((Link Back to "Showtime, I Guess," Airport))

((I keep thinking the driver is some kind of pirate captain and that he's going to bust out a big "YAAAAR" as he drives away.))

"Docklands, huh? Sounds interesting." Nate vaguely remembered hearing about the place during his research of the region, but it was gone now. His brain still needed to be recharged.

With a thanks to the driver, Nate let himself out of the taxi. He would wait on Aeron before he proceeded any further, though.

"Well, there's a word for it," Aeron said bemused, stepping out of the cab himself and giving his own thanks for the free ride. "I reasoned it was an.. an eventful enough place to start with. I'll be traveling north to uh, Fleet Town after. Now that's a city with a s-story." He shrugged his large pack on over his shoulders. Though the burly backpack threatened to cave Aeron's scrawny shoulders in, they held strong.

Aeron licked his lips again nervously. "Well I better go. Docklands isn't a good place to b-be in once it's dark. Nice to meet you, Nate."

Nate may not have recalled the Docklands, but he knew about Fleet Town and nodded to show as much. An entire town gone in a day... he couldn't even imagine the circumstances.

Then Aeron was saying his goodbyes. Apparently he had a pokemon already. "Just jumping right into it, huh? That's cool!" Nate said with a grin. He definitely filed the Docklands under Places to Be Careful Of, and suddenly wondered how in the world a guy like Aeron was going to not die there if it was so dangerous. He was a big dude, but... "It was nice to meet you, too!" Nate told him.

"Don't get mugged, carrying all that stuff around," he didn't say.

Nate waved, and then he headed off towards the lab.

Aeron waved back and the two went their separate ways.

The lab was easy enough to find. Sure enough, the large pristine looking white building loomed close after just a few minutes of walking. A middle aged man wearing a white lab coat stormed out of the labs doors, muttering to himself, obviously incensed.

"...I step away for one blasted second..." He caught sight of Nate walking towards the lab and furrowed his brow. "Yes? Can I help you?"

During the short walk to the lab, Nate fantasized about being the one to discover why Fleet Town burned down. He was just about to piece the clues together for the sudden realization when reality, in the form of an angry man in a lab coat, interrupted him.

Nate tried not to look too put off by the guy's expression. "I'm here for a starter pokemon," he said.

The man brightened up, but not by much. He still seemed distracted and disgruntled. "Oh, excellent. Yes. Well then. You're in the right place. Come on in. The Professor is upstairs on the second floor." He stood aside and proceeded to scan the area outside of the lab suspiciously.

Nate couldn't help but glance over his shoulder too to make sure nothing was sneaking up on him. He at least wanted to have a pokemon before monsters started coming out of the woodwork.

"Thanks," Nate said, and stepped inside. He waited for the guy--an aide, he figured--to come and guide him, but failing that, Nate would look for some stairs or an elevator to take up to the next floor.

The aide made no move to enter the lab. Instead, Nate was left to his own devices. The aide remained stationed outside the door and irritably checked his watch while tapping his foot.

Inside the main room of the lab, Nate would see a few other aides walking calmly around, most carrying large loads of paper work or writing on clip boards. A large staircase was easily located and sat at the far end of the room.

Shrugging, Nate moseyed on over to the stairs and climbed them. Maybe it was easy to find this professor.

It occurred to Nate then that the town name and the professor's name were the same. And with that, Nate lapsed right back into the fantasy in which he had found the secrets behind Fleet Town. By now he'd received an award for journalistic excellence, naturally, and what the hell, they'd named a town after him too. Nate Town. Of which Nate was the mayor. A mayor who led a secret life solving mysteries at night. Meanwhile, as he slept the day away, the town was actually managed by Nate's secretary and girlfriend, an extremely attractive and sassy lady named Katie--

Nate suddenly grimaced.

((Dude, I want to live in Nate Town.))

The Professor, it would seem, was easily enough to locate. In fact, he found Nate first. At the top of the stairs, stood a portly man, matching the dress code of white lab coats. He was chatting with an aid and scratching a rough beard, looking utterly perplexed. He spotted Nate and instantly brightened up. The aid moved on to another room as Professor Willow spread his arms wide.

