Post by JPThunda on Mar 12, 2016 1:45:24 GMT
There were signs everywhere. You couldn't come into town without seeing them. Whether you flew in through Kanto International Airport, sailed in under the Route 21 Port Authority, or came south along Highway One, you were bound to see it. A big ol' billboard.
Welcome to the Great Port of Pallet
A Pure, White Beginning.
There was one thing that stuck out on all of these signs though. It was kind-of funny, that kind of irony that everyday life just tosses your way every once in a while. What was funny was just how downright filthy all of these signs were. Dirty, stained, blackened, yellowing, paint chipping, lights flickering out...not quite as advertised.
Today was a particularly dark and dreary day. It had been raining off and on most of the day...and not that sweet summer rain that smells like springtime with rainbows and fairy-types flying around. No, this was the kind of cold, bitter rain that turned your whites into yellows, made you zip your coat up just a little bit more, tuck your arms in close and huddle under the overhang. As you looked at water running down the streets, as cars and vans zipped by, it really made you wonder if all these factories and pollution was all worth it. You were pretty sure water wasn't supposed to have a sheen like that, and every local representative always promised that they'd left the water and the air cleaner than the last guy, and threw tons of scientific papers at you to prove it. But, hey, at least the Grimer in the sewers were happy.
Maria Surge
Who'd have thought it would be so hard to get a little garage or machine-shop opened in Port Pallet? It seemed like everywhere you went was more expensive than the last, or it had some historic codes or noise ordinance. Well, at least there was nobody around to complain out here in the warehouse district...especially the abandoned part.
As you knew, times weren't so great in the Great Port of Pallet. Depression, recession, whatever the politicians chose to call it. Times were tough, pickings were slim, businesses were closing down, and the big importers and exporters didn't need all of these warehouses...and didn't bother to pay security guards to keep an eye out on an empty warehouse. You found yourself one that didn't leak...much...and had plenty of room for your bike. You'd even got a nice little hoist rigged up with some chain that nobody was missing, and the power was still on, so that was even better. You had all of the basic necessities to tinker on your bike...and make no mistake, it was your bike.
Days like today, though, were good days for working in the shop. The pitter-patter on the sheet metal roof set a nice backdrop the the hum of the motor and the rev of the engine. You had the bike jacked up off the ground, hooked up to some diagnostic programs in your computer, running through some simulations on power output under repetitive, irregular load cycles to see how the engine held up, and things were looking pretty good so far.
As you sat back, viewing the data, you couldn't help but feel the cold and damp in your stumps. The rain always had a way of irritating those...
Kate Thorne
It's been a rough few days in Port Pallet.
As you drove along the waterfront, trying to avoid the traffic in central Pallet, you reflected on the events of the last few days. Just about every name on your list has come up a dead end. Either a washout, or already snatched up, assuming you could even find them. And the rest...well, they had decided to just go into the underground races in the area. Port Pallet didn't have its own stadium...but it had plenty of closed down industrial yards, and those worked just as well for most...with fewer rules.
It was around those run down shipyards and warehouses that you were driving, just along the sea wall. It was a long circuitous route, but you knew that it lead around the city...and with this weather, traffic would be at a deadlock. You were driving in your van, a respectable vehicle big enough to carry a team carry a bike, or two at a stretch, stocked with all the tools you needed, when something caught your eye. One of the old abandoned warehouses didn't look quite so abandoned. Somebody had pushed open the doors wide enough to walk through, though they were still chained shut, and you could see flashes of light and a glimpse of what might have been a bike...maybe it was worth checking out? There was a spot to pull off, just on the side of the road...
Sammy Grant
You rode your bike off the Fuchsia Ferry straight onto the rainy, dreary streets of Port Pallet. The first thing that struck you, aside from the rain drops, was just how...grimy...the place felt compared to home. The whole city just felt dirty, and it made you shiver looking at it. Fortunately, your jacket would keep most of the grime and rain off...
