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A Winkle in Reality: Chapter 21.
🕑 Added 2025-08-04 15:00:15 +0000 UTCPeri's in a bit of a bind, but I'm sure he can figure it out. He's been shit talking Team Rocket for years, surely he's properly prepared.
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One of the Rockets, a man, stepped forward and gave me a crooked, smug grin, revealing his chipped and yellowed teeth. The man idly brushed some dust off the mining uniform he was wearing, just like all the rest of the criminals.
Smart of them, I'd give them that. If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't have pegged them as terrorists.
“Fuck is right, lad. Now answer tha question. Did ya kill ‘im?”
I scanned the crowd before focusing back on the man with shoulder-length, messy dark hair who I assumed to be Scott. The accent matched, at least, and there was something familiar about the almond shape of his brown eyes that made my earlier suspicions uncomfortably likely.
He looked how I imagined a homeless Grant would've 40 years ago.
But thoughts like that could come later. First I had to find a way out of my current mess.
“Adam? Nah, just knocked him out.” I quickly counted the forces arrayed against us. Six Zubat, the small purple bats flying circles over the Rockets, letting out constant squeaks to keep their echolocation going. Four Nidorans, three males and one female, bared their teeth, poison dripping from their spikes. Another five Geodudes fanned out, ready to flank us at their Trainers command with a barrage of rocks. Two slavering Poochyenas and one Houndour, the larger canines taking up position at the front to shield their smaller comrades from the even bigger Sol. One guy in the back, older than most of them with a few stripes of gray in his pale hair, even had a Tangala at his side. It felt weird to see the usual jovial Pokémon scowling angrily and nearly snarling at me, but the casual brutality of the Tangrowth of Sevii lingered in my mind.
But by far the largest threats were the two Pokémon by Scott's side. A huge purple serpent coiled loosely around his feet, leaving him enough space to walk, with the main body rising tall behind his back and looming over his form. Its neck flared out on either side like a cobra, the hood filled with yellow markings that resembled a face, with the actual blood-red eyes glaring down at me while a split tongue flickered from the mouth of the
12-foot long Arbok.
Scott's other Pokémon waddled out in front of all the others and put all four of its rocky hands together, cracking its three fingers on each hand with the sound of granite against stone. Its round body was covered with small bumps, a rocky crest rising above its small eyes and mouth. The Graveler grinned sadistically and spread its arms out wide.
It was way too much. While we'd faced similar odds in Viridian Forest, these weren't wild Pokémon just hurling themselves at us and trying to chase us off. Even with the general incompetence of Team Rocket taken into account, something I was starting to doubt given the trap I'd walked face first into, they were still a coordinated force, with two evolved Pokémon that would be a challenge all on their own.
Shit sucked and I didn't see a way out immediately.
Which meant damage control.
“That's good, that's good. Spare ya a bit of torture. Now, be a nice lad, an’ recall ya Pokémon. If ya play along, I might even let ya keep tha fish. Tha Growlithe, tho…” Scott's eyes ran over Sol greedily. If I didn't know better, I'd say the fuck was getting horny looking at the Fire-Type which, knowing the degenerates of the Team, he just might. “... that's a beaut. Boss gonna be real ‘appy with me when I ‘and that over.”
I slowly raised my hands while taking a small step backwards. “Alright, alright. I don't want any trouble, Mister. I don't know what's going on and I just wanna go ho-FULL BLAST, WIDE!”
Scott's eyes barely had time to widen as both Sol and Siren inhaled deeply, the Growlithe a little faster than the Feebas, and exhaled with force, a storm of elemental energy unleashed alongside the air. The Ember pellets peppered the dog Pokémon and the Nidorans, their Trainers crying out at the sudden attack and diving down to cower behind their Pokémon. Siren's Water Gun was more of a spray, the beam of water flaring out like someone put their thumb over a hose. It drastically lowered the amount of force behind the attack, and as such the damage, yet the width caught almost all our opponents. The Zubat and Nidoran were fine, as was the Poochyena and the Arbok didn't even seem to notice beyond tightening around Scott a little more, but the Geodudes groaned with their gravelly throats at the super effective energy, and even Graveller shook as it was distracted.
