Categories > Anime/Manga > Pokemon > The Only Way Out
Whereabouts Unknown
0 reviewsMitchell arrives at Professor Oak's lab and receives his Pokédex and starter Pokémon. A news report on the TV shows continuing coverage of the investigation at his house, revealing a disturbing ...
0Unrated
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon. Pokémon is the property of Game Freak and Nintendo and all of those awesome people who invented it.
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The lights inside the lab were dimmed but not completely darkened, with blue light permeating the shadows as it escaped the various computer screens around their front room. The door itself looked into a small room that preceded the first section of the lab, much like the entryways of mall department stores. Through the tinted glass, Mitchell could see one moving figure. She crossed the room as the automatic doors on the back wall shut behind her, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of a coffee mug. She was eyeing some documents that she set down on her desk shortly before letting her attention drift to the television screen. Mitchell tapped lightly on the glass, but she did not hear him. Any sound he made would probably be audible from inside the first small room, but it would not get past the second set of doors.
"Hello?" he called out, but the scientist, a blonde woman, did not respond. He started knocking harder, afraid that he would break the glass, and still there was no response.
"I've got a delivery for you, open up!" Mitchell shouted, and for a second he considered kicking the door as hard as he could and hoping for it to shatter cleanly, but the woman glanced over at him before he could pull up his foot. She stood for a second, wondering what he was doing there, before approaching the first set of doors. She pushed a button on the wall nearby.
"Can I help you?" she asked. She sounded older than she looked, but she looked very young for her job. Mitchell saw a small button and speaker on the wall next to the door, hidden in the nighttime shadows. He pushed it in and waited for it to click.
"Yeah, I've got something I need to give to Oak, is he around?" Mitchell asked. He had the notepad in the deep pocket of his sweats, the cardboard cover pressing against the material. The blonde looked at him.
"We're not open this late, I'm sorry. Can you come back tomorrow morning?"
"It's from Kenneth Adler," Mitchell said, remembering his friend's advice.
"Can I see proof?"
Mitchell looked down at his side, but Charmander was not there. It only took a second to locate him. The Pokémon was digging around in a nearby bush, pulling small berries away from the branches and sniffing them before tasting them one by one. They were plump and red, and very appealing to the eye. That was probably why Charmander had gone after them.
"Come here, Charmander," Mitchell ordered, and the lizard obeyed. Upon walking over to Mitchell, he held up a handful of the berries, offering them to the human. Mitchell took one and put it in his mouth, crushing it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. The juices were bitter but irresistible, and made Mitchell realize just how hungry he had become.
"Come on in," the scientist said, opening both sets of doors. Mitchell felt the cold, sterile air rushing out into the night as he walked through. Charmander followed him inside, practically begging the scientist to pet him. She smiled and rubbed him on the nose.
"How did you get Charmander from Kenneth? I saw just now that they found him lying in the grass near a house on the other side of town. He got shot," the scientist said. She sounded worried, but as the two of them looked over to the screen, the reporter finished her statement that Kenneth was being loaded into an ambulance as she spoke. He was still alive and speaking clearly, and did not seem too shocked by what had happened. Both of them stopped speaking and kept their focus on the report, even Charmander, who was not even sure what was going on.
"When questioned, Adler said that he had been shot by Edward Direnetti, a reclusive resident of Pallet Town. His wife, Amber, was actually the one who arrived at the police station shortly after the crime took place, around nine o'clock tonight. According to her report, her son Mitchell had been present when her husband allegedly beat her, and had left to go into town to purchase first aid supplies. Adler, however, denied that he had seen Mitchell at all tonight. He told authorities that he had received a call from Mitchell that worried him, so he left his own home to go to the Direnetti household. Adler did not disclose what had been said during the call," the reporter said.
"I'll go see if the Professor is awake. Wait here," the scientist said. Mitchell took a seat on one of the low white couches and kept watching the report. Charmander sat next to him, munching on his collection of berries and offering some to the teenager every once in a while.
