Ever heard of Nuzlockes? If not: very basically it's a set of rules you impose upon yourself while playing a Pokemon game to make it more difficult. It's hard mode. The two integral rules are that 1. if a Pokemon faints, it's dead and must either be released, and 2. you can only catch the first Pokemon you encounter on each new route. People like to record their stories in comics or written form. Since I'm a slow and very lazy artist, I've been logging my SoulSilver run in mostly written fashion. I'm doing a companion comic, as well.

It's going to be posted by-chapter and unedited, so excuse any typos or weird continuity errors. That being said, I'd love critique on this. It's a fun little project but I also need the writing practice.

Check out the Nuzlocke forums thread and the Tumblr.

Rules!

1. If a Pokemon faints it's dead and must be released.
2. Only the first Pokemon encountered in each new area is available for capture, duplicates included, shines excluded.
-- 2a. Only in effect after first Pokeballs are received.
-- 2b. Pokemon that are gifts/trades do not count towards this (including the Game Corner).
-- 2c. Each zone within the Safari Zone is a new area.
-- 2d. Kill Legendaries.
3. Name every Pokemon.

Comic

Chapter One

Cover

Page 1

Written Log

Chapter One

Part 1

Cal fidgeted with the brim of his flat cap as he eyed the door to Proton’s office. He pulled the hat off momentarily to slide a gloved hand through his pink hair. Just as he finished readjusting his uniform for the umpteetnth time, the huge mahaogany door swung open. Another grunt appeared and nodded in his direction. The man stood and, with one sharp breath, moved passed the assistant and into his boss’ office.

The executive sat behind a heavy wooden desk that gleamed with polish. His hands were steepled before him, eyes following Cal as he entered the room and stood hesitantly by the door. Proton motioned for him to sit, but the grunt pretended not to notice. Standing kept him from fidgeting as much. Proton paused for a moment before he seemed to relent.

“You’ve been debriefed on your mission, correct?” he asked, flipping open a manilla folder that lay before him.

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir.” The executive’s face tightened for an instant. “New recruits pose as travelling trainers all the time. It helps us gauge your strengths and keeps a few eyes in the field.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a gleaming red and white ball. The sound it made as he placed it onto the table was thick and metallic, as if it were heavier than it looked. “This is your starter.” Proton slid the Pokeball to the edge of the desk, but Cal didn’t dare to reach out for it just yet. From that same drawer came a small red electronic device -- a Pokedex. Cal had never seen one in person before. Only trainers officially sanctioned to compete in the League were issued Pokedexes, which acted as a video phone, personal identification, Pokemon catalogue, and map.

Proton continued, “Don’t reveal yourself as a member of Team Rocket. But if you see a good opportunity don’t pass it up. You’ll be expected to call in reports regularly. Got it?”

“Yes.” Cal only hesitated for an instant. “Sir.” He reached forward to take his new belongings before saluting his boss and turning to exit.

The walk back to his bunk seemed like a blur. His fist was wrapped around the Pokeball so tight he thought he might crush it. The rubber soles of his boots thudded with increasing frequency until he was almost running down the halls. Finally he swung around a corner and into his assigned room, thankful that his roommates were off at training. The quarters were small and rather bare, with a bunk bed pressed up to either wall and four footlockers filled with personal effects, one for each grunt.

He plopped down onto his bed, opening his hand hesitantly as if the Pokeball within it would disappear. He was used to the custom Pokeballs that Team Rocket had developed: all black with a thick red R just above the button. But this one was what normal trainers used, clean and brand new. He pressed his thumb over the button and the capsule doubled in size. With a flick of his wrist he thrust the Pokeball forward on an outstretched arm and released its contents. A red light enveloped the room for an instant, quickly manifesting into a small shape.

There on the floor before him a Cyndaquil peered at his surroundings. Pokemon and trainer looked at each other for a long moment.

“Hi.” The Pokemon ventured to break the silence first, his little voice a welcome relief to the tension. “I’m Red. I guess you’re my partner?” Cal’s mouth tightened instantly.

