Pokemon, Asylum of the Damned Style!

[Mewfour]

Now before I tell you a story, let me tell you a story.

Just now I was backing up all my files when I noticed a significant chunk of my old fic archives either missing or incomplete. Naturally, the first fic I immediately rushed to re-curate was the first and largest I had ever written- Pokemon, Asylum of the Damned Style!. To my surprise, however, the PADS! in TPM's completed fiction archive was also incomplete- wether due to a forum bug or post limits, some chapters were missing. Initially I thought of just posting it all here right now and asking a mod to archive it.

But then I thought, eff that.

Slowly but surely I'm overcoming my crippling addiction to TF2- Those that think that WoW is addictive have never been on a five year TF2 binge. First there was new unlockables, and then I discovered custom map-making, and then it was OH GOD WHY CANT I STOP from there. Digging up my old sketchbooks and planners, I'm starting to get back into the groove again. So I figured, PADS! needs a reposting, I need to re-introduce myself to a new TPM generation, why not re-create the magic* that was my earliest fanfic endeavor here? One day at a time, I'll be reposting the entire sh'bang chapter by chapter.

Ready? Sure you are! Here we go!

********************
Pokemon: Asylum of the Damned Style!

Darkbadge Saga

Chapter I: Cybernetic, in the Flesh
********************

It was a hot day. All the Grass Pokemon had migrated over to the area where our hero walked, in order to get the most out of the burning sun. Tom looked over the vast, open field, in search of a particularly weak Pokemon. He knew full well that a Pokeball could not capture a strong one, without weakening it.

Tom was about five-foot-nine, fairly tanned golden complexion. He was wearing a long beige trench coat with ordinary blue jeans. He had short black hair and an almost perfectly shaped nose and his brown eyes matched his dark hair equally as perfect.

A week ago, just after Tom turned sixteen, a friend of his retired as a Pokemon Trainer. He had given all his Pokemon away, but kept a few empty Pokeballs for nostalgic reasons. Just yesterday, he gave them to Tom. Tom quit school like most young trainers to make money and a living off of Pokemon Training.

But this goal seemed so far away for Tom. He had neither one single Pokemon, nor any badges at that. Everyone knew you needed at least eight of those badges to compete in the annual Pokemon League, the winner to take on the four top Elite trainers for that area. Then the winners, assuming there were any, would compete against one another to determine the number one contender for the Pokemaster title. The runners-up would take the place of the formerly strongest of their Elite Four, and the weakest of their Elite Four would be bumped out. The undisputed winner would face the current Pokemaster, and a new champion could be decided.

Everyone knew the name of the current Pokemaster, but not any of his Pokemon.

Popular rumor had it, that some of the current Pokemaster's Pokemon were a Dragonite, Murkrow, Ampharos, and a Charizard. But surely, to be a true Pokemaster, one had to have much more different Pokemon. And since the puzzling evidence of the 251st Pokemon had been confirmed, The League champion was sure to have over 100. But Tom could have cared less about that now. Now, Tom was worrying about getting his first Pokemon.

Tom continued over the flat terrain, over route 46. So far, he had seen a Rattata, Pidgey, and an Oddish; but they were all too strong to capture without a fight. Tom was looking depressed. "How can I possibly get a new Pokemon without weakening it?" he asked himself. "I can't fight it myself, otherwise it would never trust me. How can I possibly-"

His thoughts were cut short as the ground came up and met his face. "Ow," he groaned, climbing to his knee and rubbing his face. "What was that?"

Just then, he noticed a grayish-blue rock on the edge of the foliage on the trail that he had tripped on, except it was too sharp-edged to be a rock. In fact, it was almost like a box. Tom went over to look at it more closely, and it was suddenly pulled away into the shrub. "I wonder what that could've been?" he asked himself, pulling out his Pokedex, pointing it into to the shrub.

"No Pokemon detected," the Pokedex said blankly.

"Well, it's gotta' be some Pokemon," he muttered as he climbed into the bushes.

The foliage was even denser here. Twigs snapped beneath Tom's feet as he made his way through the shrub. Just then, he heard a sharp wail. He looked down and he saw a Weedle, his tail lodged underneath the sole of his boot.

