FicWad

Made of Stone

Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon, whether in the context of the games or the anime. I am merely writing this as a work of fanfiction, and like all fanfiction authors this is what I do until I can find real work, meaning that I have no money and it is useless to sue me. I do own Mel, Alex, Matt, Scott, Chris, and Adam. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or fictional in any other context than this story, is purely coincidental. Again, I have no money, so you can't sue me and expect any profit. Whoo. That sounded nice and professional, don'tcha think?

Chapter Two: Rocks Got Plate Armor!

Wash Pot walked calmly in, the only one to do so besides Alex. He obviously was in no rush because he had already chosen his pokemon in his mind, and he knew no one would take it. Wash Pot just figured she'd take whatever pokemon was left over. Any pokemon that was left over would be like her, the only one of the group not quite interesting enough. On this logic she thought a good friendship could be built.

She aimlessly walked, watching as the boys tried to find the elusive pokemon. Matt was scanning underneath the potted plants. The trestle tables were deep, and they could be hiding all of the pokemon for all the children knew.

Scott, who was hunting around the lake, gave a cry of delight as he found the promised abra. The cry must have startled the pokemon in its sleep, since it teleported away in a flash of blue tinged white. There was another bright flash, and the abra appeared on Chris's head. It was apparently still asleep.

Wash Pot laughed as Chris danced around, trying to get it off. It only came off any time Scott went near or Chris tried to give the tan beast to anyone else. The abra would teleport away from Chris long enough for Scott to chase after it, before landing back on Chris' head again.

"Match made in heaven, huh?" Adam commented, coming behind Melamine. "Hey, you found one yet?"

"No, but I haven't been looking very hard," Wash Pot admitted, still watching Chris who was moaning about how he wanted the zubat.

"Matt's found the bulbasaur," Adam jerked his thumb off to the side where the saurian grass pokemon was glaring at Matt, and Matt was returning the glare with one of his own.

There was a rustling in the branches and a screech as the abra toppled out dislodging the zubat. The abra teleported back to Chris, who it seemed firmly attached to, leaving the zubat to cheep angrily in its high pitched voice. The little flying type was obviously unhappy about having to deal with the psychic who had woken it up before sundown.

It tried to flutter back to its branch as Scott tried to dive for the teleporting pokemon, and missed. His tanned arms wrapped firmly around the tiny bat pokemon, who vainly tried to struggle away and bite the boy with its under developed fangs.

"Idiots," Alex commented, walking back, the promised charmander cradled in the crook of his arm. "Don't they remember that once a psychic chooses someone they are bound for life?"

"Well, you've obviously made your choice," Adam said, somehow making the sentence sound like an insult.

"She chose me. However, I knew she would," Alex said with confidence. "You better get going or even The Girl will find a pokemon, leaving you with the leftovers. If you're lucky, you might get the attention of the squirtle."

"Nah," Adam replied coolly, sounding his age for once. "When I beat you I want to beat you because I'm the better strategist, not because of a type advantage."

"Type advantage is a strategy, fool, and even if you did take the squirtle you'd end up the loser. You're a pathetic battler," Alex was the same height as Adam, but his tone of voice was calculated to make the black haired boy seem much smaller and more insect like.

"Hey," Wash Pot glared, standing up for her friend before Adam could speak. "None of us have battled yet. For all you know he could trump you in battle."

Alex blinked, looking surprised that The Girl had addressed him in such a tone. He had thought that she had all of the backbone of a damp rag. However, it didn't matter, even female nidoran fought when backed into a corner.

"Oh go off and find the baby electric mouse. Corazon was fighting him earlier; he has to be around somewhere," Alex ordered, before turning back to Adam.

"Wash Pot's right," the spikey black haired boy said. "We haven't battled, but after I figure out which one is my pokemon I'll battle and beat you. C'mon, Wash Pot, let's not defile his grace's presence any more."

They left Alex to walk back to the entrance of the greenhouse, and moved over to the shallow pool. Wash Pot fiddled with her eevee statuette. She fiddled with things when she was nervous, or in this case angry.

How dare Alex just write her off like that? She wasn't the most exciting person in the world, she knew, but that didn't mean that he should just ignore her. Now that she came to think of it, he never used her name if he could help it. He just called her The Girl.

"Maybe I'll take the zubat if it will stop trying to attack Scott," she mused, looking about, and still hearing yelps of: "Ow, leech life hurts!"

