Obedience Lesson
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Darren hadn’t forgotten about the conversation he’d overheard, far from, but it had ceased to haunt every moment of his days. He resented many parts of his daily routine, though perhaps most the part where he was locked in that bare room every night after dinner, not least because so much of it was focused on one of two despicable things: either he was treated like a barely-sentient tool, the way most of the Rocket members’ own Pokémon were, or someone was trying to mold him into one of them, something he had little interest in. He’d seen just enough of the real world to know that he in no way desired their approval.
The door opening and light shining straight into the windowless room from it wasn’t out of the ordinary, and was another reason he slept entirely covered by the blanket. The blanket was thin, however, and the light that filtered through it was enough to rouse him out of his slumber. Yawning and rubbing his eyes, he sat up, Fox jumping down to the floor by his feet.
The man in the doorway wasn’t one of the people who normally tended to him — if what little they did could be called tending. Apprehensive, Darren remained frozen in place, the slender, curved antennae protruding from above his eyebrows quivering.
“Well, then, freak, I don’t have all day. Come along.” The voice was like being beaten with a cheese grater.
Darren nudged Fox with his foot, and the Eevee instantly returned to its Pokéball. “Where’s the lady who usually takes me to breakfast?”
“You’re not going to breakfast,” the man snapped. “Boss said I should take you. Let’s see if you’re any use.”
“But I’m hungry,” Darren protested, in a very soft voice, shrinking back on his cot.
“Better start earning your blocks or whatever it is you eat, then, freak.” The already unpleasant voice was growing harder with impatience. “Come. Along.”
Whimpering, his antennae drooping, Darren rose and slunk towards the door. As soon as he came into reach, the grunt-who-was-apparently-his-trainer grasped the back of his neck with bony fingers that dug into his flesh until stars danced in his field of vision. That vice grip remained firm as they marched through corridors Darren didn’t really see, and until he was shoved into the passenger seat of a delivery truck idling outside. Moments later, the vice-fisted man was in the driver’s seat and they were on their way.
Considering the temper this so-called trainer was displaying, Darren didn’t even dare sob or whine in fear, just shivering in his seat. Maybe his fingers brushed absently across the Pokéballs in his belt, maybe Fox just sensed that something was wrong anyway, but in short order the Eevee was sitting on his lap, forepaws on his chest, licking his face as he clutched at it for what comfort it could offer. He didn’t know where he was going, or what the driver had in mind, but he had a strong suspicion that had he known he would not have liked it.
“Put that thing away,” the man snapped, ever irritable. “Pokémon don’t have Pokémon; they shouldn’t ever have let you have it.”
“He’s not a thing; he’s my friend!”
A bony hand hit him across the face, backhanded, without the driver even glancing in his direction. “Pokémon don’t have friends, either. Shut up and do as you’re told, freak.”
Darren gaped for a few moments, shocked by the blow. He’d already been feeling neglected, and now he was, on top of being hungry, being treated like a machine. Just like he’d seen Team Rocket members treat their Pokémon as long as he could remember. It was so fundamentally unfair…
“I’m a person!” he blurted, surprised by the force in his own voice. Before the driver had time to contradict him, or hit him again, he continued. “I have my own Pokédex, and a name, and I am a person!”
The car stopped by the curb, not two blocks from the town Pokécenter, well in view of the sign. Darren hadn’t realized he’d pulled the ‘dex out, not until he felt the grunt’s thin, strong fingers squeeze his hand around it until he thought his bones might break. With a gasp, he let the device slip from his grasp, and stared in horror as the man snatched it off his lap and pocketed it.
“Let’s take this from the beginning, freak. You’re mine. You will do as I say, when I say it, or it’ll be worse for you. You are not a person, and I don’t want to hear about what goes on in that head of yours. If you do as I say, I may decide you deserve to have your little toy back. Have I made myself clear?”
What could he do but nod? “Y-yes, sir.”
“Now, you see the Pokécenter from here, right?”
Nod.
“They just opened again after renovations. You’re going to go in there and scope out the place. We want to be able to make it a quick, clean hit, and if that’s not possible, that’ll be out of your hide.”
“B-but… I have no errand there…”
With an ill-natured growl the man grabbed the Eevee off Darren’s lap by the scruff of its neck with one hand, holding it up while he touched one of the Pokéballs on his own belt. “Raticate. Hyper Fang.”
The tawny rat Pokémon had barely materialized before it sank its oversized inscisors into the helpless Eevee, which cried out in pain and fear, its small forelegs scrabbling frantically at the air to try to get away. Apparently that one bite wasn’t enough, as the Raticate attacked two more times before the Rocket grunt cleared his throat and tapped its Pokéball. In a beam of red light, the Pokémon vanished back into the small red-and-white ball, and its trainer practically threw the Eevee back at Darren in distaste.
“Is it hurt badly enough for you yet?”
Darren whimpered, managed to fumble the car door open, and ran down the street, his bleeding friend cradled against his chest.
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