AN : Hello :)

After a very long time spent lurking on this site I am finally writing something to share with you all. This is my first fic, and I would really appreciate if you reviewed to tell me what you think or where I could improve. I don't mind if you flame me, I will just sit back and use the flames to pop my popcorn.

My grammar is probably a little bit off and I apologize for that and I know that some of my words are spelt a bit differently, that would be because I am Australian and I am using Australian spelling :).

This is the prologue of the story, the Pokemon part will come in the next chapter. I'm sorry for the odd use of tense, I'm writhing this as her reflecting on the past. That should clear up in the next chapter. I think.

This will be set in Johto and Kanto for now, The games that I've been playing most frequently are Soul Silver and Heart Gold. I used to play lots of Silver, Gold, Red, Yellow and Blue when I was younger too, So I'm more familiar with these areas. I do have Platinum and White and Emerald so I do have some familiarity with Hoenn, Sinnoh and Unova and I plan to take the adventure there at some point.

Hopefully my updates will be quick. I hope that you enjoy:)

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN POKEMON. THEY DO NOT BELONG TO ME.

Rated T for some incredibly mild swearing and some violence.

Please enjoy and review

Thing XX

My unimaginably impossible journey starts on a very unremarkable day.

It was one of those days where it wasn't truly necessary for me to have to stop to think about what was going on because I had experienced the actions so many times before. Wake up, get ready, go to school, come home, sleep, repeat. A monotonous routine that we're so familiar with that it's almost been perfected into a habit.

I find it kind of funny to look back at this daily ritual of mine admittedly. It's been such a long time since my life followed such a mundane pattern that it's become unfamiliar to me.

Something happened to shatter my routine into a thousand tiny irreparable pieces, changing it and twisting it into something on an entirely different level, an inconceivable metamorphosis. As far as we can tell, there is no going back to what once existed. You see, what occurred on this deceptively normal morning had a far greater effect on my life than most would have deemed conceivable. I suppose I should start in beginning...

The shrill tones of my alarm blared out through the cold morning air, disrupting my already fading dreams and jolting my sleep hazed brain into a poor semblance of wakefulness.

Groaning I rolled over and stretched as I moved my arm out from the warm cocoon of blankets to hit the dismiss button with harder force than necessary. Alarm clocks have a short life span when I own them I mused as I lingered in the warmth and comfort of my bed.

I forced myself to sit up, blinking the vestiges of sleep away and grimaced as my feet hit the cold hardwood floor.

I sluggishly made my way through the hall towards the the living room, trying to coax myself into the higher level of attentiveness that I would need to get my younger siblings into gear so that they would get ready for school.

Blinking against the bright lights of the living room and the glare of the television screen a scan of the room quickly revealed my twin brothers to be lying on the couch as they fulfilled their daily need for stylized cartoon violence and innuendo, not that they would understand it at the tender age of eight.

Sighing as I noticed that they were still in their pyjamas I switched off the TV. Met with loud and annoyed protests of "HEY!" and "I was watching that," I rolled my eyes.

"Honestly you two, I'm not sure how many times you've been told this, but you have to get ready for school before you watch cartoons. Go and get changed while I start breakfast."

Mumbling to each other and shooting me hostile looks, they slinked off to the bathroom to put on their uniforms. Typical, I thought to myself as I walked into our small, out-dated kitchen.

Don't get me wrong, the twins are good kids, but like all of the members of our family they were stubborn and argumentative in the morning. Oftentimes mornings in this house would quickly escalate into loud, nonsensical screaming matches.

Opening the fridge and peering into it I wrinkled my nose at the meagre amount of food inside and moved to look inside the pantry instead. Mum hadn't gone shopping lately. She can be slack like that at times.

She's at work often, trying to make enough money to pay for the bills and put away for us kids. It can be hard for her to get reasonable hours at times with Thursdays being the only exception.

I'm often left to take care of my three younger siblings during the rest of the week; I cooked and cleaned, did the shopping, helped with homework and had to organise things like school lunches, bed times and appointments. Responsibilities like that can cause a person to mature quickly I reflected.

Realizing that I had been staring into the cupboard for the last few minutes I grabbed some pancake mix. Not the healthiest food, but it would have to do considering the lack of cereal and bread.

Glancing at the clock I gave a small start and yelled for my sister to get out of bed. As I was setting the freshly cooked pancakes on the table she stumbled out from the hallway, hair looking like a bronzed rats nest, knotty and sticking up at gravity defying angles.

She grunted what passed as a thanks around here as I slid a plate over to her. Definitely not a morning person I thought as I licked my fingers clean of the amber syrup that had oozed from the thick spongy cakes.

Peering at the clock again I made an effort to hurry as I put on my rather nondescript school uniform.

I threw my caramel coloured hair into a messy bun, not really caring what I looked like but still making sure it at least looked semi respectable. I didn't really worry about what I looked like most of the time.

I suppose I would describe myself as average. I stood taller than most with common features that weren't unattractive but neither did they truly stand out in a crowd, except for my eyes. My eyes were a striking shade of amethyst that I had inherited from my dad. I never really spared them much thought though, except for the occasional moments when I caught flashes of them in the mirror.