"Weedle, the Hairy Bug Pokemon," Tom's Pokedex said. "It uses its sharp, venomous stinger on its head as a weapon against aggressors. It will also spit out a sticky substance on opponents when threatened."

Tom moved his foot off the Weedle and crouched down to it. "Hey, I'm sorry little guy," Tom said soothingly, slowly stepping off of the Weedle's tail, moving to stroke the injured Pokemon. Suddenly, the Weedle faced him and spat out a thick, sticky liquid between Tom's eyes, driving a yelp of surprise from Tom. The Weedle then scurried away into the bushes as quickly as he could. "Wait! Don't go!" Tom called as he went after the Weedle, wiping the String Shot off his face.

After about a minute, he saw the Weedle again, standing in plain sight back on the trail. Tom moved toward it slowly. "Hey, about your tail," Tom said softly in a reassuring voice. Tom went to touch the bug Pokemon when a large, bee-like Pokemon suddenly landed forcefully between them. Startled, Tom backed away and aimed his Pokedex at the creature.

"Beedrill, the Poison Bee Pokemon. The Evolved form of Weedle, following its Kakuna stage. It will attack anyone entering its territory, or anyone it thinks that is threatening it's young, with it's venomous stinger and sharp appendages on it's forelegs. It can also be very aggressive. Approach with caution."

A cold sweat ran down Tom's face. Tom had heard stories about Beedrill swarms attacking towns, due to their rapidly expanding numbers, in need for new territory. The Beedrill hovered in his face, ready to strike any moment. "N- n-ice Beedrill. Good B-Beedrill..." Tom weakly stammered, backing away slowly. "I really didn't mean to step on the Weedle's tail," Tom murmured in futility, knowing that the Beedrill was not listening. Tom's brain was too fozen in terror to think of running. The Beedrill pulled back her harm, ready to jab Tom with her razor sharp needle arm. Tom squeezed his eyes shut and braced, expecting to be skewered by the needle at any moment.

A second went by. Then two seconds. Three. No sting.

Tom opened his eyes, and found that another Pokemon had stopped the Beedrill's Fury Attack. It was a light-red Pokemon, almost a shade of pink, with flat surfaces for its body, as if it were a machine. Then Tom looked down at its feet, and gasped. It was the same grayish-blue rock he tripped over. Then, the mystery Pokemon lunged at the Beedrill, knocking her down with a Tackle attack. The defeated and disgraced Beedrill scooped up her young Weedle in her needles and flew off.

Tom, controlling his paniced breathing, wearily got to his knee and looked at the Pokemon, It turned around to Tom and said, "Pory-gon" in a blank synthesized voice. Tom aimed his Pokedex at the creature.

"Porygon, the Virtual Pokemon," Tom's Pokedex said. "Its body is made up entirely of super computer code. It is free to download or upload itself into almost any machine or electronic device. Its voice processor program can speak any language."

"Porygon?" Tom asked the Pokemon, "You're a Porygon?"

"Pory-gon num-ber 0-2-7-2-1 ver-sio-n 7 poi-nt 4. In oth-er wor-ds, I was the two thous-and-th, se-ven hun-dre-th, twe-nty fir-st Pory-gon pro-duce-d."

Tom walked over to the Porygon. "Thanks for helping me, Porygon," Tom said, thankful for Porygon's thouhgtful intervention.

"Than-k you. I was cre-ated to as-sist my cre-at-ors, you hu-man-s." The Porygon blankly spat out.

Tom looked down on Porygon's forehead. There was still dents from the Beedrill's needles embedded on it, and of course there was his scuffed foot which Tom tripped over. "You look pretty damaged, Porygon. Let me take you to the Pokemon center in Halla town, just up ahead? It's the least I can do for you."

The Porygon nodded. "Than-k you."

******************
The Asylum's note:

It starts.....

-The Asylum(Mewfour)
**********

Yeah I know, "oh god it's another trainer fic, spare me." Well it took me four years, 72 chapters, and over 100,000 words but I actually completed this- which is more than I can say for the rest in the pile. Seriously, I bet you'd only need one hand to count the number of finished trainer fics ever.

*DISCLAIMER: Hereto mentioned "magic" will not include the months-long abandonment and/or epic flamewars with the mod staff. Seriously, you new kids have no idea what you missed.