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Thread: Pokémon: An Unlikely Origin (Pokémon/Supernatural one-shot crossover) (PG-13)

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    Default Pokémon: An Unlikely Origin (Pokémon/Supernatural one-shot crossover) (PG-13)

    DISCLAIMER! I do not own Pokémon or Supernatural, nor do I pretend to. I do not intend to profit off of this story in any way, shape, or form.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    It was a night like any other, or so it would seem. The full moon shone brightly over a lonely, grass-choked landscape, accompanied by the billions of trillions of stars. As out-of-the-way places in the countryside like these were among a minority of locations where one's view of the night sky was never spoiled by streetlights or pollution, it truly was a sight to behold.

    One young man, however, took no notice of this otherwise awe-inspiring sight as he drove down a lonely dirt road, which was flanked on either side by tall grass. He instead looked straight ahead, the expression on his face clearly stating that whatever he was about to do, he wasn't sure if it was the best idea. He seemed determined to go through with it, however, and drove on.

    After a good ten minutes of boring, repetitive driving, the man finally came to an intersection. A second dirt road crossed over the first one. Upon seeing this, he stopped his vehicle- an extremely old and rusted car whose make and model he neither knew nor cared. The car wasn't his, anyway; he stole it from a junkyard shortly after leaving his home. He knew he was taking far too many risks, but at the moment, he didn't care. All he knew were the stories that were told in the local bar. And if there was even the slightest chance that they were true...

    The man exited the vehicle, a small metal box clutched tightly in his increasingly sweaty left hand, and a small trowel in his right. He warily walked out to the middle of the intersection and started digging. This did not last too long; once he threw the trowel aside, he had merely produced a small hole in the road, just big enough to contain the metal box. Sure enough, this was exactly what he put into the hole. He then reached for the small pile of dirt he had dug up, but stopped.

    "Oh, yeah," he muttered. "Almost forgot."

    The man reached into the back pocket of his blue jeans and withdrew an ordinary brown wallet. He opened it up, and took from within a small, rectangular piece of plastic; his driver's license. Pausing only to reflect on the DMV's apparent talent for hiring the worst photographers in the world, the man opened the lid of the box and laid the driver's license down atop the odd assortment of items already within. Once this was done, he closed the box back up, and stood up to his full (yet rather unremarkable) height. Using his left foot, he pushed the dirt back into the hole, leaving a small bulge in the road.

    Now very anxious, the man looked all around, beads of sweat falling from his head onto his black t-shirt, though the night was in fact rather cool. Indeed, it was the aforementioned anxiety which caused the youth's unruly black hair to be saturated. When nothing seemed to happen, the man became rather irritated.

    "ALL RIGHT!" he roared into the night. "WHERE ARE YOU, YOU SON OF A *****?!"

    "Temper, temper," came a strange voice from behind him. The man wheeled around, and found himself facing a man who had most certainly not been there two seconds ago. He thought the voice odd because even though it was slightly gravelly, it also had a refined air to it, probably due to the Cockney accent in which it was spoken. The source of the voice appeared to be approaching middle age, as evidenced by his receding hairline, and he was wearing what had to be a very expensive suit.

    "So," the young man said, his own voice now shaking in nervousness, "are you-?"

    "Indeed I am," the newcomer interrupted in that same voice. "The name's Crowley."

    "I'm-"

    "You don't need to introduce yourself to me," Crowley interrupted. "I know all about you. So... I heard you like Mudkips?"

    "You know why I'm here, then," the man replied.

    "Oh, yes," Crowley replied as he began to slowly circle the black-haired, perspiring 21-year-old. "I know all of your obsession with this... Pokémon thing all the kids are into. I know how your obsession cost you any semblance of a social life. And I know how your obsession grew so intense that it made real life unbearable by comparison."

    Wordlessly, the man nodded. So far, Crowley had hit the nail on the head.

    "Which brings you here tonight," concluded Crowley.

    "Can you do it?" the man asked, a vague hint of excitement in his voice. "Can you make Pokémon real?"

    "I could," Crowley replied after a moment of apparent consideration. "It's difficult, but overall doable."

    "So what are you waiting for, then?" the man practically shouted.

