[R] Goldenrod

Hi there- long time no see. I used to use a different account here; due to a series of circumstances (essentially forgetting my password and using this name at other forums- hey, it's been two years) I've dropped it and have been using this name. Some of you might remember an old story entitled Ionem that I regretfully never finished. The idea with that story was to approach the world of pokémon in a realistic way- to examine what it would be like if pocket monsters existed within our reality. It's been two summers since I started writing that story, and after getting wrapped up in college, work, etc- I've begun to try again.

Goldenrod picks up the themes that I presented in Ionem and continues with them. In fact, the story will feature characters and major storyline points from the old story. The main character shifts- as does the setting and the major conflict, but Jake Lake's story will still be told.

Without further ado, let me present to you the first chapter.



The street lamp in front of the Goldenrod City police station flickered three times before going out for good. The gray sidewalk remained well-lit; the nightlife of Goldenrod was active. A neon sign on the other side of the road cast a green glow over the aged pavement. Every so often, a car would drive by, dowsing the steps and the two figures standing on them in white light for a moment before letting them fade back into the eerie green.

"Fuck cancer. It can have me." The detective flicked burning ash from the end of his cigarette, following the falling embers with an absent gaze.

"It's not the cancer I care about," said the other. "You know the rules. No smoking on station property."

Detective Aquarius Encer took another deep drag, smiled with crooked teeth at the other officer, and slowly exhaled the smoke into his face. The younger, thinner officer stepped back and tried to hide a cough. Encer barked a rusty laugh at him; another wave of thick smoke flew towards the young man. "Go back inside and alphabetize your case files, Goldstein. Let a real man enjoy the night."

Herbert Goldstein sighed loudly and turned to go back into the station, muttering about asking the captain for a new partner. Encer knew that it wouldn't happen. The two had been paired for nearly a year now, and had made a surprisingly strong team. They hated each other personally, but while on the job, Aquarius Encer and Herbert Goldstein were the best pair of detectives that Goldenrod City had seen in a long time.

Encer inhaled again, crossing his eyes to watch the paper burn. A shuffling noise sounded from a distance down the street. The detective instinctively turned towards the source- a teenage girl was trying unsuccessfully to pull a fat hairy creature away from a dumpster. No doubt the beast had found some food worth digging up. Encer watched them for a moment before the girl turned to look at him. Their eyes met briefly. The girl seemed unsettled by Encer's appearance. He was used to the reaction- he was a stocky man with a thin worn jacket that barely fit over his stomach- a stomach that had been slowly and steadily expanding as the detective aged into his mid-forties. He had thick hair all over his body except at the top of his head, where his receding hairline revealed a bare forehead that contrasted terribly with his perpetually unshaven jaw. The detective turned away quickly, pretending to not have noticed the girl. He dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out with his boot. "Disgusting monsters," he muttered before heading back into the building.

The officer sitting at the front desk, and old man who had retired from active patrolling, smiled at Encer as he walked in. "Been watching them through the window myself," he said and pointed to a side window, though which there was a clear view of the girl and her pokémon. She had given up and was leaned against a brick wall, patiently waiting for it to finish its meal. "Not a big fan of raticate," the old man continued. "Nasty little thieves."

Encer smirked. The old man at the desk was probably the only other person in the Goldenrod police department that shared his opinion about pocket monsters. "Raticate, huh? So that's what it is." The detective had a reputation for having little to no knowledge about the creatures that inhabited the world. In the past, Encer had gone out of his way to avoid dealing with pokémon. In recent years, though, he'd resolved to accept them as a part of life- though he didn't have to care for them.

Encer and Goldstein shared an office with two other pairs of detectives. The six of them were the best officers in Goldenrod, and had worked hard to earn their office separate from the desks of everybody else. Goldstein and another detective were the only two still around when Encer walked in and sunk into his chair. Pierce Winter had the most experience out of anybody still active on the force. A burly man in his early fifties, he was well-known for having a short temper but otherwise amiable personality. Encer had a respect for Winter that he didn't hold for anybody else on the force- not even the captain. The two detectives had a long-standing rivalry, though. The department often joked that Winter refused to retire until Encer was gone himself. There may have been some truth to that.

