An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
🌟Spectrum Book 1: Onward🌟
✨Chapter 1 | Familiar (Full Text Below Line)✨
Word Count: 2,553
As said previously, I’ll try and post the chapters on both Tumblr and Ao3. On Ao3 the story is restricted to members only as of right now, but I may open it to all as time goes on. I try to update on Ao3 on Wednesdays, and I will post on Tumblr sometime afterwards (I currently have no specified date for Tumblr releases, so times may vary).
Series Note: This series was planned and written in the summer of 2024 based on the context of the Pokémon In-Game Universe at the time. This series includes spoilers for Pokémon games including Black & White, Black & White II, Legends Arceus, and Scarlet & Violet. Any changes to the overarching storyline or characters that occur within any following Pokémon game releases (i.e. Pokémon Legends ZA and beyond) are considered non-canon within the context of this series.
This series was written out of my love for Generation V and wrote as a game plot, but with a few small twists. I wanted to simply try and write my own alternative storyline for a hypothetical Unova Legends game. My attempt at a Legends plotline became a passion project I wanted to share with those who may be interested in such a story. While it is written to have a darker tone due to its inspirations, I try to keep the series at a PG13 rating for fantasy violence. There is no sexual or NSFW content. Pokémon was ultimately made for young viewers, and I wish to carry on a similar openness in my writing.
After around seven years of being dragged along by Fajra, Emmet learned two big don’ts— don’t let Fajra drive and don’t let Fajra handle negotiations solo as people. It wasn't like he did much better when it came to socializing. Most often a discussion would— unintentionally — end with a passive-aggressive remark. His blunt remarks weren’t good for business. Yet it was one thing for Emmet to provoke their clients, it was another for the clients to provoke Fajra.
“You know the drill, just let me do the talkin’ here,” Fajra reminded her partner while her hand rested on the old battered door handle. “No weird greetings, don't point out whatever weird lil’ tattoo or mark you see on the guys’ face, or the ugly picture that's probably his mam or someon’— better yet, how about say nothin’ at all?”
She had shot him a look as if inviting him to protest, but instead he simply replied with a sly smile, “As you wish.”
“Nuh-uh, don’t smile like that. I’m serious, Em. We have an agreement, but you…”
Fajra held up her hand to Emmet’s face as if trying to grasp something with all her might before spitting out, “Keep your inside thoughts inside, that’s all I’m saying.”
That was all well and good— if only Fajra could do the same. Fajra excelled at misdirecting from her motives, but misdirecting her feelings was another. Now as the two stood before the grizzled manager of the dimly lit antique store, Emmet could already see Fajra’s facade slipping away as she tapped her fingers with great annoyance on the countertop. The manager glanced at her every so often as he inspected the items presented, but didn’t break under her pressure.
“I’ll give ya… about a thousand for this one.”
The store manager tapped one of the TMs, only for Fajra to scoff and push Emmet aside from the counter. She slammed both hands on the table as she leered at the manager, “A thousand? Don’ get smart with me, I know you sold this for five thousand last week! At least pretend to play fair. Suppose you’ll say these ones are worth even less now?”
Fajra gestured to the other TMs they managed to collect. They weren’t exactly mint condition. Dusty and scratched, he suspected they hadn’t been touched in many decades.
“We tested these ourselves,” Emmet offered, placing a firm hand on Fajra’s shoulder as if to pull her back. “They still work, if that’s your concern. They may not have the aesthetic appeal, but ultimately it's about their function.”
The manager still had a frown on his face. His eyes seemed to linger around the old store filled with second-hand items. It was a dark and dreary store, as if all the memories that the items once left held haunted the place with a gloomy presence. Emmet noted that his gaze steadied on an only television set placed toward the door.
“Look, I’ll shoot straight with ya,” the manager began at last with a heavy sigh, “One of my other suppliers brought me TMs and it turned out they were stolen from private League property. The authorities came knocking and I'm fortunate they didn't shut my whole business down. Haven’t seen the guy since then. I can give you a little money for the trouble, but unless you can prove these were legally acquired, I’m just going to treat them as damaged goods.”
Before Fajra opened her mouth, Emmet quickly intervened, “Understandable— we’ll need a minute to discuss. Apologies for the delay.”
“It’s a load of Bouffalant crap!” Fajra spat immediately once Emmet pulled her away from the counter. “He’s trying to cheat us out of our items! I’ve seen it before, you can’t possibly think—“
“I can’t take that track with you, Fajra. What if he’s telling the truth? You and I both knowwhere those TMs came from. You know full well if we get caught, we will be in serious trouble. Una and I would be in serious trouble. Take the hush money.”
