Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Pygmalion, or My Fair Trainer ❯ Prologue: In Which The Scene Is Set ( Prologue )

A Firm Avowal of the Lack of Authorial Rights: The Author of this delightful and charming work wishes that her faithful Readers will acknowledge her Lack of Ownership of Anything contained within this work of fiction. The Characters, which she has seen fit to adopt to this tale, belong to Mister Tajiri and the Corporations who have paid him well to use them. The Story, which she has seen fit to use in her fashion, is based upon the play Pygmalion, by the Delightful Mister George Bernard Shaw, and the musical My Fair Lady, by Messrs. Lerner and Loewe. Please, gentle Holders of Copyright, do not sue the fair Author, as she is forced to live in Abject Poverty.

Gentle Reader: You, fair Readers, will no doubt note the change in Tone that your fair Author has undertaken. It is the Author's desire to write this portion of her tale in a high style, suitably befitting a work of its character. Such a style pays tribute to Miss Jane Austen, and to the inimitable Mister George Bernard Shaw, whose Story has been adapted to fit the Tale of Doctor Samuel Oak and Mrs. Delia Ketchum. (The Author wishes to acknowledge other versions of this tale within the Pokemon fandom, by Trish and by Gobshite McNally.)

Also duly note, gentle Readers, that this work is dedicated to a member of that worthy insitution known as the Eldershipping Brigade. To Mademoiselle Harrington, who hitherfore has been ignored and treated abominably by the Author, this Story is dedicated, from her most obliged and humble Servant, the Author. Please do send the Author your comments on this odd piece of Fiction.

Pygmalion, or My Fair Trainer

Being a Romance by Latonya Wright

The Prologue, In Which the Scene Is Set

Viridian City and surrounding areas, 1987

Viridian City.

A large bustling metropolis, ablaze with noise and light and culture. An oasis in the midst of the Viridian Forest. A necessary stop in the journeys of the hundreds of Pokemon trainers of Kanto.

In the forest, a solitary traveler stopped on a nearby hill to gaze at the bright lights and big city in the distance. He had been on his feet, on the road, for several weeks now. The journey had been difficult, even downright grueling and unpleasant at times, and his faithful companions were damn near exhausted. And because he had been a bit too confident one too many times on the road, he had no money and almost no food.

But finally, after so terribly long, he was home, back home at last--and he was finally on the last leg of his journey to become a Pokemon Master.

He momentarily thought of his daughter. She had been extraordinarily pretty the last time he'd seen her... almost seven months ago. Perhaps she had found a nice guy and settled down... Well, then again, probably not. More likely that she'd gotten a pretty good job working in a flower shop or something.

Whatever the case, an improvement in her situation meant she had a lot more income, and that meant that he might have a chance of getting some money. If nothing had changed, he could at least stop at her apartment for a couple of days and get a nice, warm bed, with a nice shower and a nice meal.

But he had to get to Viridian first. With his last reserve of strength, he began the long walk to the City, and the long search for his little girl/ meal ticket.

Viridian City.

A large bustling metropolis, known as one of the intellectual hubs of Kanto. A city full of knowledge and experience. A nice place for an up-and-coming doctoral candidate to find an internship.

At Viridian's Grand Central Station, a young man stepped off the 8:55 train, direct from Ecruteak. He fought his way through the crowd of passengers, using his backpack and his battered-but-still-fashionable suitcase as a clearing mechanism. When he cleared the platform and reached the station proper, he sank onto a nearby bench, pulled his long black hair into a ponytail, and breathed a sigh of relief.

It had taken forever, but he had finally made it to Viridian. For any other graduate student, that would be the end of a journey; the many universities in the city limits--Bradford University, Emerson College, the University of Kanto-Viridian, among others--had some of the best research facilities for scientists this side of Kanto. Yet he wanted the highest quality education he could get, so he had to keep going. He had to go to a small township called Pallet Town, where he could meet one of his heroes, and hopefully study with him.

At that thought, his hand strayed to the front pocket of his backpack--the safe place where he'd put Professor Westwood's letter of recommendation. Hopefully, his mentor's words would convince the Professor to take him on.

