Author's Notes: I finally finished Indigo's story

Author's Notes: I finally finished Indigo's story. Good for me! Ah, Indigo, your life has been less than dramatic. This story is actually more comical than serious, so don't be fooled by the title. Now I command you to sit and read the (loud, scary voice kicks in) TALE OF INDIGO!!!

The Beginning of the Road: Childhood Trauma

No one ever claims to have had a normal childhood. They always talk about their horrible trauma they had to endure. It's always one story after another of depravation and hardship. Whether it's the rich kid who got the BMW instead of the Porsche for Christmas one year, or the cheerleader who gained a terrible half-pound before the big game, everyone will tell their tale of childhood trauma.

Feh. What crybabies. Well, I've had real childhood trauma: I died once.

Okay, okay, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. Let me explain a few things about my life prior to my death. My name is Indigo R. Jennson, and I'm an alcoholic.

Ha ha! Just kidding! Man, I love that line…

But back to the matter at hand. I'm Indigo, and I was born in Fuchsia City. That's the home of that nasty, smelly poison pokemon gym, if you didn't know. I lived with my mom and my dad there. No Disney thing going on there. Now, I know it may seem odd, but I actually liked my parents. Can you believe it? A teenager admitting that she likes her parents. What next? The discovery of perpetual motion?

Okay, I'm getting off-track again. So, I lived with my parents in Fuchsia. My dad was a businessman, and he made a lot of money for the family. What exactly did he do? Well, I'm not sure, but I was pretty young at the time, so it didn't matter to me. All I knew what that though my parents were strict, I could generally get what I wanted anyway. That was what was important to a little kid such as myself.

We lived in Fuchsia City until I was five years old. At that time, my parents wanted to move to a better location, which was fine with me. We packed up and high-tailed it over to a small little town called Pallet Town. It was a pretty dull little place. There weren't too many kids for me to play with there, so I took up art at a young age. I tried painting, but it just wasn't my thing. Eventually, I found that I preferred sculpting over all other forms of artistry. Of course, at age five, I didn't have much to sculpt besides Play-Doh, but ya gotta make do with what ya got.

My parents said I was gifted at sculpting. And as I got older, my art got better and better. I got some real modeling clay and made sculptures of pokemon constantly. Some people in Pallet even bought them from me. Heck, I was only eight and already an entrepreneur!

One day in the summer, I was sitting outside at a small card table with my finished sculptures. (I sold my sculptures instead of lemonade.) One of my neighbors walked by, holding the hand of her little two-year-old. She stopped and looked over all my artwork.

"Oh, how cute!" she gushed. She always talked like that. "Oh, they're absolutely adorable, Indigo! Did you make them all yourself?"

"Yes, Miss Ketchum," I answered. "I'm selling them, too. You wanna buy one?"

"Oh, I'd love one! They're so precious!" She turned to her son. "Ashy-washy, do you see one that you want?"

"Ashy-washy" grinned broadly and reached for one of my Pikachu sculptures. He grabbed it off the table, knocking several other sculptures over in the process, and started giggling at the Pikachu.

"I'm the gweatest pokemon master!" he proclaimed. "Wattata, I choose you!"

I had to struggle not to roll my eyes in front of Ash's mother. Pokemon master? Riiiight…

"Oh, Ashy-washy likes the Pikachu!" Miss Ketchum exclaimed. Then she turned to me. "How much for the Pikachu statue?"

"That'll be one dollar," I said, holding my hand out. After a bit more gushing over how cute and adorable everything was, she handed me the bill and walked off with Ash, asking him loudly if he had changed his underwear today.

"Wow," I said to myself. "There goes one weird family." But I just shrugged it off and grinned at my newly-acquired dollar. Hey, a dollar is a lot for an eight-year-old! I mean, it wasn't like there was a lot to buy in a small town like Pallet anyway…I'm getting off the subject again. Sorry.

Well, it was getting dark, so I started to pack up all my artwork. Just as I was putting away all the Charizard statues (they were my favorite to sculpt, especially in mid-flight or in battle), and older man walked up to my little table. I glanced up at him and immediately recognized Professor Oak. Everyone in Pallet Town knew him. Heck, everyone everywhere knew him!

"Hi, Mister Oak!" I greeted the elder man cheerfully. "Did you want to buy a statue? I can get them back out for you, if you want."

