There were flashes, but Yellow couldn't comprehend them. All she could was drift in and out of consciousness. It took too much energy otherwise.
People wearing masks standing over her. Prodding her skin with sharp, scary tools. Sticking tubes in her arms and nose. Low murmurs of acknowledgement. More tubes. More prodding.
But nothing comforting; no pats on the head or soothing touches. Just hard, cold efficiency. Yellow yearned for the warm embrace of Mother Forest and her friends. When would she be able to get back to that life? It seemed so far away now.
After what felt like an eternity in limbo, Yellow had opened her eyes.
Strange beeping contraptions all around her. Not like happy coos of a Pidgey, but monotone and emotionless chirps. And there were so many that were connected to her! Who needed this much... noise around them!?
The room was all white and gray—not colorful, like the forest. Yellow felt depressed just by staring at the blank walls. Her stomach churned at the thought of her warm forest cot and hutch, now burnt to a crisp.
Mother Forest's devastation. Crying out for her lost daughter.
"The little girl."
Yellow jerked her head, seeing two men in white coats leaning over her. One older and one much younger. Her eyes darted between them and the strange things around her. What was going on? Where was she? Who were they?
"I can see why you want her on a high carb, high-fat diet. She's severely underweight." One man commented, flipping through a stack of paperwork, "Surprised she lived in such a state for so long. And they say Child Protective Services is competent."
Underweight? She weighed what she weighed. How did they know she wasn't right?
"Yes, her development is lacking. We haven't tested her cognitive skills yet, but I suspect her development might lack there as well." The other man said, observing the machines, "Shame. I doubt she can speak or read. But you heard them. They want her in full shape, mentally sound or not."
Yellow narrowed her eyes, but the men did not see it. Instead, the other man tapped his pen on one of the foul things she was hooked up to.
"She came out better than the team that went in. Lost many people in there. More than usual. They say the forest opened beneath their feet and ate them. Can you believe that? Hysteria does strange things to people."
"I heard the roots came up from the ground and swallowed them. Not that the ground opened up. But who knows? All that fire and smoke... hallucinations, to be sure. I don't know if I'd burn a forest to get a child, but it's what Arch—"
"Tssh! He's like a boogeyman. Say his name and he appears behind you. I'm not in the mood for his crap. He's fucking worse than Ariana. At least she has the courtesy to leave you alone after she shreds you."
"Oh, don't remind me. She brought that boy in here and had the audacity to tell me how to take the little prince's blood pressure. Kid's a brat, and she's not helping. I think she even encouraged him to treat me like garbage."
"Like father, like son."
"At least he pays more-"
A loud beep. One man stared at it for a second before noticing Yellow's alertness. He made an slight gesture towards his colleague before straightening up.
"Hell-o. Litt-le. Girl. Are. You. Fee-ling. Better?"
Yellow did not appreciate his loudness or his tone. She glared at him, her jaw set tight. Was this the man that took her from Mother Forest? Left ChuChu to die? What else could he do to her now?
"She doesn't understand. Look at her. She's like a trapped Pokemon at the vet. We saved her life, and she doesn't even care." The younger man commented, tapping his pen again, "I don't know how they're going to handle her."
Watch and wait, Yellow supposed. They'll see how bad she can get.
"Well, we're waiting for the... what did Ariana call it? The transition team? You know what I'm talking about. The women with the cards."
"Makes sense. Don't want a bunch of guys pawing at some little girl. Especially since this kid needs a bath like yesterday. We'll have to throw out the entire bed. No use in saving it; the stink already settled in."
Fuming, Yellow couldn't believe these two adults were talking about her like that. She lived in a forest, not a scat hole! And the forest princess knew she did not stink! No Pokemon ever said she stunk!
"The dentist has to come by as well. Oh, I'll have to watch that unfold."
"Poor Dr. Montez. He had to clean the little prince's teeth earlier this week, too. Heard he got socked in the gut twice. I think he only enjoys handling the ratcatcher's teeth because of You-Know-Who is always there."
"He's earning that paycheck, that's for damn sure. Can't pay me enough to get in those mouths."
There were too many topics going on, giving Yellow a headache. It was like being thrust into a different world and she was out of the loop. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep and hope it would all be over.
A loud hiss. The two men looked over, distracting themselves from their gossip, as three women appeared with bags. Yellow could not discern what they looked like, as masks covered most of their face, but she had the idea that they were beautiful.
