This is the first of this year's two villainous team grunt exquisite corpses, where the authors imagine typical days in the lives of the lowliest members of Pokémon's "evil teams." The following authors wrote for this corpse:
As always, get ready for lots of twists and turns as well as unexpected resonance between the scenes in this corpse! There's plenty of silly here, but it turns out some of these grunts have a lot of heart, too. I hope you enjoy...
Part One
Elaine picked out one of the largest of the castle’s empty rooms for her task. She was pretty sure it was meant to be a ballroom, one day, when Team Plasma decided it had time for frivolous things like balls.
(Elaine wondered how that would work. Would the sages let them wear actual suits and ballgowns? Or would they have to wear their team uniforms? Not that she minded the uniforms, but like, come on. They lived in a castle. It would be nice to have one night to feel like a princess.)
It also would’ve been nice to carry out this task outside, but considering the entire castle was being constructed secretly beneath the Pokémon League, that was physically impossible for now. Stained-glass windows depicting the legendary dragons masked the fact that there was nothing but darkness on the other side. Hopefully one day when Team Plasma overthrew the current regime, Elaine would get a real balcony that didn’t look out over a pitch-black cavern.
But she was getting ahead of herself. Work first, daydream about better scenery later.
She loaded the pokéball Ghetsis had loaned her into her belt, then pulled up its stats summary on her Xtransceiver. Of course, the data was glitched as all get out. Liberated pokémon weren’t linked to their original trainer IDs anymore. But scuffing the ID off of the pokéball tended to give the software a headache, or something. Elaine didn’t know how it all worked. That was Colress’s job.
Elaine’s job was taming dragons.
…Or, well, it had been. Before she’d been stripped of her cape and title for exposing Lance’s dangerous training habits. And, she didn’t need to be a dragon tamer, anyway! She was—un-taming them, really, since she was helping them adjust to life without trainers.
Whatever. She didn’t need to have this argument in her head for the five hundredth time.
She opened the pokéball without trying too hard to parse the pokémon’s stat page—
OH GEEZ THAT WAS A BIG HYDREIGON.
“GHGHGYOGHHHH!!” it roared from both its main head and two hand-heads. The noise echoed in the ballroom, dislodging dust from the pillars and shaking the chandeliers.
“Woah, woah, easy girl.” Elaine lowered her hands, crouching low. Raised hands would be read as a threat, as would stretching higher. “Shshshshsh.”
The soothing noise wasn’t very effective. The Hydreigon lashed out with one arm, and Elaine chunked a poké doll from her satchel as she dodged.
The can take my cape, but they can’t take my reflexes, she thought smugly
(She purposely ignored the fact that if she’d bothered to pay better attention to the summary—or if she still had pokémon of her own—she wouldn’t have had to dodge at all. She accidentally ignored the fact that she’d dropped Hydreigon’s pokéball during her roll.)
The distraction worked, at least. Hydreigon hovered over the stuffed Clefairy, its hand-mouths tearing it to fluffy pieces and choking it down.
Hm. Maybe coming to an empty area of the castle hadn’t been the best idea. No one would even smell her body if she died in here—not that Hydreigon would probably leave behind a body. Even bones were nothing its powerful jaws couldn’t handle.
Not that that mattered! Because a rogue Hydreigon was nothing she couldn’t handle!
...From a safe distance behind one of the thick pillars.
She called up the pokémon’s summary again, tapping the screen when it fuzzed. She’d need all the info she could get, since she’d… never exactly tamed a Hydreigon before. They weren’t native to Johto, and no one at the Dragon’s Den owned one, but—in theory, she knew enough; she’d studied them and even used them as an example of why pokémon training should be more tightly regulated, since there were reports of the beasts mauling stupid fourteen-year-olds who thought they could just evolve any Zweilous they pushed to level sixty-four—
This Hydreigon was level fifty-four.
Oh, she was going to murder this pokémon’s original trainer.
Or, well, she would have, if it hadn’t been scrubbed from the pokéball already. She had no idea of knowing who they were, but mentally, she was lighting them on fire. Even Lance’s illegal Dragonites hadn’t been that drastically underleveled.
Hydreigon’s heads growled and coughed up a few pieces of stuffing, and Elaine’s heart twinged. No matter how threatening it was, this was a poor pokémon in pain, just like any other Team Plasma liberated—if anything, it was in more pain, since its body shouldn’t have been strong enough to handle the evolution process yet.
Part Two
Yet in spite of knowing that, Elaine hesitated. She only came here for the grunt exchange program between Team Rocket and Team Plasma. They had picked her, and though randomly from a lot, it still counted as Giovanni’s direct orders. What obligation did she have to be helping a poor hapless Plasma Hydriegon who made a few bad choices in life?
“Don’t look at me like that,” Elaine spat out. All three of Hydriegon’s heads drooped and its eyes glistened with big wide pupils.
Elaine grit her teeth and cursed under her breath, but she couldn’t look away from the poor thing. Hydriegon whined like a sad puppy.
“Oh, piss off! I have nothing to do with you!” Elaine barked at it.
About two minutes later, Elaine found herself applying a salve over Hydriegon’s scrapes and wounds, and she cleaned out the bits of stuffing sticking out of its maw. She chided herself inwardly for giving in to those eyes. Hydriegon chirped at her, and she flinched when the head on its left arm licked her as she worked on it. What was she even doing?
Attend the grunt exchange program, sniff out team plasma’s hidden plans, report back after the exchange program. Those were her three orders. It should’ve been easy enough.
Hydriegon flapped its wings to grab her attention and stood upright as the potions mended its wounds. Elaine gave it a dirty look and frowned.
“What do you want? Go bother some other grunt or whatever,” said Elaine. Alas her newfound companion wouldn’t budge and fixed her with an expectant gaze. She studied Hydriegon’s eyes and dawned upon a realization.
“Wait, are you trying to help me?” she asked, jerking back in surprise.
Hydriegon nodded. It explained to her—through grunts and growls—that it knew the hidden password to Team Plasma’s secret and highly secure intel vault. Not only that, it also knew just how to get her in without being seen at all. Elaine listened to all of this with her jaw hanging wide open.
“What the fuck!” Elaine gawked. “If you knew all of this then how did you end up here in this closet choking on—” she gestured hysterically at the half dead ampharos stuffed plushie, “—that??”
A hobby gone wrong, came Hydriegon’s answer. As for how it knew so much, it apparently was acquainted with a pokemon who belonged to one of the guys up top. Helping Elaine out with her mission was simply its way of showing thanks.
Elaine scratched her head and stared off into space. What were the odds of her stumbling into a golden ticket to getting Giovanni’s praise? She met Hydriegon’s gaze, and it had a toothy smile knowing that it’d won. Elaine couldn’t refuse its offer.
“Now don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still in charge here,” Elaine said, folding her arms with a frown.
But of course, Elaine was in charge. Hydriegon never said otherwise. Besides, wasn’t that how it worked between humans and pokemon to begin with? Elaine stood up and Hydriegon inched towards her with that unwavering smile. A smile tugged on her face too. Oh no. She was starting to like the pokemon. Either way, now Elaine could steal Team Plasma’s dirty secrets and complete her grunt exchange program mission!