"Strangely enough, Edward Direnetti disappeared from the household only moments after his discovery in an upstairs bedroom. An officer examining the crime scene came down saying that he had found the man upstairs with a visibly broken arm and bruises on his face, but when he returned to the room the man had vanished. It is believed that he either climbed through the open window or exited through the back door while no one was watching. A city-wide search has been ordered for Edward Direnetti, pictured here,"
The picture was one that disgusted Mitchell. It was their last family portrait, taken the summer before. For whatever reason, Edward had decided that they needed to have one. Mitchell and Amber smiled for the camera, faked but not obviously, but Edward stood there with a stern glance. They were all dressed in semi-formal clothing, with Amber in a beautiful maroon dress that Edward had purchased for that occasion. Amber despised the thing, no matter how gorgeous it made her look. The reporter continued.
"Police are also on the lookout for seventeen year old Mitchell Direnetti, also pictured here. If you have any information regarding the disappearances, please call the local police station. For Pallet Channel 7 News, I'm Veronica Saxon,"
The automatic door on the back wall opened as the blonde scientist returned with an older man. He was tall and seemed friendly enough, but he looked as though he had just been awakened from his sleep after working for eighteen hours straight. His jawline was set and defined, and his dirty blonde hair was a mess. He had visible grays at his temples and hairline.
"You've brought me my Charmander?" the professor asked, skipping introductions and small talk. Charmander jumped up off of the couch and ran toward the older man, wrapping his short arms around the professor's leg. Mitchell stood up and reached for the notepad in his pocket.
"You must be Professor Oak. I'm Mitchell Direnetti," Mitch said, sticking his hand out in front of him for the man to shake. He noticed that the expressions on both of the scientists' faces were suddenly very serious.
"You do know that the police are looking for you, young man," Oak said, ignoring the handshake and glaring at the boy. Mitchell felt very intimidated by this man, but Charmander's ritual chanting of his own name lightened the mood of the moment.
"Now I do. But that is not important right now. I have something that Kenneth wanted me to bring you. Not Charmander, but he's here too," Mitchell said. He held the black notepad out for Professor Oak to take. The scientist knew exactly what it was.
"How did you get this?" he asked.
"Kenneth gave it to me after he got shot,"
"I see,"
There was a brief moment of silence as Professor Oak flipped open the cover of the notepad and admired the drawings that Kenneth had made as a sort of cover page. They were proportionally drawn, not artist-like material but close enough. They depicted the evolutionary tree of a Pidgey, and included skeletal structures. It was a great start to the notes, and a touch that few other students thought to include. The next page showed entry number one, Rattata. Oak didn't bother reading absolutely everything on the page, but it was well organized and included just about everything a novice researcher could find about the Pokémon without tools. The next few pages included more notes on Rattata, then Pidgey, then Magikarp and Tentacool. There was one thing in this notepad that Oak noticed that he had not seen before in other interns notepads; Staryu. Somehow, Kenneth had gotten a hold on a Staryu long enough to study it.
"I'm saddened that he will not be joining us. I will make sure to make a note of him and call him when he gets out of the hospital, though a part of me wants to call them now and leave a note for them to give to him," Oak said. He turned to the last page of the notepad and saw Kenneth's letter.
"Mitchell, have you looked at this?" Oak asked, but the boy shook his head.
"I didn't really think about it," he replied. Oak looked past Mitchell at the TV, listening to the continuing coverage of the violence at the Direnetti household.
"I should call the police and tell them that you are here," Oak told him, "but I don't want you to have to sit in a police station all night. From what we've heard tonight, you were hit as well? That bruise looks bad,"
"Yeah, textbook smash into my face," Mitchell said. Oak nodded.
"Well, I hate to be morbid, but if this note includes your friend's last wishes, then I would never be able to live knowing that I disregarded them," Oak said. Mitchell felt a tug on his heart when he heard Oak say it, but deep inside he also knew that being shot was a serious matter. He hoped that Kenneth would be able to pull through it.