Their clothes were very unusual, though. They had long, shapely, pastel-green dresses with a big red 'R' sewn over their right breast. Thin, plastic, double layered gloves and matching aprons.
The older man motioned towards Yellow, "Have fun, ladies."
"Give the girl some privacy. Shut the door and pull the curtain." One woman spoke, "Be prepared with the sedative. Madame Ariana has instructed that we do not waste time and that no other men will be allowed here until Doctor Montez comes."
The door clicked shut, and the curtains closed.
x
Yellow had bitten no one before. But today, she had bitten both of the men and nearly got one of her handlers.
"Fuck me!" The junior doctor screeched, trying to stop his forefinger from bleeding, "She got it right off! You hold her down!"
"Stop complaining." The lead woman snapped, digging her nails through Yellow's ratty blonde hair as the girl shrieked in pain. "She's a child. She can't do that much damage."
"You get bit and see if you sing the same tune, Agent!"
Yellow was sitting in a mobile plastic tub that was filled with ice cold water. They covered her naked body in soaps, antiseptic lotions, shampoos, and cooling salves. Harsh brushes rubbed and scoured at her skin, scratching away the layer of filth.
Three women were combing out her hair. Since the damage was so massive, they had to reach out to another agent just to get the back of the head. Leaves, dirt, small twigs, and pebbles lined the tub, constantly being scraped out of her hair.
"This would be easier if she had thin hair." One woman grunted, grabbing another comb as her third one broke, "Do we have another bottle of detangler? Or can we just cut it off?"
Yellow howled at the thought of them cutting her hair, struggling again before the other assistants kept her pinned. The head woman continued on, undeterred, as she dipped her brush back into the now-dirty water.
"There's more in the box. Take her out. We have to change the water. We got the outer layer off."
"You're fucking kidding. This kid is going to bite our heads off."
"Grow a pair, doctor. If a little girl emasculates you, find another career."
They tore away Yellow from her tub, making her kick and scream. She didn't understand what she was crying about anymore. She wanted Mother Forest. She wanted her friends. She did not want to be touched.
They dumped the water out into the nearby sink drain. One woman started using buckets to refill the tub as others held the girl still. Yellow eyed the door, knowing that if she could just break free…
Her nearest captor rubbed the sweat off their brow, slacking the grip. Yellow took the opportunity and snapped her teeth at her, giving her enough room to move. The surprise gave her opportunity and Yellow ripped herself free.
"Mother Forest! Mother Forest! Help! Help!"
She ran towards the door, reaching out for the doorknob. However, the lead agent grabbed her by the waist and picked her up. Yellow squirmed and screamed, her wet skin drenching the older woman.
"Let me go! Let me go back to Mother Forest! Mother Forest! Help! Help!"
"At least we know she has no shame." The woman remarked, shoving her back into a newly filled tub, "Can't have her running naked through the medical wing. I thought you said she couldn't speak, Doctor."
The older man hummed, still nursing his bite, "Maybe she can speak a little."
Yellow could see the eye-roll as her head was dunked back underwater.
x
Dr. Montez grumbled, knowing that he was in for another hellish day.
A girl from the forest who had never known humans or the knowledge of modern medicine. Fun. He should ask for hazard pay after this. Or at least update his rabies shots.
Knocking on the door, a peculiar sight greeted him. Six people, all exhausted and covered in dirt, resting in random places. Both doctors had their hands bandaged. Women strained to their limits as they used machines to keep them standing upright.
A young girl with wet hair, worn out and bruised. Water everywhere. The scent of soaps and powerful medicinal lotions still on her exposed skin. Wrists tied to the hospital bed.
Dr. Montez knew this was going to make the other kid look like a Sunday picnic. He cleared his throat, trying to remember his medical training for something like this.
"So. How do we want to handle this?"
x
After a day of settling down, they transferred Yellow to another room.
It beat her body down. The simple shirt and pants they gave her were itchy. They bandaged her feet with ointment to soothe burns. Skin felt raw and on fire.
Teeth hurt. That mean, nasty man used many savage devices—and right on her delicate mouth! Yellow could taste the bleeding gums as he scraped every crevice. He had admonished her, much like the other men had done earlier, for not taking care of her teeth.
"Just milk teeth. Still got most of them. We caught her at a good time."
