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"...imagine having access to combat TMs the League hasn't yet legalized. PokeBalls that work better. Real training. Power. Respect. Brotherhood. Who among you doesn't want that?"
I stood in the doorway, not moving.
The children looked at him with shining eyes. Some couldn't have been more than eight years old. Others already had Poké Balls on their waists.
Kirlia took my hand. Her pulse was trembling.
The recruiter lifted a box and took out a black cap. He tossed it to the audience like a trophy.
"Who wants to become anything more than a nobody up there? Who wants to choose their path?"
One of the boys—the one from Ekans? The one from Spearow?—raised his hand.
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I clenched my fists. So hard my knuckles ached, white in the flickering light of the fluorescent tube overhead. The scene before me looked like a poorly staged theater, but the emotions were real. The children didn't fake that admiration. They didn't simulate that hope. That faith…
Faith in someone who sold slavery as freedom.
The recruiter tossed caps as if they were medals. And they, the little ones, jostled to catch them as if a better life were sewn between the black seams and that bright red "R" like fresh blood.
I felt Kirlia squeeze my hand. She didn't say anything, but her gaze searched mine. She was scared. Not for the man. Not for the Pokémon. For me. For the tension, I couldn't hide myself.
Growlithe wriggled in my arms. I'd seen him do this before: seeking refuge whenever the Team Rocket symbols appeared. As if his body was remembering what his mind didn't want.
I closed my eyes. Breathe. Think. Don't screw this up.
I could have jumped in. Screamed that it was all a lie. That they were being used. That I'd see them in boxes, like I saw him. But I didn't. Not yet.
I waited. I watched from a corner until the recruiter finished his speech. He said he'd be back soon, that the higher-ups had approved a supply order for the recruits. And he left whistling, as if he'd just sold candy.
Only when his figure disappeared down one of the tunnels did I approach. The kids were still gathered, some sitting on boxes, others sprawled on the floor as if they'd been in class and recess had just begun. One was showing off a black bracelet with a red stone embedded in it. Another was talking about having a Houndoom "someday." They were laughing. But their laughter was hollow. Nervous.
"Do you know what that R stands for?" I asked quietly.
They turned around. Some frowned. Others looked at me suspiciously. One, the one with the tilted cap and messy haircut, stepped forward. "And who are you?" he spat. "Are you dying of envy because they didn't choose you?"
"I didn't come here to fight," I said. "I came here to tell you something no one else is going to tell you down here."
"And why do we care what someone who doesn't even live here says?" a skinny, hollow-eyed girl chirped in. Her "Rocket Forever" T-shirt was tucked awkwardly over one shoulder and her nails were chewed down to their flesh. "You guys up there don't understand anything." "You only come down when you want to throw out old food or feel good for a while," another, younger one added. "Then you forget about us."
I remained silent. It was true. Not all of it. But enough.
"Do you know what it feels like to eat once a day if you're lucky?" the girl said, raising her voice. "Do you know what it feels like to watch your friends leave because no one can take care of everyone? The scout didn't promise us gold. He promised us a life where, at least, no one kicks you when you're sleeping." "And real Pokémon!" another shouted, one with a sleeping Spearow in his lap. "Trainers, battles. Not begging for scraps from trainers who pass on every Electrode death." "That Machop you saw out there," said one of the older ones, the one with an Ekans in its Poké Ball, "came with us. A teacher didn't choose us. He chose us because we were the only ones who fed him when he was dying."
I heard them. Everything. And it hurt. It hurt more than I thought it would. They weren't soldiers. They were children hungry for something more than bread.
"I didn't come to tell you that you're wrong for wanting something better," I said finally. "I came to tell you that the R you admire… doesn't give. It takes away."
I looked at them one by one. And then I crouched down. Growlithe came down with me. "He was one of yours."
At first, they didn't understand. But Growlithe did.
His eyes focused on the bracelets, the shirts, the symbols. And he growled. It wasn't a warning growl. It was… a rote growl. As if his throat was trying to empty something it should never have swallowed.
The children backed away. "What's wrong?" asked the youngest.
"I found him on Mt. Moon," I said. "In a box with other Pokémon. His fur was dirty, his ribs ridged. He was barely breathing. He was going to be sold or experimented on. Maybe he already had." I was silent for a second. I saw him. I saw Growlithe's eyes go dark as he remembered. "When he first saw me, he didn't even try to defend himself. He didn't bark. He didn't move. He'd already given up."