He knew he screwed up when Fajra’s face became about as red as her flame colored hair. “I am not leaving with a measly thousand. Those blasted discs took too long to get to have such little reward! We need the money to fix that stupid handcar we busted just getting the loot here!”
“You busted the handcar. I’m a lot of things, but I’m at least a good driver.”
The front door jingled as someone entered the store, and both Emmet and Fajra immediately fell quiet. A young man and woman strided inside and their own eyes landed on the two other customers before heading to the counter. Their clothes were relatively ordinary of the scrawny Pokémon trainers in the area, although he noted that each wore a gold band around one of their ankles. Emmet tipped his head a little farther down over his face while Fajra shot a nasty glare back at the newcomers before whispering underneath her breath, “Great, just what we needed, an audience.”
The store manager pushed aside the TMs and other trinkets Fajra provided while greeting the couple with a weary smile. “Ah, come to collect your purchase, I see? I’ve been holding it for some time—“
“Yes, yes,” the man began with a wave of his hand. “We appreciate you holding onto it. Mr. Stotle would’ve come to take it himself, but he couldn’t find the time.”
Something bumped against Emmet’s leg, and upon peering down he found Liepard brushing up beside him. Liepard often wandered around the establishment while Emmet and Fajra conducted business, watching for any signs of a threat. Her glowing eyes were now fixed on the woman, who immediately turned her stare away upon Liepard’s appearance. A light growl began to vibrate from the Pokémon’s throat.
“Fajra, I don't think you can win this,” Emmet whispered while placing a hand on Liepard’s head. “We’ll find another buyer, please—”
His voice was drowned as the store manager pulled out a small box and opened it for the couple while saying skeptically, “Here you are! Hopefully this will be sufficient for Mr. Sto—“
“It’s perfectly fine, sir,” the man interrupted as the manager hurriedly closed the box and pushed it under the counter. He was not fast enough, for Emmet caught a glimpse of a polished, spherical stone the color of obsidian. He managed to see the three indents pressed in the shape of a triangle before the box clamped shut.
He couldn’t quite explain what happened next. His heart began to hammer against his chest at the sight of it. His surroundings became blurred, but his eyes could only focus on the stone. A numbing sensation of white noise engulfed his ears, leaving a ringing echoing to his very soul. Something stirred within him, dislodging images that had long since passed and buried. One stood out among the rest— a man adorning a black coat so similar to his own, his back facing Emmet. It wasn’t until the man turned that Emmet felt an ice pick stick through his heart.
The man had his face.
Before he could even begin to comprehend the sight, it was as if the world zoomed in beyond the man in black, revealing nothing but void— lonely and abyssal. Yet from the darkness shone two red lights, slowly dimming before a flash of electric blue light burst like a dying star.
“Em!”
A punch to the arm swiftly broke through his thoughts, causing him to recoil and jerk his hand to the spot Fajra hit. While Fajra still had her eyes narrowed in frustration, her lips formed a frown he had not seen in awhile.
“You… you alrigh?” Fajra asked, the usual sharp edge in her voice dulled. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you sick or… somethin’?”
His heart beat rapidly against his chest before turning swiftly to Fajra and whispering, “What I’m about to ask you is a one time occurrence. No questions asked— not until afterwards.”
Fajra’s eyes widened, but her disapproving frown churned upward into a sly smile. “Consider my interest piqued.”
“I want to initiate Protocol Thirty-Eight.”
Any frustration Fajra had with her partner seemed to vanish, replaced with an unnatural grittiness. Her smile broadened as told Emmet with a slight flick of his shoulder, “Protocol thirty-eight? The Protocol Thirty-Eight? Does this, perhaps, mean that you’ve changed your mind about… unlawful acquisition?”
“No, but—“
“Never mind— you can spill the deets later. Let’s get the wheels moving.”
Fajra didn't miss a beat as she strolled back to the counter, a disapproving scowl reappearing on her face as she laid eyes on the manager. The pair with the stone had opened up a case to hold the box securely when Fajra spoke loudly, “You know what? Fine. We won't be doing business with you today. We’ll take our goods elsewhere. It's about time, really— you hike up your prices just so you can get rid of the crappy rip-offs for some sort of profit.”
She then turned to the woman and remarked snidely, “Might want to rethink shopping here. The guy will do anything to make a quick buck.”