"Might I asked what happened, first?" the professor asked. Mitchell's first thought was to just say no and move on to the contents of the note. He wanted to know what Kenneth had told Oak. But Oak was not going to turn him in to the police, so he felt obligated to tell the story.
"My dad is the absolute worst father in history," he started. He liked how that sounded and thought it would be a good beginning if he ever decided to write an autobiography. He shortened the story considerably, finishing it over the course of three minutes.
"Basically, whatever he says when the police catch him is wrong, and whatever my mom says is right, and whatever Kenneth says is probably right. He'll only lie if he's protecting me," Mitchell finished. The blonde scientist had gone back to work on her computer but was listening regardless.
"Well, if the law system pulls through, then you might never have to see him again. I would never wish that upon anyone, to not see their father again, but I know you're probably thinking it too," Oak told Mitchell before beckoning for him to follow to the back part of the lab.
"It really is a shame about Kenneth. You probably feel guilty about it, since it was your dad, but that was a really good thing for him to do. I hope you'll pay him back someday. His observation skills are very developed for someone his age. It'll be a chore not having him around, now that I know his potential," the professor continued. Mitchell didn't want to be disrespectful by not listening, but wished the Professor Oak would just let him see the notepad. He knew that Professor Oak was the starting point for a lot of the Pokémon League sanctioned trainers, but only because the TV happened to be on a tournament one day when he walked into the living room. Kenneth knew that Mitchell saw becoming a trainer as the only way out of Pallet Town, so Oak was probably leading him back to receive his first Pokémon.
"This here is a Pokédex," Oak told Mitchell as he picked up a small red device from the table near a large circular machine. It resembled a PDA in some ways, and a cell phone in others. Oak opened it to show him the inside.
"I invented this as a research tool, though that is only one of its uses. It was my dream to write an informative document that covered all of the world's Pokémon. By the time I had the Pokédex perfected, I was too old and involved in this career to spend any time roaming the world and capturing Pokémon. I've relied on the reports of trainers around the world that have their starts with me, and they have given me enough information to upgrade the Pokédex to include everything that they've found. I send out updates periodically, but only when I receive new information. This Pokédex only has the information for the Pokémon native to this region, but it should do you fine for now," he explained before handing the device to Mitchell. Mitchell looked at him disbelievingly.
"You're just going to give this to me?" he asked.
"I've got a whole box of them, I'm sure I'll still have one for Kenneth when he comes to work for me. That one there was going to be his, but he wanted me to give it to you," Oak told him.
"What do I do with it?" Mitchell asked.
"It's quite simple, really. I won't bore you with all of the technical details, but it basically scans a Pokémon that you've seen or caught and stores information. Obviously, you get more when you catch it than you would if you've just seen it. It then correlates that information with information received by my computer from other trainers. It can tell you likely places to find that species, assuming it's been seen before, as well as other information, including evolutionary lines and the like," the professor said.
"I always thought training was just buying Pokéballs and catching Pokémon and fighting. That's how trainers make their living, right?" Mitchell asked.
"Essentially. There are also the emotional bonds that you get with your Pokémon, with other trainers, and everything else. It's not just about fighting. You learn these things along the road, and when you do you realize that it's a very rewarding experience. Plus, it can be lucrative if you play your cards right,"
Mitchell started browsing the Pokédex's options, but he wasn't able to get far before the professor interrupted.
"There's one more thing," he said, "It's my tradition to give starting trainer's their first Pokémon. Now, since the normal registration time is not for a couple of months, I have not received Pokémon shipments for the next wave of trainers, but I do have a couple remaining from last year that I'd like to let you pick from,"
Mitchell looked down at Charmander, who nodded at him.
"I thought so. Your other choice is a Squirtle. I had a Bulbasaur left over, too, but I gave it to my friend's daughter as a present. Are you sure that you want to take Charmander?"
Mitchell looked at the lizard again, who held up the last of his bitter-tasting berries for the boy. He took it and put it in his mouth. He liked Charmander, that was for sure. But what if Kenneth came back to find that Charmander was no longer there? He seemed like he liked the Pokémon as well. Squirtle probably didn't have any emotional connections, so it would be a fresh start for him.
