The lights dimmed as the voltorbs which powered them lowered their output. Two spotlights shined upon a scarred Charmeleon that walked onto the stage. "Good evening everyone." he said, addressing the crowd of dozens, or perhaps hundreds, of pokemon of different types and forms. "As many of you know, I am Carax. I once belonged to a trainer, like many of you, who thought of me as nothing more than a tool to earn money. I started this group because I believe that we can no longer sit by while we and our fellow pokemon are abused by people to whom we are simply items to be discarded when we are no longer useful. Allow me to tell my story, and I will open the stage up to anyone who wishes to come up here to share theirs as well."

"I was hatched from an egg that came from one of those forced-breeding camps that the humans euphemistically call "Daycare Centers". My parents barely knew each other. My father was caught merely to be breeding stock in the mill, my mother was a Ditto, a descendant of a long line of slaves which this trainer had bred to have what he called "perfect IVs". Before my father even knew what was happening they were drugged and locked in a cage together until my mother laid an egg. Me."

"When I was old enough, after the trainer had forced me to strike down dozens of wild pokemon, what he called "training", a process which resulted in me fainting several times, I was sent to that same breeding camp. At first I thought it was some sort of vacation, that he had realized that he had asked too much of me and was giving me a break, but then I was drugged and put in a cage with another pokemon just like my father. I didn't find out until later that her trainer was doing the same thing with her."

"The trainer returned to take our eggs, and a few days later returned again. The eggs had hatched, but only one of them had "better IVs" than me." A tear started to form at the corner of Carax's eye. "I can only assume that he placed the other two in the computer, as I heard him say he would do with me after swapping me out for my son, and then deleted them."

"When he went to return me to the cramped cage they call a "pokeball", though, I knew I had to act fast, lest I be deleted or, at best, forced to fight again. I knocked the ball he had trapped me in as a newborn out of his hand, shattering it, and, when he brought out a captured Staryu to force me back into line, I fled. I later received word that he is carrying my surviving son around just like he did with me, when I was a child, placing my mother in a cage with that Staryu. My son is being tortured by him, forced to fight opponents he can't possibly defeat, then pulled out at the last second only to be replaced with another slave who's more fit for that kind of battle. The human's call it training. I say it's psychological torture. And I can no longer stand by while my son and other pokemon are mistreated."

The crowd cheered, and Carax motioned for them to quiet down. "I know I am not the only one who was mistreated. Some of you were living your life out in the wilderness when some psychotic ten year old came by and beat you into submission or unconsciousness, the ones who remained conscious finding themselves stuck as energy in a small ball, being let out only when the psychopath wants you to fight for their pleasure or profit. I know that it can be tough to talk about it, but if you are willing to share your story with your brothers and sisters gathered here, then we would be happy to listen, and offer you what support we can, emotional or otherwise."

With that, Carax stepped out of the spotlight, allowing the first Pokemon in line to step into it to tell their story.