THE DETERMINED CAPTURE [1/5]
Santana, I don't know how to tell you this but I sort of kinda maybe want really need to be a Pokemon Coordinator. Those were the last words that Santana had heard from Brittany. Brittany and Santana had left Pewter City wanting to become Pokemon Trainers, battlers, with the eventual goal of challenging the Elite Four. They had burned all their bridges back home chasing that dream together, and Brittany threw it all away to become a Coordinator: a Pokemon Pageant Coach twirling around with a ribbon trying to impress a bunch of braindead judges. Santana might have dodged a bullet there, all things considered, but she had every right to be frustrated.
It was like Brittany had never loved her.
Their relationship was the only thing she had besides her Pokemon. A month had gone by, and Santana was nowhere closer to the Indigo League than she was when Brittany was with her. In the end, Santana did not even want to finish the Kanto Gym Leader challenge, despite the six badges already sitting in her pocket. All she wanted was to move on to the next region. All she wanted was to find a new start: to become a new person.
All she needed was the cash. After coming out to her parents, she had been completely cut off from her family. If the cost of being herself was exile, then Santana needed to learn to live on her own. She took her Charmeleon and left Pewter with Brittany to start challenging Gyms to support herself. No one, absolutely no one, not her father not her mother not even God himself could tell Santana Lopez that to be herself was criminal. They were wrong. The world was wrong. They could fuck off. They would fuck off.
Except Brittany. Brittany, the sweet, vapid girl Santana had fallen in love with back at Pokemon School, managed to topple the wall Santana built over the years. Now she was sitting on a bench, wearing a dirty pair of jeans, a white tank top, and her familiar red trainer's jacket, trying to figure out what her life had come to.
There was a flyer in her hands that read: Vermillion City Double Battle Tournament. Random Draft. Three Pokemon to a Trainer. Seemed like standard fare for a Double Tournament. Santana was fixated on the portion labeled GRAND PRIZE $50,000. Split two ways, that was enough to apply for a passport and buy a ticket out of Kanto. Santana already knew where she was going: Unova, that faraway Continent, where no one would know who she was or who she had been. That was her fresh start. Her new beginning. She just needed to win.
She adjusted her pony tail and headed off to the seaside stadium, a run-down arena about a mile away from the main dock. This was an unofficial League tournament, and there were no restrictions on who could sign up. A mass murderer could sign up and there would be no rule to stop it from happening. Santana had grown up in Pewter. She was more than able to handle herself around the worst kind of guy.
Given the venue and given the crowd, Santana expected her partner to be some burly out-of-work fighting-type specialist without a badge to his name. When she arrived at the organizer's desk with the other entrants, she thought she had misread the name Quinn Fabray printed next to her own on the assignments sheet. That was the kind of name that made you think of fabric softener and Teddiursas, not hardcore Pokemon trainers. Santana wondered who the hell this Quinn was, and if she wore knee highs socks because stockings were too liberal. She chuckled a bit before shouting to the crowd:
"Who the hell is Quinn Fabray?"
Heads turned, and a single hand was raised. A delicate hand, manicured with fine white tips. Blonde hair that was cut to right below her ears. Lips...Santana did not even want to bother with anymore of the details. She was beautiful in every sense of the word, so much so that Santana was a little stunned that someone like her—someone wearing such a dainty dress—was in a place like this.
"I am. Santana, I hope." She replied.
They stepped outside to talk about the tournament. Santana tried to read her, but Quinn, from the way she walked to the way she held her head aloft only so slightly, exuberated a kind of cold Santana had yet to experience. If she had to explain her first impression of Quinn, permafrost was close. Quinn did not even have a trace of a memory of warmth on her. It was sad, but mostly intriguing.
"You train ice types?" Santana said. It was a slip of the tongue. Quinn looked at her, and smiled. The smile was barren, as if she had only smiled to make a point.
"Ice and Water. Mostly Water. Though, I get that assumption a lot." Quinn said. "Let's see...judging from the dirt on your jeans, you train Ground types?"
"What did you..."
"If we're judging people based on their appearances."
"Fire, Quinn. You talk shit one more time, and let's see who's the ground type then." Santana said. She walked a little ahead of Quinn, if only to conceal her blush from her. "Now, what line-up are you thinking of running?"
"All business. I see."
"Battle isn't business. It's survival." Santana corrected her. Quinn began to list her available Pokemon and their strengths, their weaknesses, but Santana was not listening. She was admiring the way the sunlight streaked through Quinn's blonde hair. The way her lips moved as she spoke. Her eyes in their totality. Santana continued to watch and stare until she felt a cold hand touch her cheek.
Tap was the word she needed to use.
"Hey. Are you listening to me?" Quinn said.
"Yeah, yeah. Just...wait, say everything you just said again."