Megaphone Rock.

Gulping, he looked at Caro with a dubious expression. “So how do you know that, then?”

Averting his gaze from the young ‘escort’, Caro looked upwards. “Hey…” he said distantly. “I think that we should be nearing the next… aha!”

He pointed. Casey followed his gaze, thinking that it was some sort of distraction to get off the subject of Caro’s supposed inter-species communication. He was quite wrong. What they were staring at was a large slab of land, flanked on all sides by a deep moat of water except for a small path. Upon the peninsula was a large group of what were undoubtedly buildings.

“Casey,” said Caro proudly, “Rhoter City is upon us!”

There's not going to be much in the Delta Species Plus department for a while; my scanner has been deemed off-limits because some Australian cousin of a friend of my parents is now occupying the room it's in, and will continue to be there for a few weeks and thus severely restricting the use of the scanner for DS+ and related artistic activities. Yay?

~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

(vpp da)
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Old 10-26-2009, 04:33 AM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG]

Quite a good story; unlike most of the "LOLIMAGONNATAKEALLTEHBADGEZANDBECOMEPOKEMONMASTAH " fics out there, it's original, quirky, and quite an interesting read.

Hopefully we'll be seeing chapter 7 soon. :3
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Old 10-26-2009, 08:19 PM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG]

If it disappoints you at all, there will definitely be some badge-collecting, but I don't think you're as upset about the badges as you are about the... well... rather universally similar protagonists? But anyway, thank you for commenting!

~ World famous singing sensation, Stefan Gordy.

(For the longest time I was telling myself that I would come back to PE2K once I had something artsy and cool to contribute... but that's too much effort. GIRA IS BACK!)

(vpp da)
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Old 10-27-2009, 08:53 AM
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Default Re: Delta Species [PG]

I remember the Holon region. I used to collect cards back when they came out. Great writing! Definitely a good read.

I am sure the badge collecting will be fine, generic protagonists, not so much. :)
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