Of course, it was just the matter of figuring out how to get to Pallet Town.

First things first. He pulled twenty pence from his pocket (to call Laurel and his parents), picked up his suitcase, and headed for the information booth. Maybe the transit workers weren't as surly as they looked, so they wouldn't mind helping him...

Viridian City.

A large bustling metropolis, celebrated for its nightlife, for the numerous clubs and restaurants and movie theaters. Good times for those who could afford it; a nice means of relaxation for those who needed it.

At Callahan's, a reputable jazz/ blues/ swing club in Gloucester Square, a silver-haired, fortyish woman sipped her brandy, watched the young and fashionably dressed couples on the dance floor, and thanked her lucky Gengars that she didn't have to battle anyone this evening.

She liked her job. It brought her into contact with some of the most exciting, glamorous, and gutsy people on the planet. She enjoyed seeing the faces of the young trainers, coming to challenge her for their own personal glory. She enjoyed having access to many of the Pokemon League's secrets. She enjoyed her lavish lifestyle, and she enjoyed being around all the cute young men. (At that, she grabbed her date Raoul's hand and winked at him.)

But goodness, being a member of the Elite Four took so much out of her. Constant strategy, constant battling, constant requests... why, she should be in her office, working on the report the League President wanted by Tuesday!

Oh, just listen to me! she sighed inwardly. She was starting to sound like her workaholic brother!

At that thought, she gazed wistfully at the two empty seats across the table. Her brother hadn't been here since Audrey died two years ago. He hadn't taken a break in his work since then, either.

The answer was clear. He needed to relax. Of course, it was... she glanced at her watch... Friday. He was probably down at the National Theatre, watching some infernally pretentious play about the nature of life and death. She never did understand his "intellectualism."

She shook her head. Whatever happened, her brother would be fine. If he ever needed her help in enjoying life, he knew where to find her. In the meantime, she was going to have fun.

"Come on, Raoul," she said, pulling the young Spaniard to his feet. "I'm in the mood to meringue."

Viridian City.

A large bustling metropolis, celebrated for its cultural activities, for the high quality of its museums, musical groups, ballet companies, and theatre troupes. Supported generously by the state, and by the affluent season ticket holders.

And in one of the box seats at the Eynsford Theatre, an older man wondered if he was getting his money's worth.

What was all this? People dressed up in Meowth costumes, bouncing around, singing about memories and living in garbage cans? Bunch of insufferable gits, the lot of them. Audrey might have liked it--she was always so sentimental--but by God, he was a scientist, and he had no tolerance for stupidity.

He leaned back in the box seat's cushions and sighed. This bored the bloody devil out of him. What else should it do for the world's greatest Pokemon researcher?

This would be somewhat tolerable if he had someone amusing and witty here to take his mind off this tedious thing. Back in the old days, he would have had someone along: an inquisitive graduate student (arrogant bastards, all of them), his foolishly flirty sister (silly old wench), his entirely silly but tolerable children (dunderheads), or his beloved Audrey (adorable hellion). His wife had been particularly good company for him: she could match his wicked wit word for word--she could even outthink him on occasion. All while looking as feminine and dainty as a powder puff. By God, they didn't make women like that anymore.

Bloody hell, they didn't make anyone like that anymore. Especially not those insufferable bastard trainers. Fools, the lot of them.

The Meowths were still caterwauling. He hated them all. And he was bored.

It would be over soon, and then he could go back home to his nice, comfortable den of intellectualism. Until then, he could amuse himself with his favorite game... What the hell kind of trainer are you?

He pulled out his notepad and searched for a person who looked like a challenge.

Viridian City.

A large bustling metropolis, with enough entertainment to amuse the elite. A glittering city of pleasure, made more delightful for the rich and influential citizens who controlled the society.

In another box seat at the Eynsford Theatre, a middle aged woman gazed at the stage through tiny, expensive opera glasses. Her twenty-ish, handsome son sat next to her, scanning the crowd for any single and attractive women.

They were the Viridian City Gym Leaders, and everyone knew it.

