Title: Team Rocket's Underground Clinic
Rating: PG
Genre: Pokemon POV
Notes: This is a prequel to Carry On, Blissey. It will still be written in Matron Blissey's point of view. And like before there will be lots of references and themes of death, institutional abuse and mild blood and gore but we will try and keep he rating as low as possible (PG-13).
Team Rocket's Underground Clinic
Chapter One
Some may call it a curse, a life like mine. I work through dusk and dawn to heal my patients. And if I can't save them, I want to make sure they have a peaceful death. Both my body and my mind is stretched to the limit. Others may consider it a blessing, I have befriended many of the patients and get them through the dark times. It's certainly a challenging life, but a rewarding one at best. I am Matron Blissey, and this is my heavy cross to bear.
All the humans leave the clinic at 9:00PM without fail. They will all return at 9:00AM, except for my mentor, Dr. Fuji, who normally arrives anytime after 4:00AM. Sometimes he will sleep in his office. He doesn't really have a home to go to: most of his family have rejected him since the death of his daughter, Amber. He has tried many times to bring her back to life, and I don't think he will ever give up. He has an uncle in Lavender Town, but that's all I know about him.
If he wasn't such a jackass I would feel sympathy for him. But ever since my trainer got expelled from Smogon University for drug abuse, I struggle to trust humans. I don't hate humans, but I hate the way they think that they're the most superior species in the planet. Despite this, I still wish earn respect from my work collegues. It will be better for both the staff and the patients.
Dr. Fuji keeps a Mew with down syndrome hostage. I certainly wouldn't call her a patient: she's behind bars and chained to the bed prevent her from escaping. Dr. Fuji and his team have extracted Mew's DNA in hope of creating a powerful pokemon. All of the offspring they've forced Mew to produce have failed resulting in either dead creatures or ditto. I look at her wet eyes and think what a poor creature. Legendary pokémon like Mew do not have any reproductive organs. Breeding with the use of drugs are very dangerous; the egg can prematurely hatch inside of her leading to all sorts of infections. She could die of heavy bleeding, both internal and external.
In the cell next to Mew, an obese golduck, Fatty Bum-Bum falls of her bed. I really think some of the grunts have no imagination when it comes to nicknames. I'm the only member of staff in the entire clinic until Dr. Fuji returns in a few hours. In the back of my mind I thought of a way to get Fatty Bum-Bum off the bed. I attend to her, I check for any injures, there didn't seem to be any, but Fatty Bum-Bum seemed to be distraught. Normally, she would be able to get up on her own but the amount of drugs the doctor gave her effected her mobility.
I'm not going to just leave her there. Even if Fatty Bum-Bum can't walk, she might still be able to swim. I cover her cell with beams of ice and spat out fire to out to melt the ice. Neither Ice Beam or flamethrower should much damage to her. Golducks are known to be exceptionally good swimmers, and as I predicted, she was able to swim back in her bed. I don't know how long the pool will last for. No doubt the staff will complain because the floor is wet. I don't care. Let them complain. It was in my patient's best interests to flood the ward.
I don't understand how a golduck could ever be that large. An average golduck weighs just under eighty kilograms, and this one weights thrice as much. One of the doctors is going to give her a gastric bypass. She's going to be the first pokemon in the world to have one, but they don't want anyone outside of Team Rocket knowing this. If Fatty Bum-Bum survives the operation, they're going to use this information for profit.
The clinic is split into three wards. If I show you a map, it would look like a wine bottle with the slimmer top half serving as one unit and the larger botton half split into two. The ward I am in now is The Red Ward. The patients in this ward are mainly used for experiments and operations. The Blue Ward is where we keep all the clones and young pokemon. The third is called The Yellow Ward. The patients in the yellow ward don't tend to stay very long: they get sold at Celadon Game Corner. This is not the way a clinic should be run, there should be constant staff on all the time and they should put their patients first above profit. Team Rocket have made it very clear though their actions that profit is all that matters to them. It drives me mad, but it makes me more determined to give the patients as much care as I can possibly give in this cold-hearted world.
Dr. Fuji wants to create the strongest pokémon in the world. Technically the strongest Pokémon in the world is our god, Arceus, but humans are reluctant to believe that he exists despite some believing in fictional gods that encourage hypocrisy. Dr. Fuji will never succeed. He will never succeed because he never truly listens.
All the patients appear to be sleeping now, apart from Mew. Her eyes are wide open but her mouth is sewn shut from black stitches. They force Mew to put up with this cruel regime because even if Mew does bare a child that survives infancy, there's no guarantee that it will be healthy. Legendary Pokemon are meant to be immortal, they're meant to be worshipped, not to be used as a tool for science.
I walk into Blue Ward and could see the clones in tubes. Void of any knowledge of the outside world, their eyes gently shut as if they are asleep Their heartbeats seem to be stable according to the machines, but this is no way for a Pokémon to live. I've said it time and time before, but I might as well be talking to a brick wall. The floor was soaking wet now from the melted ice. Just as well, since the floor hadn't been cleaned in a long time. As I walked further into the Blue Ward, I could detect a smell coming from the clinical waste bin. I know I won't going to like it, but I know I must check what was going on inside the bin. As I open the large yellow lid, the smell of rotting flesh overwhelms me.
All of Mew's stillborn children have been tossed in the bin like pieces of trash. I know that they're dead and that they're free from pain, but this is no way to dispose the dead. All the tiny black corpses covered in other clinical waste. They must have thrown all of the babies into the bin, as soon as they had died. I slamm the bin shut, I couldn't take it anymore. I want to vomit. This bin was no longer fit for use.
I kick the breaks off and wheel it into the incinerator room. Even though the room was on the other side of the ward, it feels much longer because the bin is twice my height and twice my weight. My fire blast wouldn't have been enough to destroy that bin, and if I use it, I can harm one of the patients. At least in the incinerator room, the fire and smoke won't spread to any of the patients. The incinerator room is large, so it can easily fit the bin in. Two snorlaxes could use the room as a sunbed. My arms and legs are tiny so it takes a lot of strength to move it. By the time the bin is in the room, I'm exhausted, but relieved at the same time. Before I slam the door, I pop my head in to see that there isn't anyone trapped in the room. Nobody is in, so I close the door and burn the infected bin to ashes.
For the rest of the night, I stayed with Mew in Red Ward. I removed the stitches from Mew's mouth and washed her face with a warm towel. I grabbed a teaspoon from the kitchenette and dug it into one of my eggs. I spotted a silver jar with black vertical stripes. I pull the lid off and there is only one cookie left in the jar. I could sense that Mew was feeling a lot more comfortable than she was before. She didn't speak, but I don't blame her.
She eats the whole cookie and a part of my egg. "Thank you," she sobbs.