All Yellow could do now was settle into her extreme trauma. She cried into her tiny pillow, begging and praying to leave. Nobody told her why she couldn't go home or why she could not return to Mother Forest. Just business, business, business.
Her throat was tired. It was proving to be no use, anyway; nobody cared about her screams. Terrified weeping of the forest daughter was idle background noise.
This strange concept baffled Yellow. When she had cried before, from skinned knees to frightening dreams, Uncle Wilton or Mother Forest came to her aid. Even the smallest Caterpie would offer condolences and comfort to her tears.
Maybe whoever was keeping her here was not as sympathetic as the smallest Caterpie.
The foreign room was so dark, so cold, and so lonely. Perhaps she had befallen a horrible death. Caught in a relentless nightmare that ravished her every thought and emotional depth.
Another itch. Another wail. Over and over again. Hours and hours.
Finally, the door hissed open. Yellow stopped her blubbering long enough to lift her head from the scratchy pillow. Her eyes were dry and red, blistering from her endless crying.
"You cry too loud."
Childish. Flinging emotion on the surface, unlike the adults she had already encountered.
A boy. He seemed a little older than her—maybe by two or three years—but his height gave the impression that he was older. Yellow could spot pinkish-red hair hiding under a black cap, making her fascinated by the contrast between dark and light colors.
His face was sturdier than hers, growing into his features early. Gold eyes that held a haunting coldness. But the boy still kept so much of child-like innocence that it was hard for Yellow to retaliate against him.
Maybe he would understand. Maybe he would offer comfort.
"You're a girl," An accusation, as if he had some smoking gun on her, "Master said so."
Yellow was unsure if she was supposed to deny that fact, "Yes."
The insignificant victory satisfied his attitude, bolstering some sort of 'aha!' swagger he was showing off. The boy took notice of her red face, smirking as if she had postured vulnerability for him. An easy win for power.
"I can hear you from down the hallway." He berated her. "All you're doing is sitting here. Why are you crying? You're not dead or hurt."
She stuck her lip out, "They hurt me. Do...do you know why I'm here? I... I want to go home."
"Yes!" He jeered, happy that he knew something she didn't, "I know why! But I can't tell you. Master said so. You're tiny. I could beat you up. So if you don't stop crying, I will!"
"That's not nice! I don't wanna get hurt again!"
"You will! Master Archer said you were supposed to be special but I don't see it." The boy proclaimed, as if he was the final say on the matter, "You're just a girl. I'm better. Master Archer said that I have to watch you to make sure you do nothing dumb. So do nothing dumb!"
Yellow suspected the boy's goal was to pester her or scope her out before the unknown terribleness swung down. But there was something about this boy, holding onto a deep and spiritual power. It drew her in and out, like tides.
A connection. A connection to the Mother Forest.
"... What are you going to do if I do?"
Her warden was not expecting that question. He shot another glare, fumbling around for a quick, devastating response. After several seconds, he came up with nothing and that seemed to infuriate him more.
"What do you know?" A scoff, trying to pass it off as not worth the effort, "You're just a fair-all girl. Master Archer said so."
Fair-all? What was a 'fair-all'? Yellow twirled her hair around her finger. Since the boy did not want to help her, she had all this wonderful time to ponder the horrible outcomes.
Would she starve here? Be bullied for eternity? She knew she wouldn't be able to fight him off. He was much bigger and had athleticism at his age. Maybe the boy would tell her what was in her future—or let it slip on how to escape.
"Do you…" Yellow tried not trip over her words as she forced tears back, "Know where I am?"
"Of course I do! I found you here, didn't I?"
"So... where am I?"
Her strange peer averted his gaze slightly towards the ceiling, as if he was expecting something to be watching them. Yellow was much too frightened to look, as if some vicious beast was awaiting her direct eye contact so they could swallow her up.
An evasive remark. "Here."
Maybe that answer was better than the truth. Yellow slumped, her body trying to crawl back into itself. The tears and the overwhelming emotions from being kidnapped came back. The poor forest child was at the mercy of overseers she could only imagine being the most nefarious, the most cruel, and the most diabolical.
Each tear brought a new huff of arrogance from the boy, as if her ability to express emotion deeply offended him.
"Stop crying. There's nothing to cry about. The Masters will give you something real to cry about—and even then, you're not supposed to cry!"
