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Jenny rubbed her infant son's back absently as she walked by the white-painted crib. He gurgled happily up at her, his green eyes sparkling, and she paused to smile slightly at him before continuing to the next room and picking up the phone. It was the color of eggshells, the same color many phones were. Nothing that grabbed the eye. It simply faded into the background of the house, unnoticed until needed. Like now.

She dialed the number quickly, as if she'd done it a thousand times before, scarcely even looking at it. It rang twice before being picked up.

"Hello," said a voice. It was lower-pitched than Jenny's, the sex indeterminate.

"This is Jenny 597," she said. Her face was impassive, detached. "There is a minor problem. My son."

A pause. "Is anyone there?"

"No. He just left."

*

Michael stretched and yawned loudly as he walked along. Elliot was still too sleepy to bother with such things. He stared down at the road with half-lidded eyes. His legs felt detached from the rest of him, and he wobbled slightly with each step.

"How can you get up so early?" he whined.

"Practice," said Michael with satisfaction, surveying the town in the morning light. His eyes stopped on the unguarded newspapers in a large red machine. He sauntered over and, after a quick, almost automatic glance around, he jiggled the latch until he managed to fish one out.

"I don't see what's so hard about just buying it," said Elliot absently, his voice still dulled with sleep.

"That's just it. Nothing. Besides, cheat the system, you know? Not that anyone really cares. I even asked a joy once, she said it's just to keep people from taking more than one," Michael said, smacking the paper open and scanning the contents. "Weird."

"What?"

The older boy glanced up at Elliot for a moment before his eyes returned to the paper. "It says that the jenny's kid died yesterday. I didn't know they had kids. Never saw one pushing a baby carriage around."

"That's too bad. What happened?"

"Seems like his heart just gave out or something like that. It's more a sympathy piece then an attempt at giving actual news. It does say the baby was a newborn. Sometimes infants just die for no reason. It's not really important."

"Yeah, I guess, but it's sad, don't you think?" said Elliot, his voice slow and drowsy.

Michael shrugged and flipped to another section of the paper.

"Hey, what's that?" Elliot asked, pointing toward an oddly-proportioned building. There was nothing he could have singled out as strange, but contrasted with the surrounding structures, it stood out like an alien construct. Architecture in Kanto was invariably uniform. This building was somehow different, perhaps more squat and rounded. It seemed to simply take up more space, a fat building squished into line with the rest of the street shops. The sign above the door, looking somehow like an overstuffed sausage, said Hoenn Alliance.

"Huh," said Michael, looking back up from the paper. "I've heard about those. They're here to speed relations between Hoenn and Kanto. I think they're being set up in Johto too. They give out Hoenn stuff and information."

"Cool," said Elliot, excitement driving back lingering drowsiness. He went inside, Michael following almost reluctantly.

A man was behind the counter, just like at a Pokemart. Comfortingly, he even looked similar. One the wall was a series of familiar-yet-strange items. A white and pink pokeball, a collection of bizarre berries, a booklet with several alien pokemon - a green, leafy lizard, a red pokemon with a beak and feathers, but fists instead of wingtips, and a large blue pokemon which looked like a cross between a quagsire and a venusaur.

"Would you like a packet?" the man asked. "They come with one random pokemon out of three." Elliot nodded, and the man reached down and retrieved a bag. He handed it to the boy across the counter, without needing to take a single step, then turned toward Michael. "Would you like a packet?"

Michael shook his head. "No thanks."

They left the building, Elliot now with a faint spring in his step. "I wonder what pokemon I got," he said, digging through the bag. "Why didn't you get any?"

"Who knows why they're giving stuff away like that. I don't want to get involved."

Elliot had managed to find the pokeball. It was the same pink and white he'd seen on display. He turned it over in his hands. He couldn't wait to get to the Pokecenter and see what kind of pokemon he'd gotten. Only half listening, he said, "What do you mean, involved? You're weird. It was just a free giveaway."

"Yeah, maybe," Michael said, looking around calmly. He returned to the paper.