"Ah, welcome! A new trainer looking for a starting pokemon, I presume?" He offered a large smile to Nate and guided him towards a large inner chamber of the lab. On the far side of the room the walls were made of glass, offering a dazzling view of Willow Town. An old skarmory stood perched above the room, preening its delicate red under feathers. It looked up to eye the new arrival with a single golden eye, it's left was covered in an eyepatch. "My name is Professor Willow, and let's not waste any time. I am a busy man after all." He gave a hearty chuckle and motioned to a mostly empty desk. On it were five pokeballs, sitting in small glass containers. "You're in luck! These five are all freshly caught by my aids. Let's see, if memory serves correctly... We have a teddiursa, treecko, yanma, phanphy, or elekid available. Pick any one you'd like." Willow pointed to each pokeball in turn.

((Cool kids only.))

Thankfully, the professor was friendly... and equipped with the latest trainer-seeking technology. "I sure am!" he said to Willow when asked if he was a trainer, and he happily hurried along to get his starter pokemon once and for all.

The view of the town and the one-eyed skarmory both struck Nate as amazing, and he had to fight off the urge to snap a picture of both. (The thought that Skarmory might suddenly claw his eyes out was a sobering thought.) But the main attraction was just ahead: Willow had presented the five starters.

Nate found it difficult to choose. Phanpy and Teddiursa were easy enough to rule out since they didn't fit his style, but Treecko, Yanma, and Elekid were all amazing. After some quiet deliberation, he finally decided against Treecko, which left Yanma and Elekid.

The nyctophobe in him demanded the elekid, the portable light and the nice association with the family mareep that had been Nate's faithful guide. But the bug enthusiast (that Nate didn't even know he had) cried for a yanma. It knew foresight, for one thing, and it was also awesome, which was another point in its favor. A vision of a yanma dutifully flying around holding a flashlight made Nate crack a small smile.

Finally, painfully, he came to a decision. "The yanma, please," he said quickly, before he could change his mind; vocalizing his choice gave it a legitimacy that chased away his lingering doubts. In addition, his inner yanma fan did everything it could to ease his anxiety. Nate had a flashlight. He had spare batteries. Every electronic device he would come across had a backlight, yanmas had excellent vision... and if all else failed, perhaps he could find another fire or electric-type somewhere.

Professor Willow waited patiently for Nate to make his decision. In fact, he seemed pleased that Nate was really giving it some thought. He clasped his hands together at the decision. "The yanma it is! An excellent choice," the professor said, nodding approvingly and handing the pokeball to Nate. "They may seem cute, but they are born predators. Simply tenacious in everything they do..." Willow muttered, mostly to himself, as he began jostling around underneath a nearby table.

"Aha!" he declared. Straightening up he produced five pokeballs and a small red, shiny device. "And for all fresh trainers, please take these five pokeballs and pokedex. It will prove rather useful on your travels." He handed the collection of items to Nate.

You have recieved one yanma, male, level 5. It knows Tackle and Foresight. It is at 100% health.

You have recieved 5 Pokeballs and a Pokedex.

"Er, thanks!" Nate tried not to think too hard about the muttered comment and instead celebrated coming to a decision at all. He managed all of the new gadgets as best he could and eyed the PokeDEX with considerable interest. All of these wonderful things to fiddle around with... after he got some rest, of course.

"Hey, is there a pokemon center or a cheap motel around here?" Nate asked once he'd gotten all of his pokeballs and everything settled and put away. He had meant to ask the taxi driver, but Nate spent that time talking to Aeron, and he had meant to ask Kate, but Nate wasn't a masochist. At the rate he was going, Nate was going to have to--perish the thought--sleep outside.

Willow scratched at his scruffy beard again. "No pokemon center, but there's a little inn just down the street I recommend to all new trainers staying in Willow. Just keep going on past the lab, it's called the Sundance Inn, can't miss it."

It sounded charming enough.

