Austin, a die-hard Pokémon fan, is disenchanted with the series' direction post-Sinnoh. After a typical late-night binge-watch, he drifts off to sleep, only to wake up in an unimaginable reality: he is Ash Ketchum, and today is the morning his legen...
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As the first rays of the morning sun slipped between the leaves of the thick forest canopy, Austin pedaled his bike along the narrow trail winding between Mt. Moon and Cerulean City. The cool morning air washed over him, each breath filling his lungs with a crisp freshness that made him feel alive. Dew sparkled on the leaves, and birds chirped overhead, their songs blending with the soft crunch of his bike tires over the dirt path. For a moment, he almost forgot where he was, just letting himself be lost in the serenity of it all.
Then he remembered the 20k increase, and a broad grin spread across his face. "Hell yeah," he muttered, feeling the excitement bubble up inside him. He couldn't help himself; the rhythm of a rap he frequently listened to drifted into his mind, and before he knew it, he was rapping softly to himself as he rode along.
"We put our hands in the sky, let 'em know that we about that... Cash flow..." He kept the beat steady, patting the handlebar to the rhythm as he continued, "I need it on time, I'm talkin' bankroll... My money, my money..."
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He glanced over to Pikachu, who was bobbing his head along with the words, tiny yellow cheeks sparking now and then as he tried to mimic the beat with little "Pika, pika, pika!" sounds.
Austin laughed. This was it, wasn't it? Just him, his buddy, the open road, and a fat paycheck coming his way. Life couldn't get much better.
But just as he was about to continue his rap, a piercing scream shattered the calm. His heart leapt as every muscle tensed, instincts kicking in faster than his mind could process. He stopped rapping mid-word, hands tightening on the handlebars.
Pikachu's ears stood alert, his cheeks sparking more fiercely now as he picked up on Austin's urgency.
"Hold on!" Austin muttered, pumping his legs harder as he veered off the trail, tearing through the thick underbrush. Branches and leaves slapped against his arms and legs, but he ignored them, focused only on the direction of that scream.
He skidded to a stop with the precision he'd been practicing for days, finally nailing that cool Akira-style slide he'd been wanting to pull off for so long. But there was no time to celebrate. He could barely catch his breath as he stared at the scene in front of him, heart pounding in his chest.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief at the ridiculous sight before him.
There, in the middle of a small clearing, stood Misty, her face a mix of frustration and pure horror, steam practically billowing from her flared nostrils. She clutched a can of repellent in one hand, her knuckles white, as if it were the only thing standing between her and certain doom. Her eyes were wide, locked on something in the grass with the kind of disgust that should've been reserved for something much, much worse.
