This man doesn't have a name, but he has a touching story.
Right now all I can say is that I'm terribly sorry. Even then, my apologies couldn't even begin to show my guilt for what I've done, and they certainly cannot take back the things I've seen. You could ask me a million questions about what it was like to be a member of the most bloodthirsty crew in the world, and you could jab a million concurring arguments against me just joining them in the first place, not that it really matters now that we've disbanded-I mean, "they've" disbanded. I honestly would rather not tell you any of this for the sake of what's natural for the human mind to have to face, but just because you asked, I'll tell you. I shall go into detail on what happened the night that I lost all hope in humanity, and I'll definitely spare you no sympathy when I'm done, because you asked nicely with a pitiful nod, and you're asking for it now as you try to comfort my "crushed" and "unfortunate" soul with a touch to my shoulder and a smile.
I'll tell you what it was like being a Team Rocket grunt, now shut your mouth and listen before I shut it for you, missy. Don't expect subtlety, though you might hear a hint of it behind the anger I'm going to suppress just to start this whole ordeal over again in my head.
The uniform was uncomfortable as well as tight fitting, and I could feel my personality fade to black as I hid my hair beneath that hat that so many civilians despise. As I tried to pull my gloves up to my elbows, I cursed and tapped my foot on the ground impatiently until a fellow grunt-mate approached and yanked them on for me. He'd brought along with him a dirty scoundrel that I now know goes by Petrel, though at times I'm sure he'd love to sit in the headmaster's spot.
"C'mon, kiddo. You should be proud to be standing here, so get your ass moving and stick your chin up. Giovanni'll be here soon, and the last thing I need is another demotion before the day's gone." I didn't really know his name then, so I nodded briskly and stared stupidly at the guy's purple hair. His attitude was rotten, to say the least, but the thing I really couldn't stand about him was his attentiveness to ass-kissing. As he left, I sat down on the cement flooring and used what strength was left over from the gloves to shove my boots on.
"How the Hell do people deal with this." I mumbled while looking at my hands, which were surely a pretty shade of red beneath those damned factory-made asphyxiaters they called gloves-I didn't quite understand what I'd need them for then, and I'd surely hate the moment I realized why later.
"Y'new?" said a harsh voice that I assumed was female. It wasn't possible to tell until I caught a glimpse of her hair from beneath her hat.
"Do all of you people talk with that inflection in your voice?" I rolled my eyes and stood with a curve of my back to see if any dust had collected on my ass, being that I'd probably be scolded for that too.
"Y'kind of pick it up when yer around Petrel all day long." she smiled a rehearsed grimace that was surely given to every newcomer to the Rocket crew. I couldn't help but wonder if she was once innocent and sweet, or if she'd always been as rotten as the rest of them. "Why're you here, kiddo?"
"Don't call me 'kiddo'."
"Fine, why are you here-whadda ya go by?"
"None of your business, and I'm here because I have nowhere else to go." I expected pity, but only received a laugh.
"Aren't we all?" I'm positive I was the only one there who truly had no home to go back to, so their jokes and harassment would have to wait to bother me later, because I had my first mission coming up, and I wasn't going to let people like this bitch hold me down. After troubles at home that surely you have no need of hearing of, I needed an escape, and so I hiked to the big city-which one is none of your concern-and looked for work. Experience wise I was left without skill due to a life far from the bustle of crowds and flicker of Magnemite lights, so I really had only one option at the time, and that was a small piece of paper that found its way into my hand one day after a rumble with a passerby who was anything but a good Samaritan. It read something along the lines of:
"Team Rocket needs you! Short on cash? We're the people for you. Meet down-" and something I don't remember. I'd never heard of these people, but by the looks of it, it didn't really matter.
I'll skip the shit I had to go through to find enough cash to get to the rendezvous point, but I'll let you know that I won't be doing that again anytime soon. I still have a couple scars from the Grimer I ran into in the alleys, and trust me, they weren't friendly. Once I reached the area, they briefed us kindly and gave only a couple orders before training began, and by that point they'd tricked us into swearing secrecy with the claim that if we spoiled this opportunity for them, they wouldn't be able to extend this chance they were giving to us to more unfortunate city-goers.
By this point you're probably thinking that I was naive, without morality, and a downright asshole for even considering this-well, you're right. I'll admit I hadn't exactly grown up in a funloving Poképhilic environment, but of course you'll dismiss that as only an excuse to get out of taking responsibility for all of this.
