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One Shot: Team Paradox
🕑 Added 2025-02-01 21:21:21 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the third chapter for the week. The last chapter will be out later today. This is another one-shot, with a different kind of system.
Chapter 1
Brendan gripped his wheelchair's rims as Officer Jenny stepped through his aunt and uncle's front door. His sixteenth birthday had started with hope—the day he'd finally access his parents' inheritance and start his Pokemon journey. Instead, he watched police boots crunch across shattered glass from the broken display case in the entryway.
The memory of another shattering crashed through his mind: windscreen glass exploding six years ago as their car rolled. The squeal of brakes. His mother's scream. The crunch of metal folding like paper. His father's hand reaching back, trying to protect him. Then silence—and the horrifying moment he realised he couldn't feel his legs. His parents hadn't survived the crash. That day changed everything, but this moment threatened to destroy what little he had left.
"Look at this mess." Aunt Marie's voice wavered as she gestured at the empty display case. Velvet cushions lay bare where her prized contest ribbons should have sat.
"Ten years of competitions. Each ribbon is worth thousands." She pulled a crumpled ribbon from her pocket, its silk edge frayed and dirty. "We found this in his room while he slept."
Brendan's chest tightened. "I never went near your ribbons—"
"Quiet." Uncle Richard stepped forward, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders. His grey eyes, so similar to Brendan's father's, held none of his dad's warmth. "We took him in after the accident and gave him everything. And how does he repay us? With theft and lies."
Officer Jenny knelt by the display case, examining the broken glass pattern. "The ribbons' total value?"
"Twenty-five thousand." Aunt Marie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "But it's not about the money. It's the betrayal. We tried so hard with him..."
Brendan gritted his teeth. They'd planned this, choosing his birthday when he'd asked about the inheritance. His stomach churned as the pieces clicked into place.
"Officer, please." His voice cracked. "Check the security cameras. I was in my room all night."
"The cameras stopped working yesterday." Uncle Richard's tone dripped concern. "He's good with electronics. Always tinkering."
Of course, they'd stopped working. Brendan stared at the ribbon in his aunt's hand, recognising it as the one she'd kept in her study. The same study he'd seen her enter last night, hours after he'd gone to bed.
Officer Jenny straightened, brushing glass fragments from her uniform. She pulled out her notebook, flipping to a fresh page. "Let's be clear about the situation. At sixteen, you're legally considered an adult in Hoenn. Your guardianship agreement with your aunt and uncle terminated at midnight." She glanced at her watch. "That was ten hours ago."
Brendan's mouth went dry. He'd known turning sixteen meant adult status—it's why most trainers started their journeys at this age. But he hadn't expected it to be used against him like this.
"The evidence suggests theft of property valued over twenty thousand." Officer Jenny's voice remained professionally neutral. "Your aunt and uncle are willing to drop charges if you leave the premises immediately. Given your new adult status, they have no legal obligation to house you."
"My parents' inheritance," Brendan's voice rasped. "The trust fund should have transferred to my control today. I have documentation—"
"All legal documents regarding the trust were filed with the regional court last month." Uncle Richard stepped forward, pulling papers from his jacket. "As appointed trustees, we've maintained full transparency about the fund's depletion."
He handed the documents to Officer Jenny. "Medical bills, specialised equipment, rehabilitation costs, property modifications for accessibility... It's all itemised."
Brendan's head spun. Last week, he'd found bank statements in the study showing over two hundred thousand remaining in trust. But these papers... He glimpsed official stamps, legal seals, and detailed spreadsheets.
"You forged those," he said, but his voice sounded weak even to himself.
Aunt Marie let out a sob. "See how he accuses us? After everything we've done?"
Officer Jenny examined the papers, her expression hardening. "These appear properly filed. Mr. Atkinson, as you're now legally an adult and have been accused of a serious crime, I need to be clear: You can leave now without charges, or I return in one hour with a warrant. If I do, you'll face criminal prosecution."
"But I have rights to financial records, bank statements—"
"Which you can pursue through legal channels." Officer Jenny's tone softened slightly. "But right now, you need to make a choice. Leave voluntarily, or face arrest."
Uncle Richard stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We prepared the paperwork months ago, Brendan. Every withdrawal, every expense, all backdated and notarised. Who do you think they'll believe? A respected contest champion and his wife, or a troubled teenager with a history of behavioural issues?"
Brendan's fingers tightened on his wheelchair. The bank statements he'd found were still in his room, but they'd seem convenient now—easily dismissed as forgeries. His aunt and uncle had played their hand perfectly, using his birthday as both a weapon and shield.
"One hour," Officer Jenny confirmed, closing her notebook. "I suggest you use it wisely."