    "My word, didn't your lovely mother ever teach you any manners?" Crowley inquired. "Or your charming father? That is, when he wasn't too busy lamenting over what a disgrace you were turning out to be? Have patience. I happen to have an extremely good reason for not granting your wish on demand like a bloody fairy godparent."

    "What would that reason be?" the man asked, now trying and failing to keep a hint of annoyance out of his voice.

    "Because it would require boatloads of unpleasant work which I am simply unwilling to do," Crowley replied smoothly. "It's not enough for me to snap my fingers and bring over six hundred new species into existence just like that. Have you any concept of how I would need to rewrite history? And that's not even getting into what I'm going to have to do to the bloody laws of physics. Think about it. Logically, the mere presence of all those Slugma and Magcargo would turn this entire rock into a roaring inferno within hours, if all of those Ice-types don't freeze it over first. Assuming, of course, we live to see this happen, given the sheer number of Pokémon that learn Smog and Poison Gas. Need I continue?"

    "No," the man snapped. "I don't even know why I bothered with this in the first place." And he turned around and began to storm back to his stolen vehicle.

    "There's your lack of patience showing again," Crowley sighed, betraying a hint of impatience himself. "I may not be able to bring the Pokémon to you. But I can do the next best thing. I can bring you to the Pokémon." This made his potential customer stop abruptly and slowly turn back around.

    "I'm listening," the man replied.

    "I can transport you to the world of Pokémon," Crowley said simply. "In fact, I can even turn back the clock for you a bit. Shave eleven years off your age for you. You'd be ten again, same age as when you first discovered Pokémon."

    "You can do that?!" the man exclaimed, all nervousness gone from him now.

    "They don't call me 'King of the Crossroads' for nothing," Crowley replied. "Now then, let's talk price."

    "Oh, yeah, I heard about that," nodded the man. "You want my soul."

    "Not right away, no," Crowley assured him. "You get ten years. Ten years, then I come to collect."

    "Interesting," the man nodded. "But see, I have an idea for an alternate payment plan you might be interested in."

    "Do tell," Crowley said, mild intrigue showing in his voice.

    In response, the man walked towards the rusted heap of scrap metal he had driven to the crossroads in the first place, and motioned for Crowley to follow. As he did so, he noticed a balding, black-haired man in the backseat. He was tied up, gagged, and at the moment, unconscious.

    "Instead of getting me in ten years," the man explained, as he pointed at the figure in the car, "You get him, right here, right now."

    "Hmm," murmured Crowley as he looked over the unconscious man's body. "Your dear father, I presume?"

    "As far as I'm concerned, he's no father of mine," the youth replied, bitterness in his voice. "He's just nothing but an unsupportive, uncaring, selfish grouch who only cares about having a wealthy and successful son to carry on the family name."

    "It's unorthodox, definitely," mused Crowley. "I've never had anyone offer up the soul of someone else. Then again, I don't believe there's a rule against it. It seems you're the first one depraved enough to think of it."

    "And he's all yours," the youth stated, ignoring Crowley's murmurs.

    "So you really wish to do this?" Crowley asked. "You're actually willing to sell me your father's soul- send him directly to hell- just so you can live your dream?"

    "Yes," the man replied without hesitation. "Oh, and if it's OK, I have a few conditions to add on."

    "Ordinarily I'd advise against pushing your luck like this," said Crowley. "However, I find your levels of depravity refreshing. It's a rare thing to behold, even in this day and age. Name your terms."

    "Alright, you know how you're turning back the clock, making me ten years old again?" the youth said. "Make it permanent. I don't want to age."

    "Don't want to age?" Crowley repeated in mild surprise.

    "Aging has brought me nothing but trouble," the man answered darkly. "Puberty was awkward enough the first time around. Second, I want the same thing done to my mother. You send her with me, take off eleven years, and freeze her at that age. However, I want her memory modified. Make her think she's lived her whole life in the Pokémon world."

    "A second age regression, a second age freeze, and a memory modification on top?" said Crowley. "A tall order, for sure."

    "Taller than bringing Pokémon into this world?" retorted the man.

    "Touché," Crowley nodded, betraying a slight grin. "It's a shame I'm not getting your soul. You've got the makings of a real crossroads demon in you."

