#backstory thread

“When the sun turns gray and I become tired 

of looking at your many-colored shoes 

I will give you balloons for all the holes 

we speak too much to fill. Who believes 

in air, nowadays? Or do you prefer tea 

with the dried fruit I will have to throw out 

the window of your room? Because I want 

this to stop I want this to stop I want this”

- Driven by a Strange Desire by Mónica de la Torre 

♦♦♦

Goldenrod’s Main Street was bustling that day - that’s the first thing that Will noticed as he and his partner stepped out into the crowded street to make their way towards their destination. Perhaps the city was no busier than normal, but the pounding in his head and the sweat on his palms was trying to convince him otherwise. The second thing that Will noticed was how lightheaded he felt. Could he pull this off? The task was a fairly simple one, but screwing up was out of the question. For the theft that would be occurring, the consequences regarding the law meant little to the psychic. After all, he’d stolen before...and had done even worse things. What frightened him the most was the idea that messing up meant he could go back to being alone....forgotten. Now that he’d finally been accepted into something, even if it was the most infamous criminal group around, he didn’t want to lose that. It was necessary that this went over well. 

Will walked a step or two behind his partner, eyes examining the way she parted the crowd before her with her confident walk. For a moment, the figure before him served as a distraction from the crime, his eyes lingering on the curves of her body. Every so often, a breeze would cause her hair to fly into the air, revealing the soft skin of her shoulders, and Will would be forced to smirk at the sight. She was pretty - that was a definite - but apart from that, the boy knew little about this mysterious woman he’d been partnered up with. His first impression had carried words like “sultry” and “sexy”. What had been her first impression of him?

Making their way through the crowd, Will with his hands in his pockets, his partner brushing a strand of hair from her face, the two crossed the street and made it to the targeted location. It was a hotel - huge glass doors at the front, a few steps leading to them, and plenty of well-to-do patrons passing in and out through those doors. It was obvious that the pair couldn’t just waltz in, even if they were currently dressed to the nines. They were going to have to find another way in. 

Being no stranger to street life, Will began walking to the side of the hotel, motioning for the other to follow him. They made their way down the alleyway beside it and towards the back of the building, where Will felt sure they’d find an alternate way in. It was a correct intuition, as, when the boy peeked his head around the corner, he saw one of the hotel chefs tossing out a bag of garbage. Such a simple action suddenly brought back a swarm of memories regarding digging through the trash for food....but....now wasn’t the time for reminiscing about such pleasant things. 

When the chef had disappeared back inside, Will and his partner snuck towards the door, not saying a word. Arriving at it, his hand slowly wrapped around the doorknob and pulled, revealing a long hallway. 

The young psychic let out a sudden sigh of relief, incredibly thankful that the door hadn’t let straight into the kitchen. Silently, the Rockets began to make their way down the hallway, carefully sneaking past any open doorways. The pair had almost made it to another set of doors when a voice cried out from behind them. They turned. It was the chef, waving around a huge knife. Will felt himself gulp involuntarily.

“OY! What’re you two doin’?? Only staff’s allowed back here! You guys’ve gotta clear out - yeah - out those doors right in fronta ya!! Arceus, meddlin’ kids!” 

Both teenagers let out a sigh. 

“Damn,” Will said, relaxing a little, “that was too close.”

The couple passed through the doors in front of them and found themselves in the lobby of the hotel. Will flipped open his recently-acquired PokéGear to check the time. 1:45 PM. They were right on schedule. The boy watched through his mask as his partner revealed a piece of paper which told the name (Anton Monèbux) and room number (222) of the man one of them would have to intercept. Will glanced towards the front desk, noting the receptionist, the guestbook, and two inconspicuous packages which sat on a counter behind him. Bingo. He turned back to his partner.

“You gotta find the guy. Let me get the package. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to sneak back there and do it - not with that guy guarding ‘em. But...I’m not gonna have to sneak. Just...trust me.”

