SO UH…. I KIND OF HAVE A CONFESSION TO MAKE LMAO

So regarding this plot – I started writing the story back in august 2012 whilst I was on vacation and truth be told it was meant to be

uh

PetrelxOC lmfao..

I felt really uncomfortable writing a story like that because I hate twisting the canons and felt as if by the fact that I was having a character who was already on very bad terms with Proton It'd be really disbelieving if she also had a close friendship with Petrel – who in my headcanon is like best friends with Proton – but do you know what? Sod it. This story is unpopular, I might as well make a tit out of myself and make a disbelieving story but enjoy myself rather than write things that have a weak plot if you get me

So yeah

In other words I'm contradicting myself and turning this into PetrelxOC. Deal with it.

To the very few readers ((very few)) who are looking at this like WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING PUT THEM DOWN HOLY HELL NO

I'm writing what I want

If you don't like it then go and look for more Proton centered fics LMAO THERES ENOUGH OF THEM but this aint one of them anymore. (Proton is still going to be a main character in it! It's just the protagonist is going to have a 'close' friendship to Petrel as well as being threatened by Proton) ((Petrel needs more love though omg he only has like 4 fics))

Also – I'm looking for a beta reader ;n; if anybody is interested, please tell me! I'm more bothered about literacy mistakes since I have a horrible tendency to type with no grammar (blame tumblr) which sometimes gets reflected in my writing~

Chapter 4

"Nurse – Help my Ratata – please!"

I woke up with a jolt to find myself sat in the Goldenrod Pokecenter, completely forgetting what I was meant to be doing.

"Oh, you're awake!" A voice nearby chimed. I turned around with my eyes half opened to see a girl a little younger than me looking at me. She, unlike me, seemed bright and cheerful, which could be due to her very odd sense in clothes. She had a huge white hat on – and I mean huge. And her whole dungaree-influenced outfit seemed to be soaked in bows, and her hair was strung in pigtails that seemed to defy gravity. Holy hell – my hair! I suddenly remembered that I had most of my hair chopped off, and I mentally kicked myself.

Elizabeth – you idiot!

"So, why are you sleeping in a Pokécenter?"

Why indeed.

"I'll be frank – I'm not completely sure to be honest" I replied, scratching the back of my head as I tried to pluck my memories out of my mind. Was I healing my Pokémon? Probably – I could remember something bad happening to my team, so I was probably beaten by a trainer surrounding Goldenrod.

"I hope you remember – but in the meantime I'd be a little bit careful. See that Team Rocket grunt over by the radio tower? He's seems a little angry."

"Team Rocket?" I asked, confused. "Team Rocket are always intimidating…"

Oh my god.

"But please be caref-"

"They stole my Pokémon – Proton stole my Pokémon. PROTON!" I shouted as I stood up, grabbing my shopping bag full of baggy clothes. I quickly rammed the fleece over my shirt and put the combats on under my skirt.

"Proton? What sort of a name is Proton?" She asked, as confused as I was a few minutes ago. I didn't reply to her – instead I marched out of the Pokémon center and stormed right up to the grunt. Refusing to budge from his position, the grunt stared me down as I stopped in front of him, a flash of malice glaring through my eyes.

"Do you want anything?" He snorted with contempt, looking down at me as if i was simply a piece of trash on the floor.

"Well, yeah, you could say that." I replied with a flair of sarcasm, trying to deepen my voice. If only my mother knew that I was pretending to be a boy just to get into team rocket!

"Well spit it out then!"

Hallelujah, he didn't call me brat! There is a god.

"I want to join Team Rocket." I imitated the voice again, slunching back to try and self-consciously draw emphasis away from my chest.

"Whatever. Follow me, short-arse." He replied, turning around and taking the same route I had taken the previous day. I couldn't tell – but this was a different grunt from the one yesterday. Maybe if there was any luck – Proton may not be there! That'd make everything so much easier. Woah – wait. Did he just call me short-arse?

I decided not to retort and followed the grunt obediently. If I was to start using sass, it'd lessen my chances of getting my team back. Wow, it's not as if he's going to gnaw you with his Ratata.

"Did you just call me short-arse?" God damn it Elizabeth.

"Yeah, got a problem?" He replied, not even turning around as we walked down the subway again.