The two rounded a corner, coming upon an open square. A large fountain lay in the center, another group of children sitting on the edge around it, two girls and a boy. They rose.

"Hey," said the boy. He looked about fifteen. "You guys trainers?"

"Kinda obvious, isn't it?" replied Michael, his voice slightly unfriendly.

"Yeah, I guess so." The boy laughed. He stared at Elliot, who was putting the strange pokeball back into the bag. "Wanna fight?"

"I'll fight," said Michael, before Elliot could answer.

One of the girls looked at Michael. "What, won't let him fight on his own? What are you, his brother?" She laughed as well, as if amused by the absurdity of what she'd suggested.

"He's new," said Michael. "Doesn't have much experience. As I'm sure you know."

"I got the Cascade Badge," said Elliot.

"Did you," said the other girl, as if amused. Elliot had no idea why. "Then - "

"I fight first. He can fight next if he wants to," said Michael. "He's not used to judging how strong opponents are."

"Sure, sure, whatever," said the boy, spreading his hands out and shrugging, as if Michael was being overly picky. "Go, Exeggutor!"

"Scyther," Michael said, tossing his own pokeball. "Fury cutter."

"Psychic!"

Before the insect could do anything, the air rippled and he was pushed backward. He slid, clawed feet scratching for purchase on the cement, before regaining his footing and breaking though the attack. The scyther lunged at the treelike pokemon, slashing repeatedly. It took only seconds before the psychic plant fainted.

"Pretty good," said the boy, still good-naturedly. "'Course, practically anyone can do good with a double type advantage."

"And practically no one would use it," retorted Michael, his voice faintly angry.

"True, true. Jynx!" he said, recalling his first pokemon and replacing it with the ice type.

"Slash it, Scyther," ordered Michael.

"Blizzard!"

Shards of ice began to materialize out of the air, then shot at the bug pokemon. The scyther dashed from side to side, trying to dodge as many as he could, while getting closer to the jynx, until it was in within range to use his blades. Then he sliced at the psychic once, a direct blow. The jynx crumpled, but seemed to recover slightly.

"Ice punch!"

The jynx let out a cry and smashed her fist into the scyther's chest. The insect screeched, slashing back wildly. The additional damage was too much and the jynx collapsed.

Scyther remained where he was, breathing heavily, as the other boy recalled the psychic. Ice had formed over the exoskeleton on his chest, and he was bleeding from small nicks in his shell that he had gotten in the previous attack.

"All right," said the other boy impressively. He withdrew a pokeball with a flourish and threw it dramatically. "Go, Quilava!" he yelled, striking a pose.

"Return, Scyther."

The boy made as if to collapse in shock. "What? You mean I wasted all that?" He laughed self-depreciatingly.

Michael didn't look amused. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I choose Golduck."

"Quick, Quilava, use headbutt!" yelled the boy.

"Va!" cried the pokemon, charging toward the golduck. She twisted out of the way, but wasn't fast enough. The attack grazed along her side, doing some damage.

"Golduck, surf!"

The water type flung her arms up. Water seemed to materialize out of the cement, forming into a wave, which smashed into the quilava. It struggled, floundering, then fainted.

"Not bad," said the boy. He took out several bills and handed them over. "Your pokemon are pretty strong."

"Those were my strongest," Michael lied.

"Ah, that makes sense," said the boy.

The younger girl, perhaps thirteen, turned to Elliot again. "How about you?"

"I - I don't have - " After seeing the battle, Elliot realized why Michael had been trying to prevent him from fighting. The other trainer had been incredibly strong. So was Michael, for that matter. He supposed he should have realized this - Michael had been a trainer for four years, and had at least eight badges - but somehow, he hadn't thought about it and had just assumed other trainers would be at the same level as he was.

"Just one-on-one then. I just caught a new pokemon, and it needs some experience."

"Okay," said Elliot. He'd already used his growlithe to fight some of the wild pokemon they'd met on the way into town. He picked his meowth's pokeball. "Go, Charmer!"