"Also, don't feel like Kenneth would be angry about you taking Charmander. If you don't, then someone is going to come registration time," Oak said. Charmander scratched his neck with one of his feet.
"I'll take him," he said, swallowing the berry. Both the professor and the Pokémon smiled.
"Well, then you are officially a Pokémon trainer. You'll need to fill out a form, though, so I can get you registered in the Pokémon League's database," Oak said, "Congratulations."
Mitchell heard his name mentioned on the TV again, the sound drifting through the open automatic door as the blonde scientist came through. She was refilling her coffee.
"Could you possibly wait a couple of days before registering me? If the police come knocking, I don't want them to know where I'm going," Mitchell asked. Oak nodded, reaching for his own coffee cup.
"My lips are sealed. I'll give you three days before I register you," Oak promised. The blonde scientist looked at them.
"Should I write you a reminder note?" she asked. Oak nodded.
"Naturally. In three days I probably won't even remember that this ever happened," the professor told her, smiling. Mitchell looked at the two before deciding that he could not spend any more time in Pallet Town. He needed to be in Viridian by tomorrow morning if he hoped to escape the Pallet Police Department.
"Thanks for not reporting me," Mitchell told Oak, who nodded and looked up at his clock.
"Well, it's late and I've got a date with my pillow," he said. He waved goodbye to Mitchell, who went back into the lobby-type area where the TV was still showing live news from the Direnetti household. The teenager couldn't help but wonder if the news was playing anywhere else in Kanto. If it were, then he would have a harder time disguising himself on his journey from suspicious eyes, especially with his bruise. He also wanted to go there himself and punch out the reporter and crew. Yeah, there was a shooting, but it couldn't be that big of a deal. Pallet had its share of crimes, none violent but they did exist. Now everyone would be riding out to the house during the day and bringing their friends, telling the stories that spread and become corrupted by the general masses. They would probably talk about Haunters and Gengars possessing Edward and forcing him to try and kill everyone around. They would say that no one ever saw Edward or Mitchell again, because the ghosts took them away.
Mitchell silently hoped that an urban legend would grow from this. He would love to show up in Pallet Town one day to have every single kid in the city running in fear.
"Well, you should be going now," the female scientist told Mitchell, who looked down at his wrist. He was not wearing his watch, but wished he had grabbed it from the house on his way out. He had his phone and his Pokédex, but the time wasn't really important to him anyway.
"Yeah, I should. It's dark out, and Edward's still running around. I'll see you guys around, I guess," he said. He stepped through the automatic door and waited for the blonde to lock it behind him before he stepped through the outer doors. Charmander wanted sleep and wasn't afraid to show it. He reached for his Pokéball as Mitchell passed by the berry bushes. Sure, they were bitter and didn't taste very good, but they had an addictive effect, like cigarettes. Plus, he wasn't sure what else Charmander liked to eat. He knelt down and started picking clumps of berries from the bushes and putting them in a clean sock in his backpack. Charmander pushed the button and sucked himself into his own Pokéball, his well-deserved nap beginning as soon as he was entirely inside.
Mitchell put one berry in his mouth and crushed it with his bicuspids, running his tongue along the length of his mouth to catch all of the bitter liquid. He wondered why he didn't feel any different. He was now an official Pokémon trainer, with his own Pokémon and a Pokédex. Why hadn't the feeling sunk in yet? He took a few more steps and turned into the alleyway at the end of Oak's lab. Turning the corner, he stopped when he saw someone standing there in front of him. It was a figure clad entirely in black. In their outstretched arm was a nine-millimeter pistol.
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Author Notes: End of Chapter 4. Yeah, you all knew he'd get Charmander. Because we all know that Charmander is the most badass of the original three starters. Read and review, I enjoy feedback and I see that there are hundreds of people on the Pokémon section of FF.net, so I expect something. I will warn you now; there is sexual content in Chapter 5. Not too much, and it isn't sex, but let this serve as a warning. Who is the figure in black with the gun? That, my friends, is what the public calls a cliffhanger. Like the one we got at the end of Season 1 of Supernatural.