He looked back down at the PokéGear. 1:48. They had twelve minutes before the man would come downstairs to retrieve the package. Preventing him from getting it would be a tall order, but they had no other choice. The psychic sighed and watched his partner make her way towards the fancy elevators of the hotels, then turned his attention back to the front desk. Here went nothing everything. 

Will strolled over to the desk and got behind a man who was obtaining his room key, an expensive suitcase at his side. The boy eyed it, wondering what it was like to be able to afford something as nice as that suitcase looked. Inside of it must have been plenty of well-made, luxurious clothing, shoes, and toiletries. His cheeks grew slightly red. 

When the man finally moved away and it was Will’s time to approach the desk, the kid found himself shaking. Normally, he was hardly a nervous person, but....it felt like his entire future was on the line right now. This was different than stealing a sandwich or putting on a magic show in the park. This was....real criminal activity. 

Will gazed up at the receptionist, who looked at the masked psychic suspiciously. 

“Hel...lo. Are you looking for your parents, young man? What are their names, hm?”

The teenager frowned.

“Excuse me?” he asked, quickly covering up his nervousness and putting on an act,”Do you not know who I am?” 

Will crossed his arms and looked at the receptionist with as much commanding power as he could muster at his small height. He huffed and conjured up an incredibly snooty voice.

“I am Anton Monèbux’s son, of course! He sent me to pick up his package! Don't keep me waiting - I'll be sure to let Father know if you do~.”

“I wasn’t informed that Anton Monèbux had a son. You do realize that you look absolutely nothing like Mr. Monèbux, right?”

“Huff! I was adopted, of course! How offensive! My father does everything he can to give back to the community, sir. And that includes adopting poor, worthless children like I used to be. Oh...I've seen the faces of so many other little boys, desperate for a home, and finally finding one with Father. The first time they look up with their huge eyes and say 'Daddy' - it's absolutely heartwarming.”

As the exchange went on, Will duly noted as the receptionist began typing on the computer before him, staring at the screen intently. Will’s eyes moved to the plain packages on the back counter. He was going to have to be ready to do this at a moment’s notice. 

The receptionist looked back up at the young psychic. 

“Hmmmm....it says here on Poképedia that....Mr. Monèbux has no children. You’re lying.”

Will threw his hands into the air, causing an outright commotion.

“Wha?? This is an outrage! Someone must have changed the description of the page!! There’s no other explanation!!” 

Before the receptionist could speak again, Will looked at the packages and began his work. Using his telepathic ability, he began to slowly wiggle one of them forward, trying to read the name on the shipping label, but it was too far away. As the man before him continued speaking about Will’s blatant lie, picking up the phone to notify authorities, Will mentally summoned forth both of the packages and grabbed them in mid-air. 

Suddenly, the boy heard a female’s voice behind him, calling his name. He turned - perfect timing.

“Karen!! We have to get out of here!"

Will looked back at the receptionist once more.

"Good sir! Tell Father 'thank you' for me~!!"

As Karen ran towards Will, he reached out to grab her hand and pulled her out the glass doors and into the streets, rays of sunlight instantly streaming into their eyes. They continued to run, Will never letting go of his partner or the packages, only focusing on their escape. After he felt that they were far enough away, the psychic pulled Karen down a dimly-lit alleyway, a old fire-escape looming above them on the side of an abandoned building. Home.

Will sat on the steps of the fire escape and began laughing, pushing his hair out of his face. They’d done it. They’d managed to get in and get out with the package of Anton Monèbux, one of the richest men in Johto, and they had absolutely no clue what was even inside. The psychic sat the Monèbux package by his side and handed the other to Karen.

“Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand.

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.”