Which was the main purpose. Swiftly, I grabbed Betty’s ball from my belt and shoved it down my pants and into my underwear while ignoring its furious shaking, backpedaling all the while alongside my Pokémon. While I'd never go down without throwing hands, as I said, the odds were severally against us and I'd need contingencies.
Smart decision, as it turned out. The smokescreen attacks didn't distract for long, and we didn't get more than a few feet before several shapes launched through the lingering mist left from Siren's attack. Two of the Zubat were struck by bulls-eye Ice Beams, their wings frozen to their bodies as they dropped to the floor with pitiful screeches and a thunk!
The other three, however, avoided Siren's attacks and quickly encircled her, taking turns to dive at her and allow the others to strike at the flanks and back.
“JET! GET OUT OF THERE!”
I tried to call out for her, but before she could execute the command, one of the Poochyena came in from the side and Tackled her hard, sending her skidding along the stone as the whole group chased after her.
Sol wasn't doing much better. At the same time as the Flying and Dark-Types attacked Siren, a flurry of rocks flew in from the sides. The large Fire-Type tried his best to dodge, a couple scraping along his side as he retaliated with another Ember, though it had little effect. The Geodudes closed in on him, hands launching Rock Throw after Rock Throw. One of the Rock-Types got a little too close and was sent blasting into the wall, a small spider web-like crater in its stony carapace from a vicious Brick Break. Before Sol could follow up, though, a round shape emerged behind him, rolling at high speeds. The Growlithe tried to turn around, but there wasn't time as Graveller unfurled with the same sadistic grin and clasped its hands around each of Sol's four limbs. The dog Pokémon howled and barked, sending flames streaming over his shoulder, yet was only met with laughter and a brutal headbutt that left him seeing stars.
I frantically turned my head between my besieged team members, heart thudding in my ears like a war drum. I didn't really notice as I ran across the cavern, only coming back to myself as my foot planted itself firmly in the ribs of the Poochyena harassing Siren. The Dark-Type yipped in pain and flinched from the blow, yet wasn't severely affected as it spun around with bared teeth. It cared a lot more when my knife lashed out, carving a thin wound across its snout that made it retreat and leaving the way to my Feebas almost clear. Only almost though, small fangs sinking in through my shirt as a Zubat latched onto my back. Grabbing the little bastard, I threw it at one of the approaching Rockets. Nearly before it left my hand empty, I had to raise it again as another of the bat fucks dive-bombed at me, another pair of poisoned teeth piercing my skin. The Poison/Flying-Type only had a moment to enjoy its hit before a Water Gun struck it in the side, fragile wing snapping with a crack!
Side by side, Siren and I did our best to fight off the seemingly endless horde, Sol howling from his captivity. But as I noted in the beginning, there were just too many. For every bruise or broken bone Siren inflicted, and every cut from my knife, three or four landed on us. The initial chaos swiftly dissipated as the Rockets got their shit together and began barking orders. They were clearly familiar with ganging up on a single enemy, feints coming left and right, Zubats rearing off course at the last moment so their teammates could land blows.
My head spun more and more, from adrenaline, rage, fear, but mostly from the poison that set in more and more. It was only a matter of time before I made a mistake, a guarding swipe at the Houndour that went wide, leaving me open. I didn't even see the Pokémon move. One moment I was in the thick off it. The next, a long, thick form wrapped around me, squeezing the air from my lungs. I tried to struggle, but the coils were like steel and I was forced to freeze by a hissing breath on the back off my neck, forced to watch as Siren finally lost the fight, being knocked to the ground and jumped by over half a dozen opponents.
If I had the air to do so, I'd have been cursing up a fucking storm as Scott swaggered up from where the fucking coward had been hanging back, dumb smirk on his ugly-ass face as he grabbed my Pokeballs and recalled first Sol and then Siren.
“Valiant attempt, I'll give ya that. Unfortunately, that was real fucking dumb. I was trying ta be a nice guy, but ya don't leave me a choice. If yar lucky, some dumb schmuck will want ya fish. If not… well, suppose we need ta eat at some point.”
