Hector shifts uncomfortably in the roller chair.

Some fuckhead had set the thing real low and the lever to adjust the chair's height wouldn't budge. 'Rickety piece of shit!' he curses. The form of the interviewer opposite him was almost completely swallowed by the darkness of the room and the only form of illumination came from the light his personal computer emitted. It was just enough to reveal the interviewer's heavily scarred hand gingerly holding on to an unlit cigarette.

The sound of tapping keys and the faint metallic creaks from Hector trying to adjust the roller chair further supports an eerie atmosphere.

The tapping stops.

"Cut that shit out, willya?" Hisses the man and Hector abruptly stops. "Sorry," he mumbles. The man lights the cigarette he'd been holding on to and exhales and the smog blows past Hector's face after taking in a long drag, causing Hector to cringe in disapproval.

"So, full name and age?" rasps the interviewer.

"Hector Seville. I'll be 19 this November."

The interviewer keys into his computer before resuming his attention onto the teenage boy once more. "18 then. Right, Hector tell me, what's gotten you interested in joining this organization? It's dirty work, lots of clashes with authority figureheads. That, and the pay's kinda shitty plus you get only limited medical plus dental coverage."

Hector sits up straight. "Well, I've always been a strong believer of the phrase 'Only the strongest will survive'. You guys want strength, aggression and efficiency right? Well I'm your man. As for the pay uhm, I'm sure I can rise to the top with a little bit of determination,"

The interviewer takes another drag and flicks the excess. "You seem to me like a motivated guy, good but you see we're not looking for rebels pissed with what the world's done to them, we want cutthroats. Capable and efficient cutthroats."

"Sir, I'm willing to do my bit in if it means I'll get all the respect in this world. I'm sick of being little more than dirt and I got no intention of being a blue collared 9 to fiver and suffer a goddamn mid life crisis in my 40s. I wanna get rich and retire before I'm 30 and then live a life of glitz and glam and all that jazz. I'm a simple man with simple needs, if you give me the tools that I need, I will make it my life's goal to stretch this organization to all corners of the globe. This organization has a long history of accomplishing goals people have thought impossible and as a result of accomplishing the impossible, you guys now call the shots in this region and beyond. You're feared, you're respected and not even the League would dare lay a finger on you. I want to be a part of that."

A pause. Then a chuckle. It sounded dark and cruel befitting the man behind the computer.

"Fuck me, we've got an idealist eh?"

"No sir, ain't no fuckin' philosopher. Just giving it to ya straight."

"Where are you from?"

"My parents came from the Kalos region but I was born and raised here down by Celadon City."

More tapping of keys. Hector fidgets slightly, anxious if his answers were satisfactory. He hoped to God they'll take him in. He's left everything behind for a shot at this, anything to turn his life around.

The interviewer stops typing and drops the bomb.

"So what makes you think you're qualified for this position?"

Hector cracks a stupid grin on his face. "Here," his hand produces 2 tiny pieces of coloured metal. Each in unique patterns and colours. The interviewer immediately flicks his cigarette aside and snatches the contents on the boy's hands.

"Shit, these are legit gym badges." He examines the 2 pieces and thumbs them gently before returning it. The interviewer stands and still Hector can't see his face. His hand extends and Hector grimaces inwards at the scars and tattoes adorning his entire forearm. "Congratulations, you're in."

Hector pockets the gym badges and shook the extended hand. "Thank you sir, I won't let you down,"

The interviewer snorts, "Stow it kid, I'm not a sir. Hell, I'm not even a fucking Overseer but yeah, see to it you don't." He turns and grabs a few sheets of papers.

"Give this to the guard outside and he'll direct you to your bunk. I'm posting you to Omega Company, Platoon 5, they're a new batch,"

"Alright,"

"Tomorrow you begin a 2-week basic training course. The instructors will teach you everything you need to know from handling electronic gear to sabotage."

"Cool,"

"Your pay's 1300 creds per month, 350 for combat pay will be included if they deploy you on missions. You're entitled to 13th month bonus only if your Overseer recommends you to us for performance. That and you're allowed only 4 paid leaves a year, and if you ever wanna quit, just submit a formal resignation letter within 7 working days. Got it?"

"Yeah," They shake hands once more. "Welcome to Team Rocket."

Hope you enjoyed the starter :D