Disclaimer: Pocket Monsters "Pokemon" created by Satoshi Tajiri and is published and owned by Nintendo.

Author's Note: Yo! This is my very first attempt at a Pokemon Fanfic. I've always had an idea for a story swirling around in my head but I was reluctant to go ahead with it due to the fact that while Pokemon is incredibly awesome, it was made for ages ten and up. This story is very dark although it does start out with somewhat of the normal made for kids Pokemon feel. As the story progresses, it will become a lot more gritty and reality based than what people are used to. I decided to go ahead with this story because I have read a few M rated works about Pokemon and the authors weren't hunted down and killed for putting a dark twist on the loveable monsters. So hopefully my take will be liked and my story enjoyed. As I stated in the summary I have canon events and characters scattered throughout the story from the games and anime, however, they won't follow a set stream of events. Sometimes (most of the time) they will be combined with bits and pieces of both the games and anime, starting right from the beginning of generation one, Red and Blue (or Green in Japan). Well here goes. Hope you all enjoy and review.



A Drakoneasho Studios Production

Written by: Gune

POKEMON

Lost Dreams

Prologue



ENTRY ONE

Personal Journal: Glenn Sommers



Entry one: Reasoning

March 3rd, 1996



Hello. First off if you're reading this journal without my permission, fuck you. If I said it's ok then cool. Hope I write something worth reading.

Guess I should start off with a reason as to why I'm writing this. I don't know. People need reasons for everything. They need to discern the reasoning behind every little occurrence. Well the truth is...I don't know why I'm writing this. I guess because I'm bored or maybe I just need something to do. Something to focus on other than the utter chaos I've just thrown myself into. My life has never been anything special. I mean sure my parents are loaded, that is to say my father's loaded. My step mom never really made any money of her own, she's just upgraded from dating money to marrying money. My dad pretty much buys her anything she wants.



I guess she's loaded too.

Carol isn't a bad person. Just think of it this way; whoever came up with the materialistic gold-digging stereotype for women used my stepmother as an inspiration.

Anyway back to the point. Today I just ran away from home. I know it was nothing original but I don't care. I stole all the money out of my dad's wallet, which was a little upwards of two thousand dollars, and took off. For some reason, while I was in the store I decided to grab this journal and now I just decided to start jotting down my thoughts. I figure my life is gonna get pretty interesting now that I'm on my own.

I couldn't deal with my dad anymore. He kept trying to groom me to be some super elite rich kid. This morning he told me he was sending me away to some stupid private school halfway across the country so I can get the best education. For some reason, he thinks that just because it's his dream for me to one day fill his shoes at Silph Co. and become the next big designer there, somehow that's my dream too.

It's not by the way.

I ran into an interesting bunch of guys the other day. Said they were heading out to Viridian City to join up with this new group that supposedly is offering a range of odd jobs to anyone willing to take them on. Even kids. I figure the money I got from my dad is more than enough to keep me fed until I can get down there. Still...this is probably going to be one hell of a journey. First off I'm gonna have to figure out how I'm going to make it across the country.

Pocket Monsters are dangerous.

If you don't believe me then you're friggin retarded. What? You think the trained and domesticated Pocket Monsters are the only ones in the world? Those animals came from the wild where they were once feral and out to eat anything living that crossed their paths. Your mom and dad didn't tell you not to go playing out in the woods by yourself for nothing. Oh and if we have met or if we do eventually meet don't ask me why I call Pokemon, Pocket Monsters. I mean think about it. People catch these mythical monsters and store them inside pocket sized devices.

It just sounds better.

Anyway...I guess I should get going. Hanging around outside a bakery all day isn't going to get me any closer to Viridian City.

I'll be heading north along route five towards Cerulean City. But first I should probably go say goodbye to Sabrina. Weird is an understatement when it comes to her but she has always been nice to me. For some reason she's been the only one to ever actually listen to me when I discussed my grievances with life rather than writing me off as some spoiled rich kid who doesn't know how good he has it. No. Sabrina has always understood that money doesn't have to be the main focus of life and has always been there for me when I needed to vent my frustrations. For that she deserves a lot more than my gratitude. Her ability to see past the materialistic outlook on life most people have adapted to in this city is more than enough reason for me to pay her one last visit.

Her being extremely cute doesn't hurt either.

I just hope she doesn't decide to make me perform ballet for all of her trainers again. Those psychic powers of hers are brutal. I'm not saying I didn't deserve the joke...I mean I did try and sneak a peek of her in her changing room near the back of her gym but what do you expect from a twelve year old boy fascinated by the female form?

The extremely cute female form that is.

Maybe if she didn't wear such tight jeans...and tight shirts...and tight spandex outfits...whoa this is turning into one of those romance novels now instead of my personal journal. Can't help it though. I said to myself, Glenn, whenever you write in this journal you're going to write down anything and everything that comes to mind as if you were recording your thoughts down on a tape...or something.