Something popped in my arm from how hard it strained against the Arbok while the Rockets laughed, but I didn't get anywhere as two Rockets grabbed my arms and another forced a gag into my mouth. I took a lot of pleasure from the scream and taste of blood when the guy let his finger get a little too close to my teeth.
“Careful Steve, ‘e's a biter!” Scott laughed, slapping his knee like a fucking idiot with one hand and attaching Sol's ball to his hip with the other. “Throw ‘im with the others.”
As soon as the Arbok loosened its death grip, I didn't bother listening to the begging of my lungs for oxygen, instantly lashing out and trying to inflict as much damage as possible on my assailants. Unfortunately, given that they already had my arms, it didn't take much more than some mild cursing and pokes before they had my legs as well and I was unceremoniously carried into a side tunnel I hadn't noticed before.
I couldn't take in my surroundings with my thrashing, but I did feel my backpack and fanny pack getting ripped off and my pockets rifled through. One of the fucks whistled as he fished out my PokéDex, and paid for the moment of inattentiveness with a foot to the nose.
I didn't feel it break, which was a pity, but damn it felt good. It was even worth the return punch to my ribs.
Metal scratching against metal, followed by a whiny screech of rusty hinges heralded the end of my journey. With a brief bust of coordination I was airborne, before falling to the stone floor. Immediately, I was up and making a charge at my captors, only to bounce off the bars of the cell door as they locked it. Their trailing laughter echoed off the cavern walls as I nursed my doubled dizziness, from both the impact and the poison, and sat back up a lot more slowly to take in my prison.
Well, I said my prison, but it appeared that I had some roommates.
14 people filled the 20-by-20 foot cell, or whatever you wanted to call a series of bars and a door dug into the ceiling and floor to section off the back of the small cave. Most of them were single adults, trying their best to stay separate in the overcrowded prison, arms and legs tucked in tight as they barely bothered glancing at me before returning to staring listlessly at the ground. The rest seemed to be families, a couple of kids clinging to what I assumed was their parents, or great-grandparent, in the case of the old guy that looked like he'd been resurrected from the grave just so the Rockets could imprison him.
Ignoring the downtrodden hostages, I started looking over the door, searching for any sign of weakness. No way something that haphazardly put up was anything resembling stable.
“Don't bother. We've already looked.”
Glancing over my shoulder at the somewhat high-pitched voice, I spotted a kid about my age stuffed into a corner. The girl had her leather jacket clad arms clasped around her knees, holding down her blue skirt while allowing her to rest her chin on them as she stared at me with red-rimmed green eyes between blond bangs.
I turned back to my inspection. “Yeah, well, you aren't me, so I won't take your word for it.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” The next person to interject was a black haired woman holding onto both a small child, as well as the old man.
“It means what I said. I don't know how much you guys suck.” I shrugged dismissively. Overly antagonistic, perhaps, but I had bigger things on my mind. Panic was writhing just under my skin, battling with fury to see which one would consume me. Both Siren and Sol were gone, in the hands of fucking Rockets of all things, and I was outnumbered, outgunned, and stuck in a cell with a bunch of random NPC’s that weren't going to be of any help.
“Who'd ye think ye ar, ye little bastard!? Do ye know who I am!?” the old guy suddenly chimed in, damn near yelling. The others flinched with me, but didn't seem surprised by the outburst. The bald old-timer sprung to his feet with surprising spryness, the loose skin under his chin jiggling with the movement. His blue eyes were unfocused and only vaguely looking in my direction as his face, which was more liver-spots than skin, got red. “I'm Sergeant Jim Creek, I'll have ye know! I fought in the war, I did, and, and…” his eyes glazed a little and seemed to slide off my face, before ‘Sergeant Jim Creek’ blinked rapidly and looked around confused. “Where am I? Where’s the General? Who are you people!?”
“Dad, sit down.” The woman with him, his daughter apparently, quickly pulled him down to sit with herself and her son.
“Right, my bad. Clearly Sergeant dementia is gonna save the day!” I rolled my eyes.
“And you are? There's no way outta here. They took our Pokémon,” the blond girl pointed over at a box on a nearby table, several Pokéballs peeking out over the lip. My eyes lit up when I saw one with several scratches that fit Sirens, “and even if they hadn't, there's too many off them. Maybe, after they're done, they'll let us go.” I felt bad about the hope in her voice. Or, I felt bad about crushing it, anyway.
