Windows rattled and doors slammed open. A large bulking man throws out a young boy.

"If I catch you here again I will call the police!" the man roared before slamming the door shut.

The young boy looked up. People were staring at him, judging him, whispering between them.

None of them came forward to help.

The boy pushed himself to his feet before running away from the spotlight, shoving people out of the way.

He hated all the stares, the looks of how he was beneath them. What was so different between them and him? They were born into it while he was not. Circumstances and luck, that was all there was to it and nothing more.


"Boy!" the rattling voice of his father woke him from his nap. The boy pushed himself off the floor, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of it as he made his way to his father.

The man had called on him a few more times in between, each call louder than the other. He was drunk again, face flushed and eyes watering. He was a miserable fat man, scorned at his work and hated by his neighbours. And all of that he let out on his son.

Like how stomped over and backhanded the boy the moment he entered his father's line of sight.

"I have been calling you! Where were you?!" the father demanded to know.

"Bathroom" the boy muttered, rubbing the blood from his busted lip. Dare he not to tell the truth. His father would only grow more violent if he learned that his son was sleeping.

The man grunted.

"Fetch me a beer."

The boy was gone the next moment, dipping into the kitchen and getting his father a beer from the freezer. As he approached the man, so many thoughts passed through the boy's head. He could smash the bottle on the man's head, end it all right here and now. And then what? What would he do with a dead father? Admittedly it would be better with a dead father than a deadbeat one. But he'd lose the place he was living in. That was the only good thing about the man, he came with shelter. Maybe the boy had to wear the man's old clothes, maybe the food wasn't always there, but there was a roof over his head. How many could say that?

He handed his father the bottle of beer and stood to the side, close enough if the man needed anything more.

A knock on the door had the man send the boy to answer it. Men in black stood outside, five of them in total.

"Is your father here?" one of them asked.

The boy nodded, stepping aside to let the men in. It wasn't a new thing to see these many men coming to see his father. Usually, they were debtors, coming to collect a debt. Or people he'd crossed that wanted to beat him up for it.

Either way, the night would end with the boy getting beaten up.

"Boy!" his father called and he rushed.

The man was standing, counting money in his hands. There was a lot of it on there, even more in a briefcase on the table. He had never seen this much money before.

One of the men in black stepped forward. He had black hair and sharp blue eyes.

"How old is he?" the man asked.

The boy looked at his father, who was at a loss.

"Ten" the boy answered.

The man smiled.

"Do you know what happened here?" he asked.

The boy shook his head in negative.

The man motioned to his father.

"You were sold to us by your father."

The declaration was met by an expression the man did not expect, disinterest. He stared at the boy, and the boy stared back at him.

"Are you not… angry at your father for selling you?"

The boy looked at his father, who had gone back to counting the money. The money he was given because he sold his son!

"So he no longer has any power over me?" the boy asked.

The man (a little stunned) shook his head.

"Good. He was good for his house only" the boy shrugged.

"Boy!"

"I belong to him now" the boy retorted coldly, finding courage in him he didn't know he had. "Talk to him if you want to get to me."

The man in the suit barked a laugh and the father stepped down glowering. He put a hand on the boy's back and gently escorted him out of the apartment and into a car.

The boy was amazed by it all. He had never ridden a car before.

"I will not be your shield, you do know that right?" the man asked as the car drove away.

"I do" the boy answered. "You're buying me to put me into prostitution, right?" he asked. It wasn't rare for children his age to be thrown into that business, both boys and girls. People had the most disgusting fetishes.

The man snorted.

"No. We have grander plans for you."

The boy looked at him confused.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"I don't have one" the boy answered.

The man raised a brow.

X

The car had brought them to some warehouse on the outskirts of town. The suited man opened the door from the inside and pointed to the warehouse.

"You'll understand why we bought you once you get in there. Now go."

We… this was the first time the man said we and not I.

The boy got out of the car and walked to the warehouse. Just before entering, he looked back. The car was still there, the man was looking at him expectantly.

He entered the warehouse.

People looked up from what they were doing.

"I uh—" The boy stumbled over his words.

A woman with red hair approached him, smiling down kindly at him.

"Come now. This is no place for children" she whispered before taking his hand and tugging him away from all the machine-operating people.

The smile fell off the moment the woman had exited the warehouse, her grip tightening on the boy's hand. The suited man and his car were gone. She took him back in through another door and pushed him into a storage closet.

The boy rushed to bang on the door, only for the whole room to shake and begin moving. He grabbed onto the nearest thing (a broom) and tried to steady himself. It felt like the room was moving downwards like an elevator, faster than an elevator should. It slowly came to a halt and the doors slowly opened.

A man wearing a black shirt with a red 'R' on it stood on the other side.

"Ah, recruit. Come" the man turned and the boy rushed to follow him. He was in some weird place. So many men in black shirts and some in white aprons mulling over things on screen, over tables and whatnot.

The man he was following stopped in front of giant double doors. He pushed them open and motioned for the boy to enter. He did so, not seeing any other choice.

More kids his age were gathered there, all of them chatting amongst themselves.

"Hey!" a boy with blue hair approached him with a smile. "I'm new here too! My name is James"

This one was definitely a rich boy…

Before James could ask the boy his name, a wall on the far side lit up. It was a giant monitor, and on it, the image of a man sitting was displayed. He knew this man! It was the one who brought him here!

"Welcome, future members of Team Rocket! Today marks the beginning of your journey to greatness. You have been chosen to join the most formidable organization in the Pokémon world, where the strong thrive, and the ambitious rise to the top. You may be young, but within each of you burns a fire—a desire to claim what is rightfully yours. Remember our motto: "Everything in the world is ours for the taking." This is not just a phrase; it's a way of life. Here in Team Rocket, we do not wait for opportunity; we seize it. We do not hope for power; we take it. The world is full of treasures, rare Pokémon, and untold power waiting to be claimed by those bold enough to reach for it. You will face challenges, but every obstacle is a chance to prove your worth. Be cunning, be fearless, and never let anyone stand in your way. From this day forward, you are part of a legacy of ambition and strength. The world will soon know your name, and they will tremble. Now, prepare yourselves. Train hard, stay sharp, and always remember: we are Team Rocket, and the world belongs to us! Now go forth, recruits, and claim your destiny. Welcome to Team Rocket!"