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Chapter 1
The old alarm clock buzzed its robotic chime, breaking Smugleaf's peaceful sleep. The chime burred and squealed into her ears like a bad techno-rock concert, Smugleaf covered her head with her pillow to mute the noise. The alarm clock squealed louder and faster in response. Smugleaf groaned, her head throbbed mercilessly from the noise. The Grass Snake Pokémon stuck out an arm and slammed the snooze button, killing the alarm clock for 5 minutes. Smugleaf glanced a blurry eye at it, the red LED numbers read 7:30AM. Morning had officially started. She stared at the clock for a few more seconds, a slender vine slithered out of the covers and wrapped itself around the alarm clock's plug and yanked it out of the wall. The numbers went dark and dead.
Smugleaf dropped the plug and recoiled her vine. She sighed and listened to the drone of the old air conditioners as they blow cool air into the room. The humming noise was so relaxing that it nearly put her back to sleep. Smugleaf fought it and won. She sat up and stretched her arms, then looked around her room. It was a mess. The concrete walls looked bad. Its white paint was covered with brown water stains from unknown sources. The privacy window was cracked, leaking air inside. Smugleaf had taped the crack up but that didn't seem to do any good.
All around her room, trash covered the place. Empty ice cream carton, cardboard circles from eaten pizzas, aluminum soda cans, even empty beer bottles that was left there weeks ago. Smugleaf sighed. She had been living her for a year now, and she still hadn't gotten used to the idea of having her own room. She lacked the feeling of cleaning up, and she only clean up when the trash gets in the way. The PRA used to have one of those rats that love to clean up, but Wotter – that Dewott bastard – beat the poor thing for accidentally knocking over his beer. The janitor Pokémon was gone the next day. Smugleaf wondered where it went, but at the same time, she didn't wanna know. She didn't care.
The Grass Snake Pokémon pulled off the covers, they smelled like wet garbage and urine. The white sheets were yellowed and covered with dried sweat, tiny blood splotches, and suspicious brown stains. It was like that the day Smugleaf first slept in it. Nobark told her the last Pokémon who slept here tend to fart in its sleep, which was why it smelled rancid the first few weeks. The smell faded away completely after a month, only to be replaced by Smugleaf's own farts. She giggled at the thought. Before joining the PRA, she had a diet of meat and vegetables. Now it was mostly crap that was stolen from people's homes and convenience stores. Processed foods had mucked up her intestines, creating gas that smelled worst than death. Smugleaf didn't care. The food gave her comfort and a full belly, she couldn't remembered the last time she felt hungry.
Another bubble of foul air came up, Smugleaf held out a leg and let it out. It was a quick flapping sputter. It smelled awful, yet felt relieving. Smugleaf stretched her arms and got out of bed. She kicked aside a can as she made her way to the mirror. It was leaning against the wall, sitting on top of a molding cardboard box stuffed with old Poképorn. Some of it were crude pictures of small cute Pokémon taken by Snapper, then printed off his cheap printer. The Patrat was terrible at stapling them into magazines but at least he didn't fail to deliver. The photos were just ordinary Pokémon in weird and grotesque poses. Nothing erotic. They all pale in comparison to the Poké porn from the web, most were unrealistic and anatomically incorrect, yet arousing in some ways. Wotter had somehow gotten a hold of a couple dozen magazines of the stuff. Smugleaf wasn't sure how he got it, all she knew it was very difficult. His work paid off. The magazines had pictures of cute Pokémon ranging from simple acts of masturbation to . . . urr, unusual behavior. Smugleaf had to sort out through all that crap to get to the more "acceptable" porn. She had skimmed through them, got some pleasure, then shoved it all in the moldy beer box. Now they were nothing more than padding to hold up a mirror.
"Ugh," she muttered, staring at herself in the mirror, "What a night."
A year of living in the PRA had taken a toll on her body. She'd put on weight, her eyes were puffy from fatigue, and her skin had lost some pigment to it. Smugleaf pulled back an eyelid to see how bad it was. Not to bad, considering it was a sign of a hangover. She pressed the palm of her hand against her temple, it ached badly. How much beer had she drank last night? Probably a lot, she had hangovers before but this was the king of them all. Smugleaf made a mental note to herself not to go to anymore parties next month, hangovers were no fun.