Anyway it's getting on three o'clock so I better get moving. The gym shuts down around five or six everyday and I'm about an hour and a half away from it standing in front of this stupid bakery that's somehow out of chocolate chip cookies.

Seriously how can a bakery be out of chocolate chip cookies?

Well...to whom it may concern this is the start of my adventure. I suppose I'm going to have to get myself a Pocket Monster if I want to have any chance of making it all the way to Viridian from Saffron but I don't know how I'm going to do it. Citizens aren't allowed to purchase Pocket Monster goods without a trainer license. Sure it's easy to acquire one, just go online and apply for one with Professor Oak's lab in Pallet Town. After that you can either go to the local Pocket Monster Center after choosing from a list of starter Pocket Monsters offered and collect it via transfer, or use a Pocket Monster you acquired through other means such as buying one or having one given to you by a friend or family member.

It is illegal to own a Pocket Monster without some kind of license. Be it a trainer license, a breeder license, or even a police trainer license. It would be pretty simple to get one. I could even hold off on my adventure for a few weeks after being put on the waiting list to receive a starter Pocket Monster. However, there is one small snag with that plan.

All citizens under the age of eighteen have to have written consent from a parent or legal guardian, verified on the online form sent to Pallet Town, before they are given a license.

That kind of throws a wrench in my plans for getting some protection on my journey. To be perfectly honest though I don't mind the red tape. Pocket Monsters don't have that much appeal in my personal opinion. I could never really understand what everyone's fascination with the creatures was. I mean they kill people. They're pretty much the monsters in the stories parents tell their little ten year old kids. They're the things that go bump in the night.

Don't get me wrong. I understand the need to capture and train them to obey us humans. The best defense against a Pocket Monster is another Pocket Monster. However, the thousands of frenzied kids that run off into forests and caves hoping to claim these beasts as their own only to be ripped to shreds have serious issues.

I suppose now you're wondering how some twelve year old kid sounds a bit wiser than his years. Well I did tell you my parents are loaded right? I have been getting the best education in the largest most technologically advanced city in all of Kanto. Not to mention my dad is a scientific genius.

Duh.

I guess it doesn't hurt that I supposedly have an old soul. That's what Sabrina tells me anyway. Speaking of Sabrina...I should probably get moving. I mean it's getting late and she isn't going to ogle herself.

I don't know why I decided to start this story of my adventure with an introduction and random thoughts. I'm well aware of the fact that journals are used to write down what people have done, not what they are about to do but I don't know. I figure it's my journal and I can write down whatever the hell I want. Oh well whatever. I'll make sure the next few entries are recounts of what happened to me and not what's about to happen to me.

Well to whoever is reading this wish me luck with this whole starting a new life thing. Yeah...ok I guess that was kind of a stupid request. If you're reading this then pretty much everything in here has already happened. Well wish me luck anyway damnit. Maybe your thoughts will vibe backwards on the winds of time and grant me good fortune before I write this.

Oh and definitely wish me luck with Sabrina. Maybe I can get a goodbye kiss from her before I leave town. Yeah, yeah I know she's nine years older than me but so what?

A guy can dream can't he?

Sinnoh Region, Twinleaf Town: May 5th, 2090

Its cover was a deep burgundy, adorned with golden letters stitched into the thick fabric that read, Personal Journal. Below the mass produced design of golden letters the name Glenn Sommers was stitched into the journal cover. The owner's name, once a bright green, was now a dim emerald darkened and dirtied by the sands of time. A leather strap with a golden buckle used to keep the journal closed by clipping onto a small latch, hung loosely to the side.

A pale masculine hand with dirt stained fingernails slid from the cover of the journal onto a small table. It had been too long, nearly four days since the young man reading the journal had managed to acquire any means of sustenance other than the waning supply of water he kept stacked in bottles inside a small cabinet on the back right wall of his home. His short black hair brushed against his forehead as his gaze rose from the journal to a small filthy window near the front door of his home.

Slowly, the man stood and dust sprinkled down from the white unbuttoned short sleeve shirt he wore over a plain white t-shirt. A colorful design of blue stripes decorated the white fabric of the button down shirt. However, after years of neglect and no means of routine washing, dirt and grime distorted the decoration leaving nothing but a black and brown colored sight of filth. The once deep aqua blue colored jeans the man wore now suffered the same fate as his shirt. With several tears exposing pale knees and ankles, the faded garment was now a bright sky blue covered in dark brown mud and dust.

A loud creak echoed along the strong winds outside the man's home as he pushed open his front door. Long ago the display of carnage and hopelessness that lay before the man was once a peaceful spring of hope amidst a sea of adventure that was once Sinnoh. At least that's what his parents had told him, before the end of civilization. Before whatever evil that caused the destruction of all hope gripped the world.

