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Chapter 2
A few hours later, Smugleaf went to the command bunker. It looked just like the other buildings. Painted in earth-tone colors and somewhat camouflaged, it was just like the other buildings. Nothing on the outside says that this was the command bunker, it looked just like another insignificant building for the recruits. Smugleaf walked inside and approached Nobark's bedroom. She felt groggy and sick, her body ached from the hangover and the stress of fixing Wotter's damage. The Snivy wasn't sure if she'd done it right, since Tusks squealed a bit. No matter, she managed to fix Tusks's depression . . . Sort of.
Smugleaf approached the door, it was made of steel covered in streaks of brown stains. She sighed as she knocked on the door.
"Come in." said the voice of a Scrafty.
Smugleaf opened the door and stepped inside. Nobark Westinghouse sat in a chair, cleaning his custom-made AK-47. He had just oiled it and was putting it back together again. His shaking arm did little to hinder his progress, his strong will kept it under control. Nobark's room was the same size as Smugleaf's, except it was a lot cleaner and more organized. There was a bookshelf stuffed with reference books and stories gathered from a bookstore in a nearby town. Nobark was an avid reader, one of few Pokémon in Fort Wernher who can read and write. Next to the bookshelf was his bed, a simple spring-loaded mattress that was well made and a bit more cleaner. 30-capacity and 100-round capacity clips for Nobark's AK sat on his desk, all stripped of bullets. They all sat in a nearby box, which was "commandeered" from a military armory near the coast. A .22 rifle and a 9mm pistol sat nearby, all stripped of ammo with their chambers locked open. The only light in the room was coming through a window, the shades half-drawn so the sunlight won't blast right in.
When Nobark fitted the last piece back on his gun, he looked up, "Oh," he said in human speech, "Hello, Smugleaf."
"Hi, Nobark." Smugleaf replied in the human language.
Smugleaf sat down in a separate couch and leaned back, Nobark sat his gun aside and gave her his attention, "So how are things, Smugleaf?"
"I got a hangover that's killing me from the beer I drank last night," said Smugleaf, "the party was a little rough."
"How are you in the long-term? It's been a year since you first arrive and you looked like you filled into your skin."
Smugleaf was surprised by that comment, she didn't expect Nobark to notice the slight change to her figure, "I put on some weight, I feel softer around the belly five months in."
"That usually happens to some PRA members when they got here, usually those who don't feel like doing anything."
"I also feel achy on some mornings, I think I'm starting to love my own bed."
Nobark looked up at her, his eyes boring into Smugleaf's like lasers, "Be honest," he says, "what do you always do on your bed besides sleeping?"
Smugleaf smiled, "I just lay there with my legs spread out and the fan blowing on me, using Vine Whip to..."
"Toooo?" Nobark lead on.
She giggled, "Play with myself."
Nobark snapped his fingers, "There we go, you feel any shame from it?"
"No, I don't."
"Good, that's why I like you. You don't feel shame from doing vulgar and grotesque acts. Had you helped anyone recently?"
Smugleaf thought back at Tusks and her incident with Wotter, she thought about telling Nobark but wasn't sure how to phrase it. She decided not to go into details about it, not just yet, "Yeah, I had. The recruits look up to me these days."
"They all told me you were one of the most loneliest Pokémon they had ever met. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen you much. You were so cheery and groovy in the first few weeks when you first arrive. You were right, you had gotten soft, but not just physically. Mentally as well."
"I don't know how to put it, Nobark. I would sit here and spend hours to come up with something to explain it. But this is what I think," she reached over her belly and grabbed it, pulling up a handful of belly fat, "I couldn't do that before I joined the PRA. I had mixed feelings about it. Part of me liked it, because I was well fed and I . . . uh, am a bit guilty in my own little fantasies. Another part of me doesn't like it because one: I miss the challenge of finding my own food. And two: I don't know if I'm really hungry or not. I hadn't felt hungry since the day I came here. Is this a good thing, Nobark? Being full all the time?"