"Uh, nothing – fatty." Elizabeth! Stop it! The grunt stopped in his tracks and turned around with a smirk on his face.

"Fatty?" Look what you've done now.

"Fat…ty" I replied, slowing down my wording this time. It was harder than it should have been due to putting on a deep accent as I spoke.

"Whatever, short-arse." He rolled his eyes and carried on walking. One of the things I hadn't thought of during my planning was the fact that I am actually shorter than most of the grunts. I'm just above average for a female, but short for a male. It didn't seem to be a problem though, as I could tell from the nickname "short-arse".

We went through the same access denied tunnel, the same blinding darkness and the same musky smell. At least this time I didn't bang my head. Or walk into a wall. When we finally got to the end of the tunnel, I noticed something was different. I was at a different door.

Last time, the entrance to where the rockets were loitering was just an ordinary door – this time, it took on the appearance of a garage door. Am I going to a different room? I thought to myself. Dread started to circle around my head – what if they knew who I was? What if Proton is in there, waiting for me to crawl back?

I shook off the dread and raised my head a little. I didn't care what happened to me – as long as I got my Pokémon back I could withstand any sort of mistreatment from Proton.

That's if he's willing to give mistreatment.

My heart thudded as the grunt opened the shutters – and suddenly an overwhealming stentch of smoke came drifting out into my lungs. I couldn't help but cough as I squinted my eyes, which were watering due to the overpowering fumes, and carried on walking through the doorway. The shutter slammed behind me but this time I didn't jump – I was too concerned about the crap entering my lungs. Looking around, I noticed there were not as many grunts as there were in the original room.

Can't blame them. This place is awful!

I carried on following fatty and noticed that just as the original room, there was a desk with a person slouching on it. My heart thudded – I couldn't tell due to the smoke but from the posture I knew it was Proton. The colour drained out of my face and slowed down my pace. As much as I hated him and wanted to slap him silly for what he did to me – I was scared of him. I was scared of what he had done – or what he would do – to my team. I already knew team rocket were ruthless with Pokémon, but what about hostage Pokémon…

It wasn't Proton.

The smoke faded away to reveal an older man… an older man…

Applying lipstick?

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow as if to say "You hating?"

But… lipstick?

What have I walked into?

The older man, like a lot of the grunts, had pink hair – though his had more of a purple tint. He had a small goatee too, that seemed to be a little too rounded at the end. He also had a beauty mark – which looked suspiciously drawn on – under one of his eyes. Like Proton, he had a golden-trimmed uniform on, although this one was fully buttoned up, and his gloves only covered his forearms. As well as applying his makeup, he also had a cigarette grasped in his hand, which he was half-heartedly stubbing away in an ash tray.

Whilst I was staring at the bizarre scene unfolding in front of me, a grunt shoved past me – almost pushing me over - and started choking himself before he started spitting on the …older man.

"Executive Petrel! I can't find your Koffing! Are you sure you last saw it…" Koffings. I hate Koffings. "…Inside HQ?"

The older man put down his lipstick and glared at the grunt.

"Whatever. I'm a nice guy – I can let this slide. It's not as if anybody's going to touch that Koffing – isn't that right shorty?" He replied, before asking me something.

"I.. uh.. I don't know?" I replied, not fully comprehending that he was including me in this conversation – It's not that I couldn't concentrate because of the fumes – but I was staring right at his lips. They were distracting as hell due to the fact that they were now bright red. I'd never seen anything like it.

"It's not as if a grunt like you'd know anyway." He replied, rolling his eyes as well as rolling off his desk onto the edge of it. "I'm not a grunt." I corrected him in my normal accent – completely forgetting about my disguise.

"...Oh." He looked at me, looking a little embarrassed.

"Yea- EHEM- Yeah." I agreed, partially shifting the sentence into my manly façade.

"So what are you here for?" He asked, looking right at me. I shifted attention from his lips and looked back at him – he had incredibly beady eyes – they kind of unnerved me.

"I want to, uh, join team rocket." I replied, not looking away from his eyes. Crap. They're worse than Proton's.

"Ugh – That's not my job!" He moaned, flopping back on the desk so dramatically it looked painful. I stood there awkwardly in silence – peeking over from the side of the desk to see if 'Petrel' was conscious or not. I was about to creep right up to him until I realised his beady eyes were actually looking at me. I quickly shuffled back and noticed my cheeks flushed a little. Real manly, Elizabeth.