"Great, thanks," Nate said, smiled once more at the professor, and left. He felt like he had been saying thanks a lot today.

The stunning view from the lab's second floor had reminded Nate of his travelogue duties. He pulled his pack around to grab his camera as he walked. He supposed he could take a few daylight photos of town for his initial update to his readers, a task that he would try and get started on at the inn if he didn't immediately fall unconscious on a bed there.

"Not a problem," Willow said kindly and watched Nate leave. "Take care now!"

As Nate left the lab, the aid he had previously met rushed past him, nearly sending Nate sprawling onto the floor, muttering "...crap, crap, crap...!". The aid sprinted up the large staircase two steps at a time and was gone.

Outside the sun was high in the sky, casting a multitude of shadows across the ground. True to its name, Willow Town was filled with willow trees and other landscaped vegetation. It was a peaceful, quiet town. Few people were out walking around or riding their bikes. The direction the professor had sent Nate to led him through a small park. The grass was short and freshly trimmed and shrubs as well as trees provided ample amounts of shade for easy going park goers. Past the park, Nate would see a more bustling area of the town as more buildings came into view.

Nate had just wrapped his hands around the camera when he nearly got run over. "Ahhhh!" he babbled, one arm pinned to his chest to steady his bag and the other flying out to steady Nate himself. He straightened up and whirled around to see what nearly hit him. By then the dude was gone--fast--up the stairs. The people in this place were entirely too serious about their science, Nate concluded, and he decided to get gone before another enthusiastic aide bowled him over. (A little later, as Nate got a chance to think, he would remember the curious absence at the front door and put two and two together about his attacker.)

It was a nice day for walking outside. Nate did just that for a while before finding a safe place to dig his camera out of his bag. He snapped some photos from that same location: a tree here, some buildings there, the lab of course... just some nice establishing shots. He made sure to be in some of the pictures. Nate's who the internet ladies (all two of them) wanted to see, after all.

It occurred to Nate then that his readers would really want to see his new pokemon. Heck, Nate wanted to see him, especially after all the sweating that had been done to acquire him. So, Nate grabbed his yanma's pokeball from his belt and, potential names running through his head, let the guy out.

((Edited.))

What appeared from the pokeball was very much not a yanma. Appearing instead from out of the pokeball was a small, very pissed off looking little bird. Sitting in front of Nate, an incensed spearow proceeded to glare at him with random, unprovoked disdain. Without warning, the bird lunged at Nate's chest with a squawk. Flapping its feathers for momentum, the bird collided with Nate's chest, digging its sharp talons into his shirt and pecking mercilessly at him. This bird wanted to make Nate bleed.

Before Nate could react to this startling turn of events however, a green blur collided with the side of the spearow, preceeded only by the thrumming of wings. The force of the blow ripped the spearow off of Nate and sent it tumbling to the ground, where it wearily got back to its feet and stretched its wings, glaring around the air for its attacker. Nate himself would find it hard to keep his balance, as the sudden attack out of nowhere jostled him as well.

The green blur flitted in and out of his vision, more easily located by the sound of its rapidly beating wings. Front, back, side, the sound came from every direction. Whatever it was, it was fast. Then, the sound of wings would steadily become louder to Nate until it was obvious the sound was coming from directly behind him.

((Welcome to Kutho, Nate! Already your adventure is filled with deception, danger, and malicious, insane birds!))

((Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I just assumed it was like any other starter, so I was just having some fun. =(

How much would you like me to edit/delete?))

((It's alright. We can rewind back to right when Nate releases the pokeball, or we can just keep going. It's up to you. The end results will be the same.))

((Well goodness, what a warm welcome! Allow Nate to celebrate by flipping out! Also, f-bomb.))

Nate just watched the thing on his chest. Actually, his rational mind knew perfectly well it was staring at a pissed off spearow, but shock was kinda funny like that; the rational brain could point out the truth of that moment all it liked, but the lizard brain was going to step in anyway and trash everything to make way for fear.

