Pokemon: Divergence Chapter 1

Hi all, 

Here’s the first chapter for the week. Resurgence will take a short break because I’m dealing with writer's block with the story. In the meantime, I have an idea for a new Pokemon story. It will be a more straightforward story than usual, but it will still include my own ideas. This will take the place of Resurgence for the next few weeks while I work through my writer's block. 

The second chapter of this story will be out later today. After that, I will start updating my Harry Potter stories.

Chapter 1 - Into the New World

Dylan Reed selected the correct key for the clinic's back entrance and unlocked the door. As he stepped inside, the sharp smell of antiseptic hit him. It was a mix of bleach and different animal odours.

Another night, another stupid decision. But at least this one's worth making.

Alan would be in the break room. The night-shift worker spent most shifts scrolling through his phone rather than doing his job. His laziness, something that normally annoyed Dylan, actually helped him tonight.

Dylan walked down the corridor toward the kennels. The dog he was targeting was a Rottweiler that faced execution tomorrow morning. Not from illness or old age, but because he'd protected a child from a predator. He'd torn a hole in the man's leg when the bastard tried to kidnap a twelve-year-old girl.

Dylan had seen the family say goodbye to Bruiser earlier today. The girl had been especially inconsolable. The scene had infuriated and saddened him.

Rich prick gets what he deserves, and somehow the dog's the one on death row. Makes perfect sense.

Money had made the decision. The injured man's family had great influence. When the right people were in power, justice became something that could be negotiated. Although the man wouldn't get off lightly, they were punishing Bruiser for the injuries he sustained. Rottweilers already had a reputation for being aggressive, but Bruiser shouldn't be blamed for protecting a girl from a monster.

Dylan had been tempted to find the man at the hospital and remove a certain part of his anatomy to make sure he never tried to harm another child. His contribution to community service. It would've felt good too. Therapeutic, even.

He understood that life wasn't fair. Eighteen months ago, he'd taken the fall for someone else's crime. Drug possession with intent to supply. He'd spent a year in juvenile detention, and now he cleaned up after animals for minimum wage. The community didn't look kindly on him for having a juvenile record, so finding work had been a struggle.

The job wasn't glamorous, but he didn't mind the menial work. He realised he had a natural connection with animals, and they seemed to like him just as much as he liked them. More than he could say for most people.

Dylan reached Bruiser's cage. The Rottweiler lay still, without any sign of excitement at his presence. It was as if he already understood what was coming.

"Hey, boy," Dylan whispered. He fumbled with the latch.

He hadn't planned anything beyond running off with Bruiser. He didn't know where he would take the dog or how he would avoid being blamed for the crime. It was an impulsive decision, made because he was pressed for time.

And because he is apparently incapable of minding his own business.

"Come on, mate." Dylan clipped the leash to Bruiser's collar. "Time for your prison break."

Bruiser stood, and Dylan guided him out of the cage. Now, he just needed to get him out without Alan noticing.

The lights blazed on.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Alan stood in the doorway. He held his phone in one hand. His expression shifted from confusion to comprehension to vindication.

Shit.

Dylan rushed to think of a believable excuse. "Just taking Bruiser for a final walk before his execution tomorrow. He doesn't need to be locked up in a cage for his last night."

Alan laughed. "As if I would believe that nonsense. You aren't supposed to be here. You triggered the alarm when you snuck in, and I've already called the police. They'll put you back where you belong, scum."

Dylan silently cursed. He hadn't fully thought this through. "Alan, I always thought you were a dickhead."

He tensed, preparing to take Alan down, the barrier standing between him and freedom. Just as he was about to move, Bruiser lunged forward. The leash slipped out of Dylan's grasp, and the dog crashed into Alan, sending him tumbling to the ground with a pained cry. Alan's phone flew out of his hand and slid across the floor.

"Bruiser, wait!"

The dog ran down the corridor, heading for the exit. Dylan rushed after it, his heart pounding. Things had gone far beyond anything he had prepared for.

Bruiser was waiting for him when he reached the back door. He looked at Dylan with intelligent eyes.

Dylan yanked the door open. Police sirens wailed in the distance.

"Wow, the shit has hit the fan now."