I'll save you the hassle of having to hear through our entire training program, but I will let you know that by the end of it all, there were a couple things that I'd learned. According to my teachers there in the base, Pokémon were the tools of man and nothing further. The cute facade of a Snubull would be its first step into your heart, and as soon as you turned your back, it would gladly devour it, pericardium and all, or so they said. Another thing was that the majority of the human race had fallen victim to disguises such as this, and it was our satisfying job to liberate our fellow beings, for they apparently knew no better. Finally, I was taught to wield a Pokéball only as a form as transportation for my catch-a cage, if you will. My real weapons were to be my versatile hands, the default Ekans and Rattata at my disposal-I would go through many in training just to find the ones to my liking-and finally, a slick pistol that I would tote beneath my jacket, as not to alarm people.
It wouldn't take long for me to figure that it wasn't just a hypocritical "justice" that was wanted in this poisonous institution-there was lust involved. There was an indisputable yearning for stiff dollar bills by the pack and a couple other things that really should be censored in your report for those kiddies back home. I'll have you know that blasphemous activity to your world weren't uncommon, and it wasn't unusual for people to dig tunnels under desks to reappear at the top of the throne. Though I shouldn't spread rumors-you know, forget it, I'll be blatant with you because I'm here to spill my guts. Ariana wasn't exactly a clean little rosebud, but hey, you have to get yourself into Giovanni's office one way or another, right? I'm just grateful she didn't take a liking to little o' me, because being a grunt was a greatly facilitated position in comparison to executive status. We followed orders, and "extremists" who felt withdrawal was necessary in spite of Rocket brainwashing were hardly seen after they were cut from the ranks cold-Dodrio.
Ignorant as I was, I never knew that making my way up the ladder would become so addictive. Before I knew it, I'd seen people come and go beneath me, and there in the ranks I found my love of politics, though you wouldn't care to listen to that nonsense. As I found myself with the executive position only an arm's length away, they-the executives themselves- found the idea that it was about time I get a taste of what it was like to be part of the Rocket hierarchy-well, the topmost part of the oligarchy, that is. I was immediately assigned to the very first of many waves who were to bring in the Team's largest payload in "recorded" history, as you can read in your history books, kids. I wish I'd known what the ring of rattling bones sounded like, then. If I had, I could have turned tail and fled before the red tide could rise. That sea of chaos known as my life would become a deeper red then the rivers in Seaking mating season.
Do you want me to stop? By that pleading look on your face, it appears not. I'm warning you now, if you don't want to shudder down to your core, feel tears down your sweet young cheeks, or possibly expel vomit creeping up your throat, go back now. Leave me to my elderly hovel in peace. I'd rather not go on, but because you're asking so nicely, I'll continue.
It was darker than night under the smoggy Goldenrod sky in that limousine, and the crackle of gravel beneath the slick wheels was distracting me only enough to ignore the intimidation of being in a vehicle with the king and his jesters. Beside me sat the royalty of the mob-the Don of Rocket proportions. He smelled of a musty cigar vapor, and his thick golden rings clanked as he ran his fingers through his Persian's thick and spoiled fur. It mewed under his touches and begged for a charcoal scented treat in his worn suit pocket. As he retrieved it, he caught me staring and chuckled before serving the pussycat and lighting another putrid cigar. "Roasted Psyduck on the back of the grill, it's her favorite."
I was glad it was pitch black in there other than the shriveling mouth of the cigar that flickered in and out of darkness, because I was making the most disgusted face as I felt smoke caressing my nostrils and Psyduck jerky leaving the worst taste in my mouth.
"Everybody knows that Golduck is much more sultry, so I apologize for the scent."-well, people who've dismissed enforcement and live on outskirts of the law where Pokéhunting limits are inept would know that. The thought of a homemade meal wavered the taste from my mouth and sent me into a flurry of memories that was quickly disintegrated by a foul sounding coo that had a tint of pleasure in the back of its silky quiver.
"Don't scare him yet, boss. He'll learn." I couldn't understand what Ariana meant by that, but by Proton's snicker, I could tell it wasn't going to be pleasant. He reminded me of that as I felt a gloved hand on my shoulder, and a sheathed knife forced into my hand.