There was a knock on the door, breaking Smugleaf's concentration, "Hey, Snivy!" Wotter called out rudely in the Pokémon language, "You in there!?"
"I'm here!" Snivy called out.
"Get out here, Nobark got some instructions for yah!"
Smugleaf sighed, "Just a minute."
She gripped her head and groaned, F*cking little prick. She thought but didn't say.
The Grass Snake Pokémon looked around for her knife and holster, it was sitting on the nightstand. Smugleaf relaxed. She wasn't used to taking it off on some nights. The knife once belonged to her trainer, Alice Stucky. It was a long machete-styled blade, long as her arm. It was made out of carbon-steel, sharpened at least once a week. Smugleaf made the holster out of Tepig and Bouffalant skin, the holster was designed to strap onto her back with crisscrossing straps that go around her chest. The holster basically molded itself to Smugleaf's body, feeling at one with it. A few months ago, it started feeling a bit tighter than usual. Well, she was getting a bit fat, but not noticeably fat. Just enough to where her body feels different.
Smugleaf grabbed the holster and fitted it on like a backpack. She shifted the straps to the usual spots, checked herself in the mirror to see if its on right, then opened up the bedroom door.
Wotter stood in the hallway, his face in the usual frown and angry eyes. Smugleaf closed the door behind her and stared at him. The Dewott stood taller than Smugleaf and most small Pokémon, and he loved to rub everyone's face with that fact. Today, he wasn't in the mood to intimidate. Smugleaf know that if Wotter isn't intimidating other PRA members, then that means he's in the mood of making fun of their characteristics. Smugleaf kept a passive face, not even flinching an eyebrow. Dealing with Wotter was like a chest game, except any wrong move would land the King directly in checkmate.
"Were you masturbating?" Wotter first asked.
Smugleaf kept her cool without a problem, but deep inside she was already pissed. She tried her best not to show it, "No, I wasn't masturbating."
Wotter looked down between her legs, Smugleaf held her breath. The Discipline Pokémon got on her nerves almost every week. He sometimes call her a whore, because of her sexual appetite. In certain times of the month, he would get in that mood where he would ask Smugleaf to go in the back room somewhere where they would "have an adventure." Smugleaf made a vow not to sleep with the bastard, nor agree to his personal demands. Thankfully he can't use Attract, or else things would turn out badly.
The Dewott returned his attention back to her eyes, "Okay, then." Wotter got straight to business, "Nobark want's to speak with you, if you have a moment."
"What does he want?" Smugleaf asked.
"Beats me, maybe he wants to ask you out on a date. Or personal quality time."
Smugleaf said nothing.
Wotter raised an eyebrow, "Is that what it is, personal quality time?"
Smugleaf said nothing, she glanced off slightly to the wall behind him. The aging concrete walls were solid, designed to withstand bombs. They were also soundproof, nobody could hear anybody screaming within this building. Smugleaf shifted her shoulder, feeling the reassuring tug of her knife's holster on her back, then glanced back at Wotter.
"Okay then, be that way. The Hoodlum Pokémon's too old for a slut like you."
Damn it. Smugleaf thought.
Wotter turned away and head down the hall, Smugleaf went the other way towards the exit. She half-expected him to come up from behind and tackle her to the floor. But no. He kept walking his own way and she kept walking hers. She found the exit. It was a metal door, rusting on its hinges. The fading EXIT sign hanged above it, not glowing as it used to. Smugleaf pressed against the door and stepped outside. Bright sunlight blasted from above. The door shuts itself behind her, closing with a reassuring click.
She then spun around and smacked the door with her fist, "F*cken, Wotter." she grumbled in human speech.
Smugleaf calmed down and looked up, the PRA flag – a cracked Poké ball getting ready to explode into a ball of light in front of a purple background – flapped lazily in the wind. The flag was brand new, recently crafted by one of the PRA members. Smugleaf forgot her name, she wasn't sure what the Pokémon was. No matter, it wasn't someone she knew.