Part Three
Deep breaths, deep breaths, Elaine thought. She had been prepared for this possibility since the very beginning. After all, she'd come from a family of rangers of the treehugger variety before going against the mold to join a criminal organization. Cipher had been her first choice given the biker-gang aesthetic but couldn't fit in given that she had too normal a name and now, after a week, she was learning that maybe Plasma wasn't for her either.
Maybe she could join Team Aqua or Magma instead, third time's the charm and all that, and with those classified notes she was somehow entrusted with, she could really get her foot in the door with them.
Elaine snapped her fingers. There was little time to waste! With a spring in her step, she turned the many corridors of the hideout (thank god she wasn't a part of Team Rocket or something, she'd heard horror stories of those spinning tiles and warp panels). Her assigned purrloin followed with similar gusto, a part of Elaine wished that she could keep it.
All of a sudden, Elaine found herself on the receiving end of a football tackle.
The perpetrator? Another grunt. For just a moment Elaine was speechless. Has they somehow heard her internal monologue? Maybe she should take up a career in being a psychic instead. Maybe she'd end up being the next Sabrina.
Focus, focus, on the matter at hand. Grunts were open books who'd exposit all their plans with little prompting. She just needed an opening...
"Can't you see the uniform, dumbass?" Elaine hissed.
The other grunt stammered. "I'm clothesblind! You know, like colorblindness but for uniforms! You're from what? Team Flare?"
Part Four
"What, those has-beens? No way!" the second grunt exclaimed, before adjusting their star-shaped sunglasses. "I'm from Team Star!"
"...right. And what does your team do?" the clothesblind Rocket grunt asks.
"We protest against bullying at Naranja-Uva Academy and look for our missing leader!" the Star grunt answers.
"...and your buddies?" the Rocket grunt said, looking at the two beside the Star grunt. Someone with some sort of skull bandana on, and someone with a double-megaphone.
"Team Skull! We fight against the system to find our place in the world!" the former says.
"And Team Yell! We root for Marnie, and it's our goal to make sure she becomes champion of Galar!" the latter answers.
"Right," the Rocket grunt says, before exclaiming, "SECURITY!"
Immediately, a swarm of other grunts surrounded the Star, Yell, and Skull grunts, each with their own bizarre outfit, each making their own bizarre gesture.
"Rocket, Aqua, Magma, Galactic, Neo Plasma, Flare, Aether, Break, Snagem, Cipher, and Dim Sun, we're REAL evil teams!" the Rocket grunt said, pointing towards the trio of Skull, Yell, and Star. "You have no place here!"
Part Five
“Uh, no, we totally do, Dawg!” the skull grunt replied, posing aggressively back at Rocket Grunt 42. “If we didn’t, you wouldn't have invited us!”
“YEAH!” the Yell grunt added. “WE’RE ALL ABOUT THOSE DARK TYPES!”
Rocket Grunt 42 could not see behind the shades on the Team Star girl, but her posture — crossed arms and hunched shoulders — gave away her attitude.
“Uh, yeah,” she replied with all the sass of a teen who’d watched too much Unovan tv. “Of course we’re not evil, dumbass. We just like sticking it to The Man.” She turned her head towards the Team Yell Grunt. “And you do realize they’re talking about evil, evil, not evil as in dark types, right?”
“WAIT, REALLY?” Team Yell Grunt replied, when the Star girl nodded, he responded with a quiet, “Oh.”
Team Yell Grunt scratched the back of his head. “Well, uh, I only came because I thought this was a dark type pokemon convention. I’m out.” He turned to leave, the Star girl following behind with a flip of her hair.
“Yo, wait up!” The Skull grunt called after them, dashing out of the chamber. “I carpooled with you guys, you can’t just leave me here!”
Rocket Grunt 42 sighed in relief. “Finally dealt with the problem. Now we can get back to… wait, where are you going?”
Back at the round table, Team Magma Grunt and Team Aqua Grunt had stood up, starting to leave. “I think we got the wrong impression about this meeting,” Aqua Grunt said. “Team Aqua aren’t villains, we just seek to expand the sea for the betterment of pokemon.”
“Excuse me?” Team Magma Grunt sputtered. “You’re the good guys? No way, you’re trying to drown us all! Team Magma are the heroes here, expanding the land so humans and pokemon have more space to live.”
“What? Oh no, you guys are as evil as they come!” Team Aqua Grunt shot back.
The two started to shout, each raising their voice louder and louder as their bickering worsened. Team Galactic Grunt side-eyed the Team Aqua grunt and subtly scooted their chair away, while the Team Flare grunt looked at Rocket Grunt 42 with an unreadable expression.
Rocket Grunt 42 shook his head and groaned, trying to tune out the bickering between Aqua Grunt and Magma Grunt. This meeting of the evil teams sounded so much better in his mind.
Part Six
“All I’m saying is, how can you can you call yourself a proper member of an ocean-themed team when your only pokemon is a poochyena? Shouldn’t you at least have a water-type or something?”
“Yeah, well at least my Poochy can jump in water without instantly dying, unlike what would happen if your ‘Mr. Poochington’ tried to jump in magma!” Aqua Grunt snarled.
Magma Grunt adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Poochington can walk on granite no problem, and that’s just a kind of really cold magma if you think about it!”
“By that logic, a nosepass can swim if they’re sitting on ice!”
Whilst the two bickered, Galactic Grunt turned to Rocket Grunt 42. “Ugh, whose bright idea was it to invite both a Magma Grunt and an Aqua Grunt to the same conference? I’m getting this close to feeling annoyed, and annoyance is an emotion! I hate emotions!”
Flare Grunt wrinkled her nose as she inspected the rest of the grunts milling about the warehouse. “If you ask me – and you certainly should – it’s not Magma and Aqua I mind, but all these pathetic new ‘teams’. This meeting is supposed to be for members of villainous organizations, but Team Skull’s idea of a heinous crime is spray-painting a mild cuss word in a decrepit back-alley to be seen only by rattata, and Team Yell doesn’t even pretend to be anything other than a barely-even-worthy-of-being-called-rowdy Marnie fanclub!”
“Hey, Team Yell does plenty of villainy! Just yesterday, this mad lad right here threw a tin of curry beans into the trash instead of recycling it! You’re looking at a regular menace to society!” Yell Grunt blew a loud blast on his vuvuzela for emphasis.
“You ain’t a menace to anything but our eardrums!” Skull Grunt declared. “If you wanna hear about real improper garbage disposal, get this: Last Wednesday I left a bag of chips lyin’ around outside and a wingull ate like four of them before I scared it off! Wingull ain’t supposed to eat that kinda garbage, man! It’s not good for their bowels!”
“See what I mean? Why do I have to share a warehouse with these non-villainous lowlifes?” Flare Grunt protested.
“Look, I’m sure they’re just too humble to mention their real crimes,” Rocket Grunt 42 said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Actually, that gives me an idea: Hey everyone! Let’s get this meeting started with a little icebreaker! We’ll all go around and say the most evil thing we’ve ever done!”
“Oh, this ought to be good...” Flare Grunt said as 42 managed to corral the scattered grunts into a circle.
42 cleared his throat. “I’ll go first: My most evil deed was when I rotated every metapod in Viridian Forest so that they were stuck staring at the trees they were hanging from.”
