[PKMN] SPACE CASE!

[skinstealer]

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SPACE CASE!
Episode 1: Graduation Day

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The following project is a fanfiction playthrough of Pokemon Blue, set in an anthro worldbuild we've been working on for quite a few years.

It is an adult project, and may contain, but is not limited to: 
-sexual/fetish content
-graphic content such as gore, violence, and abuse
-imagery and descriptions 

More will likely be relevant as the project goes on, and due to it being audience impacted, no guarantees can be given for what it won't include.

Take care, and enjoy.

 

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Deep breaths.




Focus.




Stay in the moment.







Today is the day you graduate the prestigious Tapestry Community College, becoming a licensed battler and being eligible for official party work.

....at least, that's all the red tape involved. Frankly, you didn't think you needed a degree for this. You probably don't. You're good- good enough where you flew through the courses above your peers. Lots of people battle without licenses or degrees, because all that matters is if you can knock the other guy down. People paying don't care about that much.

Your instructors warned you this isn't going to be how it works in the real world. If you want official recognition and higher positions in battling career paths, you needed to go for the League, and to do that, you needed paperwork. Be it a degree, a signoff by some kind of mentor, whatever...this was your best option. The college was free to locals and close to home.

Next door, even.

You could do without the convenience during spring break, but at least you weren't paying for dorm space or sleeping outside. Everyone told you outright- you're lucky to have these opportunities. Lucky to be born a type variant, to have such...interesting formative experiences-





None of that matters to you.





All that counts is getting to the top. Anything beyond that is an obstacle.











Your name is Stretch and you are an electabuzz. 
You use it/its pronouns and were born and raised here in Pallet Town.












You are about to pound a grimer into the mats. 









You don't know her- you've never even heard of her. The graduation fight between the top students in all the classes was performative at best, and she had been in an entirely different training track than you. While you had mowed through your side of the bracket, she had done the same- and yet-






Looking at the blue, splotchy heap of goo in front of you, you're not sure what to think.

She looks normal.

Exhausted, but normal.

From the expression she's giving you, she definitely knows who you are. You've seen it before.

????: ...you have to be kidding me.

 

There it is.








She turns back to the instructor, a vileplume you've come to hate.

????: Really?!
FRILLS: Look, I know you don't want to-
????: The- 
FRILLS: Slipper, focus!

 

They give you a death glare as you try to avoid their eyes.

FRILLS: It's not impossible. 
SLIPPER: It's- it's practically-

 

The grimer gestures wildly at you, letting out a frustrated huff.

SLIPPER: Fine.
SLIPPER: Let's. 
SLIPPER: Get this over with...

 

The two of you approach the center of the arena.


On closer inspection, you realize you were wrong- she may look normal, but there's tells. She's some kind of type variant herself, and likely hiding her own secrets. 

She got lucky in some ways. Not as obvious as what you got saddled with. That kind of stealth can get you far.

She holds out a goopy hand, looking up at you with disdain.

SLIPPER: ...do you really have to float like that?
STRETCH: .....


 

Your feet hover an inch off the ground, a fun little perk from...events, years ago. You hadn't been born a flying type, a bog standard electabuzz raised by bog standard parents, up until the day where you were changed. 

You settle for raising your brows at her, hair-like antennae bobbing as you tilt your head.

STRETCH: It's involuntary.
SLIPPER: Right.

 

The two of you shake hands. Type variant for sure, or it'd be stinging by now. She's just as perturbed by the feeling of your own skin, the brief moment spent with eyes locked. 

Neither of you can figure the other out. She's stealthy, you're...obvious, but not in a way that makes any sense. You've deviated severely from "electabuzz", but how? Why? You're pink, for god's sake, you float, and have these weird markings-

You stop musing on your opponent's confusion as a whistle blows.

FRILLS: Cmon, get on with it!
SLIPPER: ....
SLIPPER: May the best mon win. 
STRETCH: Mm.

 

You return to your sides of the field. 




There's quite a crowd today. You're sure you've irritated some of them plenty. People don't exactly root for you for your personality- or perceived lack thereof. Even so, they don't seem to be rooting for Slipper all that much either, the audience devoid of cheering or clapping as your instructor prepares the countdown.

FRILLS: Three!

 

This fight's decorative. Performative. Barely means anything.

FRILLS: Two!


 

But you can't help but feel like it's the first step. 
First step on your journey.

FRILLS: ONE!

 

To the top. 








You circle each other.

You still can't get a read on her visually. 

Grimer. Grimer. Not a poison type, could still have poison moves. No signs of physical alteration that'd indicate what she's working with, either. Frustrating. 

You don't like uncharted territory.

From the worsening grimace on her face, neither does she. 







Despite your training, you had only managed to obtain registration for two moves. Plenty of useful skills like grappling, dodging, tanking things, but those weren't moves. Even the other effects of your encounter with the beyond were too difficult to control and classify within the local database. 

