Pokémon Episode 1: Gotta Catch a Break

Tack Katcher had dreamed of beginning his Pokémon journey for as long as he could remember. Unfortunately, he had spent most of that time dreaming from the comfort of his mother’s basement.

At twenty four years old, Tack had accumulated everything a prospective Pokémon Trainer needed except a Pokémon, practical experience, money, physical endurance, emotional resilience, and any reason to believe he would survive outside. He did own four different League caps, however, and that morning he stood before his bedroom mirror trying to decide which one made him look the most destined.

Upstairs, Mrs. Katcher had already packed his bags. She had also changed the locks.

Tack emerged from the basement wearing a blue jacket, fingerless gloves, and a backpack so heavily loaded with stuff that he had to lean forward to keep from falling over. His mother waited by the front door with tears in her eyes. Tack had expected this moment to be difficult for her. He was her only son, and they had been together almost every day since his birth, aside from the three weeks she sent him to summer camp and secretly moved without telling him.

She pulled him into a tight embrace.

Mrs. Katcher: My boy is finally going out into the world.

Tack Katcher: I know, Mom. It’s going to be hard without me here.

Mrs. Katcher: I’ll find a way to cope.

Behind her, three men from a renovation company were measuring the basement door.

Tack looked past her. One of the men held a clipboard bearing the words HOME GYM INSTALLATION.

Tack Katcher: What are they doing?

Mrs. Katcher: Helping me process my grief.



She handed him his suitcase, kissed him on the forehead, and ushered him onto the porch. Tack turned to offer one last brave smile, but the door slammed in his face. The deadbolt clicked. A second deadbolt followed it, then a chain, followed by a scraping noise that suggested his mother had pushed the refrigerator against the door.

Tack stood alone in the morning sunlight and took a deep breath. Somewhere beyond Pallet Town waited adventure, friendship, and a world of incredible creatures ready to become his loyal companions. He raised one fist toward the horizon.

Tack Katcher: Today, my life finally begins!

A suitcase flew through the upstairs window and landed beside him.

Mrs. Katcher: You forgot your underwear!

Doctor Sal’s laboratory stood on the edge of town, although Tack found the building empty when he arrived. The lights had been left on, and the front door hung open. Tack called the doctor’s name several times before hearing a frantic whisper through an open window.

He followed it around the building and found Doctor Sal crouched inside a hedge. The distinguished Pokémon researcher wore a white laboratory coat stained with dirt, leaves, and something Tack chose not to identify. He held a video camera with an enormous telephoto lens and aimed it toward two Pokémon moving through the tall grass.



Doctor Sal: Come on. A little closer, baby. The lighting is perfect. Oh yeah. This is hot.

Tack Katcher: Doctor Sal?

Doctor Sal screamed, fell backward, and nearly shoved the camera beneath his coat.

Doctor Sal: Tack! You shouldn’t sneak up on a scientist conducting important behavioral research.

Tack glanced toward the Pokémon. They had fled while Sal was scrambling to hide the camera.

Tack Katcher: Were you filming those Pokemon mating?

Doctor Sal: That is an extremely judgmental way of describing my life’s work.

Tack Katcher: What would be a better way?

Doctor Sal: Intimate wildlife cinematography.

Tack Katcher: What?!

Doctor Sal: Listen, not ONE person has ever seen Pokemon mating! They just sort of stand around, and you blink, and an egg appears! I need to capture it. It's the ultimate thrill. The ultimate ki- kind research for me...the Pokémon Professor.

Doctor Sal climbed out of the hedge and checked the recording. He didn't capture the moment, as Tack's jostle took them out of frame. He looked ahead to see an egg sitting in the grass. He tucked the camera under one arm and led Tack back into the laboratory.

Three Poké Balls rested on a table in the center of the room. Two were empty. The third moved slightly when they approached it.