    "I suppose I ought to take that as a compliment," said the man.

    "Take it any way you want," Crowley replied. "So to sum it up, you want you and your mother to be shipped off to the world of Pokémon and made younger by eleven years each."

    "Yep," nodded the man.

    "And you want to remain that same age for the rest of eternity?"

    "Yep."

    "And in exchange, I get to throw your dear daddy into that fiery pit right away?"

    "Yep."

    "It's a tall order," Crowley stated, "but I have to admit, you bring forward a most enticing payment plan. We have a deal. Oh, and I'll even throw one more thing in, just because I like your style. The memory wipe you've ordered for your mum? You'll get one yourself, free of charge. You won't have to recall a second of your wretched existence in this world."

    "Good, good, that's good," nodded the man. "You won't wipe out my knowledge about Pokémon, though, right?" he added in a slightly worried tone.

    "Not all of it, no," said Crowley. "I was thinking I wipe out a good chunk of it, however. Start you off with limited knowledge, add a bit of surprise and adventure to the mix. You like adventure, don't you?"

    The man opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, then thought it over for a moment and shrugged instead. "Fair enough. I suppose it would put me at a bit of an unfair advantage to know all that I know right now."

    "It strikes me as humorous," Crowley mused, "that anyone who would sell their father's soul for anything would care at all about whether or not something is fair."

    "You never met him," the youth stated firmly. "You never had to live with the man. So how do we seal this deal anyway?"

    In response, Crowley pulled his customer in close and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

    "Bleah!" exclaimed the young man as the crossroads demon finally stopped. "What was that for?!"

    "It's how these deals get done," Crowley replied smoothly. "They get sealed with a kiss. Or did those drunks who told you of this operation neglect to mention that bit?"

    "Did you have to use tongue?" asked the now slightly nauseated man.

    "Chin up," Crowley assured him. "This will be one of the first memories I wipe clean from your brain."

    "Good," stated the man. "Do it, then. Now, if you please."

    "Very well," nodded Crowley. "Bon voyage, Mr. Ketchum." Crowley snapped his fingers, and Ash immediately vanished into thin air. Smirking to himself in a satisfied way, Crowley turned around and walked off towards the car to collect his payment.
    Last edited by Missingno. Master; 27th October 2012 at 6:44 AM.

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    Huh. So that's how I could go to the Pokémon world, eh? *proceeds to tie up dad*

    I'm surprised this hasn't gotten much attention. Anything from Missingno. Master should be automatically great. Anyways, I haven't seen any errors whatsoever. I loved the horrific obsession Ash had and how the crossroads demon acted calmer than any creature I've ever had an encounter with. And I've seen quite a few creatures, too.

    After a good ten minutes of boring, repetitive driving, the man finally came to an intersection. A second dirt road crossed over the first one. Upon seeing this, he stopped his vehicle- an extremely old and rusted car whose make and model he neither knew nor cared. The car wasn't his, anyway; he stole it from a junkyard shortly after leaving his home. He knew he was taking far too many risks, but at the moment, he didn't care. All he knew were the stories that were told in the local bar. And if there was even the slightest chance that they were true...

    The man exited the vehicle, a small metal box clutched tightly in his increasingly sweaty left hand, and a small trowel in his right. He warily walked out to the middle of the intersection and started digging. This did not last too long; once he threw the trowel aside, he had merely produced a small hole in the road, just big enough to contain the metal box. Sure enough, this was exactly what he put into the hole. He then reached for the small pile of dirt he had dug up, but stopped.

    "Oh, yeah," he muttered. "Almost forgot."

    The man reached into the back pocket of his blue jeans and withdrew an ordinary brown wallet. He opened it up, and took from within a small, rectangular piece of plastic; his driver's license. Pausing only to reflect on the DMV's apparent talent for hiring the worst photographers in the world, the man opened the lid of the box and laid the driver's license down atop the odd assortment of items already within. Once this was done, he closed the box back up, and stood up to his full (yet rather unremarkable) height. Using his left foot, he pushed the dirt back into the hole, leaving a small bulge in the road.