"Ugh – sorry, you'll have to go to Proton." He finally spoke, sitting upright again – but this time with a mirror in his hand, in which he was staring in vainly.

"P-Proton?" I stuttered. Not Proton – anybody but Proton.

"Yeah – the executive in charge of recruitment." God damn it.

"Can't you just do it?" I asked desperately. He looked up from his mirror and looked right at me again.

"Why? Do you like me or something?" He questioned me.

"Not particularly. I'm just lazy." He seemed a little disheartened. "Why, do you want me to feed your ego?"

Petrel raised an eyebrow at me again.

"Whatever, shorty. I'm a nice guy, I'll let you join my division without Proton knowing – you do have a Pokémon, right?"

"Nope."

"Just take this Ratata then." With that, he went into one of the draws and pulled out a scruffy looking Ratata. "One of our grunts just bought this back yesterday – it's useless anyway."

"Then what good am I to have it then?" I questioned him, staring at the ball with contempt.

"It's either this or Proton."

God damn it.

I took the ball awkwardly and felt the rough scratches all over it. If the ball was any sort of clue to what the Ratata was like, I knew I was buggered.

"Right – what's your name?" He asked again, hastily getting out a piece of paper.

"El…" I started, almost betraying my name. "Elliot." Great, I'm now my own brother.

"Elliot what?"

"Elliot Frank."

Petrel scribbled down my faux name... in his lipstick… and carried on reeling off instructions. It turned out I was now 19, I lived in Violet City and I was now part of Petrel's division. Woo.

"Right – considering you've avoided officially entering us, you can't really get a uniform."

"Don't you have one I could wear?"

"Yes – you can't really do much with it though."

God damn it.

"Why not?"

"Because it's mine!" He started laughing hysterically, flopping back on the desk again. I looked around awkwardly and noticed a cupboard at the corner of the room. Leaving Petrel to his hysterics, I wondered over to the auburn cupboard and looked inside. There was a couple of uniforms hanging lifelessly in there – although they were massive. I turned around to Petrel again who was still tied in his own antics to even notice that I wasn't standing in front of him, and swiped one of the uniforms. I then crept inside the cupboard and started getting changed into one of the uniforms – it being even baggier than my poncho-like outfit. Thank god a belt was required.

I burst out of the cupboard and clumped over to Petrel – the boots being far too big for my feet. He sat up – his face red from laughter – and noticed that I had gotten changed.

"What?" he stared with a look of confusion, looking around the room for the source of where the uniform could have come from.

"The cupboard in the corner. It's a little too big, though." I pointed, the gloves falling off my hands.

"A little?" He asked, an eyebrow raised, while he examined the flapping uniform. Every time I moved I looked as if I was flailing.

"It's still a uniform – I can shrink it in the wash?" I said, looking over it myself. The good thing about it being baggy was that it completely disguised my feminine figure – which would have been a disaster in the making if it was to show off my curves.

"There's a wash?" He asked me, trying to hold in his laughter again. I still stood with a face like a plank. Looking disheartened again, he stood up and walked up to me. He was taller than me – but not as tall as Proton. That could have been because he stood with an over-exaggerated slump in his posture.

"You still need to dye your hair pink, shorty." He said, pulling the cap down over my eyes, before walking away. From the slam of the shutter, I could tell he had walked outside.

I pulled up my cap, and stared with a confused expression on my face.

I did it.

I was part of Team Rocket.

And I was enlisted by a man who wore lipstick.

WOW so uhm

Yeah

Lmfao theres no hiding it this is going to have an influence of PetrelxOC in it. I don't even care.

Just saying but I have nothing against men wearing makeup – I just kind of picture Petrel messing around with it a lot due to him being the 'master of disguise'.

Wow look chapter 4 and no reviews but HELL I'M NOT STOPPING

Personally, writing isn't about aiming to get criticism – it's about aiming for enjoyment – which I'm enjoying a lot! 8D

Although I do feel really silly writing OC stories. They seem shunned on everywhere I go but HEY I DON'T EVEN CARE I like CharacterxOC stories. Haters gonna hate.