Nobark thought for a second, "I see what your problem is. You don't know what else to do with your time. You're used to spending it finding food and eating while out in the wild, nothing else worries you. Now you don't have to worry about it, but you're stuck on that habit. During your time with your trainer, how does she feed you?"
Smugleaf gulped, she hadn't thought about Alice in a long time. She didn't expect Nobark to bring her up. The Grass Snake Pokémon thought about it, and realized something, "She had me only eat twice a day, she wouldn't give me any food to munch on between meals. Now I understood why. Every time I feel bored or tired, I just throw a pizza in the oven and eat the whole thing."
"Had you eaten anything other than pizza and ice cream?"
"On some days I would dig into canned food the scavengers bring in, they help break some cycles but," Smugleaf sighed, "It comes down to this:I wanna do something, I just don't know what."
"Did you try providing comfort to some of the PRA members?" Nobark asked.
"Only those who'd been here long enough to understand the politics of this place, I hadn't talked to the new recruits yet."
"Denied any services?"
Smugleaf grumbled, some anger surged up and spilled out, "Only Wotter, I just don't like him. He's always mean, and at times he stares at my legs. Earlier today he just called me a slut, I've never felt so pissed in my life."
Nobark nodded, then looked off to the side, "Oh Wotter," he said, "that boy's more trouble than he's worth."
"He's a prick." Smugleaf added
He picked up his AK and sat it on his desk, then put the cleaning kit away, "Wotter's not always like this," he said, "he used to be nice. When I met him, he had a big smile on his face and he greeted me kindly. He used to be the most friendliest Pokémon I ever know."
Smugleaf raised an eye brow, "He did?"
"It was during my Pokémon battling days where I met him in a water-type themed Pokémon arena, I forgotten the name of the place since I don't pay attention much during those days. But I never forgot how he was like. He offered me an apple and a bed after I, uh, knocked myself out by headbutting the ground," Nobark snickered, "Somehow that never gets old."
"So what happened to him?"
Nobark sat back down on the couch, "My trainer drifted off to bed one day while we were somewhere outside of . . . What was that town? . . . Hm, I somehow forgotten . . . Anyway, he forgotten to return me to my Poké ball, and Tesla didn't bother reminding him cause he was such a nice guy. So I wandered out of the hotel room and out into the woods, wanting a moment of fresh air and see the sights. Just over a hill, someone had caged a lot of Pokémon and was preparing them for shipment. It had Team Rocket written all over it, which was surprising since it was unusual since Team Rocket don't have major operations in Unova. There were several cages of Pokémon laying around, most were unresponsive. But not one.
"Then there he was, sitting in a cage that threatened to break his back. I rushed up to him while the poachers weren't looking. Wotter was distraught, when he saw me he begged me to free him. I lock-picked the cage and got him out, I took him as far away from that place as I possibly can. I asked him what happened."
Nobark leaned towards Smugleaf, "He told me his trainer betrayed him and sold him for cash."
Smugleaf gasped.
"Tell me about it," Nobark continued, "When they caged him, they beat him up a bit and tortured him. Wotter claimed they fed him laxatives and shoved a butt-plug up his rear."
That's horrible! Smugleaf thought, she used every strength she had to control her emotions as she asked, "What happened next?"
"He told me he's forever in my debt. I ask where he would be staying, he said in a cave near the river. I forgotten what the river was called . . . or maybe I never knew what it was called. Why is that? . . . A decade later, my trainer died. I bailed out of Faraday Island with my AK-47 to Unova. The first place I went to was that cave Wotter mentioned. He was still there, malnourished but in good spirits. I told him my trainer died and the authorities tried to pair me up with another one, so I left to come find him.
"He didn't smile, simply nodded. He ask me what I was planning, I told him in finding Pokémon who being used by mankind and form a militia to suppress humanity. He liked the idea and tagged along without question. That was when he started calling himself Wotter instead of Dewott, he's been around ever since."
