"Next."
Carefully, I stepped into the room, like all of the other grunts before me. It was a boring room, almost intimidatingly. The walls were grey, the ceiling was grey, the plants were grey. In the corner stood a grey filing cabinet, with all of our files were stored. We each got a number, depending on the squad and the order of the filing itself. In front of me sat an Admin, in charge of the new recruits, in a silver Team Rocket uniform at a mahogany desk. His glare was astounding and seemed to stare into my soul.
"All right, rookie, what's your name?", he said.
Frightened and stuttering, I replied: "D13, sir. But my friends call me Delta."
"No, son, your real name!"
This was the first time someone actually asked my name since I started this crap. No-one cared at the academy, they just addressed me by my number.
"Daniel, sir."
"Well, Daniel, you picked a helluva job. You sure you're ready for it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I welcome you, to being a Team Rocket Grunt. You can leave your training uniform at your cubicle."
Two weeks had passed since that moment.
A lot has happened too. For the most part, it was just me working a desk job, doing, I dunno, finances or something. Some of my friends from the academy got in the same squad as me, so that was nice. Me and the guys were still patrolling the cities like the other grunts. I still remember when we had to get our first Pokemon, but they were all out, so after that, we went out drinking in Celadon, and I was so hammered, that I robbed the Game Corner and stole a Porygon! The Admins were pretty pissed, I had to clean up Rattata crap for a whole week. But I digress.
"Hey, Delta, get over here!", a distant voice called.
It was a familiar voice, the voice of my best friend, Martin. But everyone calls him Six, after his number.
"What's up, Six?"
"Dude, we've finally gotten a decent mission. We have to go to the forest and clean up the mess those two morons and their talking cat have caused."
"Thank Arceus, finally, some fun around here."
We went to where we had to go. Those idiots crashed their balloon and left, and we had to clean it up. I inspected the crash site, while Six scanned the area.
Suddenly, we heard a voice screaming:
"Team Rocket! Give me back my Pikachu!"
"Huh? What was that?"
The source of the voice crashed through the shrubs; some kid, a redhead and a teenage Gym Leader.
"Give me back my Pikachu, Team Rocket!"
"What are you talking about?! We don't have your Pikachu!"
Then the redhead said: "Oh yeah? Then what's that in the balloon basket?"
And sure enough, a Pikachu climbed out of the basket and ran for the kids. I guess those morons forgot their catch.
"Pikachu, use Thunderbolt!"
And that was the last thing I remembered before I woke up in the hospital ward. Six was standing next to me, watching over me, every waking moment.
"...Six?"
"Yes, Delta?"
"I quit."
THE END