Waves crashed onto Yellow. Masters. Over one warden and much more powerful than her snarky little companion. Her eyesight blurred and burned as she wept into her hands. Reality crashed into her. She would never leave.
After an eternity of keeping guard over her, the boy sighed, "It's really not that bad... it's not like you're going to die."
Meager consolation—at least Yellow knew she would not die. But he didn't say just how close she was going to get. Or if she would wish for death.
"What's going to happen to me?" She repeated, her squeaks edging out between tears, "I wanna go home. Why can't I go home to Uncle and Mother Forest?"
Her question triggered something—something so small across his face—before the boy put his airs of superiority back on.
"You're being stupid. The Masters brought you here. You belong here."
Yellow sniffled, "I wanna go home! I wanna be in the forest, not here!"
"You can't go anywhere so quit asking!" He countered, forcing down his statement like a bludgeon, "You…"
The door opened again. A taller, much more elegant man appeared; subtle teal hair and a red 'R' on a white uniform. Pale, supernatural complexion befitting of scary campfire stories, and blue eyes that targeted the most subtle of weaknesses.
"Lancelot." The voice was cool and charmingly sinister, "Do not tease the young recruit. She's been through enough already. Let's not pile on her confusion and fear."
The child bowed right away. "Yes, Master Archer…"
Yellow couldn't move her limbs as ice went straight through her soul. Every part of her instincts became rattled and embroiled in panic. Lurking depths of 'This man will hurt you' fears arose, knowing and understanding that this unfamiliar presence was not to be alone with her.
Her uncle had warned her about men like that, but to Yellow, they had only lived in scary stories. The young child couldn't explain it, but there was some maternal, feminine knowledge within her that just knew.
'If you were a woman, you'd be dead.'
Forget the beast that lurked in the ceiling; she was facing one right in the eyes.
"Do not mind my student. Lancelot has never met anyone around his age before, much less a girl." Archer said, his forefinger to his cheek as he studied her, "You are Amarillo Del Bosque Verde."
Archer was right, and it took Yellow by surprise, "How do you know that?!"
"I know many things about you, Amarillo. As do others. But that is not important right now." Dismissive, almost blunt—how Lancelot attempted to be earlier, "The priority is your adjustment to our organization, as well as your new expectations. I want this period to be quite brief, as time is of the essence."
This man did not know how to talk to children. He was giving commands as he would to a stupid mutt and expected that Yellow would follow them to the letter. Her head shook a little, trying to comprehend the situation.
Lancelot jumped in, craving approval, "Master Archer, she keeps crying. I told her to stop."
"As anyone would in this situation." Archer kept it brisk, pacing much faster than his young charge, "Had you not kept hounding her, she may have quit a long time ago. I have told you to keep your emotions in check to avoid these situations."
There was a massive, rigid reaction from the boy as he straightened up. Yellow could now sense a pitiful fear, as if Lancelot expected the absolute worst. However, Archer turned his attention back to her.
"Do you know where you are, Amarillo?"
Was this a trick question? Everything seemed to have high stakes. Yellow darted back and forth between the two, trying to figure it out. There was just the "R" on their uniforms, but Lancelot's collar had the words "ROCKET" printed across in bold, red letters.
"...Rock...et?" Yellow prayed was right.
"It's a good sign you can read," Archer called out her bluff, making her flinch, "I had concerns that the... education from a bunch of woodland creatures was inadequate. However. Do you know where you are or what Rocket is?"
This time, Yellow knew she couldn't lie. She shook her head, hoping that she could just get smaller and smaller until she disappeared.
"You are inside a Team Rocket base," Archer said, layering more of his charm, "We have brought you here as our newest recruit. This is not optional. We will meet any resistance or attempts to escape with severe consequences. You belong to us and shall serve the will of Team Rocket whenever called upon."
Yellow glanced at Lancelot again, seeing him shift his feet. He knew what was coming; a future at the hands of soulless, cruel adults. No escape. No chance at a childhood or a happy life. Nobody gets that luxury here.
The image of Yellow standing before another captive peer while wearing a uniform and bullying others made her feel nauseous. She didn't want that. She didn't want any of this. Could Yellow reason her way out with Archer? Couldn't he see her pain and feel her emotions?
"But I…" She couldn't grasp the words as they jumbled together, "I...belong to Mother Forest. She misses me. I have... I have to go back to her."
