Ardanata “Dana” Stamos
Ever Grande City, Hoenn League Headquarters || January 1st
Dana returned her Swampert silently, her eyes focused on the building in the distance: Hoenn’s Pokemon League, where she’d struggled hard for her third championship title years ago. The building was still very much the same, save for perhaps a fresh coat of paint and some new additions to the garden.
What are a few thunderbolts to a Salamence who’s fought tag teams of Raichu? Dana thought, frowning as she scanned the horizon again. The entire day had been a mess of confusion, with the weather channels predicting anything from hail storms to hurricanes, yet the sky remained defiantly clear in spite of speculations. Flying, of course, had been banned for the day, and though Dana was sure that—somewhere in the world—there was definitely some rule-breaking going on, she also knew that as a champion, she would have to support the League’s decisions, no matter how ludicrous.
Making me Waterfall up here, she thought, her frown deepening for a moment before she let it drop completely. It should all blow over soon.
Briskly making for the League building, Dana glanced down to check her watch to ensure that she was on time. A clap of thunder from above interrupted her action, and a subsequent smattering of raindrops prompted her to call out her Venusaur, who pulled up a makeshift umbrella of leaves and vines that Dana ducked under, dusting water from her clothes. However, a wet gust of wind undid her work, pulling a curse from Dana as her Venusaur made to shield her.
Can the weather make up its mind already, she thought irritably. More thunder sounded, and just as Dana had started off for the League building again, the earthquake started. The ground shook, the sky trembled, and Dana clutched her Venusaur’s vines tightly, feeling her annoyance spike.
And then it was over. The earthquake had stopped, the rain had let up, and even the soppingly heavy clouds had cleared.
Hoenn, Dana thought, dispelling her annoyance with a sigh as she reached down to return her Venusaur. She stopped short, snapping back up to scan over her surroundings.
Where—
Where the Pokemon League previously stood, there was now a crystalline lake, stretching out into the distance. Reeds faded into pines from the lakeshore, and the waterfall Dana had ridden her Swampert up was now a misty forest of evergreens. At her side were a smattering of Pokemon, some hers and some not, and her Venusaur had vanished.
“Venusaur!” she called, making to return her Scizor and Clefable while keeping an eye on the newcomers. Ivysaur, Combusken, Marshtomp, Duskull—
“Arceus above,” she breathed, eyes widening. “Dusknoir?”
The Duskull drifted over, half-hovering, half-walking, and almost tripping over its own feet, almost as if it weren’t used to its own body.
Toronto, Ontario. Canada. || January 10th
Dana was—despite how much she hated to admit it—nervous. Her Pokemon, who were all gathered into the spacious hotel room provided for her courtesy of Professor Elm, provided little comfort seeing as they’d all been severely weakened, some even devolved. Here she was in a strange land surrounded by strange people who spoke another language and looked at her as if she were an alien—which, she supposed, she was.
In the few days after she’d arrived in “Ka-na-da,” which was apparently the land she now resided in, she’d been held at gunpoint multiple times, handcuffed through it all and separated from her Pokemon after she’d instructed them to stand down. The guns levelled at her had not scared her so much as her new reality: dead Pokeballs and Pokedexes, surrounded by weakened and devolved Pokemon and people with whom she shared no common tongue. That they lacked Pokemon was the only comforting part; although they initially took her other Pokemon from her, her Dusknoir—now Duskull—would stay by her side, hidden in her shadow, silently awaiting her word. Against her Duskull, the guns the natives of the land wielded had seemed rather nonconsequential, and she was assured of her safety despite being packed away into trucks and cells.
All the same, the appearance of Professor Elm, who ordered her uncuffed and delivered to a hotel room, was exceedingly comforting. The professor had few answers for her, and though he saw to it that she was reunited with her Pokemon and well cared for, Dana couldn’t shake her nervousness: where was she, and what had happened? Her nervousness quickly gave rise to annoyance, though, and she found herself constantly critiquing her “team”—a slew of Pokemon she’d withdrawn on a whim, confident that she could swap them out once she’d arrived at the League. The least she could have done was bring a flier. Having her Salamence or—if that was to be devolved upon arrival—her Xatu at her side would be much more reassuring than her current mismatched menagerie, if not for their ability to fly then for Xatu’s ability to teleport. Instead, she was left with a bunch of half-evolved, severely weakened Pokemon she had had no mind to use other than for their ability to scale waterfalls and shield her from the rain.
