Wolfe

Gemma tugged at the hem of her black T-shirt nervously, her eyes darting around the room restlessly. She sat in a nearby chair, but stood back up after a few moments. She tried leaning against the wall casually, but that proved to not be casual at all. She picked at her black fingerless gloves, shoved her hands in the pockets of her red and white jacket, then just let them hang uselessly at her sides. A sigh passed through her lips and she readjusted the cap on her head for the fifth time, making sure her hair was completely concealed underneath. Her brown eyes wandered the room again, taking in the bookcase overflowing with journals and notebooks, the computer desk littered with notes, and the small wooden table that usually contained the three starter Pokémon for children to choose from. However, the table sat bare in front of her. The assistant that had led her into the room said she would have to bring in a new set, but the way she had whispered with one of the other employees, Gemma could tell they felt she was up to no good. She was almost certain they were going to return with security instead of the great Professor Oak, and she knew she was running out of time.

Gemma silently cursed at the bad luck she was having lately; she came here for a damn Pokémon, and now she has to leave empty handed. Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she realized that she was back to where she had started. No, she thought. She was here for a Pokémon, and she was determined to leave with one as well. But how? There weren't any in this room, and she wasn't sure where they kept the others. She began to frantically search the room, knowing there just had to be a small red and white ball hidden somewhere.

“Down in the lab,” a voice called from down the hall.

Gemma froze at the voice. An eerie cold sensation ran just under the surface of her skin as panic rose from within her stomach. Her hands worked rapidly, shoving boxes aside and shuffling through papers. The thunderous sound of footsteps quickly making their way towards the room she was in made her palms break out in an anxious sweat, and she cursed under her breath. Just as she was about ready to give up and bolt out the window, a glint caught her eye.

She would have squealed in delight if it wasn't for the current circumstances she was in, so instead she opted to swipe the ball off the desk and throw open the window. Just as the door to the large room began to open, Gemma slipped out the window and landed on the green grass below. As soon as her feet touched the earth, she took off, running as fast as she could to get as far away from the building as possible. Her legs hurtled her forward, refusing to slow down even when the large white building was out of sight. She ran through town, weaving through passersby and buildings, and finally swerving off into an alleyway. She leaned her weight against the brick wall behind her, resting her hands on her knees and breathing heavily. When she had finally caught her breath, she straightened up, swiveling her head towards the entrance to the alley. She watched intensely for several long minutes, waiting to see if anyone had followed her, but no one passed by. Gemma sighed with relief and took off the hat she wore, letting her tied back hair fall against the back of her neck.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured under her breath, her eyes growing wide. “Oh, my God!” Her hands gripped the sides of her head, her mind racing. I just stole a Pokémon, she thought to herself. I just stole a Pokémon! Gemma could feel a small panic attack forming inside of her chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breath in and out evenly. She felt the hot tears forming behind her eyelids as she began to think about the note she had left for her mother. She was probably up by now, and more than likely read the note already. Gemma's heart twisted inside her chest at the thought of her mother worrying about her and wondering if she had left her.

A frown settled over her face and she opened her eyes, staring at the dirty ground beneath her. She had to do this, so she could earn money and finally pay off that loan shark so they didn't have to live in constant danger of the mafia. Gemma shook her head and pushed herself off the wall. She would make things right, and she had her very own Pokémon to help her do so.

Speaking of newly stolen Pokémon...

Gemma began to reach around to her backpack, wondering just what was inside the tiny ball, but stopped herself. This wasn't the place to do that, not with the mafia still out and about. Gemma stuffed her ponytail back inside the cap and secured it over her head, readjusted the straps on her shoulders, and headed down to the end of the alley to the opposite side of town, her destination the woods that led her into the vast region of Kanto.

Out there is her new beginning.

_____________________________________________________

Gemma burst through the woods, her breathing coming in short gasps. The sun beat down on her, causing her clothes to cling to her body with sweat. When her town was far gone from sight, she slowed to a steady jog, which gradually turned into a walk. She attempted to catch her breath, but with her heart thrumming at the rate a Beedrill's wings flap, she let herself collapse under a shady tree. Her head felt as if it were in an oven under the hat she wore, so she quickly ripped it off, along with her jacket, and let the shade cool her body. Her head fell back against the tall tree behind her and she let her eyes close. Without a second thought, her hands automatically pulled her backpack onto her lap, unzipped it, and dove inside, searching for the bottle of water she had packed. Off came the lid, and a second later, nearly half the bottle's contents were sliding down her dry throat.