There came a sudden sharp rapping on the door to the office. Encer groaned; he knew that knock. The captain opened the door and waltzed in before anybody could answer him. He was a tall man with a permanently-serious expression and hair that seemed too black and too full for a man of his age. "We have a case," he announced. It was his typical way of greeting the top detectives. Goldstein stood up from his chair and looked ahead at the captain, waiting for more details. Encer reclined a little bit in his chair. Winter didn't look up from his old typewriter.

"The Smeargle Slasher's done it again," the captain said, dropping a small pile of papers and photographs in front of Detective Encer and motioning to the grisly picture on top. "He left the Smeargle-face sticker on the victim's forehead again, as you can see. The cause of death is the same as the other two- slashed across the throat and left to die without breath."

Encer picked up the photos of the crime scene and shuffled through them. One of the images was a very close shot of the bloody wound. The detective whistled. "Pretty." He passed the pile to his partner, who looked through the photographs very quickly before handing them to Winter.

The captain continued. "Since this is the third murder like this, we're making this case a top priority. We need to catch this bastard before he hits again." He stood quiet for a moment as Winter finished analyzing the images and placed them calmly on the desk by his typewriter. "We know that this is going to hit the press soon- most likely by tomorrow morning. I want to get a good head start on this tonight before we have to deal with all that garbage." He reached behind him and gripped the doorknob. "Everything you guys will need to know is in those papers there." Without another word he turned and closed the door behind him.

Detective Encer eyed the photocopy of the sticker that had become the murderer's signature. The cartoon Smeargle looked back at him, grinning widely and taunting Encer with its wide white eyes, daring him to solve the case.

I like the detail in this start for sure. I'm kinda surprised it was a Smeargle picked for the murderer. I know it can learn any attack, but of course their are darker and more evil Pokemon. Not criticising at all just my opinion. :)Very good start though, I'll be following this.

Excellent details, plot, and overall a promising beginning. You chose a very interesting murderer. I look forward to more.

I also enjoyed this. A few realistic fics that I've seen still start of with some trainer. But your story broke away with a grim murder. I like that. And it also surprised me that even though there are darker Pokemon out there, you picked a Smeargle to be the murderer's signature one.

The officer sitting at the front desk, and old man who had retired from active patrolling, smiled at Encer as he walked in.

Click to expand...

Only mistake I saw.

I'm hoping that you continue this.

Chapter Two

Falkner always marveled at the size of the great golden city. He'd been there on plenty of occasions, and each time he was reminded just how small Violet Town was in comparison. It was just after dawn and the sunlight bounced off the windows of skyscrapers, reflecting all over the city and bathing the whole view in the rich light that gave Goldenrod its name. From his position high above the city, Falkner could see the vastness of it in its entirety and appreciate the beauty of the modern world that he lived in.

"Okay, Fearow," the gym leader whispered into the feathered ear of his airborne steed, "let's head down. Just inside the city gates should do fine." The pokémon cried softly in response to the instruction and tilted its wings, using the updraft of morning air to glide downwards. Long brown feathers adjusted to the slightest change in the winds, ensuring Falkner a smooth and safe ride. They landed on Goldenrod's cobblestone walkway without problem. The streets were empty this early in the morning and nobody was around to notice the dark-haired teen slip easily off the back of the large bird. With a gentle stroke of Fearow's long beak, Falkner clicked the button on the great ball and relieved the pokémon of its duty. He dropped the ball into the pocket on his baggy pants, savoring the satisfying weight as it joined its five companions.