Silence fell like a stone. Heavy. Raw.
"And those who did it… were they from the Rocket?" asked the Ekans man.
I nodded. "Yes. And it wasn't an accident. It wasn't an exception. It was part of the system."
The youngest boy hung his head. The girl with the torn shirt rubbed her eyes, furious. "But here they take care of us…" someone muttered. "Take care of them? Or prepare them?" I asked. "Why do you think they give them shirts, bracelets, code names? To be free or to belong?"
No one responded.
Growlithe took a step forward. His paws scraped the ground. He barked. Not a wild bark. It was a no. A "stop."
The boy with the tilted cap took it off. He held it in his hand for a moment, then dropped it, as if wearing it had been hurting his neck without him realizing it.
Then there were two more. One girl stepped on his shirt. Another threw her bracelet to the ground with a sharp click. The Ekans man was the last. But he let go of it too. He dropped it as if picking off an old scab.
As all of Team Rocket's merchandise lay on the ground, Growlithe, without any command, spat out a low, concentrated flame. The Ember licked the garments and engulfed them in a warm fire.
The heat wasn't coming from the fire. It was coming from the zipper.
And then… the steps.
Clack.Clack.Clack.
"How cute…" The recruiter appeared with his jacket open. Four Poké Balls hung from his belt. His smile was a wound that had barely healed.
"Do you know how long it took me to gain their trust?" he spat. "And you come along, a brat, to tear it all down with your damned little hero story?"
"I didn't tell them what to choose," I said. "I just showed them what the R means for those who suffer."
He pushed me. Not hard. With anger.
Growlithe stepped in. He roared. Truly. The roar of one who is no longer afraid.
The children moved aside. Kirlia moved forward.
The recruiter didn't hesitate. "Golbat, out!"
The Poké Ball exploded. Golbat emerged like a winged nightmare. His screeches echoed off the walls.
"Stay away from these children," I said. "They're not your soldiers."
"Then let them rot with you," he spat. "Golbat, Acid Attack!"
The acid jet cut through the air. One of the drops fell nearby, and the ground sizzled as if boiling.
"Growlithe, dodge, and Flamethrower now!"
My voice came out firm. Firmer than I felt.
Growlithe didn't wait. His body tensed, his paws scraped the ground, and he nimbly spun sideways. The poisonous spray sped past. And then... fire. A torrent of flame erupted from his snout, with a force that surprised me. He was more than an Ember. Hotter. More determined.
The Golbat shrieked. Fire engulfed it like a burning rag. It tried to rear up, but the fiery breath pushed it back, forcing it to crash into a rusty beam.
The Rocket seemed to ignore his partner's pain and immediately barked the following order.
"Golbat, Air Cutter! Destroy it!"
The bat's wings ignited with a silver blade, like wind blades. The Golbat spun around, sending the blasts of slashing air in a precise arc, straight toward Growlithe. The sound was like that of an industrial saw, violently slicing through the air.
"Duck and roll, Growlithe!"
He made it just in time. The blast of air slashed overhead, slicing through a stalactite, which collapsed with a dry crash. Growlithe rolled on the ground and sat up with a grunt, his fur standing on end.
"Now, Ember! Aim for the wings!"
Sparks shot out like a swarm of red fireflies. The attack was accurate, and several embers caught fire on the Golbat's right wing, forcing it to spin awkwardly.
The Rocket shouted angrily, "Go higher! Attack from above!"
But I already knew what was coming.
"Jump and Bite! Bite the wing when it comes down!"
Growlithe waited. Patiently. Like a hunter.
Golbat swooped down for a dive attack, and just as he came within range...
"Now!"
Growlithe lunged hard, his fangs closing on Golbat's left wing, pulling him down with his weight. The bat lost its balance, zigzagged, and crashed to the ground. It lay sprawling, its wing chewed and smoking.
"One down!" I exclaimed through gritted teeth, my heart hammering in my chest.
The kids in the back were panting. They weren't cheering. They were processing that for the first time, someone was standing up for them.
The recruiter grunted.
"Raticate, charge!"
The new Pokémon emerged with a savage screech, giant fangs, and speed that didn't match its size. The moment it touched the ground, it launched itself toward Growlithe like a furry bullet.
"Use Roar, stop his momentum!"
Growlithe inhaled...and the roar he let out shook the walls.
Raticate stopped…but only for a second. Rage was taking over. He charged anyway.
