Michael was a typical eighteen-year-old male who hadn't accomplished anything meaningful in life. He had chosen not to go on his own Pokemon journey at ten, like most of the other kids had. Instead, he stayed in school with a few other kids and got a part time job at the local store. Eight years later he had regretted his choices after listening to the various of trainers that would stop by for supplies. He would hear tales of larger-than-life battles, breath taking moments of nature, and the bonds shared between trainers and their pokemon. Eventually he had had enough of listening to these tales and decided to make his own. Once he had earned enough money to afford his trainer's license, with some pocket money left over, he quit his job.
At present it would be a month before registration would open, allowing time to train. Currently he was throwing balls in an empty field to practice his pitch. Capturing pokemon would be a major part of his journey, so he would need to be accurate with each throw, considering Pokeballs were fairly expansive. Off on the edge of the clearing however, a Pokemon was observing him. Specifically, one who contained the TF variant, ready to claim it's next victim.
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