Jeremy Jackson was a fairly average boy born in a somewhat less than average situation. His parents were pokemon breeders and trainers in a world where forgetting to feed an untrained Poke could lead to loss of life rather than just loss of employment. On the positive side, it meant he was in a perfect scenario to start off his pokemon journey with a strong and well trained companion and Jeremy knew just who was going to accompany him.
When he was 7, a particularly large, exceedingly strong Goodra had wandered onto the ranch, attracted by the prospect of an easy meal. Thankfully for the family business, a number of strong trainers were on hand to help subdue the beast. Not understanding why they were hurting such a cool looking creature, he had burst onto the scene just as the adults were deciding its fate and demanded that they let him keep it as his new friend. His parents, knowing that they couldn't just hand their son this wild beast, struck a deal: it would be his "starter Pokémon" but they would train it until he set out on his journey, and he had to wait until his 17th birthday before he was allowed to begin. If they thought the idea of waiting a few more years would scare him out of the idea, they were quite wrong, and he eagerly awaited the chance to meet his new friend.
The day had finally come. True to their word, after heartfelt goodbyes and hugs all around Jeremy's parents handed him the timer ball that contained his companion. They warned him not to let it (he still didn't know it's gender) out until he reached a populated area so others would be around to help if anything went wrong, but Jeremy knew knew nothing would because his parents were the best trainers in the entire world as far he he was concerned.
Walking along the path towards the nearest city, his first hurdle as a trainer was a seedy man sitting on a log. Jeremy had heard that thieves and vore addicts would sometimes wait along the path to try and catch newbie trainers coming from his parents ranch or the small towns beyond, hoping for some quick cash or a quick meal. His suspicions are confirmed as the man stood up without a word and pulled an electric prod, perfect for disabling small humans and Pokémon alike, from under his jacket and started towards him with a smirk on his dirty face. Feeling both scared and angry at the same time, Jeremys mind discarded his parents warning even as his hand slid past the can of pepper spray and went straight for the pokeball. With a quick flick of the wrist, a motion he had practiced for years with tennis balls and rocks, a beam of red light shot out and coalesced into his first peek at his starter "Pokémon".
The first thing Jeremy realized was that it was big. He vaguely remembered that much, but had always thought those memories were exaggerated by time and his smaller stature at that age. But there was no exaggeration here: the being in front of him had to be at least 7, likely approaching 8 feet tall and towered over his measly 5 foot 6. The second thing Jeremy noticed was that this height was no accident: this Goodra was a veteran, with duller coloration and hints of scars under the thick coating of slime. Even the typical goofy smile of its species was gone, replaced by a deep frown as it ponderously turned to face him. While he was certainly intimidated, he also had supreme confidence in his parents training ability, and was excited for the adventures to come. Of course, the important question that has yet to be answered is this: were his parents actually any good at training Pokémon?
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