Biting my lip and giving my reflection a cursory glance as I made sure that my clothes weren't bunched up or caught on anything, I gave a small nod to myself, the action reflected by my doppelganger. Good enough I thought.

Swiftly I made my way back into the kitchen to grab my bag, making sure that the twins were behaving as they ate. Satisfied that they wouldn't act up I burrowed through the many pocket of my bag until I found my house keys.

Turning to my sister I held them out to her. "Make sure that the lights are turned off when you leave the house yeah? Lunch is in the fridge; make sure you get it out. They're labelled. Uhh, I should be home early today alright? I'll come and get the keys off you at lunch. "

She rolled her eyes at me and nodded her head, her mouth full of juice. I walked over to the twins and ruffled their hair before giving both of them a kiss on the forehead. "Be good today yeah?" Content with their answers I gave my sister a hug.

She set the keys jangling as she made a shoo-ing motion with her hand. "You're going to be late" was her sleepy admonishment. I smiled at her.

"I'll get there, no worries" I said as I closed the front door.

Walking down the street I dug my battered old iPod out of my bag, running my fingers over the purple metal surface. Listening to music on the way to school was another one of those little habits I had, something I always did.

Iliked the music because it drowned out the buzz of the city. Often the traffic, barking dogs, screaming children, ambient city sounds and the occasional siren all blended together to create a harsh mixture of noises that I didn't particularly enjoy. It got to be too much. I found that listening to a few bars of something that was suited to my current mood was a lot more preferable.

The music helped me to focus and prompted me to walk faster to the bus stop, the rhythmical tempo of my feet slapping against the pavement increasing in pace as my brain became more attentive to the outside world, helping to prepare me for yet another long day at school.

At the thought of school I gave a mental groan. As if I needed reminding that I had early classes this morning.

It was one of the few things that I disliked about being a senior, the occasional early morning class. I knew that they were unavoidable, but sometimes having maths on an early Monday morning seemed like a cruel plot cooked up especially to torture the older students by the school board. Sometimes it seemed as if they had an "Idiotic Ideas" quota that they were required to fill.

Reaching the bus shelter unusually early I sat down on the cold metal seat, reaching into my bag yet again as I did so. Grabbing my DS, I switched it on.

It was one of my most prized possessions even though it was an older model. It was a shiny black, with a few scratches where it had inevitably been dropped over the years for which I had owned it, and most of the buttons were worn, the white ink that had once formed the "A" had now vanished and the "B" was a dull, speckled grey that was fading through to black.

Tapping the screen it switched from the blue start screen with Lugia to the menu where I pressed continue. I ended up just outside Saffron City, where I was hunting through the tall grass for Pokémon.

My current goal was to fill out the Pokédex, something that I had always wanted to accomplish. Currently I was chasing around Latios, one of the legendries that roamed the Kanto region.Latios was never actually in the Kanto area originally, It was originally from Hoenn I mused.

I suppose Nintendo was trying to be generous with this game. There were many legendries and pseudo legendries that one could obtain in Soul Silver and Heart Gold that hadn't been around since the first and second game generations which made it helpful for those who, like me; had started the trek along that long and difficult journey of trying to catch them all.

Now, it might seem odd to you that a sixteen year old girl was playing what could be considered a kids game, but the truth is that Pokémon is one of my favourite things. When I was younger many mornings had passed where I had snuggled into our old, worn and comfy couch with my dad and watched the antics of Ash and his friends play out on our small little television.

We had also spent countless hours battling, trading and exploring the Kanto and Johto regions together on the game adaptions of the anime before he had passed away.

Pokémon was something I'd clung to it as reminded me of those simpler times, before I had been asked to grow up quickly and become something akin to a parent to my brothers and sister.

Dad had always been busy, but he always made sure that he had set aside time to send with me. Pokémon was our thing.

He had always reminded me of Professor Oak. It might sound a little silly, but Dad had been a scientist, a microbiologist to be specific. He had been the head researcher on his team at the medical lab he had worked told me that they had been trying to create vaccines to protect people from new strains of bacteria that had developed.

I didn't fully understand how they had done that but I had picked Biology as one of my senior electives because I thought that it might have given me a basic understanding as to what he had actually done. I missed him a lot, and it helped me to feel closer to him.

I thought that it also could have been helpful in figuring out what I wanted to do when I graduated. I wasn't sure yet, but I tried my hardest in school in spite of that. I wasn't the most academic person, on average I was an A minus student but I had to work hard to get there.

I found most of what I got taught in school difficult to grasp, with the exception of art and creative writing. When I wasn't taking care of the kids, I was either studying or playing Pokémon.

Some people saw me as a bit anti-social even though I had friends. I guess it's because I didn't really get out much. I don't usually have the time to go out and do things for myself because honestly, most of my time was occupied looking after the kids. I suppose it was a rather hectic kind of lifestyle, especially for someone my age, but I didn't really mind.

If Dad's passing had taught me anything it was that family was important that that it was better to spend time with them.