Stop, a voice ordered from the back of her mind, and reluctantly she detached her parched lips from the bottle. Silently, she screwed the cap back on and replaced the water bottle in her bag. The next thing that her hands pulled out was the shiny red and white ball. Her brown eyes stared at its reflective surface for a long time, her mind once again trying to grasp the fact that she had successfully stolen it. That's when a horrifying thought struck her. What if the ball was empty? An awful moment passed where Gemma panicked at the possibility, terrified that she would have to return to town, or have to face the mafia she so idiotically got herself mixed up in. No, it couldn't be empty, she reassuringly convinced herself. There's no way she could have that bad of luck.

But then again...

Gemma shook the thought out of her head. Might as well find out now. Sliding her arms back into her jacket and fitting her cap back on her head, she pushed herself onto her knees. Holding the Pokéball out in front of her, she took a deep breath and pressed the small white button in the center of the sphere.

A beam of red light shot out of the ball, slowly molding its shape into a huddled form in front of her. The light dispersed and the figure before her began to shift in its position. The small creature pushed itself onto its feet.

“Alright, Professor. Lets hurry this up. I'm still kinda sore from – ” it stopped when it was completely facing her. They both froze, scrutinizing the other's profile cautiously. The Pokémon that stood in front of Gemma was relatively small, only standing at about a foot tall. Bright yellow fur covered its small body, the base of its lightning bolt shaped tail a light brown. Two brown, jagged stripes stretched horizontally across its lower back. Two long ears stood tall on its head, the tips a deep jet black. Its round face stared at her inquisitively, its deep brown eyes squinting up at her in suspicion. Two red circles adorned its cheeks, which was the same shade as the torn scarf wrapped around its neck.

“Who the hell are you?” the Pokémon demanded, taking on a defensive position.

Gemma was taken back by the rude outburst. She scowled at the small Pokémon, ready to go off on it, when she realized what he had said. “You...you...” she sputtered, disbelief and shock washing over her face. Her chocolate brown eyes widened and she pointed an accusing finger at him, which he bristled at the motion. “You talked!” Gemma exclaimed.

The yellow Pokémon, realizing this person was no serious threat, pushed himself back onto two feet and rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock,” he growled sarcastically. He eyed her pointing finger with annoyance. “You mind gettin' that outta my face, kid?”

Gemma let her arm drop to her side. She sat frozen in front of the creature, watching in awe at the fact that he could actually talk. Sure, he was rude and cussed somewhat, but he was still talking. Wow, she thought. To think that with all the bad luck she had been having recently, she was able to successfully steal a Pokémon, and it could talk!

“You're talking,” Gemma said lamely, unsure of how to address this bit of information.

The small mouse huffed in irritation. “Yeah, we covered that.”

She frowned, still not fully comprehending it. “But how?” His icy glare bit into her skin. “I mean, Pokémon don't talk. At least, I don't think they do. But then again, I never really spent much time with Pokémon, so I guess it's possible for them to talk and I've just never known about it. It would make sense for people to talk about it, though, and since no one has, I guess it's not normal for you guys to talk. Oh, but maybe you guys can talk, but you just choose not to. You know, kinda like how people think babies can talk, but we – ”

“How old are you, kid?” he interrupted.

Gemma was taken back by the sudden question. “Sixteen,” she answered uncertainly.

The Pokémon crossed his small arms. “And you haven't hit puberty yet? You're squeakin' up a storm, kid.”

Gemma frowned and was about to ask what he was talking about when she remembered her attire. Oh, right, she thought, toying with the zipper on her jacket. Well, if a talking Pokémon can't tell that she's a girl, then the mafia can't, either. This disguise is better than she thought.

Deciding to keep up the act, she stood up, brushing off any dirt on her pants. “Well,” she said, dropping her voice an octave lower, “since you're just gonna sit here and insult me, I guess I'll just leave you out here to fend for yourself.” She paused for a moment, then added reluctantly, “Asshole.” Gemma grimaced slightly at the word.

The yellow mouse stared up at her with wide eyes, and just as she was beginning to think her little act worked, he burst into raucous laughter.