    Now very anxious, the man looked all around, beads of sweat falling from his head onto his black t-shirt, though the night was in fact rather cool. Indeed, it was the aforementioned anxiety which caused the youth's unruly black hair to be saturated. When nothing seemed to happen, the man became rather irritated.

    "ALL RIGHT!" he roared into the night. "WHERE ARE YOU, YOU SON OF A *****?!"
    He seems quite positive that stories from drunk people are true to the point of burying a metal box that has his driver's license in it and screaming at the darkness like some kind of maniac. (Not like he isn't already a maniac, but...)

    "You don't need to introduce yourself to me," Crowley interrupted. "I know all about you. So... I heard you like Mudkips?"
    The sad and hysterical part about this is how I never saw it coming. *facepalms*

    "And he's all yours," the youth stated, ignoring Crowley's murmurs.

    "So you really wish to do this?" Crowley asked. "You're actually willing to sell me your father's soul- send him directly to hell- just so you can live your dream?"
    Even knowing Ash, this is quite hardcore. Not like this'll make me go on strike, though. I've read worse. (See: "Cupcakes")

    Excellent job on this. Oh, and ALL THINGS ASH MAKES SENSE NOW.
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    Well, that's one way of putting Ash's origins.
    "Oh, yeah," he muttered. "Almost forgot."

    The man reached into the back pocket of his blue jeans and withdrew an ordinary brown wallet. He opened it up, and took from within a small, rectangular piece of plastic; his driver's license. Pausing only to reflect on the DMV's apparent talent for hiring the worst photographers in the world, the man opened the lid of the box and laid the driver's license down atop the odd assortment of items already within. Once this was done, he closed the box back up, and stood up to his full (yet rather unremarkable) height. Using his left foot, he pushed the dirt back into the hole, leaving a small bulge in the road.

    Now very anxious, the man looked all around, beads of sweat falling from his head onto his black t-shirt, though the night was in fact rather cool. Indeed, it was the aforementioned anxiety which caused the youth's unruly black hair to be saturated. When nothing seemed to happen, the man became rather irritated.

    "ALL RIGHT!" he roared into the night. "WHERE ARE YOU, YOU SON OF A *****?!"
    Well, despite not watching the anime for a long time, it seems to fit with ash...
    "I know all about you. So... I heard you like Mudkips?"
    Best. Meme. Ever.
    "Put quite simply, it would require boatloads of unpleasant work which I am simply unwilling to do," Crowley replied smoothly. "It's not enough for me to snap my fingers and bring over six hundred new species into existence just like that. Have you any concept of how I would need to rewrite history? And that's not even getting into what I'm going to have to do to the laws of physics. Think about it. Going by simple physics, the mere presence of all those Slugma and Magcargo would turn this entire rock into a roaring inferno within hours, if all of those Ice-types don't freeze it over first. Assuming, of course, we live to see this happen, given the sheer number of Pokémon that learn Smog and Poison Gas. Need I continue?"
    Well, shame that had to happen. I would love to have a couple oddish in my garden. Not glooms though, that would stink...
    "Hmm," murmured Crowley as he looked over the unconscious man's body. "Your dear father, I presume?"

    "As far as I'm concerned, he's no father of mine," the youth replied, bitterness in his voice. "He's just nothing but an unsupportive, uncaring, selfish grouch who only cares about having a wealthy and successful son to carry on the family name."

    "It's unorthodox, definitely," mused Crowley. "I've never had anyone offer up the soul of someone else. Then again, I don't believe there's a rule against it. It seems you're the first one depraved enough to think of it."
    So THAT'S where his dad went. Didn't he have a sister or anything to give away, or was his Dad that bad?
    "One more thing, though," the young man added. "I don't want to age."

    Crowley nodded again. "So to sum it up, you want you and your mother to be shipped off to the world of Pokémon and made younger by eleven years each."

    "Yep," nodded the man.

    "And you want to remain that same age for the rest of eternity?"

    "Yep."
    And now, a decade later, he is still ten. He has also seemed to make another wish. I have never seen him bring a change of clothes, and he wears his outfit for 24/7, minus a few exceptions (lucario movie, etc).