"Jump and roll, Flame Wheel!"
Fire engulfed him instantly. Growlithe transformed into an orange meteor. The flaming sphere collided with Raticate full-on, once, and then came crashing back down, like a second blow. The rodent screamed, spun across the ground, and its whiskers sparked. It tried to get up. It trembled. And fell.
The children held their breath. Some had climbed onto old crates to get a better look. Others were on their knees as if that might help.
The recruiter...turned into a storm.
"Enough! Die, everyone! Koffing, Smokescreen! Ariados, Night Shade! Finish off that damn puppy!"
Two Pokeballs shot out like grenades. The Koffing's purple gas filled the room like toxic vomit. The lights flickered, and shadows danced with Ariados, who emerged dragging his blade-like legs.
"Growlithe, back off! This isn't your fight anymore!" He hesitated. I saw him tense. "Trust me. You've already given more than I imagined." I stroked him quickly as he backed away.
Then, a flash.
Kirlia. She took a step forward. The smoke didn't touch her. Her psychic field deflected it, like an invisible cloak. She wasn't looking at the Rocket. She was looking at the children.
"Come on, Nidorino," I said as I threw his Pokeball.
My companion leaped out like a furious centaur. He struck the ground hard, his horn sparking. It wasn't just his venom. It was fury.
"Koffing, Sludge Bomb! Ariados, Poison Sting! At the same time!"
"Kirlia, Confusion to the gas, Nidorino Double Kick to the bug!"
Koffing's purple bomb streaked through the air... but Kirlia intercepted it. The sphere hovered in the air for a second... and exploded in the Koffing's face. Its poison engulfed him. He coughed. He spun. He collapsed.
Ariados, for his part, shot purple needles.
Nidorino ducked. He jumped. He twirled in the air like an acrobat.
The two kicks landed like hammers on Ariados's abdomen. The insect fell onto its back and remained vibrating, legs in the air.
It had all lasted… how long? A minute? Two?
It seemed like an eternity to me.
"No… it can't be…!" the recruiter gasped, backing away. "I'm going to get reinforcements! You won't get away with this! I'm going to bring ten more! I'm going to tear you to pieces! You're going to regret you were ever born!"
His voice trembled.
And then the Spearow boy shouted:
"You have to hide!"
The Ekans man tugged on my arm. "They're coming for you. You can't stay here."
"Come on," said the girl in the torn shirt. "We'll take care of you now."
The little ones were already running through the tunnels.
"We trust you," the Spearow boy said, lowering his voice. "Now it's your turn to trust us."
I sighed.
And we dive together into the labyrinth of lost children.
Trainer: Maxwell Jones
Hometown: Pewter City
Sponsorship: None
Money: $91,000 Pokedollars -200
Badges: 1.- Boulder Badge, Cascade Badge
Expandable Travel Backpack (Deluxe)
1. 3 potions (1 slot)
2. 3 Rage Candy Bars (1 slot)
3. 10 Pokeballs (2 slots)
4. 1 Escape Rope (1 slot)
5. 1 Red handkerchief with 20 orange berries (1 slot)
6. 3 Antidotes (Poison Cure) (1 slot)
7. Badge case (1 slot)
8. PokéNav (1 slot)
9. Travel Cooking Kit (Includes a folding frying pan, small knife, kettle container, and mini lighter, all in a compact case) – 2 slots
10. Pokémon Food Ration (6-day ration bag) (3 slots)
11. Human food ration (canned and freeze-dried food for 6 days) (2 slots)
12. Basic Camping Kit (Includes Compact Tent, Sleeping Bag, and Collapsible Lantern) – 3 Slots
13. Basic Pokemon care kit (1 slot)
14. Moon Stone (1 slot)
15 TM Rock Slide
Occupied slots: 21/30
Pokémon
Nidorino
Gender: Male
Level: 25
Moves: Read, Peck, Focus Energy, Double Kick, Poison Sting, Rage Attack, Horn Attack Helping Hand, Thunderbolt, Toxic Spikes
Kirlia✨
Gender: Female
Level: 24 ↑1
Moves: Disarming Voice, Teleport, Growl, Double Team, Hypnosis, Draining Kiss, Lucky Chant, Psybeam, Charm, Magical Leaf
Growlithe
Gender: Male
Level: 25 ↑1
Moves: Read, Ember, Howl, Bite, Flame Wheel, Flamethrower, Odor Sleuth, Fire Fang