- W. B. Yeats

♦♦♦

The experience of nighttime in the city is one of subjectivity. There are some who are lucky enough to live in areas of wealth and prosperity amongst the crème de la crème, attending to their business meetings during the day and going out to exclusive clubs at night for drinks along with their beautiful, rich friends. There are others who live in the suburbs, satisfied with their middle-class lives, their nine-to-five hours, and coming home to eat dinner with the family in the evening. It isn’t a perfect life, but it’s one that they are content with - after all, they have their health and their families, and they really couldn’t ask for anything more. Then, there are those who have been dealt a terrible card in life - the unfortunate ones - the ones who have nothing and no one on which or whom to depend. Perhaps some people believe that they “chose” that lifestyle via the route of drugs, alcohol, laziness, and perhaps it is true for many, but for some, this couldn’t be farther from fact. There are those who were never given a choice, and they have two options: they can sit around and wait for life to appease them, or they can attempt to find their own happiness and create their own magic. And how rewarding it can be for those who choose to create something...out of nothing.

♦♦♦

“Alright!” Will stated eagerly, “Three cards! The Jack of Spades, the Jack of Clubs, and....the Queen of Hearts! The Queen holds the bets - it’s your job to pick which card is she! The bet will start at one Pokedollar and will be doubled each round. We’ll continue for as long as you want, but if you pick the wrong card, I win~.” 

A twenty-something male stood on the sidewalk before the Psychic, finger to his chin as he watched Will mix the three cards at a relatively slow pace, his eyes following the Queen that had been shown to him before the shuffle. 

“That one,” the young man said, pointing to the card in the middle of the other two. Will flipped it, showing that it was, indeed, the Queen of Hearts. The game continued as the player became greedier for more money, the purplette completely unphased by the growing bet. At eight turns, the bet was at 256 Pokedollars, soon to become 512. It was at this point that the masked dealer decided to trick the other, using subtle handwork to cause his opponent’s eyes to follow the wrong card. Upon the reveal, the player began to remove his wallet from his back pocket, slowly taking out money for the bet, when an older man nearby held up a hand to stop him. The eyes of everyone in the small crowd around player and dealer moved to the man as he began to speak. 

“No,” he said firmly, “don’t give it to him. This kid just tried to scam you! That trick is one of the oldest in the book, and if he can’t make a fair bet, he doesn’t deserve your money.”

The victim of Will’s con looked down angrily, wiping the cards from the cardboard box they sat upon and nearly slapping the young Psychic. Will put his hands up in defense and stood from his chair quickly. 

“H-hey! There’s no need for any violence, a-alright? It was j-just a little trick! It’s not MY fault that you fell for it!” Will gulped while simultaneously grinning, an involuntary defense mechanism. 

The crowd was getting riled up. From behind his mask, Will could see the looks of disapproval being shot his way as he attempted to verbally defend himself. It was when he began to stutter and back away from the group that they threw their nasty at him, causing him to perspire and shake uncontrollably. The teenager winced as harsh words fell upon him like an avalanche of doubt and anger. 

“Ya been out here messin’ with people every night, kid. ‘S time to give it up, dont’cha think?”

“Are you an idiot? This is such a scam! I have Pokemon that could do better tricks than you!”

“He’s probably another runaway who thinks he’ll make it big time. Ha! Go home to your parents, kid. You’re probably breaking your mother’s heart.”

Will stood in disbelief as the crowd began to disperse, throwing him disappointed looks as Thea, his Xatu, attempted to shield him from their glares. However, from under her wing, the Psychic watched as a very young girl stared back at him in longing, her blonde hair just reaching her shoulders as she flashed a smile back towards him. Will grinned at her warmly, happy that someone had enjoyed the show, even if it was simply a child. To him, children were wonderful because they were still too innocent to see anything other than magic in his tricks and talents, so having them in the audience gave him confidence and the ability to see himself through their eyes. However, it was when someone attempted to remove that innocence that Will became upset, and as the small girl was dragged along the sidewalk by her father, the masked boy heard him speak to his daughter. 

