Pokemon-fight for survival
I know this probley sucks but I was bored
~ Flight For Survival ~
Would the screaming never cease? The man clutched his head in distress. So much for guard duty. It wasn’t like this in the old days. Back then it was all stealing Pokemon and having fun. Oh yes, they had been beaten, many, many times (he still smarted when he thought of all the electric burns he had suffered trying to catch that cursed Pikachu) but at least it had been so much easier and more peaceful.
He didn’t like making them suffer.
He coiled his blue hair about his hands and pulled on it, anxious. The creatures moaned in their cells, begging to be released, pleading with him in soft, sorrow-filled voices or howling as their Pokemon side took over.
He really did hate working here.
Eventually the sounds got too much for him. He stood up and wandered to the coffee machine. Perhaps a hot drink would help. It certainly couldn’t hurt. He threw himself against the wall as two men in Team Rocket shirts and dragging a semi-conscious Nidoran-male morph walked past. They were in something of a hurry.
James followed them, scuffing his feet along the corridor. He remembered a Pokemon he had owned years ago, as a child, a Growlithe. He had loved Growly, just as he had been fond of Meowth. Both of them were gone now. Meowth had not survived metamorphosis. He hated what they were done to his friends.
Why did they have to kill them?
He watched as the guards threw the poor, beaten nidoranmorph into the cell and then wandered away. One nodded at him.
"How goes the business?" He said, in a friendly enough fashion.
James shrugged, "the usual, screams, pleas, nothing new."
"Don’t you love it when they try and bargain with you?" The other guard asked, smiling maniacally.
"Not really." He was not going to say how he despised it with avengence, how he wished he could help them. Or at least leave his post, but he had drawn the short straw, had to stay here until the change of the guards.
The two guards departed, leaving James alone in the hallway.
For a moment, he remembered his partner, Jessie. The two had been so close in their endevours to catch that damned Pikachu, but now things had turned to chaos. Since Giovanni had started putting all his funds into morphing Pokemon and taken Jessie and James off thieving duties (because they couldn’t steal a dead rattata), they had not seen each other. James was on night duties, and Jessie on day, and as for Meowth… he had been told the poor cat Pokemon had not survived.
Oh yes, he missed Jessie, with her long red hair and deep blue eyes. Even though she was always bossing him around and belittling him. At least she did it in a friendly way.
He became aware of quiet sobbing, beneath the pleas and the frightened howling. Peering through the grid in the door, he saw the nidoranmorph had awoken and was crying, softly into its hands. James felt the desire to go in there, comfort him. It seemed wrong, so wrong, to keep them like this, they were intelligent beings, almost human. Nothing alive deserved to be made to fight and then locked away until the next time.
Spot the irony?
He opened the door, closing it with a "Click" behind him and entered the tiny room. The young Nidoranmorph looked up as he entered and stared at him with lost, purple-red eyes.
"Come to torture me?" He asked, softly. "It won’t work you know, I’m already dead, inside. Nothing you can do will break me. You’ve already done your worst."
"I’m not going to hurt you," James said softly. "I wanted to comfort you."
The creature looked him straight in the eyes, a piercing look that tore almost to his very soul. "Why?"
James was unable to answer that. He merely shrugged.
"Well, save your pity, Rocket!" The Pokemorph snapped. "I have little enough life left without wasting time talking to you." He put his head in his hands and began whimpering to himself.
James crouched down beside him and put an arm about his shoulders, carefully avoiding the barbs. The Nidoranmorph looked up in surprise.
"You actually want to help me?" He asked incredulously.
"Yeah," James replied and knew then what he had to do. All his life he had followed Jessie’s suggestions, bourne the brunt of her anger, borne the brunt of Team Rocket’s anger. Now he had found something to believe in and he was going to fight. "I want to break you out of here."
The Nidoranmorph’s jaw dropped. "Really?"
The blue-haired man nodded. "Really."
And so he began hatching a plan.
Guard duty the next night came around all too quickly. James literally shook in his Guard attire. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was going to take all his nerve to actually force himself to do it.
First, he went to the staff room, where the guards spent some of the time whilst they were on duty. Since it was usually quiet, down in the halls of this tomb, the guards themselves were generally involved in standard pastimes – playing poker and gambling. The air reeked with the aroma of smoke.
James wandered in and pulled up a stool.
"Hey man, whatcha doin’ in here?" One of the guards, a fat man whose name appeared to be Ned, inquired. "We don’t never see you in here, Jamesie-girl."
James frowned. "I thought I’d drop by and see how things were."
"Hah," Ned scoffed. "Still dressing in women’s clothing, eh, Jamesie-girl."
He rolled his eyes. These people disgusted him.
Perching uncomfortably on the stool, he leaned over. "Oh, I gave up the girl’s clothing a long time ago, Ned," he said, "I guess, perhaps, you haven’t got over that."
Ned narrowed his eyes, obviously confused. He did not know whether this man was trying to insult him, or what.
"So why are you in here, today, James?" Asked one of the more kindly guards. This one was a female with short hair, spiked in all directions.
"I just thought I’d catch up with the latest news. You see, I heard a rumour that the Boss was going to shift some of us into the Pit."
Even Ned paled at this. The Pit was not a pleasant place – it was where the failed experiments went, the ones that wound up mad, deformed (moreso then the morphing entailed) or aggressive. If the noises up here were bad, the noises downstairs were even worse, for they were the sounds of those who had already lost all hope, the desperate, the despairing. "He wouldn’t send us to the Pit," he said, sounding unconvinced. "Would he Jamesie-girl?"
The young man frowned. "I really don’t know," he replied, "but if we fail another fire drill, he’s going to be extremely peeved."
Ned frowned. "We don’t have fire drills," he said stupidly.
"What do you think all those blaring alarms are?" James taunted.
The big man shrugged, "I dunno."
"Anyway," James hissed conspiratively, "there’s going to be a fire drill today. I overheard the Boss talking about it."
"So why’re you telling me?" He wasn’t as stupid as he looked.
James fiddled with a strand of his blue hair. "Because you’re part of my team and how one member behaves reflects on the others." Oh, how he hated Ned. "And I’ve got work to do, so can you tell the others?"
"Of course, Jamesie-girl, don’t break a nail!"
James sighed in aggrevated acceptance. He was used to bullying and belittling. Too used to it. Shrugging it off, whilst inside it bit deep, James returned to his work.
me make no sents an me gramhamer sucks
I make no sences and my gramer sucks