“There's no way. We're the only ones that can identify the idiots. After they get what they want, they'll kill us and move on before anyone else gets here.”
Could possibly have been a little more diplomatic as two of the youngest kids burst into tears at my words, old Jim started yelling about ‘Johto invaders’ and ‘the moat being overrun’, whatever the fuck that meant, and the blonde girl buried her face in her arms fully.
“I-... I didn't mean-... fuck, whatever.” I mumbled, somewhat chagrined, but putting it aside. I knew something they didn't, after all. Not only did I have a Pokémon that could bust us out of there, even if I'd prefer Betty staying hidden, but Ash and the gang should be on their way.
And as soon as the Rocket cunts were distracted, I thought, looking darkly at the box of captured Pokémon belonging to the people behind me, then they were going to pay. Everyone that dared put a finger on my team or me, and especially the one guy that grabbed my ass when they carried me. That guy was weird and definitely deserved to have his brains bashed in.
So all I had to do was wait for my moment. I sat down in a meditative position in front of the door and settled in.
Surely it couldn't be that hard.
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My eye twitched violently as I paced back and forth, having given up on meditating almost immediately.
Where the fuck were they!? I'd waited for hours!
Glancing at my wristwatch for who the fuck knows which time, I amended my thought. It had been a little over 15 minutes, but still! That was way too long!
Fuck it, doing it myself.
Walking back up to the cell door, I ignored the looks from the sad bastards I was stuck with, and started fiddling with my belt before pausing. There was no doubt in my mind that Betty could have us out of there in a nanosecond, even without being able to reliably pull off a Brick Break. A simple Headbut would bash that bitch wide open.
But was that what I wanted, I wondered, peeking over my shoulder at the onlookers. I didn't know them. Sure, being held prisoner by Team Rocket automatically gave them bonus points, yet, was it enough to show off my rarest Pokémon?
I sighed and rubbed my head. It really fucking sucked having to keep her under wraps, both because it meant I was down a Pokémon, but also for her sake. Fighting wild Pokémon was enough to satisfy her for now, yet it wouldn't last long.
Oak had really gotten into my head and made me worry about that shit. Even worse, my current situation only validated the choice.
Screw it, might as well try myself first.
Sliding my foot back and widening my stance, I pulled back my right hand and clenched it into a fist. Closing my eyes, I took a long, slow breath and centered myself, searching deep within for the ever elusive, bullshit energy.
Time to try and put theory into practice. I still hadn't managed to do anything with what I'd picked up from Grant, yet I felt myself get closer and closer with every attempt. Finding the almost gaseous ‘core’ in the darkness of my mind, I imagined a force field surrounding it and gradually shrinking down, capturing the airy energy and compressing it down to something more solid and malleable. Keeping the process light and steady, I pushed aside the frustration and anger at the glacial pace. I was starting to believe that Aura really did have an influence on emotions as I'd theorised all the way back in Orre. I wasn't the most even-tempered or patient of people, I'd freely admit as much, but even for me, it was a little too much to get so angry almost instantly. The rage never really left me, always seething under my skin, yet even my dumb-ass could put two and two together when it bubbled up every time I touched my Aura.
So calmly and patiently was the name of the game.
Eventually, though, my imaginary container started straining against the force of the energy, manhandled down into a baseball-sized ball of shining blue-green. Or at least I imagined it was baseball-sized. There wasn't really anything to compare it to inside my head.
Having pushed it together as much as I dared, the next step was using it to actually hit shit. Trying to guide it up my arm, I grit my teeth as it felt like molten magma flowed through my veins and disintegrated my flesh, but I kept at it. Soon, it came to rest in my hand, feeling like I'd grabbed a red-hot piece of coal straight from the grill. Snapping my eyes open, I let my fist fly at the same time, my form perfect as my whole body twisted to put my weight behind the blow that hurled towards the lock of the door.
BANG!
“OWWWW! FUCK!” I cried out, clutching my throbbing hand with the other and blowing on it desperately like that was going to do anything. Shaking off the pain, I saw the skin ripped off two of my knuckles as blood welled to the surface. Nothing seemed broken, thankfully.