The small cat appeared. It looked around warily.

"Go, Ekans!"

A similarly undersized snake emerged. It hissed at the meowth, who hissed back.

"Charmer, scratch it!"

Charmer ran forward, jumping onto the ekans and rapidly clawing at it. Thin red lines appeared on the snake's back. It hissed more angrily, twisting to strike.

"Bite attack!"

It lunged, a trifle clumsily from the bad angle, and bit into the meowth, tossing it off. The meowth simply scrambled to its feet and ran back. It bit as well, sinking its small fangs into the ekans' soft scales.

"Constrict!"

The snake contorted to coil around the meowth and squeeze. Charmer cried out in surprise and began to struggle, scratching out small clumps of flesh and scale as it tried to get free. The ekans, surprised and pained, untightened its attack. It was bleeding from shallow wounds but not badly injured.

"Return, ekans!" said the girl. Elliot, about to give another command, started at her in surprise. Like the other boy, she handed him some money.

"Are you guys here for the Trade Convention?" asked the older girl.

"No," said Michael.

"We were just heading toward Saffron," added Elliot helpfully.

"For the tournament there, right? Well, you might want to go to the Convention. They're selling some specialty items, and you might find a good trade there."

"That sounds fun," said Elliot.

"Yes," said Michael, his voice making it clear he didn't think it sounded fun at all. "Let's get going, Elliot."

"Okay. Bye!" Elliot said.

Michael muttered something that sounded like 'fearow' and walked off. Elliot followed. As he left, he saw the older girl run off down another street, sprinting.

"Good, there's the Pokemon Center," said Michael.

Elliot's attention was already on something else. "Look, there's a sign about the Trade Convention." He ran off in the direction of the arrow. Michael paused a moment, then followed.

"Oh, wow," Elliot said in awe. Throngs of trainers were milling about, talking loudly. "This is amazing."

"Try to at least keep your mouth shut while you stare. Haven't you ever seen something like this before?"

Elliot shook his head. "The most trainers we ever had at the same time were groups of three or four passing through."

A girl spied them and detached herself from the mob. "Hey! My name's Angelica! What's yours?"

"Elliot," said Elliot, glancing at Michael. He didn't say anything, but the girl didn't seem to notice.

"Great! You wanna trade?" she said, standing almost on top of him. He stepped back automatically. "I got a murkrow here last year. I've been training it since then, so I think it's time for a switch. What do you have?"

"I - um," Elliot stammered, disconcerted by her enthusiasm. "Um, a growlithe, a meowth - "

"Meowth? Cool! I've always wanted one of those!" She held up a pokeball. "Trade it for my murkrow?"

Murkrow were rare. He'd never seen one outside a book. "Sure," he said. She grinned happily, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the crowd. Michael opened his mouth to say something, but they were gone.

It took less than a minute to find a trading machine and exchange the two pokemon. Elliot wondered for a moment why they couldn't just hand each other the pokeballs, but he forgot about it as he stared in amazement at the huge, strange machine. Before he realized it, he was holding the girl's Greatball in his hands.

Elliot wormed his way out of the crowd to find Michael waiting.

"Aren't you going to trade with anyone?" he asked.

"No way," Michael said, eyeing the crowd. Traded pokemon were only of moderate strength. Fine for nonprofessional trainers, but not serious ones. He'd wind up with a weaker pokemon if he exchanged with anyone. Besides - "You never know what you're getting into."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Elliot said. Michael shrugged. "I just got a really rare pokemon! Just for my meowth. And it's probably a lot stronger too. Don't you think that's good?"

"You don't know anything about that girl. She jumped you, offered to trade with you immediately for a common pokemon. You don't find that strange?"

"She didn't trick me," said Elliot with certainty. Trainers didn't lie about trading, he knew that. He opened the Greatball.

"Mur!" cawed the bird, flapping. It landed on the ground, turning its head from side to side to look at him.

"See?" Elliot said.

"That wasn't what I - never mind," Michael said. "Come on, let's get out of here."