More ridiculousness! This follows my fic ClicheStorm, being based off the Pokemon Black 2 and White 2 games.
Chapter 1: The White Beginning
Shrill sirens filled the air when he came out of the store. He looked around, but the sky was dark and half of the city lights weren't on. From another block nearby, there was a riot of violent clamor. It was an unfortunately common event lately; the main reason he'd gone out at this time was because it had seemed quiet. Not wanting to get caught in that, he ran away from the noise. He seemed to be out of sight of the chaos and he didn't hear anyone following him.
When had things gotten this bad? He couldn't think of a certain point; law in this area had been eroding over several years, picking up speed as the chaos spread. Now there was broken glass scattered through the cracked streets while a great many buildings crumbled. There were fewer safe areas, if the security there wasn't an illusion. And to think, the changes that had led to this situation had been anticipated as a necessary revolution of thought.
It had been that, right?
He didn't let himself think on that too long. It was more important to get home, which should distant enough to still be safe. Feeling a little more secure with fresh supplies on hand, he kept his travel bag close and ran. It was close to the store, but with his nerves on edge, it didn't seem like that.
And then he saw her, a brown-haired girl with a white and pink baseball cap looking at the sky. She didn't seem familiar, but what struck him as strange was how she seemed lost in thought out there in the open. Didn't she know it was dangerous, especially to a lone girl? He could just leave her standing there. Yet if he did, he'd certainly worry about what happened to her, being oblivious like that.
"I'm home," he said, glancing around. The windows were barred and nothing had been moved. Still safe.
"Who do you live with?" she asked.
"Nobody." Once she was in, he shut the door and latched the three locks closed.
"Then why do you say that?"
He shrugged. "Habit."
"Hey, did you ever dream of going to another world?"
He glanced up from his DS as she plopped down in the seat across the coffee table. "What for?"
She shrugged and gestured out the window. "Well it's not like this place is that great. Sorry if it offends you."
"Not really," he said, looking back to his game. "I am being escapist, but only with the games, and only because it's as you say."
"Then here, try this one." She tossed a white DS cartridge onto the table between them. "If you start a new game on that, you'll end up in that world."
Picking up the game to look at it, he noticed it was a Pokemon game he had picked up some time ago. But the label was smudged and all he could tell of the version was a 'C'. "Is this...?"
"Why me? You could use it to get back home."
"I read your journal and gave it some thought."
The apartment was quiet again, as he'd lived for quite some time. It had suited him fine and yet, now it wasn't. After having a lively guest like that girl around, the atmosphere seemed stifled and cold. There was the chaos outside, and the stillness in here, like a morgue. Nothing changed in here and the outside degraded.
Actually, something had changed. He looked over the odd game she had given him. A way to another world, a way out of this mess. It didn't seem logical, and yet he found some hope in holding it. Given how he'd found her, maybe it only a claim of the insane. But if it did work...
If it didn't work, then at least it'd be a new game to play, something he hadn't had in a long time. He picked up his white DS and popped out the Pokemon game he'd been playing previously in exchange for this Pokemon 'C'. He was pretty sure that it wasn't Crystal, since it was a DS cartridge, not GBC. With that in, he flipped the cover up and slid the power bar up.
The console started up as usual. On the menu screen, he could finally see that this was 'Pokemon ClicheStorm 2', which was a version he'd never heard of. He stared at the title for a moment, partly stunned that they'd be daring enough to title it that and partly stunned that it managed to be a sequel. What was the purpose in choosing such a derogatory title? At any rate, he tapped on the title to get the game started. He let the opening movie play like he did with all of his games when he started them.
This one was a particularly weird sequence of images flashing by.
Lightning illuminated a rain-soaked scene where the legendary Keldeo backed up warily, facing off against a unidentifiable human figure.
A broken mask that seemed made of ice lay on the ground while someone fell in the background.
Dust flew through the air between two sides of a Pokemon battle, in a setting that seemed appropriate for a high noon face-off scene in a Western.
Reshiram and Zekrom descended in a forest clearing, as two young men waited for them.
A different guy sat in a library with a blond girl nearby, both looking through newspaper clippings and discussing something.