Looking up as I heard the somewhat muffled roar of the old creaky school bus, I glanced back down at my game. I was currently battling against a Pidgeotto on Route 8. I wasn't having much luck with finding the Latios, even though my Pokégear was telling me that it was in this area.

Swinging myself onto the bus I made my way to my usual seat half way down the aisle. Dropping myself down onto the faded vinyl seat I returned to my search for the illusive Latios. It was one of the few Pokémon left that I had yet to catch in this particular game.

I had spent a few hundred hours roaming around the two regions, catching and evolving Pokémon and now there weren't many left for me to obtain. It didn't bother me much as I was planning to buy one of the newer generation games with the birthday money I was sure to receive in a few weeks.

I wasn't sure If I wanted to get one of the remakes of Black and White or one the original releases. I had some time to decide, but at the moment I was leaning towards getting one from the original series, because I felt odd about buying them out of order. I got mildly OCD about little things like that on occasion.

As the bus wound its way through the various streets of the labyrinth-like city I caught the occasional glimpse of its occupants.

I liked to people watch. I always made up little stories to go with the unusual characters that stood out, something that helped when it came to creating characters in my creative writing class at school. Like the man standing on the corner of First and George Street with the wild eyes,the sign and the crazy, tangled beard could be wearing an elaborate disguise and was in reality an undercover government agent tracking down the dangerous criminal that he had been charged with bringing in.

Or the lady walking along the sidewalk at an accelerated pace all hunched up ,tucking her trench coat into herself, sunglasses hiding her face and the cap pulled down to cover her ears was really a celebrity trying to blend in with the ordinary citizens while hoping to escape the crazed vindictive vultures known as the press who made her life something akin to an endless circus display, open for all the world to see with the already tattered and frayed curtain known as privacy removed to a rot as a stale heap in the corner, long since forgotten about.

I may not like the city noises but the people who inhabited it were definitely something that I found to be interesting.

During one of these momentary lapses from my game, as the bus was moving sluggishly across a set of traffic lights I happened to catch sight of a girl who I thought could have an exciting and interesting story. Her choppy hair was dyed into many different colours of the rainbow spectrum; rich azure, hot magenta, acid green, candy pink and electric turquoise being some of the prominent shades, with hints of wispy yellow and burnished orange showing I thought.

A street kid maybe, my mind weaving an intricate fabrication for her life story. Forgotten as a young child, having to survive on her own instincts to fend for herself in the dirty underbelly of this sprawling metropolis known as home, perhaps she had stumbled onto a talent that could save her from the predictable life of crime such a life would lead to. The proverbial light to the tunnel's end. Singing , or possibly art.

As I was internally debating on the finer details of her make believe story, I noticed an odd movement in my peripheral vision. Turning my head, the image that greeted me caused my entire body to freeze.

It was as if time for some reason had suddenly slowed itself so that it trickled past, dripping as slowly as the golden syrup that had coated my pancakes this morning, each second seeming to last an hour.

I made eye contact with a man driving a truck which for some reason was alarmingly close to my seat on the bus. I stared, transfixed and horrified as I watched the emotions flicker over his face. Blue eyes widening as shock set in and pupils constricting as fear overwhelmed the man. His face started to scrunch up, folding in on itself as he was bracing.

Bracing for what? I thought, incredibly disorientated by this unexpected turn of events, just as time decided to just as suddenly throw itself into fast forward.

There was this deafening screeching noise, the sound of metal embracing metal drowning out everything, even my music. And for a moment, all that seemed to exist was the noise, that terrible, grating and squealing noise that had somehow managed to replace the entire world, overtaking my being just before something beneath me shook.

The bus, I realized as there was an overpowering flash of white across my vision as my head collided with something solid, the forgotten DS console sliding out of my hands and clattering onto the floor.

I too, rolled across the floor, the momentum of the crash sending me sprawling, fragments of glass biting deep into my skin, attacking and clawing me as I was sent to the other side of the bus, my ribs making an unpleasant crunching noise as I made contact with the seats opposite mine.

My head was ringing, and I couldn't truly make sense of what had happened, all I could really notice and focus on was the pain radiating from what felt like everywhere, stabbing and sharp and throbbing.

I tried to get my bearings, struggling to use my arm to push myself into a sitting position, yet my hand kept slipping. I noticed the dark, sticky liquid pooling on the floor beneath me. I stared uncomprehending at it for what felt like an eternity before realising it was blood.

Where had that come from? I asked myself dazed, focusing on my arm. Blood was steadily falling from jagged cuts that had painted themselves onto my skin. Right. The glass.

I picked my hand up, bringing it closer to my eyes to examine it a bit more when the bus lurched, throwing me around. There was a nauseating moment where I was airborne, my stomach turning.

My temporary flight seemed to be another one of those bizarrely suspended times. I could hear a distant screaming, something that sounded like a wild animal dying, the last thing that I could remember before my head made a sickening, dull and wet thud as it struck something solid before the world seemed to fold in front of me and fade to a black nothingness.

Please tell me what you think :)

Thing XX