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The lights inside the lab were dimmed but not completely darkened, with blue light permeating the shadows as it escaped the various computer screens around their front room. The door itself looked into a small room that preceded the first section of the lab, much like the entryways of mall department stores. Through the tinted glass, Mitchell could see one moving figure. She crossed the room as the automatic doors on the back wall shut behind her, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of a coffee mug. She was eyeing some documents that she set down on her desk shortly before letting her attention drift to the television screen. Mitchell tapped lightly on the glass, but she did not hear him. Any sound he made would probably be audible from inside the first small room, but it would not get past the second set of doors.
"Hello?" he called out, but the scientist, a blonde woman, did not respond. He started knocking harder, afraid that he would break the glass, and still there was no response.
"I've got a delivery for you, open up!" Mitchell shouted, and for a second he considered kicking the door as hard as he could and hoping for it to shatter cleanly, but the woman glanced over at him before he could pull up his foot. She stood for a second, wondering what he was doing there, before approaching the first set of doors. She pushed a button on the wall nearby.
"Can I help you?" she asked. She sounded older than she looked, but she looked very young for her job. Mitchell saw a small button and speaker on the wall next to the door, hidden in the nighttime shadows. He pushed it in and waited for it to click.
"Yeah, I've got something I need to give to Oak, is he around?" Mitchell asked. He had the notepad in the deep pocket of his sweats, the cardboard cover pressing against the material. The blonde looked at him.
"We're not open this late, I'm sorry. Can you come back tomorrow morning?"
"It's from Kenneth Adler," Mitchell said, remembering his friend's advice.
"Can I see proof?"
Mitchell looked down at his side, but Charmander was not there. It only took a second to locate him. The Pokémon was digging around in a nearby bush, pulling small berries away from the branches and sniffing them before tasting them one by one. They were plump and red, and very appealing to the eye. That was probably why Charmander had gone after them.
"Come here, Charmander," Mitchell ordered, and the lizard obeyed. Upon walking over to Mitchell, he held up a handful of the berries, offering them to the human. Mitchell took one and put it in his mouth, crushing it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. The juices were bitter but irresistible, and made Mitchell realize just how hungry he had become.
"Come on in," the scientist said, opening both sets of doors. Mitchell felt the cold, sterile air rushing out into the night as he walked through. Charmander followed him inside, practically begging the scientist to pet him. She smiled and rubbed him on the nose.
"How did you get Charmander from Kenneth? I saw just now that they found him lying in the grass near a house on the other side of town. He got shot," the scientist said. She sounded worried, but as the two of them looked over to the screen, the reporter finished her statement that Kenneth was being loaded into an ambulance as she spoke. He was still alive and speaking clearly, and did not seem too shocked by what had happened. Both of them stopped speaking and kept their focus on the report, even Charmander, who was not even sure what was going on.
"When questioned, Adler said that he had been shot by Edward Direnetti, a reclusive resident of Pallet Town. His wife, Amber, was actually the one who arrived at the police station shortly after the crime took place, around nine o'clock tonight. According to her report, her son Mitchell had been present when her husband allegedly beat her, and had left to go into town to purchase first aid supplies. Adler, however, denied that he had seen Mitchell at all tonight. He told authorities that he had received a call from Mitchell that worried him, so he left his own home to go to the Direnetti household. Adler did not disclose what had been said during the call," the reporter said.
"I'll go see if the Professor is awake. Wait here," the scientist said. Mitchell took a seat on one of the low white couches and kept watching the report. Charmander sat next to him, munching on his collection of berries and offering some to the teenager every once in a while.