They ran through the overgrown yard until it gave way to woodland. The trees were dense, dark and unwelcoming. Bruiser plunged ahead like he knew exactly where he was going. Dylan followed him, as he couldn't see a thing. Should have brought a torch.

Behind them, voices shouted. The police were already on their trail.

Dylan's breath came in ragged gasps as his stamina rapidly depleted. Branches snagged his clothes, and the uneven terrain threatened to trip him. At some point, he lost track of Bruiser and had to keep moving through the woods on his own.

His foot caught something. Suddenly, there was no ground beneath him. The slope appeared from nowhere. It was steep and brutal. Dylan rolled down the slope, seemingly bouncing off every rock and small tree as he went.

He hit the bottom hard. Dylan lay there for a long time, groaning as his body protested its abuse. He catalogued the damage. His ankle was possibly sprained. His face was definitely bleeding. Nothing was broken. Probably.

It could be worse. He could be dead.

He heard a soft whimper. "Bruiser?"

The dog sprawled nearby but stood up when he heard Dylan call his name. Relief flooded through him.

Then Dylan saw the light. It came from a doorway suspended in the air. Through it, Dylan glimpsed a strange landscape. It definitely wasn't the woodland.

A figure stood before it. It was small, pink and impossible. Mew.

A Pokemon. An actual freaking Pokemon that shouldn't exist in the real world.

It had to be a concussion. Soon, he would wake up in the hospital with his wrists handcuffed to the bed. 

"Dylan Reed," it said. Its voice resonated in his mind. "I've been watching you."

Dylan groaned. "And I’ve been reading too much Pokemon fanfiction. This delusion is something else.”

"It’s no delusion. Though I understand the scepticism. What I'm offering is quite extraordinary."

"What are you offering?"

"Transitioning to the Pokemon World. You keep your name but become fifteen years old. An orphan ready to start a Pokemon journey. We're running an experiment. A human from Earth with a strong bond with animals will be placed in our world. We want to see how you'll make a go of it."

“For what reason?”

“Our entertainment.”

Dylan scoffed. It sounded ridiculous, but there were people in this world who really did act that way. They were either bored or enjoyed feeling powerful by toying with those they saw as beneath them. Why wouldn’t it be the same for powerful legendary Pokemon with more power than sense?

"Why me?"

"Like I said, your affinity with animals. You risked everything tonight for a dog you barely knew."

Dylan frowned. “Could you give me some details? Where will I start my journey, and how does it relate to the anime? Is everything the same, or are there some differences?”

“You begin in Pallet Town, in the same timeline as Ash Ketchum. However, all the characters from the anime are five years older, as you cannot start your Pokemon journey until you turn fifteen. There are many differences, including the use of Aura. In this world, everyone can use Aura to some extent.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Is it like magic? Can you do anything with it?”

Mew shook his head. “No, it's more focused. Early on, it's mainly used for utility and defence. At higher levels, it can be used offensively, but its effectiveness is limited. There is an established Aura system with specific techniques to learn, similar to Pokemon moves.” 

Dylan smiled. If Mew's words were to be believed, then the Pokemon World sounded like a proper adventure. Collecting Pokemon. Battling for the championship. Learning about Aura and whatever other mysteries existed in that world. Meeting different people, including some of his favourite women from the anime. 

Real exploration. Real challenges.

It sounded much better than his miserable life here. This was a chance at a new beginning. A reset button on a life that had gone sideways.

When you put it like that, there really wasn’t much of a choice.

Dylan glanced at Bruiser, who growled at the Pokemon but didn't attack. The dog was the only reason he hesitated. If he left, Bruiser would be recaptured and executed. He couldn’t leave him behind. So what the hell do I do?

"I'll accept on one condition," Dylan said. "Bruiser comes with me. I'm not abandoning him."

The Pokemon tilted its head. "That shouldn't be an issue. He'll be transformed into a Pokemon when transitioning to our world."

He looked at Bruiser. The dog nodded, as if it understood what was going on. 

Dylan got to his feet, wincing. They walked to the doorway side by side, then darkness closed in around them.

