Chapter 2: Wilted Warrior
I woke up early, the unfamiliar surroundings of the Team Rocket barracks momentarily disorienting me. As I stumbled to the small, grimy mirror hanging on the wall, I caught sight of my reflection and paused, memories flooding back.
I'd always been thick-built, particularly pudgy at the onset of puberty. By the time I was 14, my parents had grown concerned enough to set me up with a personal trainer at the Goldenrod Fitness Center. Drew, a no-nonsense fitness guru, had taken me under his wing. He'd taught me everything from proper weightlifting techniques to high-intensity interval training, pushing me through grueling circuits and endurance runs around the city.
Now, at 18, I stood at 6'1", still stocky but transformed. My chest was toned, visible even under the layer of dark brown curly hair that covered it. My stomach, while not perfectly flat, was rock-solid. Thick, muscular thighs supported my frame, matched by firm glutes and well-defined strong arms. My curly brown hair was cut short, framing green eyes that stared back at me impassively. My skin had a slight tan to it, a remnant of outdoor training sessions.
I leaned in closer to the mirror, running a hand over the stubble that had grown overnight. With practiced moves, I lathered up and began to shave, the routine familiar even in these new surroundings. As I finished, I reached for the Team Rocket uniform laid out on my bunk.
The black fabric hugged my frame tightly as I put it on, highlighting the muscular physique I'd worked hard to achieve. It felt strange, this uniform that marked me as part of something bigger, something I still didn't fully understand.
With a final glance in the mirror, I turned away, ready to face whatever this new day as a Team Rocket recruit would bring. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered to life as I entered the dingy room designated for new recruits. The space reeked of disinfectant and something else I couldn't quite place—desperation, perhaps. I took my place in line with the others, our matching black uniforms creating a somber procession.
An older man with a weathered face and hard eyes stood at the front, clipboard in hand. Deep lines etched his forehead, and a jagged scar ran along his jawline, hinting at a history of violence. "Listen up, rookies," he barked, his voice gravelly and harsh. "Today, you get your first Pokémon. Don't expect anything special. You haven't earned it yet."
My gaze wandered over the Poké Balls laid out on a metal table. They looked scuffed and worn, a far cry from the gleaming spheres I'd seen in shop windows. Scratches marred their surfaces, and some even had small dents. I wondered what kind of Pokémon awaited us inside. Probably nothing impressive, given the state of the balls and that introduction.
The man began calling names. One by one, recruits stepped forward to receive their Pokémon. A girl with fiery red hair got a Zubat that immediately latched onto her arm, causing her to yelp in surprise. Its wings flapped frantically as she tried to pry it off, her face a mix of fear and excitement. A burly guy ended up with a Rattata that cowered at the sight of him, its tiny body trembling as it tried to hide behind his boots. Each pairing seemed more mismatched than the last, a parade of awkward first meetings between trainers and Pokémon.
"Miles Harley," the man finally called, his eyes scanning the room.
I stepped forward. He thrust a Poké Ball into my hand without ceremony, the metal cool against my palm. "Here's your partner. Make it work."
The ball felt unexpectedly heavy in my hand. I pressed the release button, curious despite myself. A flash of red light materialized into a small, blue-green Pokémon with leaves sprouting from its head. An Oddish.
It blinked up at me with dull eyes, looking as underwhelmed by our pairing as I felt. Its leaves were wilted, drooping sadly over its round body. A faint, musty odor emanated from it, nothing like the sweet scent Oddish were known for. This was hardly the fierce, loyal partner I'd imagined when joining Team Rocket.
"Alright, you've got your Pokémon," the man announced, his voice cutting through the murmur of conversation. "Report to Training Room C for your first lesson in an hour. Dismissed."
As the other recruits filed out, some already attempting to bond with their new partners, I stood rooted to the spot. The Oddish hadn't moved either, seemingly content to stare at the floor. Its tiny feet shuffled slightly, kicking up small puffs of dust.
"Hey," I said, crouching down to its level. "I guess we're stuck with each other."