“We’re not partners. I’m your trainer.” Red flinched slightly, but didn’t argue. Cal stood, then, and moved to open his footlocker. There was a stash of black uniforms, with his old civilian clothes buried behind them. He dug out a pair of tan cargo shorts and a comfortable shirt. Without a word he left the room to make his way towards the communal showers. He’d word the Team Rocket uniform daily for months now, and the black and red had almost become a second skin. Even holding his old clothes felt strange somehow.

Absently, he let his fingers run over the fabric, mind aloft with the possibilities that this assignment held. Most of these travelling-trainer missions didn’t last long -- the organization didn’t want too much attention to be potentially drawn their way should someone be particularly skilled. But grunts showing promise here were almost guaranteed to be offered more challenging missions in the future, ones that would certainly lead to promotions. Cal already considered himself a good trainer. His parents had imparted a lot of knowledge and experience in him from a young age, and his confidence was the result.

Having changed into his civilian clothes, he returned back to his bunk to find that Red hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d been left. Silently, Cal pulled out his rucksack and stuffed a few essentials into it. The Cyndaquil watched him carefully, but didn’t venture into more conversation. Cal finally slung his pack over his shoulder and, with a final glance around the bunk for anything he might have forgotten, returned Red to his ball and turned to leave. There was no hesitation in his movements, but he did feel a pang of homesickness even as he passed through the doorway. Team Rocket was his home, his family, his job; his whole life revolved around the goings-on at the headquarters. But a mission was a mission, and he wouldn’t complain about the opportunity he’d been given.

A short walk found Cal at a nearby pier where he flashed his electronic reservation to the captain of a small ferry. The man waved him aboard and he settled near the bow of the ship. He touched the Pokeball at his belt, releasing Red in a gentle flash of ruby light. The Cyndaquil shook himself off and looked around curiously.

“A boat?”

“We’re going to Johto.” Cal paused to watch him peer hesitantly over the side. “Starting a covert mission in Celadon would be too close to home. Going all the way to Johto means further distancing from headquarters.”

“So, uh... trainer--"

“It’s Cal.” The Cyndaquil seemed to perk up when offered this tidbit of information.

“Cal, okay. What city are we going to?” He was still staring at the water below as the boat began to pull away from the dock and enter the open bay. Cal flipped open his Pokedex to check the map. He’d never travelled to Johto before and still wasn’t entirely sure of the geographical layout.

“New Bark Town.” Somehow it seemed fitting. His gaze flicked back up to Red. “Not a fan of the water?” The Cyndaquil only cocked his head over his shoulder to shoot him a look. Cal smirked, reaching up to run a hand through his shock of pink hair. He’d become so accustomed to having a hat that the breeze tousling his hair felt alien. Red teetered back to him and curled up under the bench near his feet. As the boat picked up speed, the pair settled in for the ride to New Bark Town.

Part 2

New Bark Town was a sleepy sea-side city nestled along the southern coast of Johto. Having only one small dock and a handful of shops, it was nothing like the busy trading ports Cal was used to. As the pair exited the boat, he took stock of his surroundings. He could see the red roof of the Pokemon Center from here, conveniently situated between the dock and the main road where trainers would be passing through. Beyond that, shops dotted the few adjoining streets, with houses and small parks interspersed throughout. The Pokemon Center was the first stop for almost any trainers who found themselves in a new town, and Cal was no different. With Red now nestled safely in his ball, the trainer made his way down the little side street that connected the dock to the main road. From there it was only a short block to the Center.

The mechanical whir of automatic doors was the only thing to announce his presence. Behind the front desk, an attendant causally looked up and greeted him with a smile.

“Welcome to the Pokemon Center. Did you need any healing services?” Cal shook his head silently and waved a thank you as he moved past the reception area and into the Center proper. Beyond a small entryway there were several large rooms used as sleeping bays for travelling trainers. He absently looked around the corner into the first, finding it almost entirely empty. There was a cot set up in the far corner, taken from a stack of folded beds near the doorway, but no trainer to be found. Only their myriad of belongings and rumpled blankets. Cal’s mouth pursed, but there was no giving up this opportunity. In a handful of long strides he closed the distance to the cot and swiftly threw open the backpack.