Here's hoping this isn't the stupidest decision he’d ever made.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Dylan woke with a gasp, his body jerking upright in bed. He felt disoriented at first. The walls were unfamiliar, and the mattress felt thin compared to his usual bed. Then the memories came rushing back—the meeting with Mew, the offer, and him stepping through the doorway.

Orphanage. This must be the orphanage.

He examined his hand. They looked smaller, and his knuckles weren't scarred, a consequence of his time in juvenile detention. 

Right. Fifteen years old now. Welcome to the Pokemon World, Dylan Reed.

The room around him was sparse. A narrow bed, a wooden dresser with chipped paint, a small wardrobe. Posters clung to the walls, showing various Pokemon he recognised. A few toys sat on the dresser—the belongings of a child who grew up with nothing but still managed to love Pokemon.

A massive backpack leaned against the door, looking ready to topple over from its own weight. On the nightstand, a smartphone sat charging.

Dylan rubbed his forehead, trying to access the memories that should belong to this body. They were there, buried deep, but frustratingly vague. Impressions more than actual recollections. Faces without names. Perhaps they'd surface with time, or perhaps the transfer hadn't been complete.

Questions could wait. For now, he had to adjust to this new reality as quickly as possible.

But where was Bruiser? Dylan called out his name, as if expecting a response, when it was obvious the dog/Pokemon wasn’t here. The room was empty except for him and his sparse belongings.

Bloody hell. He should've asked where Bruiser would end up. Why did he assume he would stay with him?

Dylan grabbed the phone. The screen lit up immediately. 

The date was April 1st, 2027. Spring. Did the date correlate to Earth in some way? The Pokemon world in the anime had always been oddly advanced in some ways. 

He scrolled through the apps. Most were standard—messages, photos, settings. But three stood out immediately: Pokenav, Trainer, and Maps.

Dylan opened the Pokenav app first. The interface was clean, intuitive. Two main functions: a Pokédex database for the Kanto region, currently empty, and a scanning feature. So he could scan Pokemon directly with his phone. Useful. Very useful.

The Trainer app was more comprehensive. His trainer ID was shown at the top, featuring a recent photo of himself. Below that, sections for his Pokemon team (currently empty), Pokedollars, achievements, and bank account details. Presumably for wager battles with other trainers.

His balance read 500 Pokedollars.

"Five hundred," Dylan muttered. "That's not alot."

But another function caught his attention. Aura Techniques. His thumb hovered over it before tapping.

The screen loaded with information. The first line revealed his estimated Aura Capacity of 900. According to the note below, he ranked among the top in his age group. How did they measure that? Was there a device that could read Aura? 

Below that was the list of techniques he had learned. He only had one at the moment. Aura Link.

He read the description. Aura Link created a basic connection with captured Pokemon, requiring one hundred Aura to maintain. The technique revealed general impressions from a Pokemon's mind, enabling rudimentary communication. It also established a spatial awareness, allowing trainers to sense their Pokemon's location within a five-hundred-metre radius, even when they were inside their pokeballs. 

With groups like Team Rocket around, the threat of Pokemon being stolen was always high.

What other techniques were out there? Were there lessons on how to learn them, and were they free?

He opened the notes app. There were several entries from the past few months. The latest one was from yesterday.

The journey starts tomorrow. I'm an adult now, so the orphanage will stop supporting me. I need to pick up a starter from Professor Oak's lab and some supplies provided by the League. I can’t wait. 

Dylan's eyes widened. Today. His journey started today. He was officially aged out of the orphanage system, kicked out into the world with nothing but 500 Pokedollars and a backpack to his name.

He checked the time. 9:07 AM.

"Shit."

Was that late? Would all the good starters be gone? Would he end up like Ash, stuck with whatever was left?

Dylan jumped out of bed. At least he was already dressed—wearing jeans, a black shirt, and a brown leather jacket. He noticed a pair of hiking boots by the bed and slipped them on.

He caught his reflection in the mirror hanging by the door. Blue eyes stared back at him. Dark hair, slightly dishevelled from sleep. He looked identical to his previous self, albeit a little younger. Handsome enough, he supposed, though his expression defaulted to what people charitably called "unapproachable." Resting bitch face, more accurately. He'd never cared about that before. 

He grabbed the backpack, immediately groaning at the weight. Christ, what was in this thing? Bricks?