Doctor Sal: You’re late. You're about ten years too late, but whatever. The other new Trainers came at the customary age of ten and selected their partners fourteen years ago.

Tack Katcher: I wanted to make sure I was ready.

Doctor Sal: You spent fourteen years preparing?

Tack Katcher: I spent twelve years thinking about preparing. The last two were mostly complicated, and then my Mom said it was time to get a job if I stayed, so I decided it was the perfect time!

Doctor Sal stared at him for several seconds before picking up the remaining Poké Ball.

Doctor Sal: Fortunately, one Pokémon remains. I had planned to keep this specimen for a special breeding project, but the court order was very specific about limiting my access to the daycare center.

He tossed the ball. A flash of white light filled the laboratory, and a small yellow Pokémon appeared on the floor. Its pointed ears rose as it looked around the room. Red circles marked its cheeks, and its lightning bolt shaped tail twitched with nervous energy.

Tack forgot every concern he had about Doctor Sal.

Tack Katcher: A Pikachu.

Pikachu looked up at him. Its dark eyes studied his face while Tack slowly crouched and offered one hand. The little Pokémon approached with understandable caution, sniffed his fingers, and placed one paw against his palm.

Tack’s throat tightened. For years he had imagined this moment. He had wondered which Pokémon would stand beside him when he left home, faced the Gym Leaders, and challenged the Pokémon League. Now that his partner was here, the ambitions that had once felt childish seemed possible.

Tack Katcher: You don’t know me yet, and I don’t know you. Maybe you’re afraid. Honestly, I’m terrified. But I promise that I’ll protect you. We’ll grow stronger together, and whatever happens out there, neither one of us will ever have to face it alone.

Pikachu’s expression softened.

Pikachu: Pika.

Tack lifted Pikachu into his arms. The Pokémon pressed its head beneath his chin as gentle sparks moved through its fur. Doctor Sal wiped a tear from one eye.

Doctor Sal: This is beautiful. Turn slightly toward the window. I can sell this footage.

Tack carried Pikachu outside. The morning felt brighter than before. Pidgey moved between the trees, Rattata searched through the grass, and a flock of Spearow crossed the sky above them. Tack set Pikachu down on a sunlit patch of road and extended his hand.

Tack Katcher: Are you ready, partner?

Pikachu placed its paw in his hand.



A Golbat descended from the trees, opened its enormous mouth, and swallowed Pikachu in one pass.

The impact knocked Tack backward. A wet crunch came from the Golbat’s mouth, followed by a brief electrical flash that illuminated its swollen cheeks. Blood splattered across Tack’s face and jacket. The Golbat shuddered, released a satisfied screech, and flew toward the woods with the end of Pikachu’s tail hanging from between its teeth.



Tack remained on his knees with one hand extended. His eyes did not move. His mouth stayed open, but no sound came out.

Doctor Sal stepped beside him and watched the Golbat disappear.

Doctor Sal: Nature is remarkable.

Tack slowly turned his blood covered face toward him.

Tack Katcher: It ate him.

Doctor Sal: Her, technically.

Tack Katcher: We were going to face everything together.

Doctor Sal: You did. Everything lasted about forty seconds.

Tack’s heroic journey returned to Doctor Sal’s laboratory before it had reached the end of the driveway. He sat on an examination table with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders while Sal cleaned his face with disinfectant wipes designed for laboratory equipment. Tack barely reacted when one of them went into his eye.

Doctor Sal searched through a storage cabinet.

Doctor Sal: The first partner doesn’t always work out. Many accomplished Trainers have lost Pokémon.

Tack Katcher: During their first minute?

Doctor Sal: Oh absolutely not. Couldn't be more of a cursed start. Don't give up!

He removed another Poké Ball from a box marked UNCLAIMED PROPERTY and released its occupant. A yellow, ducklike Pokémon appeared on the floor, holding both sides of its head. It stared at the wall with a blank expression.

Psyduck: Psy?