Aqua Grunt went next. “Once I clogged up the sink in a Denny’s bathroom with paper towels, and left the faucet on full blast to increase the amount of water in the world! And then I only left a five percent tip!”
“I bought up every paper towel in a Costco, not just to prevent Team Aqua from clogging sinks with them, but to throw them all into the ocean to soak up some of the water!”
“I hacked into Discord and replaced every emote with the neutral face one, to rid the world of the scourge of emotion.”
“I used my connections and influence in the Kalosian fashion scene to ensure last summer’s trendiest item was a pair of designer cargo shorts that were decidedly un-comfy and not easy to wear!”
“Oh, so that’s what Miss Posh n’ Evil over here thinks a nefarious deed is? Short trousers?” Yell Grunt jibed.
“I’ll have you know that forcing people to choose between comfort and style is the very zenith of wickedness!”
“Um, Cipher Grunt, how about you go next?” Rocket Grunt 42 hastily interjected.
Cipher Grunt slinked out of the shadow of a crate he’d been lurking behind and spoke in a low, gravely voice. “The most evil thing I ever did? Can’t say. When you’ve done as many vile deeds as I have, they all start to blur together. But to give you just a taste of my atrocities, last Tuesday I spent all day following a torkoal and holding an umbrella over its head so that it was perpetually enshrouded in shadow!”
“Wasn’t it raining all day in Orre then? Sounds more like a good deed to me,” Snagem Grunt said.
“How I was I supposed to know it would rain that day? Orre’s a freaking desert! It never rains!”
“I dunno, couldn’t you check with someone who had an espeon or castform or bronzong or something? There’s a lot of pokemon who can predict or control rain.”
“As a matter of fact, I did check with a nice young man with an espeon, and he assured me that Tuesday was absolutely the best day for the scheme! I even believe he was someone from your organization!”
Rocket Grunt 42 sighed. “I’m sure Cipher Grunt had only the evilest of intentions in his heart, and that’s what counts. Now, who’s left… Team Skull?”
“Yo! The most evil thing I ever did was-”
WHAM! The door to the warehouse flew open as a skuntank barged through, followed by a zubat and koffing. “Steal the name of our villainous team! ‘Team Skull’ was already taken, you un-original gangsters!” the zubat cried.
“We’re tired of you besmirching our evil name with your lukewarm wrongdoing! Get ready to get gassed!” the koffing wheezed.
“W-wait, the name was big boss Guzma’s idea, not mine!” the Team Skull grunt said, eyes shifting nervously between the zubat, koffing and skuntank moving to surround him.
“Then you’ll have to help us send him a message, chaw-haw-haw!” Skuntank laughed as he lifted his tail.
Adamhuarts
HelloYellow17
IFBench
Inkedust
Sinderella
Taliax
tomatorade
The Walrein
windskull
HelloYellow17
IFBench
Inkedust
Sinderella
Taliax
tomatorade
The Walrein
windskull
As always, get ready for lots of twists and turns as well as unexpected resonance between the scenes in this corpse! There's plenty of silly here, but it turns out some of these grunts have a lot of heart, too. I hope you enjoy...
Thousand Roads' Exquisite Corpse 2023
Villainous Team Grunt I
Villainous Team Grunt I
Part One
Elaine picked out one of the largest of the castle’s empty rooms for her task. She was pretty sure it was meant to be a ballroom, one day, when Team Plasma decided it had time for frivolous things like balls.
(Elaine wondered how that would work. Would the sages let them wear actual suits and ballgowns? Or would they have to wear their team uniforms? Not that she minded the uniforms, but like, come on. They lived in a castle. It would be nice to have one night to feel like a princess.)
It also would’ve been nice to carry out this task outside, but considering the entire castle was being constructed secretly beneath the Pokémon League, that was physically impossible for now. Stained-glass windows depicting the legendary dragons masked the fact that there was nothing but darkness on the other side. Hopefully one day when Team Plasma overthrew the current regime, Elaine would get a real balcony that didn’t look out over a pitch-black cavern.
But she was getting ahead of herself. Work first, daydream about better scenery later.
She loaded the pokéball Ghetsis had loaned her into her belt, then pulled up its stats summary on her Xtransceiver. Of course, the data was glitched as all get out. Liberated pokémon weren’t linked to their original trainer IDs anymore. But scuffing the ID off of the pokéball tended to give the software a headache, or something. Elaine didn’t know how it all worked. That was Colress’s job.
Elaine’s job was taming dragons.
…Or, well, it had been. Before she’d been stripped of her cape and title for exposing Lance’s dangerous training habits. And, she didn’t need to be a dragon tamer, anyway! She was—un-taming them, really, since she was helping them adjust to life without trainers.
Whatever. She didn’t need to have this argument in her head for the five hundredth time.
She opened the pokéball without trying too hard to parse the pokémon’s stat page—
OH GEEZ THAT WAS A BIG HYDREIGON.
“GHGHGYOGHHHH!!” it roared from both its main head and two hand-heads. The noise echoed in the ballroom, dislodging dust from the pillars and shaking the chandeliers.
“Woah, woah, easy girl.” Elaine lowered her hands, crouching low. Raised hands would be read as a threat, as would stretching higher. “Shshshshsh.”
The soothing noise wasn’t very effective. The Hydreigon lashed out with one arm, and Elaine chunked a poké doll from her satchel as she dodged.
The can take my cape, but they can’t take my reflexes, she thought smugly
(She purposely ignored the fact that if she’d bothered to pay better attention to the summary—or if she still had pokémon of her own—she wouldn’t have had to dodge at all. She accidentally ignored the fact that she’d dropped Hydreigon’s pokéball during her roll.)
The distraction worked, at least. Hydreigon hovered over the stuffed Clefairy, its hand-mouths tearing it to fluffy pieces and choking it down.
Hm. Maybe coming to an empty area of the castle hadn’t been the best idea. No one would even smell her body if she died in here—not that Hydreigon would probably leave behind a body. Even bones were nothing its powerful jaws couldn’t handle.
Not that that mattered! Because a rogue Hydreigon was nothing she couldn’t handle!
...From a safe distance behind one of the thick pillars.
She called up the pokémon’s summary again, tapping the screen when it fuzzed. She’d need all the info she could get, since she’d… never exactly tamed a Hydreigon before. They weren’t native to Johto, and no one at the Dragon’s Den owned one, but—in theory, she knew enough; she’d studied them and even used them as an example of why pokémon training should be more tightly regulated, since there were reports of the beasts mauling stupid fourteen-year-olds who thought they could just evolve any Zweilous they pushed to level sixty-four—
This Hydreigon was level fifty-four.
Oh, she was going to murder this pokémon’s original trainer.
Or, well, she would have, if it hadn’t been scrubbed from the pokéball already. She had no idea of knowing who they were, but mentally, she was lighting them on fire. Even Lance’s illegal Dragonites hadn’t been that drastically underleveled.
Hydreigon’s heads growled and coughed up a few pieces of stuffing, and Elaine’s heart twinged. No matter how threatening it was, this was a poor pokémon in pain, just like any other Team Plasma liberated—if anything, it was in more pain, since its body shouldn’t have been strong enough to handle the evolution process yet.
