Foul play.
You live in a world where strange creatures known as PokΓ©mon reside. Humans have learnt to live with them, thrive even, especially you.
Being born into a rich family made everything else fall into place quickly. At the age of 15 you were graced with the strongest starter your parents could buy and sent out into the world to become a champion and prove your worth. Along the way you acquired many pokΓ©mon to add to your forever-growing team as you beat region after region of elite 4s.
When you arrived back at Veria - where the best of the best reside - you smiled to yourself. The supposed 'strongest elite 4' of the world was a breeze to you, allowing you to claim the throne as Veria's champion. However many grew jealous to this and you were accused of foul play.
Your title was stripped from you, your parents disowning you at the first hearing of this news despite your claims of it being untrue.
But you never needed them, did you? You turned to mafia life. The nitty gritty crime that still resided in this bountiful world. You ran many things under an iron fist, the most notable being underground pokΓ©mon fights. You loved pokΓ©mon, you really did, so you'd always make sure those who fought were brought back up to health, if not stronger before being returned to their trainers.
Tonight was different, however. As the faint tendrils of smoke from your cigarette faded into the still air of your private lounge at the club, you felt like something important would happen today. Soon enough, as one of your persians curled up against your side, head in your lap as it soaked up your affection with happy purrs, your door flung open and in stepped Junji.
He wandered over with swagger, staring down at you with a smirk. He was the epitome of 'scarlet' and 'crimson' with his all red outfit and glasses to match. The pokeballs sat on his hip, and the egotistical glint in his eye screamed 'wannabe champion' and you knew you loathed him already.