You started to follow the cars at an agonizingly slow pace, made all the more difficult because of just how much you craved speed. There was nothing more agonizing to a racer than bumper to bumper traffic. As you stood up in the saddle to get a better look, it was pretty clear that this traffic was going nowhere fast...but just up ahead, there was a turn off to the right, toward a roadway along the seawall. It was mercifully clear of traffic...and that meant speed. It didn't take much more thought to turn off onto the side street.
As you opened up your bike and sped along, zipping past several warehouses, it became immediately clear that all of those "Industrial Powerhouse" commercials you saw on TV about Port Pallet had been greatly exaggerated. All of the warehouses looked like they were abandoned.
You rounded a corner, nearly slamming into a van that had stopped in the road in front of one of the warehouses. Fortunately you were able to stop in time. Why would someone just stop like that? This warehouse didn't look any different than the last dozen...or did it?
Harley Boss
You stormed out of Oak's Bar & Grill, right into the weather. The old bartender was at his stories again, and you were in no mood to hear about the 'good old days'.
The weather was pretty rotten, even for Port Pallet. Cold, wet, and dark, but that was somehow fitting for you. After your mom had passed, you got to deal with all of the wonderful things she'd left behind. Like the family house...and all of the back payments that were owed to the bank. Just today they'd slapped an envelope in your mailbox with a big, bold, red word stamped on the front. FORECLOSURE. Who knew life could suck even worse?
You started wandering out to the old warehouse district by the seawall. Maybe you'd be able to catch an underground race, or something. Anything to brighten up this day. As you went, you heard the telltale rev of engines. Sounded like they were getting ready for the races. You quickened your pace.
As you got closer though, it didn't sound like it was coming from the usual starting line. That, and it sounded like it was running way too smoothly. Following your ears led you to one of the old warehouses...and you could hear the revs coming from inside. You moved to one of the old, dirty windows, wiping away the half-inch of dirt and soot, and peered through. It looked like someone had set up inside the old warehouse...and what's more, they had a bike! And a pretty sweet ride by the looks of it. You found yourself being drawn to it, and you saw the bike's owner, sitting with their back to you. Might be worth going to chat them up. After all, the day couldn't get any worse, right?
Welcome to the Great Port of Pallet
A Pure, White Beginning.
There was one thing that stuck out on all of these signs though. It was kind-of funny, that kind of irony that everyday life just tosses your way every once in a while. What was funny was just how downright filthy all of these signs were. Dirty, stained, blackened, yellowing, paint chipping, lights flickering out...not quite as advertised.
Today was a particularly dark and dreary day. It had been raining off and on most of the day...and not that sweet summer rain that smells like springtime with rainbows and fairy-types flying around. No, this was the kind of cold, bitter rain that turned your whites into yellows, made you zip your coat up just a little bit more, tuck your arms in close and huddle under the overhang. As you looked at water running down the streets, as cars and vans zipped by, it really made you wonder if all these factories and pollution was all worth it. You were pretty sure water wasn't supposed to have a sheen like that, and every local representative always promised that they'd left the water and the air cleaner than the last guy, and threw tons of scientific papers at you to prove it. But, hey, at least the Grimer in the sewers were happy.
Maria Surge
Who'd have thought it would be so hard to get a little garage or machine-shop opened in Port Pallet? It seemed like everywhere you went was more expensive than the last, or it had some historic codes or noise ordinance. Well, at least there was nobody around to complain out here in the warehouse district...especially the abandoned part.
As you knew, times weren't so great in the Great Port of Pallet. Depression, recession, whatever the politicians chose to call it. Times were tough, pickings were slim, businesses were closing down, and the big importers and exporters didn't need all of these warehouses...and didn't bother to pay security guards to keep an eye out on an empty warehouse. You found yourself one that didn't leak...much...and had plenty of room for your bike. You'd even got a nice little hoist rigged up with some chain that nobody was missing, and the power was still on, so that was even better. You had all of the basic necessities to tinker on your bike...and make no mistake, it was your bike.