Taliax
Part Two
Yet in spite of knowing that, Elaine hesitated. She only came here for the grunt exchange program between Team Rocket and Team Plasma. They had picked her, and though randomly from a lot, it still counted as Giovanni’s direct orders. What obligation did she have to be helping a poor hapless Plasma Hydriegon who made a few bad choices in life?
“Don’t look at me like that,” Elaine spat out. All three of Hydriegon’s heads drooped and its eyes glistened with big wide pupils.
Elaine grit her teeth and cursed under her breath, but she couldn’t look away from the poor thing. Hydriegon whined like a sad puppy.
“Oh, piss off! I have nothing to do with you!” Elaine barked at it.
About two minutes later, Elaine found herself applying a salve over Hydriegon’s scrapes and wounds, and she cleaned out the bits of stuffing sticking out of its maw. She chided herself inwardly for giving in to those eyes. Hydriegon chirped at her, and she flinched when the head on its left arm licked her as she worked on it. What was she even doing?
Attend the grunt exchange program, sniff out team plasma’s hidden plans, report back after the exchange program. Those were her three orders. It should’ve been easy enough.
Hydriegon flapped its wings to grab her attention and stood upright as the potions mended its wounds. Elaine gave it a dirty look and frowned.
“What do you want? Go bother some other grunt or whatever,” said Elaine. Alas her newfound companion wouldn’t budge and fixed her with an expectant gaze. She studied Hydriegon’s eyes and dawned upon a realization.
“Wait, are you trying to help me?” she asked, jerking back in surprise.
Hydriegon nodded. It explained to her—through grunts and growls—that it knew the hidden password to Team Plasma’s secret and highly secure intel vault. Not only that, it also knew just how to get her in without being seen at all. Elaine listened to all of this with her jaw hanging wide open.
“What the fuck!” Elaine gawked. “If you knew all of this then how did you end up here in this closet choking on—” she gestured hysterically at the half dead ampharos stuffed plushie, “—that??”
A hobby gone wrong, came Hydriegon’s answer. As for how it knew so much, it apparently was acquainted with a pokemon who belonged to one of the guys up top. Helping Elaine out with her mission was simply its way of showing thanks.
Elaine scratched her head and stared off into space. What were the odds of her stumbling into a golden ticket to getting Giovanni’s praise? She met Hydriegon’s gaze, and it had a toothy smile knowing that it’d won. Elaine couldn’t refuse its offer.
“Now don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still in charge here,” Elaine said, folding her arms with a frown.
But of course, Elaine was in charge. Hydriegon never said otherwise. Besides, wasn’t that how it worked between humans and pokemon to begin with? Elaine stood up and Hydriegon inched towards her with that unwavering smile. A smile tugged on her face too. Oh no. She was starting to like the pokemon. Either way, now Elaine could steal Team Plasma’s dirty secrets and complete her grunt exchange program mission!
Adamhuarts
Part Three
Deep breaths, deep breaths, Elaine thought. She had been prepared for this possibility since the very beginning. After all, she'd come from a family of rangers of the treehugger variety before going against the mold to join a criminal organization. Cipher had been her first choice given the biker-gang aesthetic but couldn't fit in given that she had too normal a name and now, after a week, she was learning that maybe Plasma wasn't for her either.
Maybe she could join Team Aqua or Magma instead, third time's the charm and all that, and with those classified notes she was somehow entrusted with, she could really get her foot in the door with them.
Elaine snapped her fingers. There was little time to waste! With a spring in her step, she turned the many corridors of the hideout (thank god she wasn't a part of Team Rocket or something, she'd heard horror stories of those spinning tiles and warp panels). Her assigned purrloin followed with similar gusto, a part of Elaine wished that she could keep it.
All of a sudden, Elaine found herself on the receiving end of a football tackle.
The perpetrator? Another grunt. For just a moment Elaine was speechless. Has they somehow heard her internal monologue? Maybe she should take up a career in being a psychic instead. Maybe she'd end up being the next Sabrina.
Focus, focus, on the matter at hand. Grunts were open books who'd exposit all their plans with little prompting. She just needed an opening...
"Can't you see the uniform, dumbass?" Elaine hissed.
The other grunt stammered. "I'm clothesblind! You know, like colorblindness but for uniforms! You're from what? Team Flare?"
Inkedust
Part Four
"What, those has-beens? No way!" the second grunt exclaimed, before adjusting their star-shaped sunglasses. "I'm from Team Star!"
"...right. And what does your team do?" the clothesblind Rocket grunt asks.
"We protest against bullying at Naranja-Uva Academy and look for our missing leader!" the Star grunt answers.
"...and your buddies?" the Rocket grunt said, looking at the two beside the Star grunt. Someone with some sort of skull bandana on, and someone with a double-megaphone.
"Team Skull! We fight against the system to find our place in the world!" the former says.
"And Team Yell! We root for Marnie, and it's our goal to make sure she becomes champion of Galar!" the latter answers.
"Right," the Rocket grunt says, before exclaiming, "SECURITY!"
Immediately, a swarm of other grunts surrounded the Star, Yell, and Skull grunts, each with their own bizarre outfit, each making their own bizarre gesture.
"Rocket, Aqua, Magma, Galactic, Neo Plasma, Flare, Aether, Break, Snagem, Cipher, and Dim Sun, we're REAL evil teams!" the Rocket grunt said, pointing towards the trio of Skull, Yell, and Star. "You have no place here!"
IFBench
Part Five
“Uh, no, we totally do, Dawg!” the skull grunt replied, posing aggressively back at Rocket Grunt 42. “If we didn’t, you wouldn't have invited us!”
“YEAH!” the Yell grunt added. “WE’RE ALL ABOUT THOSE DARK TYPES!”
Rocket Grunt 42 could not see behind the shades on the Team Star girl, but her posture — crossed arms and hunched shoulders — gave away her attitude.
“Uh, yeah,” she replied with all the sass of a teen who’d watched too much Unovan tv. “Of course we’re not evil, dumbass. We just like sticking it to The Man.” She turned her head towards the Team Yell Grunt. “And you do realize they’re talking about evil, evil, not evil as in dark types, right?”
“WAIT, REALLY?” Team Yell Grunt replied, when the Star girl nodded, he responded with a quiet, “Oh.”
Team Yell Grunt scratched the back of his head. “Well, uh, I only came because I thought this was a dark type pokemon convention. I’m out.” He turned to leave, the Star girl following behind with a flip of her hair.
“Yo, wait up!” The Skull grunt called after them, dashing out of the chamber. “I carpooled with you guys, you can’t just leave me here!”
Rocket Grunt 42 sighed in relief. “Finally dealt with the problem. Now we can get back to… wait, where are you going?”
Back at the round table, Team Magma Grunt and Team Aqua Grunt had stood up, starting to leave. “I think we got the wrong impression about this meeting,” Aqua Grunt said. “Team Aqua aren’t villains, we just seek to expand the sea for the betterment of pokemon.”
“Excuse me?” Team Magma Grunt sputtered. “You’re the good guys? No way, you’re trying to drown us all! Team Magma are the heroes here, expanding the land so humans and pokemon have more space to live.”
“What? Oh no, you guys are as evil as they come!” Team Aqua Grunt shot back.
