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Pokémon A bundle of sticks

Yiguandoa

Youngster
Pronouns
Him/his
AN: This is my first story on the forum! I know it’s quite simplistic and basic, but I’ve made it that way intentionally as I don’t want to tackle something too big, and I want to ease myself into writing after a personal hiatus. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but please be on the lighter side of things 😅.

Content warning: Swearing, political themes, and very slight body horror for a Scizor (nothing outright gorey though).


"Took 'em only a month. Huh." Marco comments in his deep voice reading the newspaper Luca is holding. "Guess our excursion to Addis Ababa is canceled." The latter says in a younger voice.

I turn my head away from the two and to Crobat who's perched on the edge of the sidewalk, jump off the shoulder of Luca, and softly land down to his level. People glance at us, most with what seems to be contempt if their eyes are anything to go by. Pretty sure heard someone say 'filthy little Sneasel' as I passed in between his legs to make my way to the bat.

“Not the first time we had to abort plans.” I start “We’ve always managed to get away, I don’t see why this would be any different.” I respond, my voice tinny.

Crobat raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. We’ve never been this cornered before. There will be a corpses without a funeral, and we may have to make do with… less.”

“Are you suggesting we-“

“I’m saying that we may need to consider other unsavory options.” He quickly retorts as he furrows his eyebrows. Without looking, I know the two men behind look at us with frowns. I still turn to them, so does Crobat.

Luca dons his grey suit and a brown fedora whilst holding a piece of newspaper depicting a map of a place I don’t recognize. His face spotless as he sternly gazes at us, his baby blue eyes and skinny appearance betraying his demeanor. Marco next to him wears an swampy-green summer shirt with beige pants, his mouth flat and his stare bearing no discernible emotions.

Their eyes shift to something else, we follow.

Standing on the side of the sidewalk where the road forks are a Gallade and a Scizor surveying the street, both wear a badge on the chest. For a moment I swear their gaze lingers on us for a second longer before their attention shifts to something else. The people passing them pay them no mind, though they do keep their distance from the two. From what I can make out, there seems to be something of a gun barrel in between the Scizor’s claws, and its sectioned design suggests it can retract.

“I still don’t know why they would join the police force if they’d alter their bodies like that.” I say quietly.

“Same reason you joined us.” Crobat responds in an unassuming voice. I turn to him again, this time with a scowl and furrowed eyes.

“We’re different.” I state in a firmer tone, holding back a shout.

Crobat opens his mouth before it hangs for a moment. A second later, his ears perk up and he speaks again.

“The Scizor and Gallade. They know who we are.” He says in a slightly louder voice. Marco and Luca stop conversing, and I barely manage to hold back a surprised expression. “Why aren’t they coming after us then?” I ask.

“They think we’ll lead them to a feast.” Marco assumes in his deep tone, Crobat nods.

“They believe we’ll make the same mistake twice?” Luca questions in his school-delinquent tone. “Apparently so.” Crobat says.

I turn to the two. Luca’s hands are clenched and he bites his lips, but Marco merely holding his hands behind his back. “Fuck, what should we do now? We can’t go back or they’ll follow us, and the other teams need us for this whole thing to work. We can’t stand around either, or-“

“We proceed with the mission.” Marco cuts him off. “They still don’t know what we’re planning.”

“Fuck." I mutter as I turn my head to the wide building in front of us. Before, it's face used to have elegantly-designed windows spotted on it in a neat manner. Now, it's a giant black mass, a poster that reads:

artworks-jAiWlV6UeOhFzBZ3-3Nrzdg-t500x500.jpg

Image taken from here:
 
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