At the very least give me something to do—research, train, learn, she thought, turning back to the window through which she was observing the city. In this strange new world with so many unanswered questions, surely there something for her to do—some way for her to help the investigation effort to get the trainers back home, yet here she was, staring out the window.
Camden Montero
Washington D.C. U.S. || March 2nd
The plane ticket was, as Camden resolved, the last thing he’d ever use his parents’ money to pay for, which worked out fairly well since he later found out that he’d be reimbursed for travel expenses anyway. And to think that I was considering taking the bus, he thought as he filed into the testing center. He’d arrived early for testing—exceedingly so—not so much because he was confident as because he wanted to get the test over and done with.
One and a half months to study for a single exam pretty much guarantees passing for everyone, doesn’t it? Camden thought as he looked around at the test takers beside him. Bookish or athletic, excited or nervous, all sorts of trainer aspirants could be seen. Wonder what the test will be like.
The subsequent announcement gave Camden pause. Practical exams? he thought, intrigued by the idea. Would he be allowed to see Pokemon up close already? He predicted no trouble on the written portion, though; a month and a half’s study of all the Pokemon trivia he could dredge up was enough to have covered all the geography and ecology anyone wanted, and distinguishing animal and Pokemon was a simple matter of recognizing a Pokemon for a Pokemon. “Survival techniques” was the only one that gave him pause, but if it was a matter of Pokemon world foliage, then there was no problem at all.
They could have just announced that they were testing these things, Camden thought irritably as he received his written exam. How’re they hoping to get properly prepared candidates if they don’t even tell them how to prepare?
The start of the testing period was called, and Camden flew through the questions rapidly, noting down the questions that gave him pause so he could go back and deliberate them thoroughly after he’d finished the rest. As he’d predicted, the franchise-related trivia proved to be little problem for someone that could list off which berries were native to which regions, but he struggled more with the more native things.
Comfrey? Sounds familiar, but that’s about it, he thought, flicking his pencil in annoyance. Why do I even have to know its medicinal properties—isn’t civilization a bit past mashing up voodoo pastes?
Filling in his best answers—slightly-informed guesses, more like, mostly based on whether or not the plant sounded like something he’d seen before since everything that wasn’t poisonous would have somehow found its way onto some snobby restaurant’s menu—Camden scanned his answers through for any more notations before rising and turning his exam in. He’d never been one for deliberating over his gut instincts, especially not after the times when he’d changed his correct answer to the wrong one, giving into hesitation.
The next portion of the exam, as it was announced, was a physical one that seemed to draw on various parts of Camden’s life that he’d thought he could leave behind for good. Well playing lacrosse for four years should mean I’m faster than the average Joe, and—never thought I’d live to think this—Uncle Ted’s hunting trips might actually be of use, with his strange concepts of “what a man ought to know” and that nonsense. As long as there’s no butchering and gutting involved, that part should be fine as well Camden thought. As for identifying flora… Camden pulled a face. The flowers and woods, maybe, but definitely not bushes. Interior decorating is the farthest I went into poking around plants, how much help that’d be for exotics is questionable.
And so the exam went, with Camden keeping time from one station to the next but losing some time at every station as he tried to recall his Uncle’s booming voice. Thankfully, he made it through all the tasks without problem, though stalling a bit at each, but the clipboard-wielding examiner waiting for him at the end provided the real challenge.
“That one,” Camden panted, hands on his hips as he simultaneously caught his breath and bought himself time, “that one should be from some south Asian country, right?”
The examiner said nothing, merely noting something on his clipboard before showing Camden another picture.
“Poplar,” Camden said, recognizing the tree. Susceptible to insect attack, he thought, glancing at the examiner as he again, without a word, noted something down on his clipboard. Well, I’d say I’d get roughly half right. On a good day.
And so it went, Camden half-asking, half-answering the examiner’s questions until finally the clipboard-armed man was satisfied and Camden was allowed to proceed to lunch, during which he inhaled some food and waited patiently until the next part of the exam began.
Interviews, Camden thought, grinning. Finally, something in my corner of the field.