Tack’s grief loosened its grip on him. He lowered the blanket and leaned closer.

Tack Katcher: Is that a Psyduck?

Doctor Sal: It belonged to a Trainer who disappeared near the Seafoam Islands. We waited the legally required amount of time before taking his belongings.

Tack Katcher: I love Water types.

Tack knelt in front of Psyduck. Psyduck turned away from the wall, looked at Tack, and began walking toward a wastebasket.

Tack Katcher: He’s perfect.

Doctor Sal: He's something.

Sal gave Tack a rectangular red device. Tack opened it, and the Pokédex immediately scanned Psyduck.

Pokédex: Psyduck. The Duck Pokémon. Its persistent headache occasionally awakens powerful psychic abilities. This specimen has a Modest nature.

Tack brightened.

Tack Katcher: Modest nature! That’s great. I wouldn’t want an arrogant Pokémon.

Doctor Sal: It means increased special attack and decreased physical attack.

Tack Katcher: I already love his humility.

Psyduck pushed its head into the wastebasket and became trapped. Its legs continued walking while the container scraped across the laboratory floor.

Doctor Sal showed Tack a small lens on the back of the Pokédex.

Doctor Sal: It also has a camera. If you encounter any rare Pokémon behavior, record it for me.

Tack Katcher: What kind of behavior?

Doctor Sal: You know.

Tack Katcher: Battling?

Doctor Sal: Preferably not.

Tack Katcher: Eating?

Tack’s expression tightened.

Tack Katcher: You want me to record Pokémon mating.

Doctor Sal: Science wants you to record Pokémon mating. I merely want several copies sent to my private computer.

Tack Katcher: That’s weird.

Doctor Sal: You’ll understand when you’re older.

Tack Katcher: I’m twenty four.

Doctor Sal: Yeah. That's really weird too.

Tack freed Psyduck from the wastebasket, recalled him, and put the Poké Ball on his belt. He considered returning home, but when he passed his house, he discovered that his mother had already removed his bedroom window and covered the opening with bricks. She waved enthusiastically from the front yard while contractors carried his belongings toward a dumpster.

With Pallet Town behind him, Tack followed the road toward Vermilion City. His confidence gradually returned during the trip. Nothing else attacked him, and he interpreted this absence of violence as natural talent. By late afternoon, the city’s harbor cranes appeared beyond the hills. Ships filled the blue water, shops lined the busy streets, and experienced Trainers moved through the crowds with their Pokémon beside them.

Tack paused beneath the city sign and put both hands on his hips.

Tack Katcher: Vermilion City. The first stop on my path to greatness.

An elderly man waiting beside the road turned toward him. He wore a rumpled brown coat and carried a bag of candy that had already been opened.

Old Man: You look like a new Pokémon Trainer.

Tack Katcher: I am. My name is Tack Katcher.

Old Man: Tack Katcher?

Tack Katcher: My mother named me Tack cause she said I was like a pain in her butt. I don't get what she meant by that.

Old Man: Your mother sounds creative.

Tack Katcher: Her name is Martha Katcher.

Old Man: MARTHA! WHY DID YOU SAY THAT NAME?! 

Tack Katcher: What?! What's the problem?

Old Man: Ex-wife named Martha. She caught me...uh...she caught me. Don't worry about it. You must have a great deal to learn. Why don’t you come back to my house? I could give you private lessons.

Tack Katcher: That’s very generous! I need all the pokeinformation I can get!

Old Man: It's just...it's just information. You don't have to put poke in front of everything. Just...just come on. I enjoy helping inexperienced young men. We can have some candy, close the curtains, and discuss how Pokémon reproduce.

Tack Katcher: Doctor Sal has been asking me about that too. It must be an important part of being a Trainer.

Old Man: You’re exactly the sort of student I’ve been looking for.

A Venonat sprang from a nearby alley and struck the old man in the chest. He stumbled backward, dropped his candy, and ran into the city with the Venonat chasing him.