Sixty minutes later, Brendan wheeled down Littleroot's main street, a backpack balanced across his knees. Spring flowers lined the path, their sweet scent turning bitter in his throat. Groups of townspeople huddled as he passed, their whispers dying only to surge again once they thought him out of earshot.
The Pokemon Centre's automatic doors slid open with a hiss. Cool air washed over him as he entered the familiar space, its healing machine humming in the corner.
"I need a room," he told the nurse. "Just for tonight."
She shuffled papers, avoiding his eyes. "We're fully booked."
Brendan looked around the empty lobby, its rows of unused seats mocking him. "There's no one here."
"Policy states we can't accommodate trainers without valid licenses." More paper shuffling. "Try the next town over,"
The same scene played out at the town's inn. Then the shelter. Each rejection stripped away another layer of hope until only raw anger remained. His aunt and uncle's sabotage ran deeper than he'd imagined—they'd spent months poisoning the town against him, preparing for this moment.
As sunset painted the sky orange, Brendan faced the reality of his situation. The town's outskirts offered few options for shelter. Wild Pokémon roamed these areas, and he was a helpless paraplegic who couldn’t run away to save his life.
He found a spot where three large boulders created a natural windbreak. The ground sloped slightly, letting him wedge his wheelchair at an angle that wouldn't roll. His backpack contained pitifully little: some food, two changes of clothes, basic toiletries, his phone with its nearly dead battery, and seventy pokedollars he'd saved from his allowance.
No one had ever taught him wilderness survival. Why would they? He'd been destined for a normal trainer journey—proper Pokémon Centres, scheduled gym battles, the well-worn path every teenager dreamed about. His journey would be heavily restricted thanks to his condition but competing in the Hoenn League wasn’t impossible.
A rustle in the undergrowth made him freeze. A Zigzagoon emerged, nose twitching as it investigated him. Brendan held perfectly still until it lost interest and wandered away. The encounter left him shaken. Without a Pokémon for protection, he was completely vulnerable.
He pulled up the regional map on his phone, its screen dim to conserve battery. The nearest town was Oldale, but the route there crossed rough terrain he couldn't navigate alone in his chair. The wilderness areas between the two towns were designed for able-bodied trainers with Pokémon partners.
Night fell. The temperature dropped. Brendan pulled his jacket tighter, trying to process how thoroughly his aunt and uncle had destroyed his life. They'd planned everything—the legal documents, the police, the systematic destruction of his reputation. The inheritance that should have given him independence now sat in their accounts.
Sleep came in restless bursts. Every sound jolted him awake: nocturnal Pokémon calls, branches creaking, the distant cry of a Hoothoot. His dreams twisted between memories of the crash and nightmares of waking up to find a wild Pokemon gnawing at him.
In the early hours of the morning, anger replaced fear. The townspeople's rejection burned in his gut. They'd listened to his aunt and uncle's lies for months, eagerly believing the worst about him. The nurse's averted eyes, the innkeeper's excuses, the shelter worker's transparent lies—they'd all decided he was guilty without question. Even if he had been guilty, it didn’t mean they should leave a paraplegic to survive on his own.
Hatred coiled in his gut as he pictured his aunt's perfectly practised tears, his uncle's manufactured concern. They'd stolen more than money—they'd taken his future, his dignity, his chance at a normal life. His fingers tightened on his wheelchair's rims until his knuckles went white.
The townspeople's rejection stung, but his relatives had orchestrated this betrayal, probably plotting since the day they'd taken him in. He closed his eyes, cataloguing every detail of their betrayal. Not for immediate revenge—no, this required patience. He would build something they couldn't ignore, couldn't dismiss. Then he would dismantle their comfortable life piece by piece, just as they had done to him.
A particularly loud rustle snapped him awake near dawn. He grabbed a stick, heart pounding, but nothing emerged from the darkness.
“This is too much,” Brendan whispered.
Dawn crept over the horizon, painting the clouds in shades of purple and rose. Brendan rubbed his gritty eyes, exhausted after the sleepless night, when text suddenly blazed across his vision.
[System Initialising...]
Brendan blinked hard, wondering if fear and exhaustion had finally broken his mind. The text remained, floating in his field of view:
[Analysing Host...]
[Compatibility Check: Running...]
[Parameters Assessed: Physical Condition, Mental State, Environmental Factors]
[Motivation Analysis: Extreme]
[Vengeance Potential: High]
[Criminal Tendency: Currently Low, High Growth Potential]
[Compatibility Check: Complete]
[Loading Criminal Empire System...]
[Focus: Empire Building through Criminal Enterprise]
[Specialisation: Pokemon-Based Operations]
[Welcome, Future Crime Lord]
[Initial Quest Available: Securing Base Operations
Primary Objective: Establish a sustainable hideout and acquire basic supplies
Sub-objectives:
- Find and secure a sheltered location.