Fort Wernher – the Pokémon Resistance Army compound – situated itself deep in the forest, with mountains on one side and a river on the other. The compound was a former military installation from some bygone era, Nobark managed to take over some years back. He built the PRA from there, eventually sprouting around Unova. The compound now house a hundred or so Pokémon. Most came from captivity, those who either had abusive trainers or were just about to get a new one. Some were those who decided to leave their trainers for their own personal reasons, usually from a lack sense of freedom. The rest came from the wild, either from curiosity or personal ambitions. PRA members come and go, mostly those who were around the bottom of the pyramid. They come around so fast that Smugleaf couldn't remember who they were nor remember their nicknames, assuming they have a nickname. Sometimes, when Wotter goes out on missions Smugleaf would venture out and check the populace. Usually the Pokémon were small, Nobark only takes Pokémon shorter than two meters tall, since they were easier to manage. Smugleaf saw some logic in that, they would have no trouble fitting through the doors of the buildings.
"Hey, Smugleaf," said Snapper, Smugleaf looked off in the distance and saw several Pokémon were trying to get a crate open. Snapper stood next to them, waving her over, "Come check this out, we got new stuff!"
Smugleaf walked over. An Emolga, a Ducklet, and a Pansage struggled to get the crates open. The Grass Snake Pokémon didn't recognize them. They must be new recruits, since they act like new recruits. The three were foolishly trying to open a wooden crate with their bare hands. It wasn't working, the crate's lit held firm.
Snapper looked around and groaned, "Where's Woody with that crowbar?"
Woody, a Timburr, soon came strolling up with a red crowbar, "Cool your jets, you paranoid bastard. I got it right here!"
After an unsuccessful attempt to pry the crate open with their fingers, the PRA recruits stepped back. Their hands red and blistering. Woody took the crowbar and jammed it into the lid, then thrust it down like a lever. The lid cracked open, Woody sat aside the crowbar and pushed it off, "There," he said, "Let's see what we have here."
Styrofoam peanuts and bubble wrap erupt from the crate, the recruits pulled out the peanuts and bubble wrap. The Emolga popped some of the bubbles on the bubble wrap, giggled, then sat it aside for later. Woody stuck his hand in and felt around, then pulled out a crossbow, "Check this out," he said, "It's a repeating crossbow, holds three bolts in the chamber. Look at that, there's a red-dot sight attachment on it."
"Lucky day," said Snapper, he dove his hands into the Styrofoam peanut stew and pulled out another crossbow, "Another one, I think this crate is full of crossbows."
"Nope," said the Pansage, "Check this out."
He pulled out a .22 bolt-action rifle from the crate, "This looks like a varmint rifle, our magazines might fit in it."
"Smugleaf," said Snapper, "Come and pick out a weapon, there's a lot of goodies in here!"
Smugleaf shrugged, "Well, why not?"
Smugleaf approached the crate, she uncoiled a vine and reached in. She felt around through the sea of peanuts until she felt cold metal. Smugleaf grabbed it and pulled it out. It was a .22 revolver. A tiny thing. Smugleaf sat it in her hands and opened up the cylinder. 6 shot capacity. The cylinder was empty, thankfully someone wasn't dumb enough to load it. She aimed it on the ground, checked the trigger action. Smugleaf imagined Wotter in front of her and pretend to shoot him, a satisfying click told her the gun was in working condition.
"What's that?" Snapper asked.
"A .22 revolver," said Smugleaf, "I wonder how this got in there."
"Our supplier often puts random guns in the crate shipments, usually just one mystery weapon. I think that's the mystery weapon."
Smugleaf tucked the gun under her arm, "I'll take this and get it cleaned, it might be useful."
"It ain't very accurate, Smugleaf." said Snapper.
"Then it would help me practice my accuracy. Did the shipment come with ammo?"
"They always do, it's in a separate crate."
Woody just opened it up, the Ducklet pulled the packaging aside and grabbed some crossbow bolts. Smugleaf wondered how it managed to grab anything with those feathers, she didn't wanna know. The Grass Snake Pokémon reached in and pulled out a couple of boxes of .22 rimfire ammo, then tucked that under her arm, "I'm going guys," said Smugleaf, "I'll see you later."