The manager’s face grew red at Fajra’s words, giving the other customers a quick glance before remarking hurriedly, “Ma’am, I know you're frustrated and I hear ya, but—”
Fajra had already done her part. The seeds of doubt sank into their targets as the woman glanced down at the box within the case. Her partner didn’t seem as convinced by Fajra’s claims, but merely stopped to watch the spectacle.
Emmet made a quick gesture to Liepard with his hands, signing to her in motions that only she would understand. Liepard gave a curt nod before brushing past her trainer and dipping behind the counter while the owner was distracted.
Seizing his chance, Emmet moved to the side of the other customers and remarked in a cheery air, “She is right— best be careful what you get from the Thievul’s hole.”
He leaned in a little closer to the man and continued in a low voice, “Ever think where he gets these items? Just last week one of his sellers was arrested for selling League property. I would be verrrry cautious with your purchase.”
His eyes met with the man’s, and he seemed to falter under Emmet’s knowing smile. He could almost see the gears in his head turning while his gaze narrowed suspiciously. It didn't last as the manager slammed his hands on the counter and retorted with frustration. “That’s enough! Get out of my shop before I call security! And don't bother coming back here, you scavengers!”
Neither of them needed to be told a second time. Fajra exchanged a dirty look with the manager as she threw her arms around their items before storming to the door with an obnoxious whip of her fiery orange hair. Emmet waited for Liepard to slink back into view, brushing against his side with a low purr.
The manager’s apologies were cut off as the door swung shut behind the two. Neither looked back as they were greeted by the streets of New Straiton City. There was no dark corner as the streets were ambushed with light from every screen, window, and billboard. It was late in the afternoon, and now the streets were swarming with men and women returning from work.
“Sooo, don’ hold out on me,” Fajra began as Emmet withdrew the small withered box from his coat pocket. “What is it that made you throw away seven years worth of integrity?”
Emmet glanced around to make sure none of the passer-by or the kiosks’s Minccino mascot was within listening range, he opened it enough for Fajra to peer inside. The obsidian sphere that lay within proved true to Liepard’s skills at thievery. His heart began to pound faster at the sight of it and his hand shook as he took a hand and pressed his finger to one of the indents. He didn't have the same visions as before, but his body trembled now that he was so close.
“This better be some rock because if we just lost revenue for a cheap— Em?”
Fajra’s criticism faltered as she noticed his shaking hand. She snatched his hand away from the rock, and without warning, jerked his glove off. Her eyes widened at the touch.
“You really are sick, aren't you?” She questioned, but her voice turned soft and concerned. “How long have you felt off? My gosh, what if this is radioactive—”
“Get back!” Emmet snapped as Fajra reached out to take the box away. She immediately recoiled, but a new expression replaced her concern. He had never seen her look at him with such fear. Even Liepard backed up, pushing against Fajra as if trying to shield her from him. Even now, the trembling ceased as soon as she clamped the box shut. All his symptoms, even his rage, had snapped away like the stone from his sight.
Emmet stepped back, still gripping the box in his hand as if it were his lifeline.
“I… am sorry,” he spoke earnestly. “I don't… I don't know why I did that. I don't know how to explain it…”
Fajra didn't speak. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she took a step closer to Emmet. “Em, did you remember something?”
The question hadn’t been asked in years. Life had simply gone on, but now that his friend watched him with worry, he realized he had returned to the horrible darkness he had found himself in years before. Only this time, he had something to lose.
“This may sound silly,” he admitted truthfully. “But… I know this stone. When I'm around it, I realize there has been something missing. A part of me that's gone… and with this stone, it’s in reach, but I can't…”
His words faltered as Fajra reached to take his hand again. She kept him in between hers and told him with a small, but truly genuine smile, “You, my friend, are silly… but just because you're silly doesn't mean your feelings are too. Your situation is odd, and I understand that.”
He looked back at Fajra. “Thank you… I just can’t let him be separated from me again.”
Him. Even Emmet couldn't quite understand why he chose to include that one simple word. Fajra’s eyebrow raised skeptically at the inclusion of the pronoun. It didn't seem to matter though as she pried her gaze from his to glance around at their surroundings. It was getting busier, and based on the overhead announcements flooding the street, a celebration was about to take place.
“We can talk more later,” Fajra insisted, now pushing his hand back to his side. “Better to talk this out in a place that lacks a lotta ears. If you won't let me take the box, at least don’t open it again… for now. Whatever the rock is, your body is reacting to it, and I'm not ruling out radiation.”
She paused. “Do you need to go back to the handcar right away or—”
“No,” he replied promptly as he stuffed the box back in his pocket. “I’ll be fine. But I… I can acquire Una while you go on ahead. Where did you leave her again?”