Smugleaf's jaw dropped, the room went silent. She couldn't believe that Wotter was nice, even how he gotten to where he was right now. She held her head down, stirring and digesting the information she just received, then looked up at Nobark, "So why is he being a total scumbag to everybody?"
"He couldn't let it go," said Nobark, "interestingly enough there were a lot of Pokémon like him, right here, in this base. Yet he beats the sh*t out of them for kicks."
"How does Wotter treat you these days?" Smugleaf asked.
"With deep respect, like he always done. But he was a far cry from his former self, sometimes he grumbled in frustration or don't show any emotion at all. I worry about him, I think he does things that he won't normally do. To come to think of it, I don't even wanna know what he does to the recruits behind my back."
Smugleaf thought about telling Nobark about what happened to Tusks. The question was, would he do something about it? Would he snap Wotter into attention and scold him for what he did? After hearing Wotter's history, she doubt it. Sure, he could kick Wotter out of the PRA. But that wouldn't stop him from hunting other Pokémon, or even tell every secret the PRA had about their weapons caches. Smugleaf held it back, and changed the subject, "We got a new cache of weapons today."
"Did the recruits try to pry the crate open with their hands again?" Nobark asked.
"Yup."
Nobark snickered, "I wonder why they do that."
"When's the next Pokémon raid scheduled?"
"Two weeks from now, on Tuesday."
"I'm going to see if I could help out with their planning."
Nobark nodded, "Talk to Snapper about getting some equipment, you handy with a sniper rifle?"
"I hadn't fired one before."
"Get a .22 rifle and a scope from the armory and practice with it, we're overstocked on .22 ammo so I don't think anybody would mind if you take more than your share."
Smugleaf got off the couch, "Okay, I will. I'll see you later Wotter."
"Take care, Smugleaf."
One minute later, Smugleaf left the command bunker and headed back to her own barracks. The crate of weapons in the courtyard was disassembled, the recruits were carrying the pieces to the back where they would break it down for firewood. The styrofoam peanuts were shoveled into bags and hauled off for recycling. The soft popping of bubble wrap sounded in the distance. Smugleaf smiled, some PRA soldiers were going to keep themselves occupied for the rest of the day.
She sat down on a bench and sat back, staring at the forest in the background. Smugleaf sighed, she wondered what kind of raid that was coming up. Often the PRA does raids on human civilization, usually warehouses and Pokémon Centers for supplies and medicine. The raids were often silent, suppressors used on any firearms. Crossbows heavily used. Sometimes the power gets cut if the police would be a concern. Electric-types handle cutting the power. Fire-types handle the pyrotechnics. Water-types handle support. Grass-types do the carrying. A Ghost or Dark-type handle creating the fog of war. Fighting-types also do the carrying . . . Hmm, how many Pokémon types were there?
Smugleaf seen movies where the good or bad guy use sniper rifles to do clean kills, sometimes creative. A lot of the time messy. How would she fair with a sniper rifle? How would she get a bullet into her target with two hundred meters of space between them? She barely touched guns. Guns were complicated pieces of metal. So many moving parts, high maintenance, and requires ammo. No ammo, no use. Now a knife was a simple piece of metal, no moving parts, quite a useful tool. Smugleaf can trust the cheapest knife rather than the most expensive gun. She could tell when a kill was made with it a hundred percent of the time, not with guns.
Her mind soon went blank. Smugleaf forgotten how long she was sitting there, she snapped out of it when someone dropped a glass jar or something. She got up from the bench and head back to the barracks, Smugleaf went in. Just when she was about to walk into her room, a hand seized her by the throat. She tried to scream, but it clamped tight over her airway. Smugleaf felt her blood run cold when she heard Wotter's angry voice,
"There you are, you little troublemaker!"
TO BE CONTINUED...