Questions for later. Right now, he needed to move.

Dylan headed outside, squinting against the morning sunlight. Pallet Town spread before him—quaint, pastoral, exactly like the anime had portrayed it. Rolling green hills surrounded the town, with a main road running north and south. The air smelled clean, untainted by industrial pollution.

A woman walked past, carrying a basket of berries. Dylan stepped into her path.

"Excuse me. Where is Professor Oak's lab?"

She gave him an odd look, but she pointed south without comment.

"The cluster of buildings with the wind turbine. Can't miss it."

"Cheers."

Dylan started walking, adjusting the backpack straps. The weight was distributed slightly better across his shoulders, though it still felt like hauling a body. The road was well-maintained, winding between houses with neat gardens. People were already out, tending to chores, chatting with neighbours. A few glanced at him as he passed. 

Dylan breathed in the fresh air, trying to centre himself. His thoughts kept circling back to Bruiser. Where was he? What Pokemon had he become? Would Dylan recognise him? Would Bruiser recognise Dylan?

The uncertainty gnawed at him. He'd made the deal specifically to save Bruiser, to give him a chance at life. If that failed, then what was the point of any of this?

Focus. Deal with what's in front of you first.

He needed a strategy. Too many gaps in his knowledge. Aura, for one thing—clearly a real, measurable force here, not just anime nonsense. He'd need to research that, learn how to properly utilise it. Being at a disadvantage because of ignorance was unacceptable.

Then there was the question of the anime itself. Did any of that information apply? Ash's journey and the strong Pokemon he met—could he use that knowledge to his advantage? Or would this world diverge significantly from the plot he remembered?

Too many variables. Too many unknowns.

The wind turbine came into view, rising above the trees. Professor Oak's lab—a sprawling complex that looked more like a research institute than the simple building from the show.

Dylan pushed through the lab's entrance and stepped into a reception area. White walls, practical furniture, a desk with a middle-aged woman typing at a computer.

Is this really happening? Am I actually standing in Professor Oak's lab?

The absurdity hadn't quite settled. Part of him still expected to wake up in a hospital bed, concussed and handcuffed, with a very disappointed police officer explaining his charges.

He scanned the room for other trainers, but he was the only one here. Had Ash and Gary already come and gone? Did that mean the starters were already taken? Not that it mattered much—he could work with anything. Assuming, of course, that Ash and Gary got their Pokemon on the same day as him.

Dylan approached the desk. The secretary looked up, a professional smile already in place.

"I'm here to pick up my first Pokemon," Dylan said.

She nodded and picked up her phone. A brief conversation later, she set it down. "A scientist will escort you shortly."

"Has anyone else arrived today to pick up their Pokemon?" Dylan asked.

"Ash Ketchum and Professor Oak's grandson, Gary. They had their birthdays recently,” she said. "We have one day every month dedicated to equipping new trainers. Usually, a trainer will come here on the nearest available day after their fifteenth birthday."

"That makes a lot of sense.”

The scientist arrived moments later. Dylan followed him through a series of corridors, each lined with windows looking into various research labs. They entered a room filled with trainer equipment. A shelf lined one wall, holding a neat row of Poke Balls. 

The scientist gestured toward them. "Unfortunately, we don't have any starters available, but there's still a good selection of Pokemon here. Most are from the Kanto region, though some are from other regions. They're all level ten or below, making them easier for new trainers to handle. Each Poke Ball is labelled, but you may summon each Pokemon to see if you have compatibility with any of them."

Dylan moved to the shelf and read the labels. Most of the Pokemon were common, but there were a few rarer species mixed among them. He could see potential with a few options, but nothing that really stood out to him. 

Then his eyes caught a label near the end. Houndour.

The only canine Pokemon among the lot.

His hand reached for the Poke Ball before he fully realised it. He felt it was the right choice, like it was meant for him. Could it be that Bruiser had ended up here, waiting for Dylan to choose him? Even if it wasn't Bruiser, Houndour wasn't a bad choice. He'd picked the Pokemon regularly in games, drawn to its design and typing.

He grabbed the Poke Ball and pressed the release button. Light erupted, coalescing into form. The Houndour ran straight at him, alarming the scientist. But there was no aggression. It planted its front paws on Dylan's chest and tried to lick his face.