"'Kay, Smugleaf." said Snapper.
Smugleaf took the gun back to her barracks. When she opened the door, she held her breath and listened for Wotter's footsteps. Nothing but the hum of the AC. She crept back into her bedroom and locked the door, then stow the gun and ammo under her bed. She would fiddle around with them later, right now Nobark needs her.
Just when she opened the door, Tusks – an Axew – burst through and hugged her. She was distraught, she was covered in cuts and bruises. Smugleaf shut and locked the door, then hugged her, "What happened, Tusks?" Smugleaf asked.
"It's horrible!" she sobbed.
Smugleaf sat her on her bed, she ran to her desk and knocked down several pizza boxes to the floor. The first aid kit laid underneath. Smugleaf grabbed it and took it to Tusks, she opened and proceed to clean up the cuts on her face, "What happened?" she asked as she swabbed alcohol on some scrapes.
"Wotter," says Tusks, "He attacked me!"
Smugleaf pulled out a packet of healing powder from the first aid kit and mixed it in a bottle of water. She handed it to Tusks, the Axew grabbed it and swallowed a mouthful. As she sipped it, Smugleaf placed big bandages over the scrapes and band-aids over the smaller ones, "How long was it ago?"
"Thirty minutes ago, it didn't take him long to . . ." Tusks voice trailed off, then she broke down crying again.
Smugleaf handed Tusks a box of tissues and put away the first aid kit, "Did what?" she asked, "Tell me, Tusks, I can't help you if you don't."
Tusks was one of the few PRA recruits Smugleaf knew. She met her around lunch during a small gathering, where a small handful of Pokémon gather around a random campfire. Roasting smores and drink homemade moonshine while telling stories. The two got to know each other after sharing a couple of smores. Tusks came from the Land of Dragons, picked up by PRA scouts months ago and sent to base. She recently left a trainer who she felt wasn't doing enough to take care of her. Often the trainer neglect to feed her, or even acknowledge her existence. Tusks had to live off of somebody else's food, she wouldn't say whom. Eventually she got tired about life with the trainer and so left, it just so happened that she was found by the PRA after getting a kilometer from the village. Smugleaf knew she was vulnerable, she was insecure and couldn't trust anybody here. The only Pokémon she ever trusted was her, Smugleaf gladly helped her in her little problems. Tusks was sweet and kind, but after what happened, Smugleaf wondered if she would change.
"I know its hard, Tusks," said Smugleaf, "Tell me, what did he do to you."
Tusks twirled her fingers and stammered, "Y-you won't tell anybody about it, will you?"
"No." Smugleaf lied, he had no intention of keeping this to herself.
Tusk sighed, then whispered what happened into Smugleaf's ear.
The Grass Snake Pokémon's eyes bulged out of her head, "He didn't."
"He did." said Tusks.
"Did you get any warning at all?"
"How could I? He was an asshole, he treats everybody like crap. When it happened, he ambushed me. Held one of his scallops to my neck and warned me not to scream. I screamed anyway, and he kept hitting me till I stopped screaming. Then he done it."
The room went silent.
"You need anything, Tusks?" Smugleaf asked.
Tusks looked up at Smugleaf, "I need you."
Smugleaf nodded, "What do you need me for?"
The Axew looked away, trying to think of an answer, "I don't know, I . . . I just need you."
Another moment of silence.
"Okay then," said Smugleaf, "I think I know what to do, but you need to stay calm and relax."
Tusk nodded, "Okay, okay."
Smugleaf pulled her closed, their chests touching. Their eyes locked onto each other in a fixed position, not moving a centimeter to the side, "Can you keep your eyes on me?" Smugleaf asked.
"Yes." said Tusks.
"Think of the most positive and enjoyable thought you can think of, and let your body go slack. But keep your eyes on me, okay?"
"I hear yah, Smugleaf."
Tusks didn't feel the vine wrapped around her waist. Smugleaf had practice this to perfection, some hypnosis process she couldn't understand. However, it works. Tusks took it in, and a smile stretched across her face.
TO BE CONTINUED...