The two started to shout, each raising their voice louder and louder as their bickering worsened. Team Galactic Grunt side-eyed the Team Aqua grunt and subtly scooted their chair away, while the Team Flare grunt looked at Rocket Grunt 42 with an unreadable expression.
Rocket Grunt 42 shook his head and groaned, trying to tune out the bickering between Aqua Grunt and Magma Grunt. This meeting of the evil teams sounded so much better in his mind.
Windskull
Part Six
“All I’m saying is, how can you can you call yourself a proper member of an ocean-themed team when your only pokemon is a poochyena? Shouldn’t you at least have a water-type or something?”
“Yeah, well at least my Poochy can jump in water without instantly dying, unlike what would happen if your ‘Mr. Poochington’ tried to jump in magma!” Aqua Grunt snarled.
Magma Grunt adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Poochington can walk on granite no problem, and that’s just a kind of really cold magma if you think about it!”
“By that logic, a nosepass can swim if they’re sitting on ice!”
Whilst the two bickered, Galactic Grunt turned to Rocket Grunt 42. “Ugh, whose bright idea was it to invite both a Magma Grunt and an Aqua Grunt to the same conference? I’m getting this close to feeling annoyed, and annoyance is an emotion! I hate emotions!”
Flare Grunt wrinkled her nose as she inspected the rest of the grunts milling about the warehouse. “If you ask me – and you certainly should – it’s not Magma and Aqua I mind, but all these pathetic new ‘teams’. This meeting is supposed to be for members of villainous organizations, but Team Skull’s idea of a heinous crime is spray-painting a mild cuss word in a decrepit back-alley to be seen only by rattata, and Team Yell doesn’t even pretend to be anything other than a barely-even-worthy-of-being-called-rowdy Marnie fanclub!”
“Hey, Team Yell does plenty of villainy! Just yesterday, this mad lad right here threw a tin of curry beans into the trash instead of recycling it! You’re looking at a regular menace to society!” Yell Grunt blew a loud blast on his vuvuzela for emphasis.
“You ain’t a menace to anything but our eardrums!” Skull Grunt declared. “If you wanna hear about real improper garbage disposal, get this: Last Wednesday I left a bag of chips lyin’ around outside and a wingull ate like four of them before I scared it off! Wingull ain’t supposed to eat that kinda garbage, man! It’s not good for their bowels!”
“See what I mean? Why do I have to share a warehouse with these non-villainous lowlifes?” Flare Grunt protested.
“Look, I’m sure they’re just too humble to mention their real crimes,” Rocket Grunt 42 said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Actually, that gives me an idea: Hey everyone! Let’s get this meeting started with a little icebreaker! We’ll all go around and say the most evil thing we’ve ever done!”
“Oh, this ought to be good...” Flare Grunt said as 42 managed to corral the scattered grunts into a circle.
42 cleared his throat. “I’ll go first: My most evil deed was when I rotated every metapod in Viridian Forest so that they were stuck staring at the trees they were hanging from.”
Aqua Grunt went next. “Once I clogged up the sink in a Denny’s bathroom with paper towels, and left the faucet on full blast to increase the amount of water in the world! And then I only left a five percent tip!”
“I bought up every paper towel in a Costco, not just to prevent Team Aqua from clogging sinks with them, but to throw them all into the ocean to soak up some of the water!”
“I hacked into Discord and replaced every emote with the neutral face one, to rid the world of the scourge of emotion.”
“I used my connections and influence in the Kalosian fashion scene to ensure last summer’s trendiest item was a pair of designer cargo shorts that were decidedly un-comfy and not easy to wear!”
“Oh, so that’s what Miss Posh n’ Evil over here thinks a nefarious deed is? Short trousers?” Yell Grunt jibed.
“I’ll have you know that forcing people to choose between comfort and style is the very zenith of wickedness!”
“Um, Cipher Grunt, how about you go next?” Rocket Grunt 42 hastily interjected.
Cipher Grunt slinked out of the shadow of a crate he’d been lurking behind and spoke in a low, gravely voice. “The most evil thing I ever did? Can’t say. When you’ve done as many vile deeds as I have, they all start to blur together. But to give you just a taste of my atrocities, last Tuesday I spent all day following a torkoal and holding an umbrella over its head so that it was perpetually enshrouded in shadow!”
“Wasn’t it raining all day in Orre then? Sounds more like a good deed to me,” Snagem Grunt said.
“How I was I supposed to know it would rain that day? Orre’s a freaking desert! It never rains!”
“I dunno, couldn’t you check with someone who had an espeon or castform or bronzong or something? There’s a lot of pokemon who can predict or control rain.”
“As a matter of fact, I did check with a nice young man with an espeon, and he assured me that Tuesday was absolutely the best day for the scheme! I even believe he was someone from your organization!”
Rocket Grunt 42 sighed. “I’m sure Cipher Grunt had only the evilest of intentions in his heart, and that’s what counts. Now, who’s left… Team Skull?”
“Yo! The most evil thing I ever did was-”
WHAM! The door to the warehouse flew open as a skuntank barged through, followed by a zubat and koffing. “Steal the name of our villainous team! ‘Team Skull’ was already taken, you un-original gangsters!” the zubat cried.
“We’re tired of you besmirching our evil name with your lukewarm wrongdoing! Get ready to get gassed!” the koffing wheezed.
“W-wait, the name was big boss Guzma’s idea, not mine!” the Team Skull grunt said, eyes shifting nervously between the zubat, koffing and skuntank moving to surround him.
“Then you’ll have to help us send him a message, chaw-haw-haw!” Skuntank laughed as he lifted his tail.
The Walrein[/spoiler[
Part Seven
Beads of sweat rolled down the Team Skull Grunt's forehead as his eyes fell back on Skuntank, his body shaking involuntarily as he braced himself for whatever the Pokemon was going to do to him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't pick the name," he sputtered, "I tried to tell the boss it was stupid but he wouldn't listen!"
It was a lie, of course, but he had to say something to save his own skin. He couldn't be poisoned, he certainly wouldn't survive that.
But, the trio of Pokemon continued to dance around him, and the wicked grin on Skuntank's face indicated something bad was coming.
Fuck. I should have stayed in culinary school, the Team Skull Grunt thought helplessly.
"Well, well, well, what kinda shitshow do we have going on in here?"
The voice sent a jolt of electricity through the Team Skull Grunt's body, and he looked up the cave wall just in time to catch sight of the very face he both desperately wanted to see, and feared simultaneously.
Guzma, the big man himself, in the flesh.
The trio of poison types stopped in their mocking dance to behold him, which gave the Team Skull Grunt enough time to step back and take cover behind a rock. Judging by the way Guzma held himself, he looked comfortable. Ready for a fight. The Team Skull Grunt was willing to step back and let him do his thing, because he was the exact opposite.
"And who the hell are you?" Zubat spat.
Guzma snickered as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Who the fuck do you think I am? I'm the man that's gonna send you cucks running for the fucking hills for fucking with one of my boys."
Guzma sent an acknowledging nod toward the Team Skull Grunt, one that said "I gotchu boo." The Team Skull Grunt felt the warmth of relief flood into his chest, and for the first time since he entered the cave, he relaxed.
"Oh really? You're here to play 'daddy' for one of your little youngins?" Koffing mocked, his body swaying in time with the inflection of his words.