Except the lizard brain didn't get a chance to do that yet, because this color--this green--bashed into the absolutely definitely a spearow and knocked it away. Nate could see that. He watched it happen with a sort of quiet, unblinking fascination. Then his view of the 100% certainly a spearow skewed, tilted--Nate's legs had turned to jelly, and the world had gone diagonal. Nate was falling, lost his balance. That was the last message his rational mind could tap out before the lizard brain interrupted with hot, shrieking oblivion.

"What the fuck?!" Nate screamed, arms flailing and hands beating at his chest. The fear had exploded his recollection; where Nate used to have words to describe what was happening, he now had a chain of reflexes and reactions guided along by a corrupted version of the things he had once witnessed in perfect clarity. Step one: a bad thing was on Nate's chest, so get it off--Nate kept beating futilely at his top where nothing currently was. His hip hit the ground first. Step two: a bad thing is gone and Nate is on the ground, so react to the bad thing--from where Nate sat, a breathless sort of whine flew out of him in great heaves. He cupped his shaking hands over his mouth to keep the life from flying out of him. Step three: a bad thing couldn't have gotten far, so get away--unthinking, Nate rolled onto his belly to army crawl somewhere and not sit there and let whatever the hell that was do whatever the hell it did again.

The ubiquitous wingbeats were just another thing to listen to before Nate's rational mind recovered. It came bearing adjectives--brown, feathery, painful, green, fast, dangerous--then nouns--bird, claws, battle, sound. Sound. The sound of different wings.

Nate twisted himself around to where he heard these different wings last. Then he remembered to breathe.

Upon turning to the source of the noise, Nate would literally come face to face with a rather large bug. It hovered motionless in the air just inches from Nate, its wings moving so fast they were difficult to see. They were the obvious culprit of the dull humming noise. The huge dragonfly like pokemon clacked his mandibles together and cocked its head in several jittery motions. This was the yanma Nate had expected to appear from the pokeball. It hovered there for a moment, curiously looking at Nate and seemingly wondering what to do about this strange, scrawny creature in front of it.

The bad thing did not stay passive for long. Having spotted its attacker, the spearow, which was a good ten feet from Nate and yanma, gave another horrible squawk and charged forward. Half sprinting half flying, it hurdled its body through the air.

The yanma, who had yet to take his eyes off of Nate, easily floated up a few feet to dodge the clumsy attack from behind, and the spearow sailed harmlessly past the bug, and just over Nate's head, landing akwardly behind him.

((You can control this yanma's non-battle actions, by the way.))

Though Nate had started in the face of this new pokemon, he didn't panic. He met Yanma's (seemingly) deliberating stare with one of his own. Nate breathed a second time. Rationality came with the inhale, and Nate suddenly had opinions again.

He hadn't ever seen a yanma this close. The twitchiness of the pokemon surprised him. Nate had thought its motions would weird him out, but he honestly found them endearing; they reminded him of the creepy, jittery effect a monster might have in a horror movie--one of Nate's all time favorite visual effects. He smiled, despite himself.

That smile had gone rigid when Nate heard a terrible cry behind him, and in the next instant something (a small bird?) rocketed over his head. But it was okay--Nate knew it had missed. He propped himself up to focus on what had nearly hit him, and what had, apparently, saved him.

A spearow and a yanma, respectively.

The latter hadn't come down yet from its evasive position. Nate talked to it anyway. "Help me out here?" he requested, his own voice foreign to his ears.

The yanma cocked its head again in a swift jerking motion at Nate's request and lowered itself to his level again. Whether his request had been heard or not remained to be seen. The yanma made no move to engage the spearow, but instead, flittered around Nate, investigating the man with a series of innocent nibbles to his hair and clothes. It let out a high pitched thrumming noise that resemebled the kind of sound that came from fluttering ones tongue. In a way, it almost resemebled a purring sound.

The spearow picked itself back up and let loose another shrieking cry, obviously enraged at its failed attack. Again, the bird shot forward, beak open, wings outstretched.