A strange trio of ninjas observed a couple talking by a tree and garden of tulips, the couple unaware of their presence.
A broken figure of a man in a large cloak standing at the edge of a ship with another nearby, looking over a frozen landscape.
And other images, including one that seemed to be of himself, only smiling and laughing with a girl he didn't know yet while they ran along a wooded path.
Maybe the offer was real? At any rate, the game Pokemon ClicheStorm 2 was now on its title screen, with an image of an unfamiliar Pokemon on the bottom screen. It seemed to be a Dragon type, and it resembled some others. But which ones... he was having trouble coming up with the names. 'Touch the screen to start' flashed on the bottom screen, so he did that.
A blinding light erupted from his DS, swallowing him whole.
He tried to close his eyes, but the brightness seemed to pass through his eyelids and turn his vision a dark pink. It was literally painful, making his head feel like it was going to burst and like it was detached from the rest of his body. After a few seconds, he heard the sound of someone with wet sneakers approaching him. He opened his eyes briefly and saw an outline of the person, but otherwise it was still entirely white.
"Hi, welcome to the world of Pokemon!" a cheerful voice said. "Filled with loads of wonder and mysteries, you're sure to find the adventure of your life if you dare step out to find it. Gosh, I sound like a tour guide." She laughed merrily.
As she spoke, a good deal of the pain and brightness subsided. It was unmistakably that girl, an older teenager with her frizzy brown hair hanging out of the back of her pink and white baseball cap. A patch of a black and white dragon was on the front of that cap. Other than that incongruity, she was dressed mostly with that pink and white scheme, with a short skirt, a simple t-shirt, and matching sneakers. At her side, she even had a matching shoulder bag.
"What?" He put his hand to his forehead, trying to shield his eyes some as the whiteness of their surroundings was too much. "What happened?"
"You do remember what we talked about?" she asked, serious in concern.
"Urgh." He looked down, feeling another flash of pain as he tried to remember it. He noticed a pendant he was wearing, a black and white sphere on an old cord. While he felt it was important, he couldn't think of why that was either.
The girl sighed. "You forgot. We were afraid that would happen. Still, no turning back now. Do you remember anything?"
"I remember meeting you, I think," he said. "And a little bit of our conversations, but it doesn't make much sense. Something about video games and... animals? I don't think I really forgot; it's too painful to think."
She put her hands on her hips. "If what you wrote about happens again, then you should remember when you find the right triggers. I hope that doesn't cause too much trouble." Then she smirked. "Well then, I have a bit of a spiel to get through anyhow, so see if that helps. Ahem. As I was saying, this is a world with mysterious creatures we call Pokemon. My name is Hilda Medley; I'm a Pokemon Trainer, which means I work with a group of Pokemon to make them stronger and happier, so that we're all a tight-knit team that can accomplish anything we set our minds to. Mostly, we've been traveling the lands searching for fun, friendship, and mischief. And this," she pulled out a ball similar what he was wearing around his neck, "is a Pokemon." She pushed a button on the ball and a red light jumped out of it.
In moments, the light turned into a cute creature beside her. It was a fluffy creature that stood up to the girl's waist, covered in thick gray and cream fur. Part of its left ear was bitten out, but it seemed to be an old scar. "Coooruuu!" she called in a happy-sounding voice.
"Careful, she can launch giant meteors." Hilda then laughed.
"It's a game; isn't that kind of the point?" he asked.
"To you, at this time," she said. "But you're gonna have to stop thinking of it as a game, since you're going to be living in it. I think you'll be better off for it. Anyhow... as I said, Pokemon are mysterious creatures; we're constantly learning more about them. They work with us, play with us, sometimes even battle for us. Most of all, they can be some of the best friends you've ever met, as long as you show them love and respect. Now, tell me a little bit about yourself. Are you a boy or a girl?"
This had to be done in person? "Can't you tell?"
"Sor-ry!" she said, entirely too cheerful. "I'm blind in this space."
"By my voice?"
"Deaf too." She put her hands over her ears. "La la la, you gotta say it!"
"Ko?" the Pokemon asked, looking up at her Trainer curiously.
"But then how can you...?"
"Don't bother wondering why," Hilda interrupted, uncovering her ears to wave her hands in a negative sign. "Just answer the question: are you a boy or a girl?"