The Professor smiled kindly at me. He picked up one of my Charizard statues that I hadn't packed away yet, remarking, "This is very well-made. It's very lifelike."

"It's also five dollars," I told him.

Professor Oak laughed good-naturedly. "I see. Well then, I suppose I better pay up." He reached into the pocket of the lab coat he always wore and retrieved his wallet, handing me five dollars. I thanked him for it and stuffed it into my pocket. However, instead of just leaving, Professor Oak said, "If you ever feel like you want to hang around some real pokemon, feel free to stop by my house."

"Cool!" I exclaimed. "Thanks a lot, Mister Oak!"

"Oh, think nothing of it," he said, walking back to his house with his new Charizard statue.

So, naturally, I was at Professor Oak's house whenever I had a spare moment. I probably would have skipped school to go play with his menagerie of pokemon, but that would have really ticked off my parents, and I certainly didn't want that. I mean, when they got mad at me, they would take away my art supplies. It was a nightmare! If I couldn't make my sculptures, I would have to do…yuck…homework. And is there any worse punishment than being forced to do homework?!

Well, I'm getting off on a tangent again. Okay, like I said, I spent a lot of time with Professor Oak's pokemon. In fact, I was still chilling at his house when I was ten years old. Now, ten was a special age in Pallet Town, because that's when a kid could apply for a pokemon trainer's license. So, naturally, I did right after I turned the big one-oh. Since I had already spent so much time caring for pokemon at the Professor's house, I got my license with no problems (although the people at the license branch were pretty rude, but I guess you get that at all license branches). After I got my trainer's license, I showed it to my parents. They were very proud of me, telling me that I could go on a pokemon journey now if I wanted. But first, I had to get a starter pokemon from Professor Oak. At that announcement, I ran down the street to his house, eager to get a pokemon all my own. When I got there, Professor Oak invited me in, telling me to wait in the living room so he could get the three starter pokemon for me to choose from. So I waited eagerly, wondering what I would get to choose from.

While I was waiting, I felt something brush up against my leg. I looked down and saw a cute little mouse pokemon hugging my leg. It smiled up at me, squeaking "Pichu!"

"Aww, aren't you sweet!" I said brightly, picking up the pokemon. "Where did you come from, anyway? Are you one of the starter pokemon?"

"Pichu!" was its simple answer.

Professor Oak walked back in at that moment, holding a tray of three pokeballs. He blinked in surprise when he saw me with the yellow-and-black pokemon.

"Where did you find that Pichu?" he asked.

"I didn't find it, Professor. It found me," I told him, hugging the little Pichu. I recalled that Pichu was a baby pokemon that would someday grow up to be a Pikachu. And it was absolutely darling! I looked up at Professor Oak hopefully. "Can I keep this one? Please?"

"Well…" he said hesitantly. "It's against Pokemon League rules to start a pokemon journey with a baby pokemon…"

"Oh, forget about the journey, then!" I exclaimed. "I'll raise this little guy all by myself at home."

"It does already seem to like you," Professor Oak mused. "Oh, what the heck! That Pichu is all yours!"

I jumped up and cheered happily, holding my new pokemon. After thanking Professor Oak excessively, I dashed out of his house and back to my own to start raising Pichu.

My new passion now was caring for Pichu. He would be my constant companion. Heck, I even got in trouble at school when they found out that I was hiding him in my desk! Me and Pichu grew really close, never wanting to be separated. After a while, I was even able to understand Pichu when he said something. It wasn't exactly like I could translate his words, but I always knew what he was trying to express when he talked. It was kinda weird at first, but I quickly got used to it.

When I turned thirteen, right on my birthday, Pichu evolved. Just as I was blowing out the candles on my cake, little Pichu suddenly started to glow. When the bright light faded, a Pikachu stood where my Pichu had once been. At first, I was worried that my pokemon would act differently now, since I had heard that pokemon can have different personalities after they evolve. But, to my joy, Pikachu was just the same as Pichu. We still even had our sort of mental bond, so I still knew what he was saying. That day was definitely one of the best in my life.