Yanma turned to face the incoming bird. Casually, it clacked its mandibles together and looked at Nate with big blue, glistening insect eyes. Then, in an instant, it was gone. The dragonfly pokemon shot to the side with a burst of abrupt speed that left Nate looking at thin air. Before the raging spearow could even comprehend the situation, Yanma had already zoomed around to flank the bird. The spearow looked to its side and gave a mangled growl, but it was too late. Powered by momentum, the red and green blur bashed into the side of the spearow and send it hurtling across the ground, kicking up a spray of feathers in its wake.

The spearow rolled a few times before finally coming to a stop. It lay there, breathing hard in a rough, feathery heap, before wearily staggering back to its feet. It gave a half hearted battle cry, but made no immediate move to charge again.

The yanma, it seemed, had no interest in this battle. Already it had flitted back over to Nate and was busy investigating the strange glistening object on his face.

Okay, scratch what Nate had said earlier. Yanma was fast, it looked capable, and it was still very cool, but it was starting to scare Nate with its staring. Whenever Nate moved its head, the bug would flit to just the right place to maintain eye contact.

Where had it come from? Was it wild? Why did the pokeball contain the spearow from hell? Nate was having an especially hard time wrapping his head around that last question. A part of him was trying to rewrite the situation so the yanma had popped out of the ball and the spearow had inexplicably shown up later.

But--and this was the interesting part--if the spearow had come out of a pokeball, that meant it could be recalled. Nate looked to his hands. He had no idea where he'd dropped the pokeball--or his camera, for that matter. Both of those things needed finding ASAP, with the ball taking top priority.

He addressed the yanma inches from his face, first. "Thaaank you?" Nate offered, his voice caught on the first word for a second. The yanma had no concept of personal space, and it honestly felt like the pokemon was stealing Nate's air. (In actuality, Nate was unconsciously holding his breath.) "I'm... I'm gonna go find my stuff now! Haha. So, go hang out with that spearow now, huh? Hahaheeeeh..."

Nate turned to look for his things.

Too late. The yanma showed off its dexterity and snatched Nate's glasses clear off his face with its two front legs. Chattering happily, it experimentally put the left lens into its mouth. The glasses proved to be decidedly less interesting than they appeared and the yanma dropped them on the ground and flitted past Nate.

The spearow had meanwhile collected itself and clumsily took to the air. Yet another piercing cry alerted Nate to its aerial presence. Flapping its wings violently, the little bird picked up altitude in preparation to suicide dive the trainer.

At least Nate stifled the curse this time. He hoped none of the lovely people out for a park outing had been around to hear his last outburst.

...then again, if there were bystanders, they were awfully sick to not try and help Nate out.

He groped miserably for his glasses, unable to make out their dark frames by sight at any appreciable distance, and froze in horror when he heard them clatter against the ground. He didn't dare step anywhere now.

"Those are prescription!" Nate cried after the yanma noise. Actually, the lenses weren't even the major concern. "Do you know how much good frames cost?!"

He heard the only slightly more dangerous pair of wings, Spearow's, getting back in the air. To be honest, Nate was quickly becoming more exasperated than scared at this point. He had no less than three very important items on the ground somewhere, and he had already made himself out to be a giant loser in a public place not minutes after getting his starter pokemon. Fear, like the innocent optimism before it, was no longer the appropriate reaction to the situation.

Nate squinted after the brown blob that was the spearow. It was practically invisible to him; he didn't even know if it was rising or falling, but his threw up a forearm just in case. "Yanma!" he shouted. He figured he should ramp up the effort with this trainer thing since it sure wasn't coming along naturally. "Will you--I don't know--tackle that thing before I lose an eye?!"

The thought of suing Professor Willow wasn't sounding so bad, all of a sudden. It might have worked out in Nate's favor to get hit on purpose.

((Sue his ass!))

Indeed, there were a few people in the park that had noticed the scene. A mother grabbed her daughters hand and pulled her close, not wanting to attract the spearow's attention. A couple strolling through the freshly cut lawn also stopped to observe what was going on. Needless to say, nobody attempted to intervene.