"Strangely enough, Edward Direnetti disappeared from the household only moments after his discovery in an upstairs bedroom. An officer examining the crime scene came down saying that he had found the man upstairs with a visibly broken arm and bruises on his face, but when he returned to the room the man had vanished. It is believed that he either climbed through the open window or exited through the back door while no one was watching. A city-wide search has been ordered for Edward Direnetti, pictured here,"
The picture was one that disgusted Mitchell. It was their last family portrait, taken the summer before. For whatever reason, Edward had decided that they needed to have one. Mitchell and Amber smiled for the camera, faked but not obviously, but Edward stood there with a stern glance. They were all dressed in semi-formal clothing, with Amber in a beautiful maroon dress that Edward had purchased for that occasion. Amber despised the thing, no matter how gorgeous it made her look. The reporter continued.
"Police are also on the lookout for seventeen year old Mitchell Direnetti, also pictured here. If you have any information regarding the disappearances, please call the local police station. For Pallet Channel 7 News, I'm Veronica Saxon,"
The automatic door on the back wall opened as the blonde scientist returned with an older man. He was tall and seemed friendly enough, but he looked as though he had just been awakened from his sleep after working for eighteen hours straight. His jawline was set and defined, and his dirty blonde hair was a mess. He had visible grays at his temples and hairline.
"You've brought me my Charmander?" the professor asked, skipping introductions and small talk. Charmander jumped up off of the couch and ran toward the older man, wrapping his short arms around the professor's leg. Mitchell stood up and reached for the notepad in his pocket.
"You must be Professor Oak. I'm Mitchell Direnetti," Mitch said, sticking his hand out in front of him for the man to shake. He noticed that the expressions on both of the scientists' faces were suddenly very serious.
"You do know that the police are looking for you, young man," Oak said, ignoring the handshake and glaring at the boy. Mitchell felt very intimidated by this man, but Charmander's ritual chanting of his own name lightened the mood of the moment.
"Now I do. But that is not important right now. I have something that Kenneth wanted me to bring you. Not Charmander, but he's here too," Mitchell said. He held the black notepad out for Professor Oak to take. The scientist knew exactly what it was.
"How did you get this?" he asked.
"Kenneth gave it to me after he got shot,"
"I see,"
There was a brief moment of silence as Professor Oak flipped open the cover of the notepad and admired the drawings that Kenneth had made as a sort of cover page. They were proportionally drawn, not artist-like material but close enough. They depicted the evolutionary tree of a Pidgey, and included skeletal structures. It was a great start to the notes, and a touch that few other students thought to include. The next page showed entry number one, Rattata. Oak didn't bother reading absolutely everything on the page, but it was well organized and included just about everything a novice researcher could find about the Pokémon without tools. The next few pages included more notes on Rattata, then Pidgey, then Magikarp and Tentacool. There was one thing in this notepad that Oak noticed that he had not seen before in other interns notepads; Staryu. Somehow, Kenneth had gotten a hold on a Staryu long enough to study it.
"I'm saddened that he will not be joining us. I will make sure to make a note of him and call him when he gets out of the hospital, though a part of me wants to call them now and leave a note for them to give to him," Oak said. He turned to the last page of the notepad and saw Kenneth's letter.
"Mitchell, have you looked at this?" Oak asked, but the boy shook his head.
"I didn't really think about it," he replied. Oak looked past Mitchell at the TV, listening to the continuing coverage of the violence at the Direnetti household.
"I should call the police and tell them that you are here," Oak told him, "but I don't want you to have to sit in a police station all night. From what we've heard tonight, you were hit as well? That bruise looks bad,"
"Yeah, textbook smash into my face," Mitchell said. Oak nodded.
"Well, I hate to be morbid, but if this note includes your friend's last wishes, then I would never be able to live knowing that I disregarded them," Oak said. Mitchell felt a tug on his heart when he heard Oak say it, but deep inside he also knew that being shot was a serious matter. He hoped that Kenneth would be able to pull through it.
"Might I asked what happened, first?" the professor asked. Mitchell's first thought was to just say no and move on to the contents of the note. He wanted to know what Kenneth had told Oak. But Oak was not going to turn him in to the police, so he felt obligated to tell the story.