He didn’t know what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t a large, smooth-shelled Pokemon egg. The uniform off-white color was only marred by a few large patches of green. Cal hesitated. A sound just outside the doorway sent his hands into action, plunging into the bag and lifting the egg to his chest. It was the size of a small cantaloupe, but surprisingly light. He wrapped it in his arms in one smooth motion and turned for the door. His luck held, and the sound in the hallway only proved to be another attendant going about cleaning duties. She didn’t even spare him a glance. He took the opportunity to slide his own rucksack down his shoulders, lift the flap, and tuck the egg safely under his spare clothes. Then out into the hall before anyone was the wiser. He fidgeted just outside the lobby for a moment, unsure whether his entrance and immediate departure would be cause for alarm. Finally he sucked in a breath, squared his shoulders, and marched headlong through the reception area.

Cal was so focused on the supposed safety of the street outside that he didn’t notice the flash of red. Another figure storming through the door ran into him full force, knocking away the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Suddenly hands gripped the front of his shirt roughly, turning him around and flinging him out the door. His heart screamed with a sudden rush of adrenaline as he lost his balance and careened onto the sidewalk. Fear made his vision a blur. He’d been caught already. Not a day into his mission and the cops were after him. Cal twisted in a flurry of arms and legs, determined to at least face his attacker even if he couldn’t get to his feet.

The red-headed youth towering above him was no officer. No, he had a certain menacing gleam in his eye that Cal recognized all-too-well. The stranger’s mouth was set into a hard line and his hand was already at a Pokeball at his belt.

“Get up.” he growled. Cal complied, swallowing back his denial, and placed a scraped palm on his knee to help himself to his feet.

“Listen--” a flash of red cut him off mid sentence and forced him to scramble back away from the released Pokemon. To his surprise only a confused looking Totodile remained when the light faded. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m taking you out right now.” Tough talk for a kid with a fresh-bred Totodile, but it wasn’t as if Cal had anything more substantial to back himself up. Without another word he reached for his belt and released Red in a flash of light. The Cyndaquil happily shook himself off, clearly not expecting a battle so soon into their arrival. Hesitantly, he glanced over his shoulder.

“If you don’t like running into people, maybe watch where you’re going,” Cal spat. “Red, Tackle.” Suddenly inspired, the flames on the Cyndaquil’s back leaped to life and he turned to face his opponent. The Totodile took a hesitant step back, but found no sympathy from her own trainer. Red leaped forward, colliding bodily with the other Pokemon and sending her sprawling with a cry. The red-haired boy hissed through his teeth before opening his mouth to retaliate. Muffled shouts in the distance gave him pause. His eyes darted around Cal, who fought the temptation to see what was going on.

“Worthless,” he hissed before returning the Totodile to her Pokeball and shoving by to sprint towards the smaller, hidden side streets. Cal and Red were left bewildered, watching him disappear between houses. Only moments later the shouting grew, and a small crowd jogged into sight. One woman caught sight of Cal and broke off to approach.

“Have you seen a kid come by here? Maybe seventeen or eighteen, red hair. He might have had a Totodile with him.”

Cal hesitated only a moment before raising his shoulders and giving her a small “Nope.” The woman pursed her lips, but thanked him anyhow and hurried back towards the group. They watched her for a moment before Cal turned them towards route 29.

When they’d finally passed from the borders of the town, Red spoke up. “Why’d you lie?”

“They were looking for a thief.” Cal adjusted the straps of his rucksack. “I’m a thief. Better to not be involved at all.”

Part 3

While he should have guessed as much -- being that they were neighboring regions -- Cal was pleasantly surprised at how much the routes of Johto looked so much like those in Kanto. Winding paths cut narrow swaths into densely-packed forests, urging you to simply trust that this was the right way to the next town, the next safe haven. He’d found many of the Pokemon, too, were the same: Pidgey and Rattata were interspersed through the populations native to Johto. Some of these Cal had never seen before and he was glad to have a Pokedex, illicit though it was, to give him some insight into the different species.