After a stubborn pause, he replied, "I'm a boy."
"I thought so!" After he groaned, she added, "And what's your name?"
His lips started to move, but the name didn't come immediately to mind. When he tried to think about it directly, it was still painful. Then he considered how he input names in games, with the keyboard on the DS touch screen. Something came to mind with that, maybe not his name but it was a name he used. "Nate."
Hilda tilted her head. "You really are not much of a talker."
He shrugged. "Well this is kind of weird. I'm not sure what to say."
"You'd better get used to the weird, even when I'm not around." Hilda put a finger to her lips. "Listen, Nate... your adventure in this world is about to begin. You're going to have to rely on your wits, your dreams, and your words to get through this. You can do anything you want, but there will be repercussions on everything, good and bad. That's part of getting along in any world. I hope you can find yourself, and learn more about what you want to do with your life. But if you're up to it... I could use your help."
"You don't seem to be in trouble," Nate said, glancing around. But all he could see was white, and Hilda. And now himself, he realized, looking down and seeing his usual blue shorts, checkered shirt, and black shoes.
"Oh, I'm in trouble," she said, less boisterous than before. "Loads of trouble. But I think it's important, and that I can do something about it."
That was important. "What do you need me to do?"
She shook her head. "I can't entirely say, not without alerting others. But remember my name, and find out what happened to me. That should tell you what needs to be done. You can ask my friends Bianca and Cheren for more information." Then she smiled again. "Oh, and tell Cheren that he totally needs to get a good bowler hat to go with his new look, as he looks way too preppy now. He would be so styling with the proper hat."
"Okay, I guess," Nate said, scratching his head. He wasn't sure how that would help. Hopefully it'd make more sense when he got around to finding those people.
"You guess right," she said, all cheerful again. However, her image was fading into the whiteness. "Now more importantly, you should look to make a difference in your adventures. Make sure that people remember you and care about you, by doing awesome things. At the end of it all, you should get the reward of having a say in your ultimate fate. Have fun out there, and remember to always respect your Pokemon." Then she and her Pokemon were completely gone.
In their place, there was a gray distortion in all the white. It shifted like a curtain moving in a breeze. Nate wondered for a moment what she meant by his ultimate fate, but the more immediate issue was that he didn't want to stay in this obnoxiously white place any longer than he had to. With nowhere else to go, he walked through the distortion.
He immediately stumbled and fell on his hands and knees onto a bed. There was an orange and yellow quilt under him; the bright colors seemed momentarily alien. Outside the windows, there was a steady patter of rain. Nate looked up and the first thing he saw was the surprised face of a girl his age. She had large brown eyes and weird looping ponytails.
He didn't get much of a better look at her before she screamed and knocked him unconscious with a punch to the face.
And so ends the story of the unfortunate Nate, killed before he could even begin his epic quest...
"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!"
Nate opened his eyes and winced, having gone from the bright white space, to black unconsciousness, to bright white space again. "What the... what just happened?"
Hilda stood in front of him, hands on her hips and frowning. "That was the most awful ending I have ever seen. That's worse than the Pokestar Studios fails. If you're going to have the heroine kill the hero, it had better happen at the end end. Not the beginning end."
Touching his forehead and wincing, he said, "What could I do about it? She decked me before I could even get my bearings. And I'm not too happy about getting killed so quickly either."
"So that wasn't a suicide attempt to end the story?"
He shook his head. "No. Why, could I have done that?"
"Well... we don't want you dead just yet." Hilda nodded. "All right then. Let's get back into things."
"Before she hit me, so that I can duck?" Nate asked hopefully.
"No," she said with an impish grin. "I have a better idea."
Starting up already! Yikes. Anyhow, this one takes a little longer to actually get to a gameplay section. But as I mentioned in various notes before, the plot in B2/W2 is so slow to start, and too quick to finish. I hope to address that problem by trying to weave filler sections into plot and bulking up the plot itself. Plus, there's things to finish up from ClicheStorm itself.
Mimi's scar is from the previous fic's final battle, if that's not apparent. As for what's going on... well Nate doesn't remember so there's not much to tell at this point.