The brown blob suddenly began getting larger at a rapid pace. The spearow was now dive bombing at Nate, and it's razor sharp beak was about to collide with his arm. Luckily, however, the yanma executed Nate's orders with ease. Surging forward, the bug zoomed over Nate's head with incredible speed. It met the spearow head on, and the resulting collision was met with a loud crack.

The spearow kareened off at a sharp downward angle, wings trailing limply behind it. It landed on the ground with an audible thump and was motionless. Yanma had the advantage of size, but the collision still rocked him. Recoiling back, he struggled in the air for a moment before righting himself. Yanma gave a sharp thrumming noise and clacked its mandibles angirly at the unconscious bird before sailing past Nate. It was only a few seconds before the bug appeared back at his side, clutching two objects in its limbs.

Then, a voice in the distance yelled in Nate's direction, "Hey! You!" It was some ways off, but coming closer fast.

The spearow has fainted.

((With pleasure. Then we can finally see how Kutho's legal system works after four years of non-existence.))

Yanma springing to Nate's defense would have looked amazing had Nate been wearing his glasses. As it was, he saw the fuzzy shapes of both pokemon connecting in the air, and heard, with relief and an instinctive cringe, the spearow's body hitting the ground.

Trying not to mind the small and infuriatingly unhelpful audience Nate knew was there, he turned his attention to the suddenly close yanma. "Hey. Let's be friends," Nate told it wearily. "I wanna be your friend. Lemme see what you got in your... hands, there. That's an order." And Nate held out his own hand. Speaking in the imperative to the pokemon worked once, so maybe it would work again.

Nate's hip hurt from its crash against the ground. The sorta-trainer used his other hand to clutch it with the expertise of a man fifty years his age. As it turned out, Old Man Nate must have hard-of-hearing too, because he didn't notice the voice in the distance at all.

Unfortunately this time the yanma chose to ignore Nate's commands. Hovering closer to his outstretched hand, Yanma dropped the two items back on the ground at the last minute. Then he flew around the trainer, buzzing excitedly.

Nate would hear the voice soon enough, after a few brief moments, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard, followed by heavy breathing and the occasional sickly wheeze. "You...! Yanma...! Found you...!" said the voice between gasps of air. Then a pause. "Who're you?" One could assume the question was directed at Nate.

Nate didn't even know what Yanma dropped, but a chill went through him all the same. "Stop! Stop," he shouted after the pokemon, although it was useless after the fact. He started to bend down to retrieve whatever it was when the sound of footsteps--and anticipation of crunching lenses--straightened him back up in horror.

Whoever it was had reunited with the yanma. Nate felt great for them, really. He threw out a polite "Nate" in case the person was talking to him, then dropped on his hands and knees to feel for whatever had dropped. Hopefully the spearow was unconscious and not resting up for something terrible. "Look, um, sorry, but please please be careful where you step. My glasses...!"

What happened to the beautiful foreign women who swindled fresh-faced travelers out of their money, anyway?! Which villain on Kutho's Board of Tourism decided to replace them with kleptomaniac pokemon?

((Assuming Nate puts the glasses on?))

Feeling around the ground, Nate would find his hands wrap around his camera and a small sphere that was undoubtedly the spearow's pokeball. Just as Nate warned the stranger about where to step, his hands would conveniently graze his glasses, sitting right next to the other two items. From somewhere slightly above him, Nate could hear the yanma thrumming happily.