A musical ding announced that the Pokemon Center attendant was finished healing his growing team. She placed the small tray on the counter and Cal quickly grabbed all four Pokeballs with a nod. On the way to Cherrygrove he’d managed to snag a Sentret and Geodude, which he named Pan and Elizabeth respectively. On route 30, just passed the north exit, he’d added a Weedle, dubbed Silas, to the party. While they’d already passed through the town, young bug types were notoriously fragile and so they’d turned back briefly to rest. The Pokedex allowed him, as a supposedly sanctioned trainer, free access to healing facilities like this one. And he planned to take full advantage of them.

With a fully rested team, Cal was ready to make up for lost time and get route 30 behind him. There was still significant daylight left, and if they made good time they could make it to Violet City before nightfall. He passed through the automatic doors of the Pokemon Center (silently thankful that no red-headed punks were waiting to ambush him this time) and headed once more for the northern exit of the town. Route 30 was much like the other routes connecting Cherrygrove: lush trees and plenty of unavoidable tall grass. It was that very foliage that hid the first challenger they would encounter.

“Hey!” As Cal approached, a young boy darted out from behind a tree. He struck a daring pose, outstretched fist clutched around a Pokeball. “You’ve got Pokemon, battle me!” Cal felt a creeping flush tinge his cheeks. He almost felt too old to be going head to head with a kid. But, he reasoned, it just meant this would be that much easier.

“Sure,” he said, stepping back to force some distance between them and reaching for the Pokeballs kept at his belt. Before he’d even touched them four separate red lights illuminated the area. Each Pokemon stretched individually as they were released.
“Hey,” the kid whined, face twisted in a pout. “Four on one’s no fair.”

“They’re just an audience.” Not that it wasn’t tempting, but if he was going to keep up the guise of a legal trainer he had to follow the rules. Cal pinned the group with a resentful stare, but was already beyond the patience required to wrestle them back into their Pokeballs. Let them watch, they could all use the experience. He narrowed his eyes on the Weedle. “Silas. Get out there.” She replied with a silent nod and wriggled her way into the space between the trainers. Another flash of red announced the arrival of her opponent: a Rattata.

“King, Tackle!” The boy started off quickly, and his Pokemon responded in kind. Silas lurched, but was too slow to avoid the collision.

“Poison Sting.” Cal was cool, collected. This was some random kid on some random route that only connected to halfway-civilized towns. What could this Rattata dish out that he couldn’t handle? Silas twisted jabbing out with the barbed horn atop her head. It met its mark and King squealed in pain. Cal could already see an unnatural tinge forming at the whites of the Rattata’s eyes. Silas had managed to poison him.

“You might want to do a little more training before you go getting into big boy fights.” The poison had only solidified his confidence, and Cal couldn’t help but allow himself a moment of snide chiding.

“My Rattata is in the top percent!” The boy chewed on his lip, biting back tears. “King, give ‘em another tackle!” King was breathing heavily now, but he squared his paws and faced down the Weedle. His haunches flexed and in one swift movement he threw himself forward in desperation. Cal smirked, but made no move to order a counter. Weedle were fragile, but Silas could take this hit and wait for the poison to do its work. She wasn’t fast enough to dodge, anyway. She did her best to brace herself as her opponent bore down on her.

There was an audible, hollow thud. Like the sound of someone’s foot connecting with a soccer ball.

King’s shoulder slammed into Silas’ face. Behind him was all the power and ferocity that humiliation could breed. Silas didn’t cry out, she didn’t gasp. She was simply thrown back, landed with a small skid at Cal’s feet, and lay still. Mere feet away King stumbled forward and collapsed as the poison finally caught up with him.

Cal didn’t move. He couldn’t. His feet felt rooted to the dirt. He stared at Silas for what seemed like ages, silently willing her to get up even as the seconds ticked by. Red was at her side a moment later, his tiny paws gingerly reaching out to touch his unmoving friend. Still, even with all the Cyndaquil’s prodding, she didn’t rise.

Suddenly there was money being shoved into Cal’s face. He blinked and flinched away instinctively. The boy had closed the distance between them, his Rattata returned safely to his Pokeball. In his extended hand was a wad of messy bills. Cal had won, after all.

“Sorry…” the boy said as he turned towards Cherrygrove. “‘Bout your Weedle.”

RIP Silas.

Part 3 is up!

Also comic because I'm a sucker for torture apparently.