During that time, when everything was falling apart, thousands of people, perhaps millions came up with many different theories and explanations as to why things went so very, very wrong. Several books were published about the war. Hundreds of studies were conducted on Pokemon, wild and domesticated. People wanted to know why the beasts that were once thought of as the guardians and companions of mankind suddenly decided to turn on their masters. People wanted to know why one culture and population of humans suddenly saw another culture and population as the enemy. Everyone wanted to know why. Everyone wanted a reason.

No one was concerned with stopping it.

Now instead of the calm cool breeze that once caressed the backs of would be Pokemon Masters just starting out on their journeys near the edge of Twinleaf, a hot, dry wind evaporated the sparkling curios eyes of the young. Instead of a cool refreshing pond full of laughing children and Pokemon, a near dried out poisonous pit of death steamed near the south edge of town. No longer did rows of welcoming homes with white picket fences line the streets of Twinleaf. Crumbling broken down and abandoned piles of ruble were mostly all that remained.

Governments had fallen. Borders no longer existed. There were no postal services. Schools and libraries were shut down and destroyed. Grocery stores and Pokemarts were raided decades ago.

At first, survival was a universal constant. Now, conquest and control has once again infected the hearts of humans. Even now as the ravenous beings known as Pokemon stalk the lands in search of human prey, humans themselves seek to control what is left of the dying land. Warriors and criminals fierce enough still manage to tame the wild beasts that wield mythical powers. Warriors that if only joined together could bring humanity back from the brink of extinction.

Instead they choose to recruit followers to their ever growing syndicates of crime and monarchical rule.

During the fall of mankind, there was one individual that instead of being obsessed with why the world was ending, attempted to stop it. Only bits and pieces of this individual's existence were ever recorded in official records. Yet still, his influence nearly saved mankind from its inevitable downfall. Now nearly one hundred years since his birth there have been some who have sought to study the life of the man that nearly saved civilization.

There have been those who sought to study how he failed.

Many once believed that studying the past might bring about a hopeful future. Many once believed that given the unique experiences of the individual that perhaps some could take up his failed quest at healing the world.

That was twenty years ago.

Now no one ever hopes. No one ever dreams. Surviving the constant nightmare of reality was the only thing people ever focused on. Avoiding the conscription squads sent out by the new warlords was amongst the main goals of everyday life for those that wished to live in peace. No one had ever dared to think of changing anything.

That is, until a small journal belonging to the man that nearly saved mankind was found.

Found by the most unlikely of individuals, the man born twenty years ago in Twinleaf Town thought. His mind pondered over several things since the journal came into his possession five months ago. At first he didn't know who the author of the journal was. The first few pages his eyes gazed upon were near the middle of the journal. There he read the few pages that sparked his interest in the author and led him to foolishly risk his life by visiting Sandgem Town. There he snuck into a once abandoned lab that is now an outpost for one of the many armies of conquerors spread throughout the land. The lab was special, since it was the only source of electronic information the man knew of.

Powered by Pokemon with electrical abilities, the computers inside the laboratory held records of mankind's history. Before the internet collapsed several individuals stored as much information about humanity into their computers as they could. Professor Rowan of Sandgem town was one such individual. He was also a personal acquaintance of the man who nearly saved mankind.

Needless to say the Twinleaf resident nearly became a meal for one of the many beasts of the many Pokemon Tamers that guarded the facility after almost being forced to join the ranks of their army. He managed to escape though, with only a small glance at the information he desired. However, that small glance was more than enough. Amongst the sea of information about the fall of mankind, the name of the author spouted five personal files created by the professor about the would be hero. One of those files happened to be the pokedex information the author was sending to the professor. In that file, the Twinleaf resident's eyes took in a sight no other human besides the professor had seen for several decades until the laboratory's new owners had moved in. The author of the journal had managed to send detailed information on a Pokemon thought to have only existed in fairytales. The name still echoed in the Twinleaf resident's mind even now five months later after he had finally built up the courage to read the journal again.

Dialga.

The thought sent a chill of fear down his spine. How could someone, anyone have actually captured a god? There was no possible way. Not unless the god had allowed its capture, which spoke volumes about the author of the journal. The Twinleaf resident knew little of the Deity Trio, but even in his time, lore of the beasts still drifted around the small patches of humans scattered throughout the land. The man knew that what he was about to read would be a look into things very few people understood. Things almost no one would ever understand. In his opinion, reading the journal was an adventure in its own right.

Decay and despair flowed along the hot wind into the lungs of the Twinleaf resident as he inhaled his final breath of fresh air before returning to the confines of his small unnoticeable home near the outskirts of town. To his surprise the journal still sat atop the old wooden table in the center of the one room house. The man had half expected his acquisition of the journal and his escape from Sandgem to have been mere hallucinations. Yet there it was, the journal that may hold the very secrets of existence, gazing up at him from his table.

Slowly, the man stepped over to the table and sat down. Once again his hands caressed the cover of the journal before finally gripping the edge and opening the book.