The Oddish didn't respond. It just swayed slightly, as if standing upright was a challenge. I frowned, reaching out to touch one of its leaves. It flinched away from my hand, a small tremor running through its body.
"Great," I muttered. "A sickly Oddish that's afraid of me. This is going to be a real asset to the team."
I recalled the Pokémon to its ball, clipping it to my belt. An hour to kill before training. I decided to explore the base, hoping to get a better lay of the land.
The corridors were a maze of concrete and steel, punctuated by the occasional grunt hurrying past on some errand. The air was stale and cold, carrying the faint echo of distant machinery. Harsh overhead lights cast long shadows, creating an atmosphere of perpetual twilight. I found myself in what appeared to be a common area, with a few worn couches and a vending machine that had seen better days. The upholstery was torn in places, stuffing peeking out like small, sad clouds.
A group of recruits from my initiation were huddled in one corner, excitedly comparing their new Pokémon. I hung back, observing their interactions. Their voices carried across the room, a mix of enthusiasm and nervous energy.
"I can't believe I got a Zubat!" the redhead from earlier exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. "They're so cool. Did you know they can navigate perfectly in total darkness?"
The burly guy with the Rattata nodded enthusiastically, his previous apprehension seemingly forgotten. "Yeah, and Rattata can chew through almost anything. These little guys are tougher than they look."
Their excitement was palpable, filling the air with an energy I couldn't quite comprehend. They spoke of their Pokémon as if they'd been given priceless treasures rather than cast-offs deemed suitable for rookies. Hands gestured animatedly as they discussed potential strategies and moves they hoped to teach their new partners.
I felt the weight of the Poké Ball at my hip. My Oddish. No, not mine. Team Rocket's Oddish, temporarily in my care. A tool to be used, nothing more. The metal felt cold against my skin, a constant reminder of my new role.
The PA system crackled to life, startling me from my observations. The sound echoed off the concrete walls, slightly distorted but clear enough to understand. "All new recruits report to Training Room C immediately."
As we filed into the training room, I couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between this space and the rest of the base. While the corridors and common areas were dingy and neglected, this room gleamed with state-of-the-art equipment. Practice dummies lined one wall, their surfaces scarred from countless attacks. Burn marks, claw scratches, and impact craters told silent stories of battles past. A battle arena took up the center of the room, its boundaries clearly marked with fresh paint. The floor was polished to a high shine, reflecting the bright overhead lights.
Our instructor, a wiry woman with close-cropped hair, stood at attention as we entered. Her posture was rigid, eyes sharp as they scanned the group of recruits. Her Golbat perched on her shoulder, its wings occasionally twitching as if eager for action. Its fangs gleamed in the light, a reminder of the danger these creatures could pose.
"Welcome to your first day of real training," she announced, her voice carrying easily across the room. "I'm Instructor Vega. You will address me as 'ma'am' or 'sir,' depending on my mood. Today, we'll be assessing your current battle skills—or lack thereof."
A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the group. I remained silent, my face impassive. The other recruits shifted uncomfortably, some eyeing the battle arena with apprehension.
"You'll be pairing off for practice battles," Vega continued, pacing in front of us with measured steps. "But first, let's see what you're working with. Release your Pokémon."
One by one, Poké Balls opened, filling the room with a cacophony of cries and the rustle of movement. The air became thick with the scents of various Pokémon—the musty odor of Rattata, the leathery smell of Zubat wings, the earthy aroma of Geodude. I pressed the button on my own ball, watching as the Oddish materialized at my feet.
In the harsh light of the training room, it looked even more pitiful than before. Its leaves drooped limply, edges slightly browned as if suffering from dehydration. I noticed a slight tremor running through its small body, whether from fear or weakness, I couldn't tell. The other recruits' Pokémon, while not exactly prime specimens, at least looked alert and interested in their surroundings. My Oddish seemed to be trying its best to become invisible, pressing close to the ground as if it could melt into the polished floor.
Vega walked among us, inspecting each Pokémon with a critical eye. Her boots clicked against the floor, the sound sharp and authoritative. When she reached me, her lip curled in disgust, nose wrinkling as if she'd smelled something unpleasant.