"I don't think the dude's into any of that," Guzma said dubiously, "but I ain't abouta air his dirty laundry like that."
The Team Skull Grunt felt the heat in his chest rush to his face. "H-hey!" he shouted. "Don't go there, please!"
Guzma released another chuckle, and the Team Skull Grunt watched with onset awe as the big boss reached for the ball on his belt.
"We can end the convo here, with a nice, nasty beatdown," he said.
Oh shit. Oh fuck, the Team Skull Grunt thought frantically. He's gonna send out Golisopod. I'm gonna get to watch him and Golisopod battle together, and they're going to do it to protect me, oh gods, this is--
His thoughts were cut short as apparent whispers of disapproval echoed among the poison trio. Why weren't they gearing up to fight like they had been just moments ago? Could they sense Guzma's tenacity before any battle had even started?
"Fuck you mean 'beatdown'?" Koffing said. "Nobody's beating on anyone here."
"Unless you count roasts a form of beatdown," Zubat interjected. "In which case, I can understand the confusion."
Guzma now look puzzled, and the Team Skull Grunt shared in that feeling. Roasts?
"The hell are you on about?" Guzma asked. It was there that Skuntank laughed again.
"Oh shit," he snickered, "did you think we were gonna duke it out? Nah, man. You obvious don't know how us poison types settle shit around here."
Zubat and Koffing were nodding along with Skuntank now. "Yeah," Zubat said. "We don't fight. We roast."
"Roast, you mean like..." Guzma trailed off for a beat, "...insults?"
"Fuck yeah, baby," Koffing said. "We're poison types, we're toxic as hell, so it's on theme."
Now the Team Skull Grunt was just perplexed. So...Skuntank wasn't about to kill him? And when he was making fun of the Team Skull group name, he was just...doing it as a roast?
That wasn't the type of Pokemon battling he'd seen on TV.
Nonetheless, Guzma look positively tickled, even as he slid his way down the short rock wall and landed in front of the trio. "Yo, say fucking less," he said. "I'm all in on this."
The poison trio now looked positively delighted, a stark contrast from how menacing they'd looked just moments ago. The Team Skull Grunt was positively dumbfounded, and maybe a tad disappointed that Golisopod wasn't coming out, but he surely wasn't complaining. He was no better at roasting than he was at battling, and he'd known Guzma long enough to know that he was the king of insults. So, the Team Skull Grunt opted to remain behind the rock.
"Alright," Skuntank said. "Home turf advantage, so we go first."
"By all means, don't make a damn difference to me," Guzma said.
Skuntank inhaled a breath, then raised a paw to Guzma. "Man, I am a big fan of your fashion sense. It's giving 'fuzzy white mold in garbage bag.'"
Guzma stifled a laugh, though not much of it could be heard over Zubat and Koffing's jeering.
"Yeah bro, and how old are you?" Koffing chimed in. "I don't know whether to ask you where your mother is or to call the local retirement home and tell them one of their residents got out."
Guzma gnawed on the inside of his cheek and nodded, holding back a smirk. "A'ight. A'ight, I see you," he said.
Zubat cleared his throat. "Your name's Guzma, huh?" he asked. There was a momentary pause as Guzma nodded. "Damn, your parents must have hated you."
More jeers passed between the trio, and they turned to one another and exchanged pats of encouragement while Guzma looked on nodding. The Team Skull Grunt cringed to himself and held a hand over his heart. He felt that one in his soul.
"Is that it? Okay then," Guzma said, rubbing his hands together as he stepped forward. The three Pokemon moved back to give him space, and he sucked his teeth. "I'ma make this real quick and real easy."
He pointed his hand at Koffing. "Koffing, was your barbecue cancelled?" he asked earnestly before pausing for dramatic effect. "Just asking, 'cause your grill is fucked up."
Koffing's mouth fell open, before it hovered around and raised a smoke cloud to cover his teeth while the other two exchanged wheezes.
Next Guzma moved onto Zubat. "Zubat, what's it like looking in the mirror every day and knowing you're the most useless poison type to exist?" He paused again, then covered his mouth. "Oh wait..."
Zubat frowned, while the other two started to laugh to themselves. That one even got a laugh out of the Team Skull Grunt. However, Guzma still wasn't done. He set his sights in Skuntank.
"And Skuntank...bro, I am fucking digging that cosplay of Donald Trump's toupee."
Skuntank's jaw dropped, but he still proceeded to laugh, though the Team Skull Grunt had a difficult time reading if the Pokemon was genuinely humored or offended. Though, he supposed it didn't matter. The air in the cave had somehow gotten lighter over the course of the roast session, and the sound of Guzma and the poison trio laughing was definitely a welcome change of pace.
The Team Skull grunt would have never guessed roasting would be the way to deescalate a situation.
Part Eight
“Yeah! Haha, YEAH!” Now he was getting carried away, giddy that his plan to appease the boss had worked. “And yo mama’s so fat, she thinks a Wailord is her couch cushion!”
The laughter evaporated all at once. A pin drop could be heard in the following silence.
Wh-what did I say?
“Yo,” said a grunt somewhere to the left, “You did not just say that about Guzmama.”
Ty swallowed, heart in his throat. “Wha—who?”
Guzma closed the distance between them and towered over Ty, his glare so scorching Ty almost thought their his might ignite. “What’d you say ‘bout my mama?”
“I, uh.” Damage control, damage control! “What I meant w-was, um…yo mama so lovely, she makes Milotic jealous?”
“So you callin’ her a snake?”
“N-no, no, no! Not at all! B-but if she were a snake, she’d be the most beautiful one!” What am I saying?! “But-but of course she’s not, I’m sure she’s lovely!”
Guzma leaned in, lip curled and brows knit in fury. Ty quivered and braced himself for a tirade if shouted insults. Great, now you’ve done it. This is it, this is how I go—
Guzma clapped a hand on Ty’s shoulder, and Ty nearly fainted on the spot from fear until he realized the boss was laughing.
“I’m just joshin’ with ya! If my mama was here, she’d roast you SO good!”
“Wh—ha…hahaha…?” Ty nervously joined in the chorus of laughter now echoing around the cave, confused as ever. “Y-you’re not…mad?”
“Mad? I’m pissed!” Guzma roared merrily. “My mama’s a queen who deserves your damn respect. But nobody has had the balls to insult her to my face, and I gotta hand it to ya: yer either brave or stupid as hell. Which means ya fit right in!”
Ty had no idea if that was a compliment or not. “Thank…thank you?”
Guzma then suddenly leaned in real close again, his face dead serious. “But listen up, if you insult my mama again, you’ll be on kitchen duty for a month straight. Ya hear?”
Kitchen duty? That was it? No beatings, no sleeping outside in the rain, no withheld meals?
Ty grinned. “Yessir!”
“That’s boss to you. I don’t answer to stuffy crap like sir.”
“Yes, boss!”
Guzma clapped him again, this time on the back (and ow, the guy had a firm hand), and yelled loud enough for everyone to here. “You’re officially in, kid! Welcome to the team!”
Cheers erupted all around, and suddenly Ty was rushed from all sides as dozens of grunts swarmed in to lift him on their shoulders. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.