Glaring at the undamaged culprit, I continued ignoring my roommates as they let out various sounds of surprise and shock, alongside a cry of ‘Mahogany is coming! Get the artillery!’ from Sergeant Senile. Looking closer, I saw that my assessment wasn't quite true. The metal around the center of the locking mechanism was bent inwards a little bit from the strike.
Nowhere near enough to get out, however.
My eye twitch came back.
BANG!
“OW, FUCK!”
BANG!
“SHITTY FUCKING…!”
BANG!
“BITCH! ARRRGGHHH!”
“STOP! You're only hurting yourself! It's useless!” The mopey girl interjected as my fist bounced off the metal once again and I inspected my work. The lock was becoming more and more ruined, the iron crumpeling inwards from the repeated blows. It was also getting progressively more covered in blood, the liquid leaking from my split knuckles and dripping to the floor, which was probably what made her squawk up again.
“If this is useless, what the fuck would you call yourself right now? At least I'm trying something!” I shot back, once more ignoring both Jim's daughter saying ‘language!’ as she covered her child's ears, as well as Jim himself screaming about ‘useless Celadonians’. These people were starting to piss me off, or piss me off even more than they already did. Not everybody was a fighter, that's fair enough, I didn't expect everyone to be. Several of the captives had children as well, and I'd never say prioritizing your kid’s safety was the wrong move. I didn't agree, but I understood that not everyone was built willing to take a beating, or worse, in order to stand up to fucks like Team Rocket.
But the least they could do was shut the fuck up when someone with more balls showed up. Hard enough to be the only one fighting for us, I didn't need a pint-sized, emo-heckler added.
“Not everything can be done with punching!”
“Clearly you're not hitting hard enough.” I shrugged her off, looking off in the direction of the main chamber. I could hear something. Had the Rockets found what they were looking for?
“What kinda stupid statement is that!? I thought you were just scared and reckless, but you're actually braindead-”
“Shhhh!” I interrupted her, holding up my hand. “Shut up for a second.”
“Don't tell me to shut up, you-!”
“No, seriously, shut the fuck up. Can't you hear that?”
“Hear what!?” the irritation was thick in her voice, but she did finally quiet down enough for the distant sounds to make their way to us.
Yelling, words too far to make out, yet clearly spoken in a hurry. The stone beneath us vibrated lightly as something heavy impacted the floor with force. The entrance to our side-cave illuminated with a faint yellow glow for a second before fading away.
It wasn't hard to connect the pieces.
Somebody was fighting the Rockets.
“Right, go time.” I muttered under my breath as the others began picking up on the same thing as me while I readied another, hopefully last, punch. There wasn't time for the concentration I'd put in earlier.
I was more of a doer anyway.
BANG!
SCREEECH!
“YES!” I fist pumped, ignoring the blood that flickered everywhere. The door was still technically closed, the lock hanging on for dear life as the entire mechanism dangled from where it had been torn from the metal, but a swift shoulder bash took care of that.
And finally I was out.
I didn't waste any time. One hand grabbed Siren's Pokéball, and my PokéDex, the other elbow deep in my backpack before the others even got off the floor, and my Feebas was following me out loyally as I clutched the sword I hadn't had the chance, or will, to use yet, before they reached the door.
The closer I got, the more evident it was that I was right. There was a battle going on. Nothing made that more clear than having to dodge the unconscious body of a Geodude as it came flying by when we reached the entrance. Getting beaten seemed to have lit a fire under Siren's metaphorical ass, as while I was still taking in the mess we were suddenly in the middle of, she was already rattling off Water Bullets like an assault rifle.
And it was a fucking mess. The over two dozen Rocket Pokémon were engaged with a slightly smaller amount of opponents, yet were getting their asses whooped despite the numerical superiority. Zubat fell like flies as a pair of large, brown and cream colored, birds sped through the air like missiles, pinkish-red and yellow crests of feathers flowing from their heads and tails as the two Pidgeottos ran through the enemy flying-types effortlessly, razor-sharp talons tearing through wings like butter while wings larger than the bats whole bodies sent them careening into the walls.