The woman leaned towards her son and whispered, "Isn't this ever so much better than dealing with those nasty, filthy trainers all day?"

The son idly picked at some lint on his jacket. "Yes, Mother."

"Of course it is. These people..." She waved an arm to indicate the elegantly coiffed and dressed people below. "These are the ones who count. They count because they have two things that those ignorant trainers we see every day don't have."

"Money and power, Mother." The son made a point of examining his nails.

"Exactly, my dear." She sat back for a moment and congratulated herself on having a fine and morally upright son. Then she leaned forward again and whispered, "By the way, Wyatt wanted to know if you were coming along with him on the heist tonight."

"Maybe. If I get to drive the car this time."

The woman settled back and smiled. "We'll ask him." And she congratulated herself again on her fine, morally upright, socially acceptable son.

Viridian City.

A large bustling metropolis, with high, ramshackle apartment buildings and a few unswept and dark streets. A city of hard work and little reward, made more challenging for the often-ignored impoverished and homeless citizens who struggled to survive.

In front of a small, poorly constructed but standing shack, a teenaged girl pushed a large flower cart into the front yard and frowned. She brushed a stray lock of hair from her slightly sweaty forehead as she anchored the cart against the wall.

Another long, hard day selling flowers in the Theatre District, from eight this morning to eight tonight. And what did she have to show for it? About forty pounds, or sixty US dollars. In Boston that wouldn't be enough to have dinner--in Viridian it would do even less.

She leaned against the wall and sighed. She really should stop thinking of America. She was a citizen of Kanto now. Not by her choice. By her stupid father's choice.

"Damn him," she snapped, kicking the ground. What kind of guy would leave a nice, comfortable American life for a place where you had to have several hundred pets that could fight? What was he thinking?

She didn't get what was so hot about training the ugly little things anyway. You run around, catch more of these little monsters than you knew what to do with, and then fight people for money and pretty little trinkets that made you look cool. It was all pretty damn stupid, and she just didn't get it. She'd never train or even touch the things if she could help it. Lots of times people gave her flack about it, or even refused to buy from her because of it--"You should train, you should use their fertilizer in your flowers, something"--but she didn't care about that. Really.

Still... it might be nice to get the perks of being an official Pokemon trainer. Getting the extra money for winning battles; getting to see and meet more of the world; getting people to like you because you actually cared about the little monsters... getting out of this hellhole... all that sounded pretty nice...

Oh, who was she kidding? She liked her life. She had a home, even if it was a bit shoddy. She made enough to keep the house in shape. And she had her flowers. At that, she grinned at the rows of flowers growing in her garden. Yeah, the shack was worth it all for the big (for the city) yard.

And even if she hated the country, she could take it. It was all in looking at things the way her mother had. "Anytime you run into something difficult, Delia, raise your chin and tell yourself, 'Bostonians can tolerate anything.'"

"Bostonians can tolerate anything," she repeated, and felt better already.

But enough self-pity and affirmation. She had to think of a way to get some more money. A girl still had to eat, after all.

She checked her watch. Nine-forty-five. Hmmm... if she hurried, she might be able to get back to the Theatre District. Maybe people would want to buy flowers after the show. But she didn't feel like wheeling that damn cart back.

After a moment, she grabbed an empty basket on the cart, then filled it with a few leftover bouquets. With a final toss of her head and lift of her chin, she headed towards the Theatre District, towards the Eynsford Theatre.

Viridian City.

A large bustling metropolis, like many others in the Kanto region, filled with similar characters and similar stories. And, like all regions, completely subject to the whims of Mother Nature.

Ordinarily these people would be content to remain in their private worlds, to cling to their usual mindsets, to ignore everything and everyone around them. However, thanks to a seemingly ludicrous boast, all these lives would soon be completely intertwined.

What sort of claim could possibly bring them together?

A very simple one: that a man could take an ordinary, common flower girl and form her into an extraordinary Pokemon trainer.

But for the moment, the only thing that could possibly bring them together was the thunderstorm, conveniently timed to begin as the patrons were leaving the Eynsford Theatre, that effectively trapped some of them under the columns at St.-Martin-in-the Fields.