"You'll need this, too." A whip was slipped into my other hand, and by the rigid handle, I discovered why I would need the gloves on my hands. I couldn't help but notice his smile, which was blinding in its gleam-it was no surprise why the women loved him, even if he was one of the most masochistic men I'd ever met. He gave me a small condolence for my fear, that was evident as my boots shook a bit, "Don't worry, it'll go by quick." He then grasped the sheath of the knife I'd just been given, and pushed the blade out slightly with his thumb. The embers of the cigar burning beside me loaned its reflection upon the blade, along with Proton's deceitful grin which served as the annoying neighbor who blissfully loves to empty his piss-bucket on the other's lawn without apology.
"We're here, let's get moving." A voice I hadn't heard before made its debut, and I for one was not going to give an encore to hear it again. "Proton, are you going with the flank this time, or are you going to be merciful?"
"Archer, do you not know me? Besides, with that white uniform, you should stay in here. I wouldn't want you scaring them away this time."
"Hey, I'm wearing white, and I'll have you know it's the latest in Rocket fashion." Ariana slapped him half-heartedly on the knee and gave a promiscuous grin. How they could be so laid back about a mission as seemingly important as this was beyond me, though I guess that because I didn't even know what the mission had in store I was insolent to the fact that you had to be either extremely relaxed or just sincerely evil to do what they were going to do.
I heard the driver of the vehicle open his door and come around to my side, and when I expected a beam of sunshine to rush through as the back door opened, nothing entered but more dark. I stumbled to exit, unaware of what kind of material I'd land my boots on, and thankfully I groaned as I felt the pebbles of cave-terrain under me. How we drove in there without fault nor recognition by native Pokémon, I've not a clue.
"Hell, it's dark in here." I mumbled, extending a weary arm out in front of me, afraid of what I might touch my figertips to.
"Hold on a second." Archer hissed under his breath. My voice must have set of his bitchy-meter, because he was obviously aggravated by Giovanni's newest additions to the group. Proton was a mear grunt like I was, so I assumed that there was serious potential in him as well. He, for his persuasiveness-and I for my political empowerment? I wasn't quite sure.
There was a hellish growl and the flash of an opening Pokéball. Archer's Houndoom had been unleashed and it took but moments for him to have me down on the ground with hot breath in my face. It's tongue hung out the side of its mouth, and for a moment I could see the Houndour puppy that it must have been at one time or another.
"Hey, hey! Damned mutt." I felt the air sweep around me and the weight of the hound leave my chest with the crack of Archer's whip. A whimper followed and it wasn't until the creature spat balls of fire towards the walls that I would see it again-its eyes were pitiful and anything but pleased. Torches on the cavern's sides were lit with the spits of fire.
Following the path of lights, we moved along in silence. I saw Giovanni fall behind a bit and considered waiting up for him, though I dismissed that as soon as Petrel made an impatient hand gesture willing me forward. Upon reaching a fork in the tunnel, the Persian of the Don's who'd become attracted to me gave a hiss-I took a moment to observe her bared teeth, which were sharp and razor-like in appearance. I tried laying a light hand on her head but was immediately punished by a swipe of her mighty paw.
"She doesn't like the smell, so don't take it personally." Giovanni said with a stale tone. I didn't catch what he meant until the Pokéballs of my Arbok and Raticate began to rumble. I plucked them from my belt and was prepared to let them tell me what was going on themselves when Ariana snapped, "Don't let them out, kid."
I heeded her command and returned them to my side-that is when it hit me. Not the smell, no, I wouldn't sense that until we got closer. It was the sounds that ricocheted off the walls towards us. Bones cracking-no, snapping. Tearing, like Velcro, only with a small splatter following each rip. Gravel shifting beneath the boots of Rockets yelling, "Hold it still!" Something came over me.
I most definitely won't further insinuate the horror of hearing the separation of heads from shoulders and skulls from mended ligaments-after evolving their heads grow into the mother's skull, leaving it mended from within. Sometimes they couldn't just yank it off, and took the head with them, though the chewy musculature can by eaten after basting for days, and the skin makes for a valuable leather-though illegal it may be to harvest such things. Certainly, I will refrain from instilling fear in you with the image of me sprinting from my position despite the consecutive diatribes from the executives behind me. I tripped over things that made the most unusual sounds, and I was much too afraid to look down at what they were. You'd assume now that I'd tripped over body after body-not that I'd be able to tell you what they were, though you know now based on old newspapers, I'm sure. Carcass after Marowak carcass left me blinded with fear-have I gone to far?
What I abhorred the most was the stench that hit me next. Tears came to my eyes as the smell burned my throat from the inside out, and I rushed my hand to my mouth. In a defense found seldom, the Marowak can learn to emit a foul substance that trainers know as the move Toxic.