“Oh, oh God,” he said between chuckles. He fell on his back and rolled around, clutching his stomach. “I can't – I can't breathe!” he choked out, tears building around his eyes.

Gemma recoiled from his vexing laughter, her cheeks blazing with embarrassment. She wasn't one to cuss, and she knew the word sounded odd coming out of her mouth, but she wasn't expecting this sudden outburst.

The Pokémon continued to laugh until he was left gasping for air. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, only a few stray chuckles bubbled their way out of him. He sat up slowly, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Damn, kid. You shouldn't cuss, it doesn't sound right comin' from you.” He laughed again. “Jesus, it was like listening to a two year old cuss!”

Gemma glared down at the rude creature and crossed her arms across her chest. “So you do want to stay out here on your own?” she asked irritably.

He shook his head and gave her a cocky smirk. “Trust me, Squeaks, I can handle the woods. I was a wild myself once, ya know.”

“Well if you're so big and mighty, how did you end up getting caught?” Gemma retorted, annoyed with the stolen Pokémon.

The smirk was gone from his face and he glared daggers at the girl. “None of your damn business, that's how,” he growled.

She eyed him curiously, her interest piqued at the defensive reaction to the question. She shook her head. “What Pokémon are you anyway?” she asked instead, changing the subject.

A frown fell over his face. “Not much of a Pokémon genius, are you?” he asked in response. “I'm a Pikachu.”

“Okay then. Pikachu, are you – ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up there, kid,” the Pikachu interrupted. “Just because I'm a Pikachu don't make it my name, alright?” he corrected her, holding up his little hands.

Gemma pursed her lips. “What is your name, then?”

His ears dropped and he looked away, crossing his arms tightly across his furry chest. His lightning bolt shaped tail twitched, and an irritated pout found its way onto his yellow face.

So cute, she thought. His lips moved slightly, and it took Gemma a moment to realize that he had said something. “What?”

“I ain't got one, alright?” he shouted, his brown eyes burning with rage.

His voice echoed in the dense woods, scattering a flock of Pidgey in a nearby tree. Gemma jumped at the booming voice that came out of such a small Pokémon. She stared with wide eyes at the yellow mouse, her ears ringing slightly. The Pikachu in front of her breathed heavily. Realizing what he had done, he turned his back to her, ashamed and embarrassed by his outburst. It was odd, really, to think that a simple thing like not having a name bothered him so much. But it did, and he hated that he had proven so to this stranger. His little hands clenched into fists at his sides. Gemma's silence hurt his sensitive ears more than anything else could, and he wished desperately for the tight isolation which he was so accustomed to in that Pokéball. Anything to be out from under her judgmental gaze.

“Well,” Gemma spoke gingerly, “what did they call you at the lab?”

“025,” he answered mechanically, the number imprinted in his mind.

Gemma wrinkled her nose. “A number?” she asked doubtfully.

“Why name a lab rat,” he spat venomously. He shook his head and looked up to the sky, heaving a large sigh. He didn't say anything, but his message was clear: Drop it.

Gemma stuffed her hands in her pockets and kicked at some grass. “Well, what do you want your name to be?” she asked innocently.

He peeked over his shoulder at her. “What's it to you?”

“You're my Pokémon,” she pointed out. “So you should have a name you like.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. It's pretty obvious the professor didn't just hand me over to you, so I'm guessing you stole me, right?” He turned to face her. “And that, kid, is kidnapping.”

Gemma pondered this for a moment. “Technically, I rescued you. Seriously, life in a lab? Come on. Out here,” she gestured with her arms their surroundings, “you're free. Open land, trees, fresh air. Face it, dude, I did you a favor.”

“Free? Are you kidding me? I don't know about you, but being forced to fight your own kind for money ain't very free,” he countered. “Besides, I'd rather take on a fuckin' Golem than stick around on your little 'journey',” he spat, his dark eyes daring her to throw something back at him. Gemma winced at the F-word.

A frown shadowed her mouth and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine,” she growled angrily. She bent down to scoop up his abandoned Pokéball. The Pikachu tensed, expecting her to retract him back inside, but she dropped it inside the depths of her bag, slung the straps over her shoulders, and turned away from him. He watched the idiotic trainer walk away, venturing deeper into the woods.

“Stupid kid,” he muttered to himself. “Doesn't he know he'll be attacked?” The nameless Pikachu shook his head and took his first step into freedom.