Two figures emerged from the alley through a cloud of purple smoke. One was a man in a white Team Rocket uniform with a red T across the chest. The other was a woman bearing the same emblem. Her Venonat stopped beside her while the man held a Metapod beneath one arm.

Tali: That was the closest thing to a public service we’ve ever done.

Trevor: We’re supposed to be committing crimes, Tali.

Tali: We’re still stealing his Pokemon!

Trevor: Good. I was worried we were developing standards.

Tali: You brought a Metapod to a robbery!

Trevor: Hey! Metapod is reliable. Metapod is good. I love my Metapod. He was once a Caterpie, but he evolved into...whatever this is.

Tali: Metapod is luggage with eyes.

Trevor set Metapod on the ground. It immediately tipped onto its side.

Trevor: He’s doing his best!

Tali: His best is lying down.

Tack watched the argument until Tali noticed him. She cleared her throat and turned to him.

Tali: Prepare for trouble!

Trevor: And make it double!

Tali: To protect the world from devastation!

Trevor: To unite all peoples within our nation! This actually doesn't sound so ba-

Tali: To denounce the evils of truth and love!

Trevor: Oh there it is. To extend our reach to the stars above!

Tali: Tali!

Trevor: Trevor!

Tali: Team Rocket, blast off at the speed of light!

Trevor: Surrender now, or prepare to fight



Tack had stopped listening after the smoke appeared. His first day outside had already taught him that wild creatures could descend from the sky without warning, and he refused to suffer another surprise attack. He charged before Trevor could issue a challenge.

Tack’s shoulder struck Trevor in the stomach. Trevor hit the pavement with Tack on top of him. Metapod watched helplessly from its side while Tack grabbed Trevor by the collar and repeatedly punched him in the face.



Trevor: Stop! We’re supposed to use Pokémon!

Tack Katcher: I won’t let you eat Psyduck!

Trevor: Nobody said anything about eating Psyduck!

Tali: Trevor, defend yourself!

Trevor: Tell him the rules! HELP ME!

Tali: YOU THINK I WANT TO GET HIT?!

Tack struck him twice more, scrambled to his feet, and ran. Trevor sat up with blood running from his nose and one eye already swelling shut. He stared after Tack in disbelief.

Trevor: That isn’t how Pokémon battles work!

Tali: You lost to a man whose starter is a concussion with feathers.

Trevor: He didn't even use it!

Tack sprinted beyond the city limits, fueled by terror, adrenaline, and a complete misunderstanding of what had happened. He looked back and saw no pursuit. Pride replaced fear. He had encountered Team Rocket on his first day and defeated them without even needing Psyduck.

He raised his fist as he ran.

Tack Katcher: I’ll become the best there is, like no one ever was!

His boot caught beneath an exposed tree root. Tack pitched forward, struck his forehead against a rock, and landed face first in the dirt. The impact opened the Poké Ball on his belt. Psyduck emerged in a flash of light, bounced once across Tack’s back, and landed upright beside the road.

Psyduck looked at Tack.

Tack did not move.

Psyduck looked toward Vermilion City. It held its head, turned in a slow circle, and wandered into the woods.

Several minutes later, Tack regained consciousness. Blood ran down his forehead, his backpack was open, and his only surviving Pokémon had disappeared.

He pushed himself onto his hands and knees.

Tack Katcher: Psyduck?

A distant rustling moved through the trees.

Tack Katcher: Psyduck!

For the first time, Tack wondered whether his mother had been a little too excited to see him go.

Back in Pallet Town, Mrs. Katcher lowered herself into a newly installed basement hot tub and raised a glass of champagne.

Mrs. Katcher: I always knew that boy would make something of himself.

Outside her house, a Golbat flew past the window with a lightning shaped tail still hanging from its mouth.

To Be Continued...

Last edited by Machismo (7/24/2026 7:00 pm)