    Overall, great one-shot!
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    Quote Originally Posted by ilovedragonites View Post
    I'm surprised this hasn't gotten much attention. Anything from Missingno. Master should be automatically great.
    You flatter me. You've never seen the piles of crap I used to churn out years and years ago and pass off as fanfiction. I even got banned over one of my not-so-bright ideas.

    Quote Originally Posted by ilovedragonites View Post
    Anyways, I haven't seen any errors whatsoever.
    Good to know, thanks!

    Quote Originally Posted by ilovedragonites View Post
    He seems quite positive that stories from drunk people are true to the point of burying a metal box that has his driver's license in it and screaming at the darkness like some kind of maniac. (Not like he isn't already a maniac, but...)
    Well, being that he heard them at a bar, I would think he'd have had a few drinks in him himself. I'd think that would factor into the decision. Besides, Ash Ketchum as we know him has made rash decisions, so this isn't much in the way of new territory for him.

    Quote Originally Posted by ilovedragonites View Post
    The sad and hysterical part about this is how I never saw it coming. *facepalms*
    That part was one of the first things I imagined when planning out this story.

    Quote Originally Posted by ilovedragonites View Post
    Excellent job on this. Oh, and ALL THINGS ASH MAKES SENSE NOW.
    Glad you like it!

    Quote Originally Posted by rangernumber-x View Post
    Well, that's one way of putting Ash's origins.
    It certainly is.

    Quote Originally Posted by rangernumber-x View Post
    Best. Meme. Ever.
    I think so.

    Quote Originally Posted by rangernumber-x View Post
    Well, shame that had to happen. I would love to have a couple oddish in my garden. Not glooms though, that would stink...
    I'd love to have Pokémon made real. Provided, of course, the whole physics thing can be handled. I have daydreams about it constantly... Landing at my college campus on a Braviary... Attacking burglars breaking into my house with my Victreebel... Battling my classmate's Whirlipede with my Weezing... Yeah...

    Quote Originally Posted by rangernumber-x View Post
    So THAT'S where his dad went. Didn't he have a sister or anything to give away, or was his Dad that bad?
    I felt this was a unique way to explain his dad's absence in the show. Truth be told, though, the general idea of the story had been fermenting in my mind for months now, but it was only last week that the part about his dad came to me. And his dad was that bad, at least in this story.

    Quote Originally Posted by rangernumber-x View Post
    And now, a decade later, he is still ten. He has also seemed to make another wish. I have never seen him bring a change of clothes, and he wears his outfit for 24/7, minus a few exceptions (lucario movie, etc).
    I always thought he had two or three changes of clothes in his backpack, or else just had his laundry done at Pokémon Centers. To be honest, his mostly unchanging wardrobe never even occurred to me. I guess I was a little preoccupied with the whole not aging thing.

    Quote Originally Posted by rangernumber-x View Post
    Overall, great one-shot!
    Thanks!
    Last edited by Missingno. Master; 9th December 2011 at 3:28 AM.

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    Ready for a review, here we go:

    He instead looked straight ahead, the expression on his face clearly stating that whatever he was about to do, he wasn't sure if it was the best idea. He seemed determined to go through with it, however, and drove on.
    This was a rather forward way of description as it falls under the show-not-tell. A bit more dramatic way of describing it would be to say something like “eyes glued only on the road” or something of that nature instead of the bland “looked straight” and the entire last half of that same sentence.

    Pausing only to reflect on the DMV's apparent talent for hiring the worst photographers in the world
    Ya, nothing like getting a mug shot when you get that photo taken. This is so true.

    "Indeed I am," the newcomer interrupted in that same voice. "The name's Crowley."
    Just put Ozzy Osborne's song in the back, and you got yourself an even more of a shady character.

    Actually, while I'm at this part of the one-shot, I should mention this. While I may be the only one (or not), in my first read-through, I quickly lost track of the flow the conversation. I think the thing that through (wow, a little alliteration there) me off was that you describe both Ash and Crowley specifically as nameless men before Crowley was introduced as such. You call them some “man” which may have been the reason I lost track as Ash is repeatedly call “the man. . .” until the end. Point being, maybe a different word could be used for Crowley in the beginning just to distinguish himself from Ash's “the man. . .” and Crowley.

