This will be my first Pokéfic, involving Ame Wyxm, my main PRP character. The title is a bit self-explanatory... this fic will involve gruesome bits. You have been warned. That said, let it begin! Chapter One: Misfits A wizened man looked at his notes, a concerned look spreading over his face as he gripped the clipboard gently. He sighed, ruffling his greying hair slightly as he lowered the clipboard to look at the shelf behind him. His dark eyes peered specifically at one shelf unlike the others, no faces plastered to the glass indicating who owned the strange looking spheres within. The shelf he was looking at was organized very specifically, all of the spheres on this shelf being red and white, which seemed to be the most common type when looking at the other shelves. Professor Samuel Oak was a well known researcher of strange creatures called PokéMon – short for Pocket Monsters – that each had their own special abilities. The world that he lived in revolved around these creatures and the friendships they made with people, as well as testing the strengths of the creatures against others in battle. Those that had PokéMon and competed with them were normally known as PokéMon Trainers, though other jobs could be pursued. That was how Oak had gotten to the position he was in today, studying PokéMon to his hearts content. However, studying PokéMon was not his only job in this region of the world – named Kanto. Trainers often competed in something called the PokéMon League, a spectacle that was considered a great honour and privilege to be a part of. It was his job as a Professor to start people off on their PokéMon journey, so that they might be able to take part in whatever endeavors they wanted to in this thrilling but dangerous world. Today, however, he was not thrilled with the particular line-up of PokéMon that had been set out for him to give to prospective trainers. Every time this happened, he was only allowed to give out three at a time for trainers to choose from themselves on a first-come-first-serve basis. It was always an intriguing endeavor to see which PokéMon would be chosen, but there was always a glaring flaw in the system. If a trainer wanted a specific PokéMon, sometimes they would not settle for any less than what they wanted and leave to come back whenever he would hand out PokéMon next. It was for this reason that when he looked at the spheres that held the creatures in question that he knew there would be that sort of problem again, if not more so. The PokéMon at the top of the queue were the same three as always – a Grass type, a Water type and a Fire type. The PokéBalls were coloured accordingly to type on the center, but the orange-centered one had a star on it, drawn there in permanent black marker by Oak himself to indicate something special about it. The tell-tale sign of his lab door swishing open met his ears, his face instantly morphing to his smile of greeting to whomever was visiting. The child before him, no more than ten years of age, looked up to him with a haughty glare of confidence. The boy was one of the ones scheduled to look at the PokéMon today in hopes of starting his journey. Sometimes I wish they wouldn’t start so young, thought Oak to himself, as he dared not share his opinion out loud. “I've come to get my PokéMon!” confirmed the boy, his tone of voice usually reserved for people who felt that they were entitled to everything. Inwardly, Oak flinched at the boy's demeanour, but nonetheless he turned towards the shelf of PokéBalls again, pressing a button to let the ones on top rotate beyond sight so that the ones next in queue would be at the top for next time. “You are the first to visit,” said Oak in a quirky but analytical voice, “So you get the full choice of three.” He walked over to a pedestal and pressed another button, the inside of it flipping to reveal the three PokéBalls that had just previously been on the shelf. He picked up each one individually, pushing the green-centered one first to reveal the Grass type. “Bulbasaur,” he said, as the PokéBall opened with a flash of white light. The light descended to the floor and formed a peculiar shape, which in turn revealed a strange creature when the light cleared. A quadruped that somewhat resembled a young dinosaur with a spotted blue-green hide appeared, with an onion-like green bulb on its back. It's red eyes stared up at the trainer with intensity and curiosity, small fangs slipping just past its maw in a grin. “Squirtle,” said Oak again, pressing the blue-centered ball. This time it was a light blue turtle creature, its most notable feature being the hard shell on its back. Its tail resembled a squirrels tail, perhaps being the reason behind its name other than the fact that PokéMon were named after the only things they could actually say. Its own red eyes peered at the trainer, before looking away with a huff. Oak picked up the last PokéBall, pressing its center and bracing himself for - “What is wrong with that Charmander?” said the boy in his spoiled tones, “Its supposed to be orange!” The PokéMon in question was not orange, but in fact a yellowish color that seemed to glisten under the lab lights. This bipedal salamander with some dinosaur and reptilian qualities had four small fangs visible, two each on its upper and lower jaws. It had a cream belly and visible cream coloration on the soles of its feet when it walked around. Its most notable feature was the flame burning on the tip of its tail, a similar yellowish hue to the