"This Oddish is in terrible shape," she snapped, her voice laced with contempt. "Have you even bothered to check its moves?"
I blinked, caught off guard by her directness. "No, ma'am. I only received it an hour ago."
She rolled her eyes, the motion exaggerated and dismissive. "Typical rookie mistake. Always know your Pokémon's capabilities." She pulled out a small device—a Pokédex, I realized—and scanned my Oddish. The machine beeped and whirred, displaying information on its screen.
"Hmm. Absorb, Sweet Scent, and... Acid. Not completely useless, at least." She fixed me with a stern glare, her eyes boring into mine. "You'll need to work on building its strength. A weak Pokémon means a weak trainer, and Team Rocket has no use for weakness."
I nodded, filing away the information. Absorb, Sweet Scent, Acid. Not exactly a powerhouse moveset, but it was something to work with. The Oddish at my feet shifted slightly, as if aware it was being discussed.
"Alright, pair up!" Vega barked, her voice echoing off the walls. "We'll start with some basic sparring matches. Nothing too intense—I don't want to be patching up your Pokémon all afternoon."
The other recruits quickly found partners, the sound of nervous chatter filling the air. I found myself face to face with a lanky boy whose Pidgey looked about as enthusiastic as my Oddish. The bird Pokémon perched on his shoulder, feathers ruffled and eyes darting around the room.
"Guess it's you and me," he said with a weak smile, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm Jason."
"Miles," I replied, not bothering to return the smile. "Let's get this over with."
We took our positions on opposite sides of a practice arena. The boundary lines gleamed under the harsh lights, a stark white against the dark floor. Vega stood at the center, acting as referee. Her Golbat circled overhead, its wings creating a soft whoosh with each pass.
"This will be a one-on-one battle," she announced, her voice crisp and authoritative. "The match ends when one Pokémon is unable to continue or I call it. Begin!"
"Pidgey, use Tackle!" Jason called out, his voice wavering slightly with nerves.
His Pidgey took to the air, swooping down towards my Oddish with surprising speed. Its wings stirred up small eddies of air, rustling the Oddish's wilted leaves.
"Oddish, dodge and use Acid," I commanded, my voice steady despite the unfamiliarity of giving battle orders. The words felt strange in my mouth, but I pushed aside the discomfort.
To my surprise, the Oddish responded immediately. It rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the Pidgey's attack, leaving the bird to pull up sharply to avoid crashing into the ground. As it did, my Oddish spat a glob of purple liquid at its opponent. The Acid struck the Pidgey's wing, causing it to squawk in pain and veer off course. Droplets of the corrosive substance sizzled as they hit the floor, leaving small pockmarks in the polished surface.
"Good hit," Jason called out, his earlier nervousness giving way to determination. "But we're not done yet. Pidgey, use Gust!"
The Pidgey flapped its wings furiously, whipping up a small whirlwind that headed straight for Oddish. The air in the arena swirled, carrying bits of debris and dust. My partner braced itself, leaves quivering in the face of the oncoming attack.
"Stand your ground," I ordered, mind racing to formulate a strategy. "Use Sweet Scent to disrupt the Gust."
Oddish released a cloud of pink powder just as the Gust hit. The two moves collided, creating a swirling vortex of scented air that filled our end of the arena. The sickly-sweet smell was overwhelming, filling my nostrils and making my eyes water. Through the haze, I saw the Pidgey falter, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected fragrance.
"Now, Absorb!"
Green tendrils of energy shot out from Oddish's leaves, latching onto the confused Pidgey. The air seemed to shimmer as life force was drained from our opponent. As the energy flowed into Oddish, I noticed its leaves perking up slightly. The tremor in its body lessened, replaced by a more stable stance. Its eyes, once dull, now held a glimmer of vitality.
"Pidgey, snap out of it!" Jason called desperately, his voice cracking. "Use Tackle again!"
But it was too late. The combination of Acid damage and energy drain from Absorb had taken its toll. The Pidgey's tackle was weak and easily avoided by Oddish, which sidestepped with newfound agility. As the bird Pokémon crashed to the ground, sliding across the polished floor, Vega raised her hand.