The man who had run up was the very same aid from the lab that had nearly bowled over Nate in the first place. He looked from the unconscious spearow to Nate to Yanma to the spearow's pokeball in Nate's hands. Then with an incredulous look on his face he grabbed his hair and shrieked, "Oh no no no! This can't be happening!" He swallowed and seemed to regain a bit of composure, clearing his throat nervously. "Er, Nate. I'm very sorry. This is all my fault. Oh the professor is gonna kill me... Or worse! I'll be fired!" He put a hand to his forehead and gave an exasperated sigh. His gaze shifted to the bug hovering just above Nate's head and hardened. "This yanma supposedly passed all of the behavioral requirements to become a starting pokemon, but ever since then he's been out of control. Getting into mischief, constantly escaping and flying off." He continued to glare at the dragonfly pokemon which chirped cheerily in response, causing the aid to jump slightly. "So when he escaped again this morning from me, I, uhh, replaced its pokeball with that spearow." He pointed to the unconscious bird. "Only temporarily of course! It was just so the professor wouldn't notice until I managed to bring Yanma back!" he assured Nate. "That spearow was supposed to become a starter as well but failed behavioral training." He paused. "But I see you've taken care of it. Anyway," the aid continued, his tone changing to one of surprise, "I'm a little shocked to see him still here. The very fact that he's hung around you for more than ten seconds is astonishing. He's usually always escaped or gotten into some kind of trouble by now. I'll take care of him and we can get you a proper starting pokemon right away." The aid had pulled out a pokeball and aimed it at the yanma, who clacked his mandibles together loudly in protest and bolted behind Nate.

The aid stopped suddenly, looking rather perplexed. "This is strange," he murmered to himself. He lowered the pokeball. "Well he seems to have taken quite a liking to you. I've never seen him act like this before around someone. Did you do something to him?"

((As tempting as it would be to force Nate through this journey with permanently terrible vision, yes, glasses are on. Also, this post's length got away from me. Sorry.))

Nate said nothing throughout the aide's explanation. He didn't think he could get a word in edgewise, anyway. So, Nate just wiped his glasses clean on the hem of his top and awkwardly held his items against his chest. Speaking of, his chest was burning pretty bad all of a sudden. Nate had thought it was the fear and his general emotional state throughout all of this, but the talon holes and puckered fabric in his hoodie told a different story. A new wave of irritation went through him. He stood.

It seemed his troubles were the direct result of some wacky aide hijinks of which Nate was not feeling particularly understanding or sympathetic about (nodding in understanding and sympathy though he was). Also, it turned out that Nate was the only thing standing between Yanma and the scientists who apparently wanted it back. Nate ignored the sheer masochism involved in such a decision and instead focused on the wonderful out presented to him: he had a chance to pick the elekid after all.

And just like that, the nyctophobe was back. Nate had interrupted it with a premature decision back at the lab, but fear is nothing if not an opportunist. It lurked regardless, waiting for the chance to speak and cast doubt on everything. And now, while Nate's guard was down, it attacked.

You don't want that yanma, anyway, it whispered. It's nice now, but look what it did. It took your glasses and it dropped your camera and it doesn't even listen to the people taking care of it. It was gone from that lab in ten seconds and it's too fast to recall. Past behavior predicts future behavior--I mean this isn't rocket science, pal, it's pattern recognition. The first night you two are out, it's gonna steal that flashlight from you.

Nate was now intensely aware of the camera and his pokeball he'd so recently reacquired.

Eagerly, the fear continued. Yes sir, it's gonna steal that light and you know what happens then? It's not gonna be a sunny day next time and a crowd going "hahaha look at that guy," it's gonna be you in the dark with your flashlight gone while the yanma finds another Nate to play with.

And what's the plan at that point, pal? You're not so special to that thing. What do you do when the lights are out and the only one around is you?

"I think he just likes the way my hair tastes," Nate said at last, smiling wanly to the aide. He looked down at his camera. It's fate was uncertain--how many times had it dropped? "Say uh, would you say this guy does a lot of... property damage?" The question was really just to buy Nate some time to inspect his not-cheap camera, which Nate had way more affection for than the kleptomaniac dragonfly currently hiding behind him.

"Ah... yes. Tasty hair," the aid said with a few nervous nods. He scoffed at Nate's question and rubbed his forehead. "Property damage? Ha! Already he's destroyed three of Professor Willow's irreplacable research computers! It seems the little criminal rejects at the idea of being isolated inside of a pokeball. Ridiculous! And after having passed all prior behavioral requirements... I've never heard of such nonsense. And it's my neck that's on the line!"

Nate's camera seemed relatively undamaged. A slight chink showed on the side, and it was a little dirty, but otherwise looking rather intact and operational.