The fight on the ground was going even better than the one above, if anything. Nidoran littered the floor as a coordinated squad of Growlithe herded them around and smacked them down. A pair of Gravelers were dueling in the center of the room, stone shattering blows exchanged in a flurry as eight hands tried to reduce the other to pebbles, neither Rock-Type even trying to dodge, content with their slugging match. The Rockets were clearly loosing, a situation made even worse for them as slowly, then quickly, Pokémon started pouring out of the side tunnel I came from. None of them were anything to write home about, but their sheer numbers destroyed any chance at a miraculous comeback. Geodudes attempted to interfere, only to be punted by an orange blur speeding past and-
-a fist brushed by my cheek as a Rocket Grunt appeared at my side and threw a sloppy punch. Even taken off guard, it was fairly easy to avoid. The handle of my blade impacted his nose with a sharp crack! blood spurting out as the man dropped to the ground.
Right. I wasn't just a fucking spectator. I was in the shit.
Siren handled any Pokémon in our path, sniping them with precision Water Guns while I took care off the Trainers. The Rockets clearly weren't prepared to be attacked from two fronts, another man going down with a pair of hard blows to the head, a woman collapsing beside him screaming as steel parted the flesh of her calf. It wasn't a very deep wound, merely enough to be debilitating before her lights were knocked out with a kick to the head.
It wasn't the end of the world if one of them didn't make it, trampled in the chaos or ending up as collateral, but if the day had proven anything to me, it was that I wasn't a cold blooded murderer. Even if it would probably be easier, I just didn't have it in me to slit a bunch of rando's throats when I had other options.
Unbearable pain and possible crippling, though? That was fair game.
As such, it was the extremities that were my targets. A still conscious Nidoran, female based on the light-blue coloring, put up a brief struggle against Siren before ending up as an ice cube while her Trainer frantically scrambled to get away from me as I swung my sword around like a madman. My fists were likely more effective given my training, but the sword had a fear factor that was honestly kind of fun, I mused as the middle aged man stumbled. I was about to finish him off, but a brown shape flew through the air towards me before I could. Changing the angle of my swing, I smacked the incoming Geodude like a baseball with my blade, the vibrations reverberating up through my arms and leaving my palms stinging. The hit wasn't enough to move the Pokémon much, only halting it and letting it drop to my feet, yet that was plenty for Siren to show her displeasure. I winched as several holes were dug into the Rock Pokémon's hard exterior, a gravely cry escaping it before it was forced into unconsciousness, dark blood leaking from its wounds.
Taking my eyes off the ball was a mistake, as a powerful blow to the back of my head reminded me. I was forced down to the ground myself as the Nidoran Trainer took the opportunity to flip the script, one of his friends joining him in kicking down at my crumpled form. Holding my arms tightly against my body to protect my organs, I grunted and grit my teeth, looking for an opening. Thankfully, it came swiftly, the pair's rhythm becoming slightly off so they pulled their legs back at the same time.
“FUUUUUUUCK!”
The guy on the left howled as his shin swung with full force into the point of my katana, punching the metal straight through bone and out the other side. The other attack skimmed my ribs as I rolled, using the wounded guy as a shield when the first man lunged at me. They collided and I returned the favor, spitting out curses between growls while I stomped down at them. Judging them sufficiently down and out, and seeing Siren handling a Zubat and Rattata on her own, I scanned the winding down combat. Another guy, older than the rest I'd seen so far, made an attempt in my direction, but didn't make it a single step before something latched onto his back like a demented monkey.
“Ye dragon fuckers think that just ‘cause I’m old, ye can come inta my home!? I'll show ye what for!” Sergeant Jim Creek yelled before leaning down and clamping his teeth around the Grunt’s ear. Blood and skin sprouted out as the old-timer did his best Mike Tyson impression and ripped the ear off before spitting it onto the ground. The older Rocket member screamed as he dropped, Jim already off searching for his next victim as he clutched a knife in one hand and what looked like a frying pan in the other.
Oh, and he'd also somehow lost his shirt and pants, blood and dust clinging to his saggy skin and stained tighty-whities while he cackled about presenting the ‘General’ with ‘Pryce's’ head.
… Fucking weird, but not my problem. Though I did feel a little bad about insulting him now.