“Don’t look at him, darling. He’s just a good-for-nothing beggar. Save that smile for someone who matters.” 

The teenaged boy frowned as the girl was dragged further and further away and as the last remaining angry spectators took their leave. Packing up his belongings, Will groaned loudly and looked up at the sky. Few stars could be seen over the Goldenrod cityscape, as the bright lights from its more active districts blocked out the tiny pinpoints, but the ones that could be seen were very special to him. They were indicative that if he could  just shine bright enough, then maybe someone would finally take notice of him and hold him in high regard. Though, at current, it seemed that would never occur. 

♦♦♦

Standing on the corner of the street, the Psychic thought back to his earlier days when he’d been shifted around from orphanage to foster home and back again. At the local boy’s home in Goldenrod City, he’d been treated horribly by staff and peer alike, constantly being told that he was “strange”, and even “scary”. A special box had been placed in the broom closet that held “contraband” collected from the room he’d shared with two other boys. Within the box were playing and tarot cards, spoons that had been stolen from the home’s kitchen, bags of tea leaves, small dolls shaped like other residents of the home, a pair of handcuffs, a crystal ball, and several books on telepathy and fortune telling. It seemed that any item the staff found to be “suspicious” or “dangerous” was taken away and placed into the box in the closet. What the Matron and her staff didn’t know, however, was that these items were helping Will learn to control his powers at his young age. In fact, it was more dangerous for him NOT to have a means of focus than for them to be accessible to him at all times. This ignorance on their part was why Will made his choice to run away from orphanages and foster families forever. 

It had been raining on the day he’d finally made the decision. However, it wasn’t as though he’d taken much care into planning his exit, and when it happened, it was spontaneous and filled with anger. All of the boys and the orphanage workers were gathered in the dining room for supper, each of them with a bowl of tomato soup and a sandwich. While many of the boys laughed and entertained one another with inappropriate jokes and silly faces, Will kept to himself, spooning soup into his mouth quietly. That was when it had occurred - the Matron had looked directly at him and had politely asked him to remove his mask, the one item she’d not yet taken from him. The boy had said nothing, and simply continued to eat his food as his peers looked at him uncomfortably, shifting in their seats.

“Will,” the Matron had said, “I told you to please remove your mask.”

Again, the young Psychic had done nothing but continue his business of completing dinner, not giving her the slightest glimpse or nod. 

“WILL,” she said more sternly, “I won’t ask you again. Take. Off. The. Mask.”

Spoon in hand, Will began to shake in anger, and in his mind passed a bitter thought. Hell, she’s already taken everything else away. If this is what she wants, then why not. 

With his free hand, Will pulled the ribbon of his black fabric mask and it fell to the table in one swift motion. To the Matron his eyes shifted, violet and filled with spite towards the woman. He’d known what was going to happen before he’d even removed the cover, as without it his powers were nearly impossible to control. Why the child had been “blessed” with such intense mental ability was a mystery, and for as much as he’d tried to lessen it in order to protect those around him, he couldn’t do anything to prevent the chaos that would occur when the item that acted as a buffer was removed. That is why the entire room grew silent when the young Psychic’s violet eyes began to grow brighter in intensity, why gasps were heard from everyone around the table as each piece of silverware in their hands was bent in perfect unison, and why screams escaped from the mouths of all who were present as they were thrown back against the walls, still in their chairs. Above the large table, the chandelier had begun to shake violently before falling onto the wooden surface and smashing into millions of pieces, sending glass flying in every direction. It was only when Will was able to replace his mask and come out of his trance that he’d seen the damage he'd done and had run away, leaving any belonging, any friend he’d made behind forever and never looking back.