"C'mon," Adam said, obviously not really paying attention or caring about her muttering. "Alex said his charmander attacked the pichu. We should find it before someone tries to sit on it or something. Look about for a flash of yellow, or some extra sparks."

Wash Pot peered under the undergrowth and glanced around. She admired the way the trestle tables were set up; there were tiny paths between them, and the plants were larger the closer to the glass surrounding the green house one got. It really was like a forest to her small ten year old eyes.

She was getting towards the end of the miniature forest closest to the small pool when she found the pichu. It was relaxing in the shallows of the tile lined pretend lake. The cute yellow thing was tired looking, but other than that it looked fine. Of course, all she could see of it was a side view of a yellow head and ears just above the water.

Wash Pot walked over, amazed. This was the first time she had met a pokemon in the wild, well semi wild, this up close and personal. Of course her brief encounters she had at her parent's breeding center, and the ones during her walk across the fields to school every other day, did not count. They were generally either with tame pokemon, or ones already owned by other trainers.

"Hey little fella," she said when she was close enough.

The pichu obviously was surprised because it practically leapt into the air with a screamed "Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" and splashed down in the water again. Its now wet and spikey fur discharged all of the static sparks that it had been storing.

From the not so deep depths something rose. It looked like a rock at first, but moved towards them with the speed of a striking snake. The pichu was already scrambling out of the water, and Wash Pot was stepping back nervously from both pokemon. The rock she knew to be the squirtle if only because she had not met many rocks that lived in water, moved, and had plate armor shells.

The rock confirmed her suspicions by rearing into its hind legs, and popping its head out of the shell to yell something in its poke-language at the pichu.

"Squirt squir squir squirtle!" the irate blue pokemon yelled at the young electric mouse.

Wash Pot did not really blame the squirtle too much. Electricity was still crackling over its wet shell and it looked as if it might be slightly paralyzed. Not that it was really damaged. She had enough experience with her mother's jolteon's still unpredictable thunderwaves to know that it would be a mere numbness that would pass in ten minutes at most.

"Hey! You found the pichu?" Adam ran up excitedly.

Chris was close on his tail, the abra still firmly attached to his head, and the zubat being lovingly held in a protected circle of his arms.

"Wash Pot, yeah, do you want the abra? You're a girl and psychics like girls," Chris said.

Obviously he had been trying to get rid of the psychic and was on his last person.

"See, she's nice. You could go bond with her and leave my head alone for a while," he tried to coax his head ornament.

Nuh//-uh!

They all, except Chris, jumped at the child like voice in their heads. Adam looked at Chris and his abra with slightly scared shock. The young psychic type had just spoken into his mind. He had thought that they could only speak to other pokemon or people with a psychic gift. Did he have a psychic gift?

Hehehe//./ You're funny, even for a human,/ the amused voice invaded his mind (again!).

"Squir?" the turtle pokemon had crossed its arms and tried to look unimpressed.

/Can we get back to the matter at hand - please? /A boyish voice, with the same hint of annoyance as the squirtle's expression betrayed, spoke into their minds.

Even Chris looked a little wary now.

"Raindancer, please tell me what that was?" he asked in a quavering voice.

/I was just translating for you and your friends, Chris of the River Mind. Humans usually like to know what their partners are saying, and those around them, /the abra replied in something that was not precisely thoughts.

Well, at least the thoughts were not totally words, although they arranged themselves in the children's heads as words. They seemed to be more like large ideas and bits of knowledge that the kids' minds were forced to cope with by giving them the structure of words.

"O-okay. Next question. Why do I know your name?!" Chris' voice was teetering on the edge of hysteria.

We're bonded! No response could have been accompanied by a happier tone of excitement and cheerfulness.

Will all of you /please let me deal with that pichu!/ The squirtle yelled in his poke-speech that was almost simultaneously translated by Raindancer the abra.

/You said I could hide in the water to get away from that nasty charmader! /The little electric mouse cried out in a genderless childish voice.

And then rest in it after that dragon human healed you! I know. But I said as long as you didn't shock me! So, get out and stay out! The squirtle turned his back.

"Aw, it's okay lil'fella," Adam, big, giant Adam, knelt down to the sniffing pichu's level and picked up the little pokemon. "You can come with me, and no angry squirtle or the charmander, will get you."

Chris snickered.

"Aw, does the Johtoan have a soft spot for the ikkle fing?" he asked in baby talk. His eyes crossed for a moment and then he glared at his odd hat rubbing his temples. "That /hurt/!"