It happened with type variants plenty, sure, but being a bit of a classification mystery beyond the norm frustrated you to no end. You hated begging for anything, let alone bowing to authority period, but to even get these two techniques declared legal for regulation battles took so much more effort than anyone else has to deal with. 

....however, it did come with one very, very important advantage.








You're faster to reach the center of the arena, granting you the first turn. She doesn't see the first TWINEEDLE coming- and how could she? You rush her down, seeing her eyes widen as your hands crackle with blue arcs. An electric attack, surely-!









The energy solidifies, snapping into spike-like shapes on your palms. The first slap lands on the side of her head, the entire sludge mass splattering against it and losing form for a moment.








She manages to reel back just enough to avoid another hard hit, but not hard enough. You land the strike on her shoulder, the impact sending a ripple through her body. 

You lunge back, getting some distance. Observing your opponent.






There's energy rings around her head now, Slipper panting and scratching at them with useless slimy fingers.

SLIPPER: Th-
SLIPPER: The fuck did you-


 

She vomits, the crowd wincing and gagging. You could have charged at her again, but you know the rules. Blow for a blow. Let her struggle, all according to regulations.

You don't answer, your glare fierce. Never give up your strategy. Never.

SLIPPER: Gross little-

 

Her fists clench- she's a sore loser. You'd feel bad for her if not for the look in her eyes, shoulders heaving as she slams the ground-









A massive, impossibly fast chasm opening in the floor beneath you, threatening to take you under, and slam you between both sides, breaking bones and god know what else-









Or, it would, if you hadn't raised a foot into the air effortlessly.

SLIPPER: What the FUCK-
STRETCH: Ah.

 

A fairly standard FISSURE. Usually a threat to just about anyone...

SLIPPER: The hell do you MEAN you're not psychic-
STRETCH: ....
SLIPPER: You're floating, y- you have that energy shit-

 

Her head's clearly swimming, holding it with a wince.

SLIPPER: You're-
SLIPPER: You're PINK!
STRETCH: Mm.

 

The look she gives you is indescribable.








She's not doing too good.









She does even worse when you get another TWINEEDLE in her chest.








And the other on her back, splattering her forward.

She desperately tries to get another hit off with you in close quarters, the move missing so badly that you don't even get a chance to guess.

STRETCH: Missing at point blank.
SLIPPER: F-FUCK, OFF!
STRETCH: Hm.

 

A pulse of energy against her head doesn't seem to phase her- ah, useful. Water or dragon. That'd explain the blue-








Another miss. She takes a needle pulse to the neck and goes down.




You stand over her panting body, the audience actually managing to applaud.

You suppose you underestimated the intrigue of a complete shutdown. Even though you can see that they're disappointed, that they were expecting more- there certainly was a crack in the ground, sealing up as the arena reverted to its original state. A fissure at graduation was certainly new.

You watch as Frills comes in and examines her injuries- Slipper managing to sit up enough to take a pecha vitamin and deep breathe as the energy arcs peter out. 





Her look could kill you.




Sore loser.




No chance at reaching the top.

SLIPPER: This isn't over.
STRETCH: ....

 

She's on the ground, her own sludgey puke off to the side.

STRETCH: It looks like it to me.

 

Your voice is deadpan, a statement of facts. She huffs, voice burbling.

SLIPPER: You'll-
SLIPPER: I'll fight you again!

 

The crowd silences as she points directly at your face.

SLIPPER: I declare rivalry!

 

Well.
That's annoying. 

You were kind of hoping to gain notoriety before ending up in this sort of situation. Having an established rival before even getting a league badge looked...

....amateurish.

STRETCH: I accept.

 

Still, it was a bad look otherwise. Doing it in such a public way, irritating, irritating irritating. It's the first time she's properly managed to get under your skin, doing such a stupid thing. If you didn't accept, you'd be given a reputation you didn't want.




.....





By the looks on peoples' faces, it may be too late for that.




Ugh.





The ceremony itself is negligible. You don't think about too much while having to walk across the stage, and no one claps for you. Your parents were at work, and you already had your things packed to head out immediately. Most of the people here, locals anyway, would return home and have a wonderful dinner with their families to commemorate the event. Maybe even go out for pizza. Very common here.


You had a sandwich in your bag that'd be lukewarm. Good enough. 


You haul your bag over your shoulder, a small but familiar mon trailing after you as you pass through the door.

CRAGGY: Hey! 
CRAGGY: Hey, HEY!

 

You glance down. 





The diglett that stands there is wrapped in his usual bandana poncho, the vague silhouette of hands on his hips.

CRAGGY: Just gonna leave without saying goodbye?!
CRAGGY: That fight was a washout, man!

 

Your antennae pull backwards.