♦♦♦

Clouds were beginning to cover the stars that Will looked up at, a storm traveling with them. As rain began to fall, the teenager shuffled along the sidewalk, Thea flying as best she could alongside her human partner.  A chill passed through the air and the boy pulled his torn black coat further over his arms, shivering as he walked through puddles and felt his wet, violet hair begin to mat to his face. It was getting late, and he’d have to find a makeshift location to rest for the night, feeling too tired to travel the several blocks back to his “home”, a platform on the fire escape of an old building. Sighing, he turned a corner down a long, murky alleyway and leaned against the bricks of one of the buildings on the sides, letting himself slide downwards until hitting the wet ground. What did it matter that he was sitting in a puddle of dirty water? He was already dirty, wet, and exhausted. At this point, little mattered to him apart from finding an escape from the real world through sleep. However, it was almost immediately after he’d pulled his legs tightly into his body and rested his head upon his knees that he’d heard shouting coming from down the alleyway. 

Will raised his head in dull curiosity, wondering what in Arceus’ name was going on. Pulling himself to his feet, the Psychic began to wander down the alleyway, nearly tripping over a Rattata as it scampered past in a rush. Steadying himself, Will walked onward until he saw the origin of the shouting.  

She appeared to be fairly young, probably not even a teenager, and had two sections of blue hair tied into wet pigtails on either side of her head. Two hulking men stood before her in threatening positions, and though Will couldn’t make out their exact words, he could tell that something bad was about to go down. Hiding behind a garbage can, he watched with anxiety as the men continued to throw threats at her and push her around, overpowering the girl who was less than half their size. She threw insults back their way, and it surprised Will that she was able to give them so much grief. However, it was when one of the men readied himself to punch the child that the scrawny teenager made his own move, attempting to show more bravery than he actually possessed. 

“HEY!” he shouted at the pair of crooks, bringing the attention to himself, “How about you leave her alone, hm? Whatever sort of business would you have with a kid like that?”

Adjusting his mask, he approached the others from the darkness of the inner alleyway, the mist flowing around him giving aid to his dramatic entrance. 

The trio did not seem impressed. 

“Who the Hell are you?” one of the men asked disbelievingly as the two-bit magician made his way to the group. Will was beginning to wonder what exactly he was getting himself into, but he had a weakness when it came to children who were alone, like he’d been, and knew that he had to keep up the act. At the inquiry from the thug, Will gave a tight smirk.

“Heyyy, watch the profanity, won’t ya? What, are you trying to take away her innocence? Shame on you!”

The other reacted exactly as Will had expected him to - with a forceful lunge - and the Psychic jumped into the air, levitating for a moment to allow for the man to land face-first in a pile of unbagged garbage. 

“Too slow!” he shouted playfully, the sudden match beginning to lift his spirits again. 

Will watched as the other man began to come at him as well, and he moved quickly to the side, revealing Thea behind him, who blew a violent gust at the human opponent, causing him to stumble backwards onto the ground. In a rush, the purplette grabbed the young woman’s hand and pulled her back into the alley, where he lifted her up onto a ladder on the side of one of the buildings and told her to climb. Following close behind, Will grimaced as the two crooks caught on to what was happening and began to trail after them, clumsily making their way up the ladder as well. 

“Dammit,” Will whispered under his breath before shouting at the blunette to move a bit more quickly. When the pair had finally reached the top, the Psychic looked over the side at their stalkers, who were still several yards away. It was then that he noticed how eroded the metal of the top of the ladder was, and considered how easily it would bend and break. Using the final reserves of mental strength that he had left, Will began to twist the ladder’s connections to the top of the building. The metal was relatively pliable, but it was also in better shape than the boy had previously judged. It was when the thugs were merely a foot away that Will gave a final telepathic twist that caused the ladder to fall backwards, men still attached to its wet steps. Hanging on for dear life, the two trouble makers continued to shout what were now empty threats at the blue-haired girl and the masked man, and Will began to laugh crazily at the event. 

“That was GREAT!” he said hysterically, still looking down at his victims and sticking out a tongue at them.  It was only when he heard the clearing of a throat behind him that Will turned to face the girl. He blanched.