It was to teach you not to act like an idiot. Hey, Bubblebrain, Raindancer called derisively to the squirtle, c'mon, you only have seven minutes to get to know the other choices of human here. Two are already taken - no matter what Chris of the River Mind might say. But there are plenty of nice ones left.

Don't want a trainer, the squirtle said mutinously, its stubby arms crossed over its chest plate. I have my pool, it's all I need and want.

Whatever./ You'll get a human sooner or later./

The group of humans was already leaving the squirtle's territory, so he didn't really care about what the immature abra had to say. He was going to keep to himself; it was the safest way, after all. Sure, he was a little curious, but curiosity killed the Persian as the aide who fed him liked to say.

He only needed to grow one more level before he was too old for a trainer's pokemon. The nice professor would then allow him to live in the fields surrounding the lab where he would rise to the top just as he had in this little green house. He was alone in the world and he liked it. If someone wanted to impose on him, like that pichu, he wouldn't let them unless they really needed it.

He wondered if all the other pokemon in the house were going to leave with the humans. He wouldn't mind seeing the last of the charmander. She was far too - defensive for is taste. She'd attack anything if she saw it as a threat to herself or something she was trying to protect. She should learn from his example and leave well enough alone. It also irritated him that she did not bow to his authority as a water pokemon, and obviously superior to her fire type.

However, he would miss the zubat and bulbasaur. They were good people. The bulbasaur, although hiding an internal spring of anger, kept to herself, which he liked. The zubat was nearly always asleep, except for at night. She was a kind person, always ready for a quick laugh, a second's worth of conversation with him before she was let out late at night to feast on bug pokemon. She knew where the limits of polite conversation lay.

He should probably check on them, before they were carted off to get in trouble with young humans, though. Having made his decision, the squirtle snuck off among the trestle tables.

The children were sitting in a circle, some on their knees, some cross legged. It seemed to be unconsciously adopted, a reflexive action determining peace and stillness. It reminded the squirtle of the way that young squirtles would pop into their shells automatically to rest since their elders had pounded it into them that protection and safety was the most important thing. Perhaps sitting in a circle was the human equivalent of telling their loud obnoxious children to be quiet. Now that they were alone in a group they would huddle together to be quiet.

"Hey, Chris, can I see the zubat?" the only female human asked of the psychic's chosen.

"It's asleep right now, do you have to take it?" the boy's mouth was set in a surly line.

"Well, it's either that or let Scott take it. You can't have two pokemon, Chris, as much as you might want them," the girl's voice was reasonable, but there was a hint of stone underneath it, which the squirtle heartily approved of.

People should always stand up for them selves, and he noticed that human females had a tendency to either be too pushy, or weak willed. Both attitudes were unacceptable. Males and females were equal and superior to one another in different ways. Stone was needed in people's natures.

"Would you two stop calling her an "it"?!" the dragon boy asked.

He had not taken his cold green eyes off the task of peeling away the dry, shedding skin around his charmander's shoulders. She was purring contentedly, curled against the human like a meowth. The squirtle was almost disgusted by the display. The dragon boy deserved a pokemon so much better than that willful child.

The two humans who had been talking looked slightly abashed. However the female spoke up again, as if she hadn't heard the dragon boy.

"Chris, I'd like to hold her because I don't know what pokemon to choose and I might want to choose the zubat."

Chris nodded, as if it made sense, but he didn't hand the pokemon over to the girl. Instead he asked how much time was left.

"Two minutes," the biggest boy with the pichu said promptly.

The little yellow fluff ball was giggling as the big human tickled him. It finally escaped the boy's clutches and ran across the tiles to hide behind the girl, who was looking entreatingly at the psychic type's boy.

"Chris -," she began.

"Why bother trying to pry the zubat away?" the dragon boy asked sneeringly. "We all know that you'll take whatever is leftover, because you don't want to offend anyone. Why are you even here? Girls never make training a serious profession. You're the daughter of breeders, and we all know that's where your pokemon will end up; contest fodder."

The girl's lips tightened and she gritted her teeth. The fingers of her left hand were rubbing something clenched inside that hand.

"Firstly," she said, her voice calm and hard as flint, "when insulting someone it is ill-bred to not look them in the face. Are you afraid that I will cry because you've tossed a few words around? Not even very well chosen words. My mother is a breeder, but my father is the President of Research for Silph Co. Therefore, I am the daughter of a breeder. Singular. Secondly, unless you have suddenly developed the talent of foresight, you have no way of knowing whether I will make training a serious profession or not."