STRETCH: If you didn't pull pranks all the time, it could have been you.
CRAGGY: And get my ass beat by you?
CRAGGY: No thanks!
CRAGGY: Besides, you've probably got a target on your head now.
CRAGGY: Everybody knows you're going for a champ title.
STRETCH: .....

 

There's an awkward silence between the two of you. He's not good at handling you socially, as much as he tries.

CRAGGY: ...still a piece of work, I guess.
CRAGGY: Look, watch out out there.
CRAGGY: If you're not careful, you'll get in over your head.
STRETCH: I'll be fine. 
CRAGGY: ...alright.

 

He mutters something under his breath, starting to walk away.

STRETCH: ....
STRETCH: Hey, Crag.

 

The diglett turns, startled you'd say anything at all.

STRETCH: Good luck next year.
STRETCH: You'll get the license next time.

 

His eyes widen-


-and then soften, genuinely appreciative.

CRAGGY: Who knows, maybe if I don't flunk out, I'll come for you next!
STRETCH: We'll see.





 

....at least you made someone happy today.





The hike up to the community center isn't a problem for you, hovering all the while. It'd been so long since your feet had touched the ground that you don't even think about it much. You've had to explain to people a couple times that you actually couldn't touch the ground without a significant amount of effort, and decided it'd be much easier on your psyche to train yourself into not caring. 

Or, at least try.

It's a standard center, though lacking the built-in drugstore more up-to-date cities feature. Even the healing stations were rather sparse, more a place to do your own first aid than get any help. Self-serve. Yippee. 

You're untouched, though. You're here for a different reason.

As much as you'd like to go it alone on your climb, you're not stupid. You  have a grand total of two moves, and while they help you get the jump on people, they're not very...good. Slipper having a fissure up her sleeve was far more intimidating, and a reminder that nonstandard mons would be likely packing serious firepower. Pallet was considered a nowhere town with little training resources, despite its proximity to the League- but these rural spots didn't get jack shit for funding. No heroes, no champions.

People would probably see you as one. A hometown defender.





As if you had anything to protect here.





You head to the matchmaking room. 

Only one room- pathetic, really. Sometimes people came from the nearby areas to sneer, poke fun at those who have this and nothing else. In a sense, you wish you had made any friends in your courses...or at least had Craggy graduate. He was annoying, sure, but at least he could tolerate you, and vice versa. Would it last under the pressure of league greatness? No, but it'd help on the way.

But no. You had to do your favorite activity in the whole world, now.




Talking. 


To strangers.




Eugh.


It's so easy for the others. They just pair up, gauging each other's skills, maybe showing their moveset registration. You feel more and more self conscious as people flash three, four cards each-






Your two miserable move cards feel like terrible weights in your jacket pocket.





You want to leave.







You want to leave badly.


....to the top. 

You need to-

????: Hey.

 

Someone clicks claws in front of your face, shaking you out of it.

????: Earth to the alien.
STRETCH: ....

 

Your eyes widen.

STRETCH: ....uh-



 

The blue rhyhorn in front of you smirks, all teeth.

She's dressed simply, a tank top, cutout jeans, and...hoop...earrings, hanging through holes drilled into her crest. A messenger bag hangs on her shoulder crests- the telltale sign of someone looking to travel.

.....you try not to let your eyes wander, avoiding directly looking at her further.

????: I saw your fight.
STRETCH: A lot of people did.
????: And I know what you are.

 

Your antennae go back, finally looking back to her.

????: You've met some occult stuff, right?
STRETCH: Uh-
STRETCH: Y. Yeah, actually.
????: Cool. 
????: I'm Eerie.
EERIE: From here on out, we're party members.


 

You blink, too shocked to know what to say.

EERIE: I'm not a battler.
EERIE: But I need a bodyguard to help me get through to a proper contest hall, and you'll do.
EERIE: Besides-
EERIE: I believe we can help each other plenty.


 

EERIE: I've had plenty of experience with the unknown.


 

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The adventures of Stretch and Eerie have begun! The majority of this story will be based on the actual playthrough of Pokemon Blue- however, you, the audience, can influence each section! 



Plushes will also be made of each fully evolved character as we go, or at least to a point that feels correct for the story- just as a fun bonus thing that will let us improve our patterning skills and give funny bonus irl adventures for the cast.

Currently, just Stretch exists- but Frills will be made soon enough! Party members will be prioritized, but everyone loves a good side character.

In next episode: Eerie and Stretch set off for their new League adventure- will Stretch trust its new companion, or be skeptical of her motives...


Suggest how Stretch should feel about this new companion! All answers will be put on a random wheel and spun...this is a randomizer, after all.

Find out next time, on Space Case!

[knux400]

"Just like that, 'we're party members'? I don't even get a chance to say no or negotiate conditions or anything? Kind of rude, if you ask me."