- Steal supplies worth a minimum of 500 Pokedollars.
- Create basic security measures against wild Pokemon.
Time Limit: 72 Hours
Reward:
- System Exp.
- Crime XP: Total dependent on the value of items stolen.
Failure Consequence: System Deactivation.]
Brendan rubbed his eyes, then blinked hard. The text remained, floating in his vision like a hologram from a sci-fi movie. Sleep deprivation. Had to be. He'd spent the night outdoors, stressed and cold. Now he was hallucinating.
"System?" he whispered, feeling ridiculous. "What are you?"
[Full System Information Locked]
"Right. Because that explains everything." He waved his hand through the text, watching it ripple but remain perfectly legible. "How do I access more information?"
[Error: Insufficient System Knowledge
Current Level: 1
Knowledge: Basic Commands.
Complete the initial quest to gain system experience and level up.]
Brendan laughed, an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice. "Perfect. Even my hallucination has level requirements."
He pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to think clearly. "Show me the basic commands."
[Commands:
- Status
- Quest Log
- Inventory]
"Status," he said, deciding to play along. What else could he do?
[Current Status:
Health: 87% (Minor exhaustion)
Physical Condition: Permanent Paralysis (Lower Body)
Mental State: Stressed
Assets: 70 Pokedollars
Criminal Level: 1
System Knowledge Level: 1]
His breath caught. The system knew about his paralysis. About the exact amount of money in his pocket. This wasn't a hallucination—it was too specific, too detailed.
"System," he tried again, "what's your purpose? Why me?"
[Error: Information Locked.]
Brendan's mind raced. A system that appeared when he'd lost everything, offering him a path forward—albeit an illegal one. It seemed impossible, but there were so many inexplicable things in the world.
The quest information floated before him again, and this time he read it with a new focus. Secure a base. Gather supplies. Build a foundation. Not random tasks—practical first steps for someone in his situation. Whether the system was real or he'd lost his mind, following its guidance couldn't leave him worse off than he already was.
The system wasn't asking him to immediately steal Pokemon or rob a bank. It wanted him to survive first. To think strategically.
"Inventory," Brendan commanded, testing the system. A blank window materialised before him:
[Inventory: Empty
Available Slots: 10]
He pulled the water bottle from his backpack. "How do I add items?"
The system remained silent. Brendan reached toward the floating window, and to his surprise, when he pushed the water bottle toward the display, it vanished from his hand.
[Inventory:
1. Water Bottle
Available Slots: 9]
His heart jumped. "Holy shit."
He reached toward the inventory space where 'Water Bottle' appeared listed. The bottle materialised in his palm, solid and real. He stored it again, then retrieved it three more times, watching in fascination as it disappeared and reappeared.
His mind raced with possibilities. He grabbed his phone, pushing it toward the window. It vanished.
[Inventory:
1. Water Bottle
2. Phone
Available Slots: 8]
Brendan grinned. This was real. Actually real. A pocket dimension at his fingertips. He retrieved his phone, checked that it still worked, and then stored it again. Each item he stored freed up physical space in his backpack, and nothing showed any signs of damage from the process. The system wasn't just giving him tasks—it was giving him tools. Real, useful tools.
A plan began forming in his mind. Real or not, he'd work with this system. And if it proved genuine... Well, his aunt and uncle might come to regret throwing him away.
"Time to go shopping for some free items," he murmured.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Brendan's arms burned as he dragged himself through the underbrush, leaving his wheelchair hidden among the dense foliage behind him. His heart slammed against his ribs while he watched Professor Birch kneel in the dirt, muttering about Pokemon tracks leading off the path.
The professor's leather bag sat unguarded on a fallen log five meters away. Brendan pulled himself forward on his elbows, careful to distribute his weight so the leaves wouldn't crunch beneath him. Each movement brought fresh scrapes across his forearms, but he kept his eyes locked on the prize.
A twig snapped under his hip. Brendan stopped moving, every muscle tense, but Professor Birch stayed focused on his work, his excited muttering carrying through the still air.
Brendan's arms trembled as he pulled himself the final distance.
The professor shuffled forward on his knees, lost in his research. Perfect.
Using his arms, Brendan hauled himself the last metre. Sweat trickled down his temples as his hand dipped into the bag, fingers wrapping around a Pokeball.
A growl stopped him cold. Blood drained from his face as he turned. A Poochyena crouched between two trees, red eyes locked on him, teeth bared.
Brendan's heart stuttered. The stolen Pokeball burned in his grip. Using whatever Pokemon lay inside would alert the professor. If he didn't, the Poochyena might attack—or bark. His position on the ground left him especially vulnerable.