The black haired boy finally drew his attention away from his charmander long enough to look at the girl in her ponyta-ish face. His eyes flashed with an angry fire. However, this was the only portion of his face which showed emotion. His glare was directed at the girl, and without words it pointed out all the flaws in her face and personality. Once the boy was certain that his glare had demoralized the girl enough he began to clip her oversized ego to the proper proportions as benefited her station in life.

"I am sorry that I was not as accurate in my insults as I should have been," he began, making a mocking half bow where he was seated. "However, history stacks against you. Name the last thirty champions. Not one of them has been female. Everyone agrees that the female gym leaders, with two exceptions, are the easiest to beat. Girls are rarely ever trainers after they turn twenty. They have found men and settled down. Those who haven't quit usually become breeders.

"And this is what your family expects you to do. That is the only reason that they are letting you out at this age. They want you to try it for the year, and then they know that you will come back, ready to enter the world where you were meant to stay, the world of the home.

"You don't deserve to be here. No doubt you will love and care for your pokemon during this journey, but in five years they will be forever trapped in their pokeballs, assigned to sit moldering on a shelf, with no outlet or freedom," Alex's eyes were hard, but his speech finished he went back to taking care of his charmander.

The rest of the boys looked at him in shock. Sure, they all kidded around with Wash Pot about her being The Girl and all, but that was harsh. Each boy, even Matt, drew a breath to defend their Girl. They all began to speak at once, yelling insults and accusations at Alex.

Wash Pot stared at the ground, rubbing the plastic statuette as if it was helping her reflect on what was said. Her expression was emotionless. One might say withdrawn.

The squirtle watched her. He felt surprised. He had heard that humans leaked water when they had been yelled at like that. This girl seemed to be unmovable, though. If she was upset she was hiding it.

Finally she looked up again, as the abuse from her classmates began to wind down.

"You're wrong," she told Alex firmly.

There was no boasting about becoming the greatest trainer ever. The statement that the girl had made merely stayed hanging in the air. It almost bordered on the verge of being a challenge.

The squirtle was impressed. This human knew the proper way of going about things. Withdraw when attacked, and then once everything had clamed down pop out again and say in the clearest of terms "you have tried your best, but I am still here and I will always be here.

The boy just ignored her, though.

A real fight might have broken out if Professor Oak hadn't come out of the room, a stop watch in one hand and six pokeballs in the other.

"Alright children. The exciting time has arrived. You have to choose your pokemon. I'll be calling people up in order of age. Adam Goin."

Adam shot up, tripped over his sneakers and nearly fell, the pichu cradled in one arm.

"Yes sir, I choose the pichu," he said once he regained his balance.

Professor Oak nodded, and handed him a pokeball with a lightning bolt etched into the enamel.

"This is pichu's pokeball, just recall him and he's yours. Head into the lab and talk to my assistant and get your pokedex, and everything else," the professor instructed before calling out: "Alexis Hango, which do you choose?"

There were a few sniggers at "Alexis" and Alex colored slightly. However, he rose with his usual predatory grace, and strode to the Professor.

"I have chosen Corazon," he said calmly his hand out to accept the flame etched pokeball.

As the charmander disappeared in a burst of red energy and Alex turned to walk into the lab, Professor Oak called for the next trainer to be.

"Melamine Brown, would you come up and choose, please."

Wash Pot gulped as she stood. The walk to the professor seemed to take an age. The zubat was still asleep in Chris's arms, and it did not look as if he was going to be letting go any time soon. The abra was not available. The bulbasaur, she cast a quick glance around, only to see Matt with his arms crossed, his back to it, and an angry glare on his face that was mirrored exactly by the bulbasaur. Wash Pot knew that there was no way that she could handle something as ornery as the plant pokemon this early in her career.

She stood in front of the Professor, deciding to ask for the zubat that Chris coveted so much.

"Squirt squirtle."

She looked around in shock as the water pokemon tried to rush to her side. It wasn't easy on the stubby turtle legs, but the blue pokemon managed it.

"Squirt squirtle," it said again.

The squirtle was just as shocked as Melamine that he was doing this. However, he had decided that of all the trainers he didn't want to go with anyone else. He had forgotten that he didn't want to go period when the Alexis kid had given his speech about how worthless Melamine was. The way that the female had acted had impressed the tiny turtle, and he felt that she deserved his protection in the outside world.

"I take it that he has chosen you?" Professor Oak said, a little bemused, but handing Melamine the pokeball with the etched water drop.