"My dad is the absolute worst father in history," he started. He liked how that sounded and thought it would be a good beginning if he ever decided to write an autobiography. He shortened the story considerably, finishing it over the course of three minutes.
"Basically, whatever he says when the police catch him is wrong, and whatever my mom says is right, and whatever Kenneth says is probably right. He'll only lie if he's protecting me," Mitchell finished. The blonde scientist had gone back to work on her computer but was listening regardless.
"Well, if the law system pulls through, then you might never have to see him again. I would never wish that upon anyone, to not see their father again, but I know you're probably thinking it too," Oak told Mitchell before beckoning for him to follow to the back part of the lab.
"It really is a shame about Kenneth. You probably feel guilty about it, since it was your dad, but that was a really good thing for him to do. I hope you'll pay him back someday. His observation skills are very developed for someone his age. It'll be a chore not having him around, now that I know his potential," the professor continued. Mitchell didn't want to be disrespectful by not listening, but wished the Professor Oak would just let him see the notepad. He knew that Professor Oak was the starting point for a lot of the Pokémon League sanctioned trainers, but only because the TV happened to be on a tournament one day when he walked into the living room. Kenneth knew that Mitchell saw becoming a trainer as the only way out of Pallet Town, so Oak was probably leading him back to receive his first Pokémon.
"This here is a Pokédex," Oak told Mitchell as he picked up a small red device from the table near a large circular machine. It resembled a PDA in some ways, and a cell phone in others. Oak opened it to show him the inside.
"I invented this as a research tool, though that is only one of its uses. It was my dream to write an informative document that covered all of the world's Pokémon. By the time I had the Pokédex perfected, I was too old and involved in this career to spend any time roaming the world and capturing Pokémon. I've relied on the reports of trainers around the world that have their starts with me, and they have given me enough information to upgrade the Pokédex to include everything that they've found. I send out updates periodically, but only when I receive new information. This Pokédex only has the information for the Pokémon native to this region, but it should do you fine for now," he explained before handing the device to Mitchell. Mitchell looked at him disbelievingly.
"You're just going to give this to me?" he asked.
"I've got a whole box of them, I'm sure I'll still have one for Kenneth when he comes to work for me. That one there was going to be his, but he wanted me to give it to you," Oak told him.
"What do I do with it?" Mitchell asked.
"It's quite simple, really. I won't bore you with all of the technical details, but it basically scans a Pokémon that you've seen or caught and stores information. Obviously, you get more when you catch it than you would if you've just seen it. It then correlates that information with information received by my computer from other trainers. It can tell you likely places to find that species, assuming it's been seen before, as well as other information, including evolutionary lines and the like," the professor said.
"I always thought training was just buying Pokéballs and catching Pokémon and fighting. That's how trainers make their living, right?" Mitchell asked.
"Essentially. There are also the emotional bonds that you get with your Pokémon, with other trainers, and everything else. It's not just about fighting. You learn these things along the road, and when you do you realize that it's a very rewarding experience. Plus, it can be lucrative if you play your cards right,"
Mitchell started browsing the Pokédex's options, but he wasn't able to get far before the professor interrupted.
"There's one more thing," he said, "It's my tradition to give starting trainer's their first Pokémon. Now, since the normal registration time is not for a couple of months, I have not received Pokémon shipments for the next wave of trainers, but I do have a couple remaining from last year that I'd like to let you pick from,"
Mitchell looked down at Charmander, who nodded at him.
"I thought so. Your other choice is a Squirtle. I had a Bulbasaur left over, too, but I gave it to my friend's daughter as a present. Are you sure that you want to take Charmander?"
Mitchell looked at the lizard again, who held up the last of his bitter-tasting berries for the boy. He took it and put it in his mouth. He liked Charmander, that was for sure. But what if Kenneth came back to find that Charmander was no longer there? He seemed like he liked the Pokémon as well. Squirtle probably didn't have any emotional connections, so it would be a fresh start for him.