Another perk in Lancelot's eyes that was snuffed out. Did this boy... know Mother Forest? Had he heard her cries as well?
"Little stories like that," Archer replied, his amusement rubbing like velvet against her resistance, "Won't help you here, Amarillo. You will accept the truth that Team Rocket gives you—no more, no less. Anything else, like those silly little delusions, has no place here."
"I don't know who Team Rocket is," Yellow mumbled, curling her words back up again.
A tutting, chiding correction. "You don't know what Team Rocket is."
"H-huh?"
"I see that homegrown education has very severe limitations. Regardless, that will be a lesson for another day." Archer reiterated, moving on before she could protest, "For now, you will be here. They will bring food and drink twice a day. If you attempt to hurt yourself, you will be under medical care. Refusal to follow instructions will come with punishment."
Her shoulders tensed, "That's not fair. I don't wanna be here."
"Fair is not how we do things around here, Amarillo. It's best you understand that now. You listen and obey. You learn what you are told. You are Team Rocket's property and we do not own useless junk." The older man seared his lecture on her face. "Lancelot understands this well, as will you."
Yellow's emotions were so wrecked that she glared at Lancelot, opting to not further annoy the real master in charge, "But I'm fair-all."
Archer's eyebrow raised, "Fair-all?"
"Lancelot said I was fair-all."
It took less than a second for Lancelot to freeze. His breath wavered as his lungs sucked in short, harsh gusts. Archer turned his head towards his student, now smiling as if he was being generous with his emotions.
"Oh, did he?" Caressing, tutting words took the color from Lancelot's face, "I think he meant feral. Children. They love to repeat what they overhear. I apologize, Amarillo, as I have always taught my pupil to act like a gentleman in the presence of company."
Yellow felt the heat of regret flaming across her face. The absolute terror that was striking Lancelot was beyond anything she had seen before. She had gotten him into a mess of trouble that her pettiness caused.
If she was so scared of Archer, she could only imagine how terrified Lancelot was. Yellow should have kept her mouth shut. Why did she hurt him? She wanted to take it all back and spare the boy from the impending punishment.
"M-Master, I...I…" Lancelot stammered, "I... I didn't…"
"Go tend to your studies, Lancelot. I will be by soon. We will go over your manners once again."
With that, there was nothing Lancelot could say or do. He bowed, as deep as his waist would let him, and left. Archer waited until the footsteps were faint before he cleared his throat.
"My deepest apologies. Again. I believe it's because you're a young girl. I would not take it so hard. Lancelot is a child, much like you."
Much like you. Did Archer mean something more by that? Was Lancelot like her in the sense that…
"Is Lancelot…?" Realization washed over her, "A child of Mother Forest too?"
"Like I said, Amarillo. Those stories won't benefit you here. You were made for Team Rocket. That's all that matters. That's all you need to focus on."
Yellow might as well have been arguing with a tree trunk. Archer would not elaborate or budge. He made it clear he wasn't here to entertain her either. Exhaustion kept her from rousing up her courage and conviction. Even so, she wanted to keep asking questions until something useful slipped up.
"Who is—" Yellow caught herself before forcing out the words again, "What is Team Rocket?"
"An organization dedicated to keeping and controlling the natural order of things," Archer answered, much more enthused about the topic, "Our mission is to serve Giovanni and his legacy by being his faithful servants. Our dedication to this cause runs deep, and any Pokemon captured are to follow this order until death."
Her cheeks were ghost white at the word 'death'. "But Pokemon can't... can't die…"
"They do. As seen already."
"But that's not…! Pokemon shouldn't have to die—!"
"Pokemon are tools. Tools get broken and tossed away. Death is their inevitable destiny. Created to serve us and cultivated to extend our reach."
His statement was so cut and clean that Yellow almost believed it herself. Pokemon are tools. Yellow never met a Tool-type Pokemon. Her mind was trying to work out his words before Archer pulled out a pocket watch. He hummed, as if he had some important errand to run.
"They will bring your food shortly. You will need to take this time to adjust. But do know that you will accept this and embrace your noble purpose. It is the greatest honor we all have and share with one another."
His platitudes rang hollow in Yellow's heart. The corners of her mind begged for sleep and to not think about it until tomorrow morning. Or tomorrow night or noon or evening.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow sounded better to unravel all this.