It didn't take long to find my target, as I merely had to follow the loudest noises.
Scott was scowling furiously, sweat running down his face in thick rivers while he screamed out commands, his head snapping back and forth violently as his comrades fell around him. The large purple Arbok slithered around in front of him protectively and another purple Pokémon, a huge bat almost as big as a human, with a body that was mostly a giant, gaping maw and wings, hovered over him. The Golbat had clearly seen better days, groves leaking blood from where the Pidgeotto had graced it and its left side was charred and wrinkly.
The culprit of the fire attacks wasn't hard to find. Dancing in between Arbok and the smaller Pokémon doing their best to give support, an Arcanine barked threateningly as it absent-mindedly kicked a Geodude aside. The large canine wavered and blurred even as it stood still, the heat radiating from its fur distorting the air around it, and when it moved, it was easier to track the embers it left in its wake than trying to keep your eyes on the Pokémon itself. One second it was on the purple cobra's left, spewing out an intense plume of flames, the Flamethrower washing over a green barrier as the Arbok used Protect, unable to use its own speed to avoid the attack, in fear of leaving its Trainer unguarded. The next moment, the Arcanine was gone and the Protect shattered like glass as the Fire-Type crashed through it, near seven feet of flaming dog smacking into the Arbok and throwing it aside. At nearly the same time, the last of the Zubat fell from the air and the Golbat was suddenly running for its life as the two bird Pokémon chased it, beaks snapping inches from the bats fragile wings.
Obscenities that made even me feel like clutching my pearls flew from Scott like bullets, the terrorist backing away from the approaching Trainers that I hadn't taken the time to really look at yet.
I had a different objective.
As Scott found out when he tried to take another step backwards and bumped into me. He spun around in shock and I imagined time slowed down for him when he saw my toothy grin. He definitely reacted when my foot came down on the side of his knee.
CRACK!
“AAAAAAAHHHHH!”
His leg bowed inwards with an angle no body part should have, the kneecap visibly pushing against the skin as the limb caved in and he fell with a scream. My surroundings dimmed, my focus completely on my prey as I threw my weapon aside. Ripping Sol's ball off his belt, I barely managed to attach it to my own before I was on him, fists falling like rain, my arms becoming pistons with no other purpose than to punch. Cracks! and snaps! rang out, his nose crushed flat against his face, orbital socket splintering under my relentless pounding. Teeth and blood splattered to the floor as others gathered around us after containing the other Rockets, yet I didn't notice any of it. Even when Scott lost consciousness, somewhere after the sixth tooth snapped against my knuckle and tore another hole in my flesh, I didn't stop.
Fucking piece of shit almost made me go through it again.
If someone hadn't pulled me off of him, I wasn't sure I was going to stop. For all my thoughts about not being a murderer, at that moment, I wouldn't have flinched.
Random Grunts, no. Proton and Scott? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Pushing out of the arms grabbing me, I put my hands on my knees and breathed deeply, trying to get myself under control, something made simpler by Siren coming back and leaning against me with a worried bubbling gurgle. Other than the bruises and cuts from the first fight, I didn't see anything seriously wrong with her beyond some exhaustion.
Straightening back up, I finally took the time to look around at the cavalry that had come to my rescue.
And instantly wished I didn't when I spotted a small, yellow, mouse-like Pokémon rush across the floor and jump up on the shoulder of a black-haired boy around my age. The Trainer turned his head, almost like he could sense me looking, and our gaze locked. His warm brown eyes sparkled while mine closed in despair.
Fuck.
“PERI! What are you doing here!? Did you get captured by Team Rocket!? Man, good thing we showed up to save you, huh!?”
Hate, exasperation, and gratefulness warred within me as I looked at the giant dumb smile on Ash's face.
I'd almost rather be put back in the cell.
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So things got a little dicey for a second, but we made it, with a little bit of help from the loveable protaganist. Who wouldn't like being saved by Ash-fucking-Ketchum.
Anyway, next time we get introduced to the canon gang and spend a bit of time with them. Not too long, though. While I enjoy mixing in some canon here and there, this isn't the story of Ash + friend, so we'll be dipping in and out of it, depending on if something interesting shows up.
Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed.