Days like today, though, were good days for working in the shop. The pitter-patter on the sheet metal roof set a nice backdrop the the hum of the motor and the rev of the engine. You had the bike jacked up off the ground, hooked up to some diagnostic programs in your computer, running through some simulations on power output under repetitive, irregular load cycles to see how the engine held up, and things were looking pretty good so far.
As you sat back, viewing the data, you couldn't help but feel the cold and damp in your stumps. The rain always had a way of irritating those...
Kate Thorne
It's been a rough few days in Port Pallet.
As you drove along the waterfront, trying to avoid the traffic in central Pallet, you reflected on the events of the last few days. Just about every name on your list has come up a dead end. Either a washout, or already snatched up, assuming you could even find them. And the rest...well, they had decided to just go into the underground races in the area. Port Pallet didn't have its own stadium...but it had plenty of closed down industrial yards, and those worked just as well for most...with fewer rules.
It was around those run down shipyards and warehouses that you were driving, just along the sea wall. It was a long circuitous route, but you knew that it lead around the city...and with this weather, traffic would be at a deadlock. You were driving in your van, a respectable vehicle big enough to carry a team carry a bike, or two at a stretch, stocked with all the tools you needed, when something caught your eye. One of the old abandoned warehouses didn't look quite so abandoned. Somebody had pushed open the doors wide enough to walk through, though they were still chained shut, and you could see flashes of light and a glimpse of what might have been a bike...maybe it was worth checking out? There was a spot to pull off, just on the side of the road...
Sammy Grant
You rode your bike off the Fuchsia Ferry straight onto the rainy, dreary streets of Port Pallet. The first thing that struck you, aside from the rain drops, was just how...grimy...the place felt compared to home. The whole city just felt dirty, and it made you shiver looking at it. Fortunately, your jacket would keep most of the grime and rain off...
You started to follow the cars at an agonizingly slow pace, made all the more difficult because of just how much you craved speed. There was nothing more agonizing to a racer than bumper to bumper traffic. As you stood up in the saddle to get a better look, it was pretty clear that this traffic was going nowhere fast...but just up ahead, there was a turn off to the right, toward a roadway along the seawall. It was mercifully clear of traffic...and that meant speed. It didn't take much more thought to turn off onto the side street.
As you opened up your bike and sped along, zipping past several warehouses, it became immediately clear that all of those "Industrial Powerhouse" commercials you saw on TV about Port Pallet had been greatly exaggerated. All of the warehouses looked like they were abandoned.
You rounded a corner, nearly slamming into a van that had stopped in the road in front of one of the warehouses. Fortunately you were able to stop in time. Why would someone just stop like that? This warehouse didn't look any different than the last dozen...or did it?
Harley Boss
You stormed out of Oak's Bar & Grill, right into the weather. The old bartender was at his stories again, and you were in no mood to hear about the 'good old days'.
The weather was pretty rotten, even for Port Pallet. Cold, wet, and dark, but that was somehow fitting for you. After your mom had passed, you got to deal with all of the wonderful things she'd left behind. Like the family house...and all of the back payments that were owed to the bank. Just today they'd slapped an envelope in your mailbox with a big, bold, red word stamped on the front. FORECLOSURE. Who knew life could suck even worse?
You started wandering out to the old warehouse district by the seawall. Maybe you'd be able to catch an underground race, or something. Anything to brighten up this day. As you went, you heard the telltale rev of engines. Sounded like they were getting ready for the races. You quickened your pace.
As you got closer though, it didn't sound like it was coming from the usual starting line. That, and it sounded like it was running way too smoothly. Following your ears led you to one of the old warehouses...and you could hear the revs coming from inside. You moved to one of the old, dirty windows, wiping away the half-inch of dirt and soot, and peered through. It looked like someone had set up inside the old warehouse...and what's more, they had a bike! And a pretty sweet ride by the looks of it. You found yourself being drawn to it, and you saw the bike's owner, sitting with their back to you. Might be worth going to chat them up. After all, the day couldn't get any worse, right?