A strong wind blew in from the sea; towering thunder clouds darkened the horizon, the occasional flash reflecting off the roiling surf. Rain began to pour in sheets over northern Cerulean City, chilling Max down to his bones and causing his clothing to cling to his skin. The sound of roiling thunder from the horizon roared over the waves crashing into the cliffs.<br/><br/>"The one time I don't pack a poncho," Max mutters to himself. Edging ever closer through the thickening mud toward the lighthouse off to the north. As he grew closer the sound of the foghorn blowing mournfully could be heard over the myriad of over sounds caused by the impending storm. It was from that point on that Max would associate the haunting sound of a foghorn with hope, and light. With a brilliant flash, and a thundering crash a tree a dozen or so meters from him was practically vaporized by lighting.<br/><br/>This sent Max into the mud, face first, adding to his already high level of misery. A frustrated string of expletives left his lips while he sat, soaking wet, and cold for several minutes. It was only a few hundred meters now, and he could see the dim yellow light illuminating the welcoming orange metal door to the interior of the light house.<br/><br/>"Thank god," He whispered before slamming his fist against the metal several times. A few miserable minutes went by before the sound of the deadbolt being opened could be heard, and a small meek man appeared in the welcoming warmth on the other side of the door. With light brown, curly hair, and a pair of coke-bottle glasses the man could not have screamed 'scientist' any louder with a bull-horn.<br/><br/>"Hello?" The man said. "Who are you?"<br/><br/>"Are you, Bill?" Max asked, pushing his way past him.<br/><br/>"Why yes. Yes I am," He replied, adjusting his crumpled lab coat. "Who...Are you?"<br/><br/>"Max," He said, dropping his backpack onto the ground with a wet 'clop'. "I'm told you're a biologist," Max shrugged his coat off, where it joined his backpack in a pool of cold, muddy water.<br/><br/>Bill straightened a little, "I am."<br/><br/>"Good!" He said, clapping Bill on the shoulders, leaving two soggy hand prints behind. "I have a story for you."<br/><br/>"A...story?" The man was perplexed, but suddenly interested. "Okay, come this way into my lab, it's warmer."<br/><br/>--<br/><br/>While Max attempted to dry himself in front of a heater, he told the story of how the pikachu caught itself with his pokeball earlier in the day.<br/><br/>"That's very interesting. Interesting indeed," He said after considering the story. "Pokemon, as you may know, are very curious creatures at times. The pikachu is known for being particularly inquisitive. If it thought the pokeball was food it probably would have tried to eat it. They kind of look like fruits, after all."<br/><br/>The conversation was very boring beyond this, but Bill, being a gracious host gave Max the dime tour of his lighthouse laboratory.<br/><br/>Just below the lamp of the lighthouse was a dusty old machine that caught Max's eye. Bill had not mentioned what it was for, but had excused himself for a few minutes. "What does this monstrosity do?" He said to himself. "Well maybe he'll want to see this," Max removed the pokeball that contained the pikachu from his belt and set it on the machine.<br/><br/>A sudden, violent whirring noise, and electrical buzz filled the room the moment Max leaned against the machine. Bill came careening into the room a second later, "Don't touch that!" He screamed frantically. But it was much too late for that, the machine, whatever it was, had activated.