"Bruiser?"

The Houndour nodded, tail wagging furiously, and dropped back to the ground.

Relief flooded through Dylan. He hadn't realised how much tension he'd been carrying, how much the uncertainty had weighed on him. Bruiser was here. 

"I want this Houndour," Dylan said.

The scientist recovered from his surprise. "Don't you want to check its parameters first?"

"I suppose."

Dylan pulled out his phone and opened the Pokenav app. He aimed it at Bruiser and tapped scan.

Data populated the screen. Species: Houndour. Type: Dark/Fire. Gender: Male. Height: 2.5 feet. Weight: 25.2 pounds. Level: 8. Ability: Flash Fire. Moves: Leer, Ember, Howl, Smog.

"The Houndour is slightly bigger than average,” the scientist said. “It means he has the potential to evolve into an even bigger Houndoom, and it may have some minor effect on his stat distribution."

Dylan nodded, processing the information. Bruiser almost reached his waist. Dylan himself stood around 5'10" now—shorter than his previous body, but still growing. If Bruiser was already oversized, his Houndoom form would be massive. Large enough to ride, potentially.

The scientist began gathering equipment, laying items out on a nearby table. While Dylan considered Bruiser's parameters. Dark/Fire typing—strong offensively, decent speed. Flash Fire, as an abilit,y meant immunity to Fire-type moves and a power boost when hit by them. Useful in specific matchups. His moveset was basic but functional for his level.

Standard stuff. Nothing unexpected.

The scientist gestured to the assembled equipment. "Here are five free Poke Balls. You're only allowed to hold up to six Pokemon at a time until you've won three gym badges. The limit increases by one for each subsequent badge. Once you've won all eight badges, you no longer have any restrictions. Pokemon are expensive to care for, so I suggest you don't rush to make a full team."

"Hold six," Dylan repeated. "Can we capture more and store them somewhere?"

"The lab can hold them for a fee. We can keep them stored in their Poke Balls, which is much cheaper. A more expensive option is providing them with a habitat, along with training services. Other facilities offer the same service, but aren't as affordable."

Dylan shrugged. "Not something I need to concern myself with at the moment."

The scientist pointed to a small compact robot next—sleek design, matte black finish, about the size of a football. "This is your AI companion. It can be mounted on your shoulder or backpack. It has recording capabilities, typically for trainer battles and documenting any crimes you may encounter. Some trainers use them to livestream their journeys. It can also call for help in emergencies. Basic features include radio and scanner functions, but you can purchase upgrades for additional capabilities."

The scientist demonstrated, mounting the robot on Dylan's shoulder and securing it with a small clamp. The device whirred softly, adjusting its position.

Dylan was surprised that the Pokemon League provided such an expensive device for free. How much would it cost if he were to purchase it himself?

It made sense, though. Trainers got into dangerous situations regularly. Wild Pokemon attacks, criminal encounters, and environmental hazards. Having evidence and emergency contact capabilities would reduce liability and improve response times. The streaming potential was just monetisation on top of practical necessity.

The scientist handed over food vouchers next, along with a book. "Basic tips and guidelines for new trainers. I recommend reading it thoroughly."

"Appreciated."

Dylan gathered everything, securing items in his backpack. 

"Good luck on your journey," the scientist said.

Dylan nodded his thanks and headed for the exit, Bruiser following at his heel. The fresh air hit him again as they stepped outside. 

Now what?

Every instinct screamed to start moving—begin the journey and dive headfirst into whatever this new existence offered. The same impulse that had driven him to break into the clinic, to save Bruiser without a coherent plan beyond 'do the right thing and figure out the consequences later.'

Dylan shook his head. He’d been given a second chance. No point wasting it by being the same reckless idiot.

Research first. He had a tent in his backpack, so there was no need to spend money on accommodation when he could camp outside town.

Tomorrow. He'd start the journey tomorrow. 

"Come on, Bruiser. Let's get something to eat and figure out what the hell we're actually doing."

The Houndour barked once, tail wagging.

At least one of us is optimistic about this.

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Dylan explores Aura techniques and starts his Pokemon journey.