Maybe Team Skull wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
Part Nine
A couple days in with team skull made the transition seem slick as ice. Ty’d had to move all his stuff to the base, but when a gang shows up to his stepdad’s and kicks down the door there’s not much the old man could do without swallowing a mouthful of teeth.
So the old man brooded, rubbing his eyes through the narrow slats of the blinds. Then shuttered them, hiding his room behind flat white. Hopefully that dry, boring scowl would be Ty’s last memory of him.
Ty smirked. He lifted his hamper—overflowing with all his too-small clothes. He didn’t really need them anymore, but he sure as hell wasn’t letting any of his junk behind. Maybe he’d burn it. Or turn it into a chew toy for rocky.
A hand clapped him on the back. He jumped, scrabbling to keep his hold.
“Ayo, what’s the holdup?”
All the grunts’ names and faces still blended together a bit behind those bandanas, so Ty had to pause until he pinned that voice to Aka.
“Jus’ taking it in, man. It’s pretty sweet.”
Aka scratched his head deep, rustling his salt-stiff hair like blue straw. He squinted. The skull print on his bandana wrinkled over his nose.
“Wha—” he blanched. “The house? It’s a shit house, man. Dunno what to tell ya.”
“Nah, it’s freedom. That’s sweet. I can go anywhere I want, now.”
“Can’t go in the boss’s room.”
“Right, but—”
“Or like, space. You’d die out there.” Aka finished, miming his head exploding. His hair already made it look like that, but Ty still got the picture.
And if anything, Aka’s nonsense only made him grin wider.
“Anyway. Truck’s packed so you're carrying that thing on your lap in the back.”
Ty turned out to the road. True enough, their rickety farm truck was stuffed so full that the back wheels sagged into the dirt. Every going back to base clung to whatever they could—the roof, straps or any bit of furniture jutting from the pile.
They were loud, shouting and laughing even just feet from each other, but the chaos was familiar. Ty rolled his eyes as Aka opened the front door to reveal some idiot napping in the front seat. They didn’t even get a chance to wake up before Aka ripped them from the car and dropped them into the grass outside.
Ty managed to slip into the backseat while they picked themselves off the ground. A quick slam of the door cut off the first word of an argument. Which ended quick as Aka slammed his own door.
“Ready?“
Ty nodded to the sound of Aka fumbling his keys. Trying to shove them in the ignition. Turning once to the grumpy growl of the engine. Twice for it to catch itself. A third time for it to finally roar to life. Outside, the slacking grunt yelped and scrambled to the back to find something to hold on to.
“Yeah, let’s go home.”
And as the truck sputtered and squealed onto the asphalt, a great puff of cutiefly scattered into the trees. Even those tiny wings could buzz loud enough to fight the engine. Somebody hollered from the back. Goading the bugs on.
Ty could only wonder where they’d settle next.
Part Seven
Beads of sweat rolled down the Team Skull Grunt's forehead as his eyes fell back on Skuntank, his body shaking involuntarily as he braced himself for whatever the Pokemon was going to do to him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't pick the name," he sputtered, "I tried to tell the boss it was stupid but he wouldn't listen!"
It was a lie, of course, but he had to say something to save his own skin. He couldn't be poisoned, he certainly wouldn't survive that.
But, the trio of Pokemon continued to dance around him, and the wicked grin on Skuntank's face indicated something bad was coming.
Fuck. I should have stayed in culinary school, the Team Skull Grunt thought helplessly.
"Well, well, well, what kinda shitshow do we have going on in here?"
The voice sent a jolt of electricity through the Team Skull Grunt's body, and he looked up the cave wall just in time to catch sight of the very face he both desperately wanted to see, and feared simultaneously.
Guzma, the big man himself, in the flesh.
The trio of poison types stopped in their mocking dance to behold him, which gave the Team Skull Grunt enough time to step back and take cover behind a rock. Judging by the way Guzma held himself, he looked comfortable. Ready for a fight. The Team Skull Grunt was willing to step back and let him do his thing, because he was the exact opposite.
"And who the hell are you?" Zubat spat.
Guzma snickered as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Who the fuck do you think I am? I'm the man that's gonna send you cucks running for the fucking hills for fucking with one of my boys."
Guzma sent an acknowledging nod toward the Team Skull Grunt, one that said "I gotchu boo." The Team Skull Grunt felt the warmth of relief flood into his chest, and for the first time since he entered the cave, he relaxed.
"Oh really? You're here to play 'daddy' for one of your little youngins?" Koffing mocked, his body swaying in time with the inflection of his words.
"I don't think the dude's into any of that," Guzma said dubiously, "but I ain't abouta air his dirty laundry like that."
The Team Skull Grunt felt the heat in his chest rush to his face. "H-hey!" he shouted. "Don't go there, please!"
Guzma released another chuckle, and the Team Skull Grunt watched with onset awe as the big boss reached for the ball on his belt.
"We can end the convo here, with a nice, nasty beatdown," he said.
Oh shit. Oh fuck, the Team Skull Grunt thought frantically. He's gonna send out Golisopod. I'm gonna get to watch him and Golisopod battle together, and they're going to do it to protect me, oh gods, this is--
His thoughts were cut short as apparent whispers of disapproval echoed among the poison trio. Why weren't they gearing up to fight like they had been just moments ago? Could they sense Guzma's tenacity before any battle had even started?
"Fuck you mean 'beatdown'?" Koffing said. "Nobody's beating on anyone here."
"Unless you count roasts a form of beatdown," Zubat interjected. "In which case, I can understand the confusion."
Guzma now look puzzled, and the Team Skull Grunt shared in that feeling. Roasts?
"The hell are you on about?" Guzma asked. It was there that Skuntank laughed again.
"Oh shit," he snickered, "did you think we were gonna duke it out? Nah, man. You obvious don't know how us poison types settle shit around here."
Zubat and Koffing were nodding along with Skuntank now. "Yeah," Zubat said. "We don't fight. We roast."
"Roast, you mean like..." Guzma trailed off for a beat, "...insults?"
"Fuck yeah, baby," Koffing said. "We're poison types, we're toxic as hell, so it's on theme."
Now the Team Skull Grunt was just perplexed. So...Skuntank wasn't about to kill him? And when he was making fun of the Team Skull group name, he was just...doing it as a roast?
That wasn't the type of Pokemon battling he'd seen on TV.
Nonetheless, Guzma look positively tickled, even as he slid his way down the short rock wall and landed in front of the trio. "Yo, say fucking less," he said. "I'm all in on this."
The poison trio now looked positively delighted, a stark contrast from how menacing they'd looked just moments ago. The Team Skull Grunt was positively dumbfounded, and maybe a tad disappointed that Golisopod wasn't coming out, but he surely wasn't complaining. He was no better at roasting than he was at battling, and he'd known Guzma long enough to know that he was the king of insults. So, the Team Skull Grunt opted to remain behind the rock.
"Alright," Skuntank said. "Home turf advantage, so we go first."
"By all means, don't make a damn difference to me," Guzma said.
Skuntank inhaled a breath, then raised a paw to Guzma. "Man, I am a big fan of your fashion sense. It's giving 'fuzzy white mold in garbage bag.'"
Guzma stifled a laugh, though not much of it could be heard over Zubat and Koffing's jeering.