The flight had taken less time than Falkner expected; there were a good five or six hours before he could check in to the Cliffend Resort or register for the tournament. Just thinking about the tournament brought a smile to his face. Three months ago, he had recieved an invitation to the Professional Pokémon Tour's largest yearly tournament. Most gym leaders ignored such invitations- a lot of them weren't fans of the publicized Pro Tour, instead prefering the official Pokémon League. Falkner, though, was glad for this oppurtunity. The Pro Tour tournament would be broadcast all over the television and radio. Falkner would be competing against the highest-level trainers from all over the world. Most Pro Tour competitors had once completed the official Pokémon League challenge and had made their way into the big leagues, seeking a way to continue living their dream as trainers in their adult life. Others had never challenged any gym leaders, instead training from the beginning to compete in the Pro Tour circuits. Either way- the Pro Tour was a major event. The prize money meant nothing to Falkner; he wanted to battle.

The young gym leader walked by a large poster hanging inside a store window. The tournament was being advertised in all its glory- the poster was decorated with photographs from last year's final match. A gritty-looking Mr. Mime stood its ground against a charging Manectric. Dominating the poster was an image of last year's champion, the Mr. Mime's trainer. Derek Despain held his arms crossed in front of his chest, an arrogant smile plastered on his chiseled face.

"He's not that good-looking in real life," Falkner muttered. "These graphic artists really know how to clean up a guy."

In truth, Falkner was a little jealous of the champion's success. The gym leader was restricted by his position in the official Pokémon League. He was the first gym leader of the Johto division, and as far as he was concerned, it was his job to lose to weak beginning trainers. Falkner wasn't allowed to use any of his prized pokémon in his gym matches against challengers- his Dodrio hadn't seen a real battle in a couple of months. It killed his reputation as a trainer. He was always overlooked as being the weakest of the gym leaders in Johto- trainers would laugh after defeating him. Sometimes he just wished he could let Dodrio go wild on the smirking little kids. If he had to lose to an underleveled sentret one more time...

He shook the thoughts out of his head. He was here for some real competition. The thrill of high-level battling was something that he sorely missed. And if he won...if he won, then his reputation as a top trainer would be cemented in the Pro Tour hall of fame.

Falkner glanced at his watch and sighed. Time was moving slowly. None of the large department stores that the city was known for were open yet, certainly not the gigantic Goldenrod Mall. He considered heading to the casino district to kill some time- most of the places there were open twenty-four hours. He absently started towards a subway entrance at the end of the street he was on. In front of it there was a small cafe, with a flashing sign that announced it was open. Falkner peered inside the windows- the place was empty except for four men huddled together at a table in the corner. A waitress was standing at the bar, talking with who Falkner assumed was the cook.

The young gym leader felt his stomach turn at the idea of having breakfast. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. The place seemed quiet, which was good for him. The last thing he wanted was to be approached by gloating trainers who'd he let beat him. He looked at his watch again. He could kill an hour or so here and have some breakfast. By then, the mall would probably be open and he could go shopping before signing into the hotel. He was hoping to buy a new outfit to wear for his television match.

He stepped into the small cafe. The waitress turned to him and smiled widely. "Go ahead and sit down anywhere, sweetheart. I'll be right there to take your order." She spoke with a distinctive country accent that seemed out of place in the big city; it reminded Falkner of his mother at home. One of the four men turned to look at Falkner as the waitress addressed him.

Falkner seated himself far from the four men, sinking into a deceptively comfortable booth in the corner of the restaurant. The waitress walked over, looking clumsy in high heels, and handed him a small laminated piece of paper. "This is the earlybird breakfast menu. We don't have much right now since it's so early. Do you want a cup of coffee or anything while you're looking?"

"Yeah sure- black, please," Falkner said absently. He was focused on the four men across the room. By now he realized that the four of them were police officers. Three of them wore simple black suits with gun holsters and radios on their belts. One of them, the one who had glared at him, had a tattered tan jacket over his outfit.

The young gym leader thought nothing of it. A group of cops getting some breakfast before going in for the morning shift- or perhaps after working all night- was nothing special. Falkner relaxed in the booth, leaning his head against the high cushioned back. He let his mind wander to the high-level battles that were waiting for him.