After that, I decided against going on a pokemon journey. Instead, I found out that I wanted to raise and train Pichu, Pikachu, and Raichu for a living. That was my big dream. I absolutely fell in love with the mouse pokemon and I wanted to dedicate my life to caring for them. So, I continued to work with Pikachu, training him and teaching him new techniques. One day, I would get some more Pikachu and start breeding them.

But, as fate would have it, I never got that chance.

When I was fifteen, I made a trip to Viridian City to go to a big pokemon sale I had heard about. Pikachu accompanied me, of course, riding on my shoulder as we trekked through the Viridian Forest. When I reached the city, I went to the first sale I saw, which just happened to be the wrong one.

I had stumbled upon a Team Rocket marketing scam. Pikachu informed me that the pokemon had been stolen. He could hear them crying out for their trainers. And, to make matters even worse, the Rockets were selling illegal fighting enhancers for pokemon, stuff that had been banned from the League.

I was about to run and tell a police officer, but one of the Rockets saw me and grabbed me. Pikachu gave him a Thundershock, taking the guy down for the count. I congratulated Pikachu as I ran from the scene. Unfortunately, Team Rocket was pretty resourceful. I was grabbed by several more of them, and one snatched Pikachu off my shoulder and threw him into a glass cage. No amount of electricity would get him out of that, so he didn't even bother trying. He just looked at me helplessly. It was then that I was hit on the back of the head. Everything went dark, and that was the last thing I remembered from that day.

Some time later, I woke up in a prison cell. It seemed that I had been captured by Team Rocket. No matter how much I screamed or threatened bodily harm to the guards, the refused to let me out. I suppose I should have expected it, but it doesn't hurt to try.

So, after being a prisoner for God knows how long, they decided to upgrade my status from "captive" to "science experiment." I was hauled off to a really freaky lab every once in a while and scientists would use me in their experiments. Most of it wasn't too bad…er, relatively speaking. After all, they didn't seem to be doing anything permanent to me.

At least, until the day I died.

Okay, now we're at the part that everyone's been waiting for. You see, all those scientists were doing something to me, I'm not really sure what, while I was strapped down to a table. Then, all of a sudden, something must've gotten messed up because the next thing I knew, I was watching the whole scenario from above, like I was floating in the air. I heard the heart monitor go flatline and saw the scientists start to panic. They were yelling at each other about whose fault it was that I had died. Seeing myself and hearing everyone say I was dead was really surreal, and I wasn't sure what I should be doing. I mean, should I zoom back to my body? Or was I supposed to go towards a white light?

Well, seeing as how I couldn't make myself move and there were no lights besides the fluorescent ones in the ceiling, I just stayed put.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, one of the scientists suggested injecting me with ghost pokemon DNA. I wasn't sure what good that would do, but I figured I didn't have much of a say in what was going on, being dead and all. So the scientist stuck a needle into my body's upper arm, squeezing a weird-looking black liquid into my bloodstream. Then, much to my amazement, I was suddenly tugged right back into my body.

I don't know how it worked, but the scientists were saying something about the metaphysical principles of ghost-like pokemon being able to bind the ephemeral with the corporeal, or some such nonsense like that. I didn't care, since I wasn't dead, and that was all I was concerned about.

But, as you might have guessed, no experiment is quite complete without side-effects. Well, my side-effects weren't all that bad, I have to admit. After being given the ghost pokemon DNA, I somehow gained the ability to perform ghostly feats. I found, quite by accident, that I had the ability to phase through solid walls (which I discovered when I fell through the floor of my prison cell while trying to sit down on the ground). And, after further testing my newfound abilities on my own, I learned that I could also fly in the air, sans wings.

Naturally, I tried to escape with those supernatural abilities, but I was dragged back to my cell by Team Rocket's psychics. When they threatened to hurt my parents, though, I had to stop trying to break free. So, now I'm stuck here, in this nasty prison cell, waiting to be used as a lab Rattata by those icky scientists. I've been here about a year, I would have to guess, and it has not been fun.

But, hey, it's a story to tell when I'm asked about my childhood trauma!

Author's End Notes: That was fun to write for me, and I hope it was fun to read, too. It's kind of a nice break from all the serious stuff. Now I'm off to work on Angel's vignette, the next chapter of TEotR, and the mysterious Nine Circles story, which was alluded to in Grim Games. Oh, just in case you were wondering, the R in Indigo R. Jennson stands for "Ryoko."