PokéMon in question. “I thought you might ask that,” said Oak worriedly. “You see, this particular Charmander is special-” “It looks weak,” spat the boy. “I want the Bulbasaur.” Oak's usual smile faded slightly, his lips pursing together in his stern glare before he gave the PokéBall meant for Bulbasaur to the boy. He turned back to another table beside the pedestal where he pressed more buttons, the top of the table sinking and then popping back up from the darkness with some more items. He picked them up wordlessly and held them out from his body. He handed the boy a strange red device with black markings that looked like it could flip open. This was known as a PokéDex, a personal device designed to give information about PokéMon and anything PokéMon-related. The other item was a belt with five PokéBalls on it, at present miniature and empty in order for the boy to be able to catch up to the limit of PokéMon a trainer could have at one point in time, which was six. The boy snatched his things from the Professor and called for the Bulbasaur to follow him, and the creature obediently trotted off behind the boy out of the laboratory. Oak sighed in relief, but also in concern as he looked to the remaining PokéMon. The Squirtle seemed unfazed, but the Charmander seemed to have taken an emotional blow from being called 'weak', which was perhaps the greatest verbal insult a PokéMon ever received. Almost the entire day went on the same, with people simply walking out when they saw the abnormal Charmander. A girl did come in and adopt the Squirtle, who delighted in being called 'cute' by the girl in question. Whilst leaving, the Squirtle stuck is tongue out the Charmander, who became all the more disheartened from being rejected. It looked almost like it wouldn't be adopted that day. The lab door swished open, the only person left on his list today stepping forward. The young girl in question had a neutral expression on her face, but still with hints of curiosity and excitement. Brown hair flowed around her pale face, light green eyes peering through a pair of glasses straight at the professor. He knew her name to be Ame, (ah-may) the daughter of Mister and Misses Wyxm (wick-sum), a relatively wealthy family of the Kanto region. “I'm here to see what you have left,” she said in almost wistful tones. She would have known if he didn't have any left for the day, as he put a sign up when the PokéMon that he gave out each time was spoken for. Her family had lived here for quite a while, but the word was that Ame stayed at home with PokéMon most of the time whilst her parents attended to their wealthy lifestyle. It was no surprise that she seemed quiet, if not distant from people in general as she had no friends or siblings to speak of. “I do have the one,” he said, motioning towards the lizard that hesitantly looked out from behind his leg now. “I'm sure you're wondering why he looks different from most Charmander.” He expected her to walk out like all the other trainers, but she surprised him by giving a small nod, looking genuinely curious to learn more about this PokéMon. “You see,” he began, “In my research I have found an interesting phenomenon. Sometimes PokéMon are born with a rare gene that causes a different coloration to occur. Sometimes it is very subtle, whilst other times it is... obvious.” He looked at the small Charmander, which was visibly shaking now, its blue eyes looking at Ame with a semblance of fear, but of curiosity as well. Then the girl smiled a soft smile, something glimmering in her eyes. “I guess we're both misfits,” she remarked in a soft voice, looking at the Charmander with an almost understanding gaze. “I'll take him.” It took a moment for that to actually register with Oak, because he had actually expected her to walk off like the others. When her words finally clicked, he smiled then, handing her the PokéBall marked with the orange center before handing her the PokéDex – which was green instead of red because her parents had requested it – and five empty PokéBalls. He looked to the Charmander then, and was met with a bewildered stare. All of that rejection and he was actually picked? It was a shock not only to the PokéMon but to the Professor as well. The girl then did something else unexpected, dropping to her knees to be of more equal height to the small yellow lizard. The Charmander rose out of his shock to look at the girl who was to be his trainer, looking to her now outstretched hands with a treat in them. Cautiously, the PokéMon stepped forward and took the treat, chewing it slightly before devouring it enthusiastically. He obviously thought it was delicious, because afterwards he was all smiles. He looked at the girl again, seemed to nod to himself slightly before outstretching a hand of his own. Ame seemed to understand the gesture and shook the PokéMon's hand, a sign of greeting and friendship. “Thank you, Professor,” she said to Oak, who heard the words scarcely from beginning trainers. He smiled and shook his head slightly, looking to Ame as she stood from her place on the lab floor. “No, thank you,” he said in reply. “It is always heartwarming to see trainers who are willing to look past the physical and bond with their PokéMon. I wish you good luck on your journey. Do be careful though... it is a rough world out there, despite what you might have heard.” “Thank you, Professor,” she said. “I'll keep that in mind.” With that said, she left the laboratory with the Charmander in tow, ready to start her journey.