"Yeah bro, and how old are you?" Koffing chimed in. "I don't know whether to ask you where your mother is or to call the local retirement home and tell them one of their residents got out."
Guzma gnawed on the inside of his cheek and nodded, holding back a smirk. "A'ight. A'ight, I see you," he said.
Zubat cleared his throat. "Your name's Guzma, huh?" he asked. There was a momentary pause as Guzma nodded. "Damn, your parents must have hated you."
More jeers passed between the trio, and they turned to one another and exchanged pats of encouragement while Guzma looked on nodding. The Team Skull Grunt cringed to himself and held a hand over his heart. He felt that one in his soul.
"Is that it? Okay then," Guzma said, rubbing his hands together as he stepped forward. The three Pokemon moved back to give him space, and he sucked his teeth. "I'ma make this real quick and real easy."
He pointed his hand at Koffing. "Koffing, was your barbecue cancelled?" he asked earnestly before pausing for dramatic effect. "Just asking, 'cause your grill is fucked up."
Koffing's mouth fell open, before it hovered around and raised a smoke cloud to cover his teeth while the other two exchanged wheezes.
Next Guzma moved onto Zubat. "Zubat, what's it like looking in the mirror every day and knowing you're the most useless poison type to exist?" He paused again, then covered his mouth. "Oh wait..."
Zubat frowned, while the other two started to laugh to themselves. That one even got a laugh out of the Team Skull Grunt. However, Guzma still wasn't done. He set his sights in Skuntank.
"And Skuntank...bro, I am fucking digging that cosplay of Donald Trump's toupee."
Skuntank's jaw dropped, but he still proceeded to laugh, though the Team Skull Grunt had a difficult time reading if the Pokemon was genuinely humored or offended. Though, he supposed it didn't matter. The air in the cave had somehow gotten lighter over the course of the roast session, and the sound of Guzma and the poison trio laughing was definitely a welcome change of pace.
The Team Skull grunt would have never guessed roasting would be the way to deescalate a situation.
Sinderella
Part Eight
“Yeah! Haha, YEAH!” Now he was getting carried away, giddy that his plan to appease the boss had worked. “And yo mama’s so fat, she thinks a Wailord is her couch cushion!”
The laughter evaporated all at once. A pin drop could be heard in the following silence.
Wh-what did I say?
“Yo,” said a grunt somewhere to the left, “You did not just say that about Guzmama.”
Ty swallowed, heart in his throat. “Wha—who?”
Guzma closed the distance between them and towered over Ty, his glare so scorching Ty almost thought their his might ignite. “What’d you say ‘bout my mama?”
“I, uh.” Damage control, damage control! “What I meant w-was, um…yo mama so lovely, she makes Milotic jealous?”
“So you callin’ her a snake?”
“N-no, no, no! Not at all! B-but if she were a snake, she’d be the most beautiful one!” What am I saying?! “But-but of course she’s not, I’m sure she’s lovely!”
Guzma leaned in, lip curled and brows knit in fury. Ty quivered and braced himself for a tirade if shouted insults. Great, now you’ve done it. This is it, this is how I go—
Guzma clapped a hand on Ty’s shoulder, and Ty nearly fainted on the spot from fear until he realized the boss was laughing.
“I’m just joshin’ with ya! If my mama was here, she’d roast you SO good!”
“Wh—ha…hahaha…?” Ty nervously joined in the chorus of laughter now echoing around the cave, confused as ever. “Y-you’re not…mad?”
“Mad? I’m pissed!” Guzma roared merrily. “My mama’s a queen who deserves your damn respect. But nobody has had the balls to insult her to my face, and I gotta hand it to ya: yer either brave or stupid as hell. Which means ya fit right in!”
Ty had no idea if that was a compliment or not. “Thank…thank you?”
Guzma then suddenly leaned in real close again, his face dead serious. “But listen up, if you insult my mama again, you’ll be on kitchen duty for a month straight. Ya hear?”
Kitchen duty? That was it? No beatings, no sleeping outside in the rain, no withheld meals?
Ty grinned. “Yessir!”
“That’s boss to you. I don’t answer to stuffy crap like sir.”
“Yes, boss!”
Guzma clapped him again, this time on the back (and ow, the guy had a firm hand), and yelled loud enough for everyone to here. “You’re officially in, kid! Welcome to the team!”
Cheers erupted all around, and suddenly Ty was rushed from all sides as dozens of grunts swarmed in to lift him on their shoulders. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.
Maybe Team Skull wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
HelloYellow17
Part Nine
A couple days in with team skull made the transition seem slick as ice. Ty’d had to move all his stuff to the base, but when a gang shows up to his stepdad’s and kicks down the door there’s not much the old man could do without swallowing a mouthful of teeth.
So the old man brooded, rubbing his eyes through the narrow slats of the blinds. Then shuttered them, hiding his room behind flat white. Hopefully that dry, boring scowl would be Ty’s last memory of him.
Ty smirked. He lifted his hamper—overflowing with all his too-small clothes. He didn’t really need them anymore, but he sure as hell wasn’t letting any of his junk behind. Maybe he’d burn it. Or turn it into a chew toy for rocky.
A hand clapped him on the back. He jumped, scrabbling to keep his hold.
“Ayo, what’s the holdup?”
All the grunts’ names and faces still blended together a bit behind those bandanas, so Ty had to pause until he pinned that voice to Aka.
“Jus’ taking it in, man. It’s pretty sweet.”
Aka scratched his head deep, rustling his salt-stiff hair like blue straw. He squinted. The skull print on his bandana wrinkled over his nose.
“Wha—” he blanched. “The house? It’s a shit house, man. Dunno what to tell ya.”
“Nah, it’s freedom. That’s sweet. I can go anywhere I want, now.”
“Can’t go in the boss’s room.”
“Right, but—”
“Or like, space. You’d die out there.” Aka finished, miming his head exploding. His hair already made it look like that, but Ty still got the picture.
And if anything, Aka’s nonsense only made him grin wider.
“Anyway. Truck’s packed so you're carrying that thing on your lap in the back.”
Ty turned out to the road. True enough, their rickety farm truck was stuffed so full that the back wheels sagged into the dirt. Every going back to base clung to whatever they could—the roof, straps or any bit of furniture jutting from the pile.
They were loud, shouting and laughing even just feet from each other, but the chaos was familiar. Ty rolled his eyes as Aka opened the front door to reveal some idiot napping in the front seat. They didn’t even get a chance to wake up before Aka ripped them from the car and dropped them into the grass outside.
Ty managed to slip into the backseat while they picked themselves off the ground. A quick slam of the door cut off the first word of an argument. Which ended quick as Aka slammed his own door.
“Ready?“
Ty nodded to the sound of Aka fumbling his keys. Trying to shove them in the ignition. Turning once to the grumpy growl of the engine. Twice for it to catch itself. A third time for it to finally roar to life. Outside, the slacking grunt yelped and scrambled to the back to find something to hold on to.
“Yeah, let’s go home.”
And as the truck sputtered and squealed onto the asphalt, a great puff of cutiefly scattered into the trees. Even those tiny wings could buzz loud enough to fight the engine. Somebody hollered from the back. Goading the bugs on.
Ty could only wonder where they’d settle next.
tomatorade