"Kid, hey!" Proton grabbed my other arm and pulled it back in an attempt to stop me-to halt me from running from what they thought would be my destiny in Rocket leadership. I yanked, kicked, or perhaps even punched a fist at him in a futile struggle to get away to vomit. As my stomach rid itself of its contents, he let go and wiped his boots on the ground with a grimace. "Damn it, kid. Y'made me step in blood. I don't think you realize how long it's going to take to get that out."
A cold sweat made its way along the back of my neck, and I, with a surge of adrenaline fueled by the rattle of my Pokéballs at my side, shot off like a Rocket into a side route within the tunnel-no pun intended. Again I was shrouded in complete darkness, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get the taste of those mangled bodies out of my mouth. Where I'd never had any sympathy for a Pokémon before came a shimmer of utter distaste towards humanity, and just the thought of what I'd just seen was enough to make bile stab my throat once more.
"This isn't heroism, this is carnage." I whispered, doubling over to catch my breath. I spit a couple times to dispel even just a little bit more of that taste. Minutes passed before I realized that I was alone, in the middle of a cave where God knows what lives. Alone, except for the Pokémon on my belt.
A flash-more like two sparks of light, came from my hip and landed on both sides of me. My heart began to race again, and the presence of a furry rodent and slithering serpent rose in my atmosphere. Fear resonated through me as all that the Team had taught me became evident-my Pokémon were there, ready to take me down in my weakest moment.
I stood, frozen. "Please." I mumbled, expecting that in just seconds, I would be torn to shreds and devoured, because surely, this was what they've been waiting for, right?
Next came something that I thank a higher power for every day. The scales of my Arbok rubbed gently against my leg, and soon enough, I felt its large body up over my head. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, waiting.
"Charrr." a wet tongue flickered against my cheek, and there was a nuzzle at my leg as my Raticate curled up on top of my foot. The large serpent wrapped once around me and didn't constrict as I'd expected-more like it "hugged". The creatures I'd been led to believe would be maniacal towards me were being the opposite-they were being convivial!
Subconsciously, I placed a hand on the slick body that was trying to give me security, and stroked it softly. "You two-why are you doing this?"
Again the tongue snuck up against my cheek. I let out a small chuckle and shiver as it tickled me. "After everything I've done to you both, why are you being so kind to me?"
My Raticate let out a small purr and uncurled itself, snapping its tail back and forth in slight annoyance. I just wasn't getting it, was I?
They couldn't hurt me, because I was their master, and whether I liked it or not, they'd stick by me even if I wouldn't want them to. They were the heroes here-the bringers of equity and even equality if we'd let them. They were my friends, and I'd been the asshole to fail to see that.
"We need to get out of here." I urged us to move forward a bit. Arbok uncoiled himself and slithered out in front. He offered his tail and I took hold of it, letting him lead us though the tunnel with Raticate at the back. I noticed movement as my eyes adjusted to the lighting finally, and with concentration, I could pick out a couple Marowak hiding with their Cubone children. The mothers were giving what looked to be goodbyes to their babies, and the males were gathered in groups. They smashed their bone weapons against boulders, surely signalling to others on the opposite side of the cavern that Team Rocket was on their way down in our direction. Distracted by this, my feet became cemented to the ground under the mental stress. I didn't want to move-I wanted only sit and watch the families be torn apart. Arbok pulled me along as Raticate pushed me forward-they didn't want me to see the young ones cry, especially the ones that did not yet have a mothers skull to wear, and perhaps never would.
I'll tell you now that we escaped that cavern in one piece, though I as a person emerged with a part of me that had been missing before I set foot in that place. I don't know how I could have been the person I was before then, but as you can see from my senility that I've kept some of my traits from back then, and some of them aren't going to fade until I'm dead. But, from that look on your face and those tears in your eyes, you see that something's changed in me. While my Raticate lays under this table and snuggles against your skinny legs, you wonder where my dear Arbok has gone. We've moved him since that Radio Tower's been added, and I can't help but admit that I see him every now and then since they've moved all of those graves out of the tower down the road. He still gives me a squeeze now in then in his own spiritual way, and by that I'm not being hyperbolic.
Surely you wonder why I live here in Lavender Town if I want anything other than the remembrance of my days in Team Rocket. Well, because you asked so nicely-
It's because I have to, or else I'd never be able to forgive myself for leaving those poor little ones behind without even a trinket to remember their mothers by.