    "I know all about you. So... I heard you like Mudkips?"
    Life 42 from Hitchhikers Guide, I don't know how this meme started, though it's hard not to run into either of the two.

    Crowley nodded again. "So to sum it up, you want you and your mother to be shipped off to the world of Pokémon and made younger by eleven years each."

    "Yep," nodded the man.

    "And you want to remain that same age for the rest of eternity?"

    "Yep."

    "And in exchange, I get to throw your dear daddy into that fiery pit right away?"

    "Yep."

    Crowley shrugged. "I've made more depraved deals than this. Oh, and I'll even throw one more thing in. I'll make a small adjustment to your mum's memory.
    This bugs me. So this Crowley gives him all of these gifts on only one man's soul. It's rather much don't you think. I know you are trying to connect your prequel to the anime, but the gifts he gets is rather too much. Just my thought on it.

    Well that's the end of my review. The idea you have here is rather profound in that it's unique to have such a rather “dark” prologue to what we all know as the anime. Aside from what I thought were logic fails, I really liked this. No be honest, as I don't know any other works you made beside comedy, it was a rather nice shift away from your “mainstream” fic. Something different from me, a rating: 9.2/10
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    And here I was expecting twelve paragrapsh of Sam being ridiculed because he played Pokemon while Dean was being so "cool", while the latter had NO clue what was going on... Yeah for unexpecteds though!

    (Yes, in case you hadn't caught on, I do actually know what Supernatural is)

    First off, I love your concept, this is a real fun way to tie the two together, I wou;d nevr have thoguht to connect them through the Crossroads. On the other hand, we have

    Quote Originally Posted by Sceptic Sceptile
    This bugs me. So this Crowley gives him all of these gifts on only one man's soul. It's rather much don't you think. I know you are trying to connect your prequel to the anime, but the gifts he gets is rather too much. Just my thought on it.
    From a Superntural standpoint, Souls are good, fast cash for a demon like Crowley. See "BIrd in hand worth two in bush". But on the flip side, he's getting rid of two souls that don't have the potential of going to somone else, like say some Angel of Thursday. (Which is where I dropped the series, for me the magic of SN was the side stories: the ghost tales and the lore of the creatures, not their need to create a running plot that made me want to gag, versus a running gag...) So the deal's not as one-sdied as you think.

    But that being said, you as a reader don't know this without having followed the SN canon and haven't been told, so it's a valid point.

    Crowley shrugged. "I've made more depraved deals than this. Oh, and I'll even throw one more thing in. I'll make a small adjustment to your mum's memory. She won't think anything is off about the two of you suddenly being in a fictional universe, and will think she's been there the entire time. She'll also think her husband left her when you were very young."

    "Good, good, that's good," nodded the man.
    I'd liek to flip to the other side of this little scene though. This one spot, Crowley stops sounding like a daemonic Used Car Salesman and more like someone doing free samples. It's a small dip in his over-all well captured character, but there is a dip there.

    strikes me as humorous, though," Crowley mused,
    I'm no English major, but that "though" feels like it's trying to relate to a comment between this one and Ash's, which there isn't. I think you put it in there because "Crowley mused" creates a pregnant pause in the sentence, but to my ears

    strikes me as humorous that anyone who would sell their father's soul for anything would care at all about whether or not something is fair."
    Is a full and well-sounding sentence.

    Quote Originally Posted by Sceptic Sceptile
    it was a rather nice shift away from your “mainstream” fic.
    This. One Hundred times this. I could never get into AofA, it wasn't my cup of tea, but you really nailed this one, demopnstrating a talent for a wide field of storytelling. Good for you.
        Spoiler:- Breeding stuff:

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    wow... Missingno. master, you really did a good job on this! It all makes sense now! This was such a good one shot though.. but of course, all of your stories are pretty good. I really just can't believe Ash would do that though . I'm amazed at how well you wrote this, keep this up and you'll be sellin books like this for money! (lol I think you'd already qualify for it though :P)
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    What, I suppose there's retribution for selling his father to a demonic being? ...Never being able to win the championships, perchance?

    It's a very well thought out fiction, talking time to describe the nuances of the deal and description. Intriguing story as well. I'll take it! (Even though I've never heard of Supernatural before... Maybe I should look it up.)

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