"That's enough. The match goes to Miles and Oddish."
I blinked, surprised by the outcome. Looking down at my partner, I saw it staring back at me with an expression that seemed almost... expectant. As if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. Its leaves were held higher, and the musty odor had been replaced by a faint, fresh scent.
"Good job," I said awkwardly, unsure of how to interact with the creature. It nodded slightly, a hint of pride in its posture.
As we moved off the arena to make room for the next pair, I found myself contemplating the battle. The rush of commands, the quick thinking required to counter our opponent's moves—it had been engaging in a way I hadn't anticipated. The experience had required focus and strategy, pulling me out of my usual detached state.
Vega approached us, her expression unreadable. Her eyes scanned over me and Oddish, assessing. "Not bad for a first attempt," she said grudgingly. "Your Oddish showed some potential. But don't get cocky. You've got a long way to go before you're ready for real Team Rocket operations."
I nodded, accepting the assessment without comment. As she moved on to critique the next pair, I looked down at Oddish again. It still looked frail and underwhelming compared to healthier specimens of its species, but there was a new alertness in its eyes that hadn't been there before. Its leaves, while still droopy, seemed to have a bit more color to them.
"Maybe we can make this work after all," I murmured, more to myself than to the Pokémon.
The rest of the training session passed in a blur of battles and critiques. The air grew thick with the scents of various Pokémon attacks—the ozone smell of electric moves, the earthy aroma of ground-type attacks, the stinging stench of poison. By the end, every recruit and Pokémon looked exhausted. Sweat stained our uniforms, and many of the Pokémon were panting heavily.
Vega stood before us, hands on her hips, her Golbat still looking as alert as ever on her shoulder. "That's all for today," she announced, her voice showing no signs of fatigue. "Report back here tomorrow at 1300 hours. And I expect to see improvement in both you and your Pokémon."
As we filed out of the training room, I noticed the other recruits chattering excitedly about their battles, comparing strategies and praising their Pokémon's efforts. Their voices echoed off the concrete walls, a mix of exhilaration and fatigue. I remained silent, lost in thought.
The day had been different from anything I'd experienced before. The constant activity, the strategic thinking required for battles, the physical exertion—it all stood in stark contrast to the monotonous life I'd led before joining Team Rocket. As I made my way back to the recruit barracks, my muscles aching, I found myself wondering what the next day would bring.
In the sparse room that would be my home for the foreseeable future, I released Oddish from its Poké Ball. The small Pokémon materialized on the cold concrete floor, looking up at me with those large, red eyes. There was still wariness in its gaze, but also something new—a hint of recognition, perhaps. Or the beginnings of trust.
"You did well today," I said, feeling oddly compelled to acknowledge its efforts. The words felt strange on my tongue, unused to offering praise. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will probably be even harder."
As I settled into my narrow bunk, the thin mattress creaking under my weight, Oddish curled up on the floor nearby. Its leaves rustled softly as it made itself comfortable on the hard surface. I stared at the ceiling, mind replaying the events of the day. The battles, the strategies, the unfamiliar sensations of physical and mental exertion. It wasn't the dramatic awakening of emotion I had hoped for when joining Team Rocket, but it was... different. A departure from the endless gray monotony that had defined my life up to this point.
The room was quiet, save for the soft breathing of Oddish and the distant hum of the base's machinery. The air was cool and slightly damp, carrying the faint scent of earth from my new partner. As I lay there, I found my thoughts drifting to the upcoming days of training. What new challenges would Vega throw at us? How would Oddish and I fare against the other recruits as we all improved? What would working in the Poison Division be like?
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I fell asleep with a sense of anticipation for what the next day might bring. Not excitement, exactly, but a curiosity about the unknown that awaited me. The familiar emptiness was still there, a void at my core, but around its edges, something new was stirring. A spark of interest, perhaps, or the first inklings of purpose.
As sleep claimed me, my last conscious thought was of Oddish, and the surprising strength it had shown in battle. Maybe, just maybe, we weren't as mismatched as I had initially thought.