"...now, the teddiursa is a much better choice, if you ask me. Very docile," Nate would hear the aid say as he inspected his camera. "Now please." He motioned with the pokeball as the yanma poked its head out from behind Nate, buzzed angirly at the aid, and then promptly hid itself again.

After ensuring his camera was still operational, Nate stopped fiddling with it. It made him feel marginally better about the whole thing, the yanma's computer-destroying reputation notwithstanding. That might have been why Nate didn't immediately step aside and let the yanma get recalled, even though he was shifting his weight to do just that. There was something else that stopped him too.

Something had struck him about the aide's description of the teddiursa. "Docile." Now Nate wasn't exactly the life of the party, himself, but he enjoyed exciting things. That was kind of his lifeblood, recording these exciting things, or else he'd still be in Saffron doing some boring 9-to-5 job. This prompted Nate to pull himself out of fear mode for a second (easy enough, in the daylight) and look at the situation in another, more important perspective--a journalist's. If he'd had a docile teddiursa coming through town, or even a docile elekid, he'd be struggling to find something to report on his first day in Kutho other than some trite "Hello world, I have a cool pokemon now!"

Not even twenty minutes with this yanma and Nate was drowning in material--Yanma was like some twitchy, hyperactive muse. The way the recent fight played out had even convinced Nate that maybe, just maybe, the pokemon could be managed with a lot of patience, an iron grip on his shiny objects, and some more silly anecdotes for the travelogue. And if all else failed... well, Nate could always catch another pokemon.

So, almost without Nate realizing it, he tightened his grip on his camera and held out the spearow's pokeball for the aide to take.

"Call me crazy," Nate began, already taking his own advice, "but... I think I'm going to stick it out with this guy. Trade you the spearow's pokeball for the yanma's."

The aid looked rather confused. "I think you're making a critical mistake," he warned. "If that's what you truly want though. You, er, just won't tell the professor will you? About all of this?" He slowly lowered the pokeball. Something else seemed to be perplexing him. "However. If anybody can tame him, it already appears to be you."

Once he had lowered the yanma's pokeball, the insect pokemon flitted out in front of Nate, scooping up the spearow's pokeball out of his hands with its two red, spindly forelimbs. Slowly, it hovered over to the aid and released the pokeball at his feet. Then it quickly zipped forward and snatched its own pokeball from his hands.

"H-hey!" he yelled, stumbling back.

The yanma flew back over to Nate and examined him again with what seemed to be a thousand eyes. Then, it raised its legs and offered the pokeball to him. The aid stared at the scene and shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, maybe you have something we all don't. You're obviously born to be a pokemon trainer." This seemed to be the only logical reason the aid could come up with. He recalled the unconscious spearow and gave a resigned wave at Nate. "Well, guess I better be heading back to the lab. Er, really sorry about all this again. Hah hah... Just keep it between the two of us, shall we?" A sharp clack. "Er! Three of us," he stammered, with one final glare at the yanma.

"No problem," Nate said simply. Of course Nate wouldn't let the attempt on his life get back to the professor. That would take away valuable time from posting about it on the internet for public consumption.

Everything seemed to be taking a positive turn all of a sudden. The aide was making Nate out to be the chosen one of some demented prophecy and the yanma, fueled by its claustrophobia, was playing along.

"Um, thanks," he said, looking at the offered pokeball dubiously. He reached out to take it, fully expecting yanma to fly away with it forever. That's when the TV host would pop out of the bushes and reveal Nate had been on a hidden camera show the entire time.

The aid nodded, "Good, good. Excellent. Well. Alright then." And he began to shuffle back off towards the lab.

The sun had only risen higher and it gleamed against the yanma's red exoskeleton and his eyes, creating a rainbow of colors across them. True to Nate's expectation, the yanma quickly whipped the pokeball back as he reached for it. Then, slowly. Very slowly. Reached back forward and plopped it into his hands. It did not move, but waited expectantly to see what Nate would do now.

You have recieved a male yanma. Again. He is at 91 Health and has gained +3 EXP. (3/5)