Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Sin City ❯ None. ( Chapter 1 )

Four years in the same uniform, and now I can't get used to not wearing it. My civilian clothes aren't as tight fitting, so I feel they're about to slip off. Without the sever black and red tunic, with it's red “R” logo of authority, I feel like I have lost any authority I once possessed. Out of habit I've neatly combed my thick, brown hair, even though I hated doing it when I first arrived at the headquarters. My large blue eyes in the mirror I stand before are the same; my face is still too long and pale as if it's reflecting a harrowing life, and my body is still tall and lightly built enough to almost make me look ill. Still it doesn't feel like me underneath the denim jacket, so vital for covering my arms, my Hard Rock Café T-shirt, and plain, black trousers. Less smart than those of the uniform despite their colour. All it needs to make me look like a slob is some stubble. For a moment I panic. I think this is a big mistake. So, whipping the sweat from my forehead, I turn around to avoid confronting the fact that I'm quitting my life as a Rocket grunt and becoming a Pokemon trainer. Now I'm looking at my cheap apartment style room, crammed and particularly utilitarian with all my personal effects in a sports bag on the bed. The company's famous red and black colour code was everywhere, and all the furniture has the R on it. They can't let you forget how grateful you should be to them for taking you in. I spot a picture resting on a table next to the bed. I forgot to pack it. I take it and looked at the three uniformed men on it, all smiling happily, and I realise with a shock that one of them is me. I looked so young. Almost childish. I checked to see that my most precious possessions, in their non-descript, innocent looking biscuit tin, are safely at the bottom of the bag, with clothes and things on top to make sure no one sees it. I have to take my Vulpix, called Vulcan, with me of course, but I wouldn't consider putting him in a Pokeball for the journey. He was on the bed, watching me.

“Your not on the photo. I guess we weren't close enough yet. Sorry” I say to him.

“Vul Vulpix Vul Pix Pix” he replied. I take it he's telling me it's ok.

I dropped the photo in the bag. Someone knocks at the door. I know I can't avoid another person saying goodbye, can't just pretend I'm not here till whoever it is goes away, so I answer. I see it's Meowth, and I suddenly feel contempt for his ridiculous appearance. A stupid, giant cat like some children's cartoon, with a bad gangster accent. What was next? A Penguin from Alabama?

“They're ready for ya downstairs. You know I never saw one a' these leaving ceremonies before. Is it true the boss'll be there to give a speech?”

“It's just my waiting around for ages while the executives give boring speeches about how I should take Team Rocket's values out into the real world. Like what? Always let them know you're coming using a stupid motto? I don't want this. I want to leave quietly. I'm not even dressed for an official gathering.”

“That's the point. Besides you look fine.”

“I look like Henry Hill, after he joined the witness protection programme. Adam Kails, unimportant man walking.”

“If ya don't wanna quit, I think now is da time to say it.”

“I want to quit. When I came here, before the new “Humanitarian” rules about who could become a Trainer were created, I did this stuff because it was the only way I could get a Pokemon. I've always said since then that I'd leave once I found something slightly better. Now I'm starting to do jobs because I like it. When you enjoy all this you know its time to hand in your notice.”

“OK. We're all waiting.”

 

 

The ceremony is in a big hall, with a platform and a microphone at one end, seats in rows before it. It's usually used for training new recruits. People hardly ever leave. Team Rocket is a place not just for those who can't make it any other way than stealing Pokemon in our modern, Pokemon dependant society. It's a place for those who can't make it on their own by stealing Pokemon. Also Giovanni, our “Company Director”, his self-given title, believes he needs to reward the hard work of someone who's been working diligently for him, by making a big fuss when they want to stop doing it. It doesn't matter if I actually want this “Honour”, it's part of a company owner's job to motivate his workers by showing them how much respect he treats one of their own with. Anyway Rocket Grunts, and Executives, are flooding into the room. Vulcan is walking beside me as always. Meowth has already sat down. Bradley comes up to me. He worked with me on a few jobs. Like everyone I've seen in the last couple of weeks he's annoying me more and more every time I meet him. Vulcan is clearly looking at him in the same way I would like to.

“I don't suppose your leaving because you've booked some time in rehab yet,” he whispered to me. I found myself going to pieces just after it started. I had to tell someone, even if it was just one person. I thought he wouldn't share the secret because his brother was into the same stuff. Instead he starts nagging me.

“I told you. I can beat this. It's already been six days,” I quietly answered back.

“If you look this ill after six days, I'm glad this is probably the last time I'll see you. At least tell me your not leaving because it's getting too hard to sneak the stuff in.”

“I want to beat it. Why would I want to get any more?”

“I bet you have some though. I know you too well.”

“You can keep on talking if you want but I won't be listening.”

“You can't beat this on your own. It's like trying to overcome AIDS by and effort of will. Have you checked for that yet by the way?”

“I think I'd notice if I had it.”

“The idea is to find out before it's too late.”

“It's not like I've been doing it with three homeless men down at the switchyard. I've been careful.”

“I beg you. If it's too late for you at least tell me you your supplier is so we can prevent this from happening again.”

“I think we should sit down. Everyone's looking at us.”

“Fine. You go enjoy jumping off a cliff. I'm not going to hold your hand on the way down.”

 

 

The ceremony was long winded, with lots of nonsense in Giovanni's speech about how much my work would be missed. We're called Grunts because those were the low-ranking, non-collage graduating soldiers of Vietnam. We're nothing and you'd best laugh in the face of everyone who says otherwise. I only met him once, and that was when he wanted to shout at me for making a big mistake during my first few months. It doesn't matter though since the image of his face is plastered on practically every wall of the base. I can see one from the seat I'm sitting in. Fortunately he had the good sense not to smile while he was modelling for it. He doesn't practice doing it enough. When he grins he looks like a shark trying to hide his own deadliness. I shake some hands; try to pretend I've not gotten sick to death of seeing the same people everyday for the last few years. Then I'm home free. I'm walking along the road in the sunshine like Billy Hayes after he escaped from the Turkish mental institution. I feel a little better. My application for a Pokemon licence is no longer invalid according to the new rules. I should be able to go and collect it from a Pokemon lab, one in every large city on Kanto. I should be able to just tell the local Pokemon professor about Vulcan and set off on the Gym Leader trail. Of course people are bound to notice that there are no official records of my wondering through life in almost the last half-decade, but that is only a small, far way voice in the back of my mind. My need is great enough to shout louder.

“Well, at least I've taken the first step” I say to Vulcan. He says something in his own language, which I take to be agreement.