The wild Pokemon stepped forward, crushing leaves underfoot.
Professor Birch's voice wavered. "Hmm? What's that?"
Ice shot through Brendan's veins. His wheelchair sat too far away, completely out of reach. His free hand inched toward his pocket, where he kept some food. The Poochyena's ears twitched at his movement, its growl deepening.
He pulled out some beef jerky. The Poochyena's nose quivered, though it stayed ready to pounce. Brendan threw the food far to the side, away from himself and the professor.
Three heartbeats passed while the Poochyena looked between him and the meat. Then it lunged for the food, snatched it up, and vanished into the brush.
"Must be a wild one," Professor Birch mumbled, turning back to the tracks. "Now then..."
Brendan's arms shook from exhaustion as relief flooded him. He gripped the stolen Pokeball and began the painstaking journey back to his wheelchair, knowing worse challenges lay ahead.
A chime sounded, and a window appeared in front of him.
[Quest Update: First Partner
Sub-Objective Complete: Steal a Pokemon from Professor Birch
New Sub-Objective: Convince the Pokemon that you are its legitimate trainer.
WARNING: Failure will result in a punishment quest.]
Brendan swiped the notification away and moved deeper into the woods, his wheelchair expertly navigating the narrow path he'd cleared over the past week. The stolen Pokeball pressed against his thigh through his pocket, sending thrills of nervous excitement through him with each bump and turn.
Professor Birch's voice faded into forest whispers as Brendan approached the massive hollow oak he'd discovered during his explorations. He'd transformed the natural cavity into something extraordinary. A cleverly disguised door, crafted from bark and branches, blended seamlessly into the trunk. The entrance sat wide enough for his chair, though most would walk past without noticing.
Inside, the space opened up like a secret world. Brendan had lined the walls with wooden panels, their edges sanded smooth. The floor consisted of interlocking rubber mats—perfect for wheeling around without getting stuck. A lamp was strung along the ceiling, which cast a warm glow across his hideout during the night.
One corner housed his sleeping area, complete with a camping pad and thermal blankets. Another held plastic storage containers filled with food supplies.
It hadn’t been easy to steal the supplies from town. With his limitations, everything was harder. But with his inventory, his job was made easier. It meant he didn’t have to carry any of the supplies. Furthermore, if he were suspected of theft, no one would catch him with the items on him.
Brendan pulled out the Pokeball. "Here we go."
The red light burst from the sphere and coalesced into a small blue figure. The Piplup took in its surroundings before fixing Brendan with a penetrating stare.
"Hey there!" Brendan spun his chair in a smooth circle, gesturing to his hideout. "Welcome to headquarters. I'm your new trainer!"
The Piplup's eyes narrowed with obvious suspicion. It gave a doubtful "Pip?" before waddling to the furthest corner, maintaining what felt like a deliberately calculated distance.
"Don't be like that." Brendan wheeled to his storage containers and produced a slightly squashed berry, holding it out like a peace offering. "Look what I've got!"
The Piplup lifted its beak with an imperious "Lup!" that needed no translation, then began preening its feathers.
"Tough crowd." Brendan manoeuvred closer, but not too close. "What if I told you I chose you specifically because you're the most sophisticated Pokemon the professor had in his collection?"
The Piplup paused mid-preen, one wing suspended in the air as it cast him a sidelong glance that sparked with unmistakable interest.
"Oh yes," Brendan continued, warming to his theme as he noticed the Pokemon's reaction. "Look at that perfect posture. That regal bearing! You're practically royalty compared to those other Pokemon."
The Piplup turned to face him fully, its demeanour shifting from disdain to intrigued consideration. "Pip pip?"
"Absolutely." Brendan dipped his head in an elegant bow. "I would be honoured if you'd consider being my partner."
The Piplup strutted closer, head held high as it studied him with renewed appreciation before offering a decisive nod. "Piplup!"
The system chimed softly:
[Quest Complete: First Partner
Reward: System XP + 50, Crime XP + 100]
Brendan reached down to scratch the Piplup's head, earning a pleased chirp. As the Pokemon hopped onto his lap, making itself comfortable, he gazed through the hideout's small window at the darkening sky. A mere week ago, he had been full of despair, wondering how he would survive on his own.
Now he sat in his secret base, a blossoming criminal, with a stolen Pokemon by his side. The path ahead would be challenging—maybe impossible. But he'd already accomplished something huge today.
Brendan smiled. Now he could focus on getting his revenge on those who had wronged him.
So, what do you think? This was a fun chapter to write. I could see myself writing a full story one day where Brendan creates his own criminal organisation.
Thanks for reading.