"Also, don't feel like Kenneth would be angry about you taking Charmander. If you don't, then someone is going to come registration time," Oak said. Charmander scratched his neck with one of his feet.
"I'll take him," he said, swallowing the berry. Both the professor and the Pokémon smiled.
"Well, then you are officially a Pokémon trainer. You'll need to fill out a form, though, so I can get you registered in the Pokémon League's database," Oak said, "Congratulations."
Mitchell heard his name mentioned on the TV again, the sound drifting through the open automatic door as the blonde scientist came through. She was refilling her coffee.
"Could you possibly wait a couple of days before registering me? If the police come knocking, I don't want them to know where I'm going," Mitchell asked. Oak nodded, reaching for his own coffee cup.
"My lips are sealed. I'll give you three days before I register you," Oak promised. The blonde scientist looked at them.
"Should I write you a reminder note?" she asked. Oak nodded.
"Naturally. In three days I probably won't even remember that this ever happened," the professor told her, smiling. Mitchell looked at the two before deciding that he could not spend any more time in Pallet Town. He needed to be in Viridian by tomorrow morning if he hoped to escape the Pallet Police Department.
"Thanks for not reporting me," Mitchell told Oak, who nodded and looked up at his clock.
"Well, it's late and I've got a date with my pillow," he said. He waved goodbye to Mitchell, who went back into the lobby-type area where the TV was still showing live news from the Direnetti household. The teenager couldn't help but wonder if the news was playing anywhere else in Kanto. If it were, then he would have a harder time disguising himself on his journey from suspicious eyes, especially with his bruise. He also wanted to go there himself and punch out the reporter and crew. Yeah, there was a shooting, but it couldn't be that big of a deal. Pallet had its share of crimes, none violent but they did exist. Now everyone would be riding out to the house during the day and bringing their friends, telling the stories that spread and become corrupted by the general masses. They would probably talk about Haunters and Gengars possessing Edward and forcing him to try and kill everyone around. They would say that no one ever saw Edward or Mitchell again, because the ghosts took them away.
Mitchell silently hoped that an urban legend would grow from this. He would love to show up in Pallet Town one day to have every single kid in the city running in fear.
"Well, you should be going now," the female scientist told Mitchell, who looked down at his wrist. He was not wearing his watch, but wished he had grabbed it from the house on his way out. He had his phone and his Pokédex, but the time wasn't really important to him anyway.
"Yeah, I should. It's dark out, and Edward's still running around. I'll see you guys around, I guess," he said. He stepped through the automatic door and waited for the blonde to lock it behind him before he stepped through the outer doors. Charmander wanted sleep and wasn't afraid to show it. He reached for his Pokéball as Mitchell passed by the berry bushes. Sure, they were bitter and didn't taste very good, but they had an addictive effect, like cigarettes. Plus, he wasn't sure what else Charmander liked to eat. He knelt down and started picking clumps of berries from the bushes and putting them in a clean sock in his backpack. Charmander pushed the button and sucked himself into his own Pokéball, his well-deserved nap beginning as soon as he was entirely inside.
Mitchell put one berry in his mouth and crushed it with his bicuspids, running his tongue along the length of his mouth to catch all of the bitter liquid. He wondered why he didn't feel any different. He was now an official Pokémon trainer, with his own Pokémon and a Pokédex. Why hadn't the feeling sunk in yet? He took a few more steps and turned into the alleyway at the end of Oak's lab. Turning the corner, he stopped when he saw someone standing there in front of him. It was a figure clad entirely in black. In their outstretched arm was a nine-millimeter pistol.
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Author Notes: End of Chapter 4. Yeah, you all knew he'd get Charmander. Because we all know that Charmander is the most badass of the original three starters. Read and review, I enjoy feedback and I see that there are hundreds of people on the Pokémon section of FF.net, so I expect something. I will warn you now; there is sexual content in Chapter 5. Not too much, and it isn't sex, but let this serve as a warning. Who is the figure in black with the gun? That, my friends, is what the public calls a cliffhanger. Like the one we got at the end of Season 1 of Supernatural.
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