CrazeeLucky7
Bug Catcher
- Pronouns
- Was/Were
Rated T
Chapter 1
I woke up floating.
“What the hell—?”
The first clue something had gone wrong was weightlessness.
The second was my hands. Small. Green. Not mine. Wings quivered where my shoulder blades used to be.
“Congratulations,” a voice said, far too cheerful. “You’re the legendary Pokémon Celebi.”
My thorax locked. Static surged through me—the urge to punch something, anything.
I knew the name. Roger had been obsessed with Pokémon when we were kids, explaining every evolution like it was gospel. I’d forgotten most of childhood, but not him. Not the way he laughed until he cried.
I opened my mouth. A thin alien chirp spilled out. Not my voice. Yesterday I was Mason—a guy who could count his good days on one hand. Now I didn’t even know what a hand was.
Roger would have squealed to see me as a fairy. The thought made my stomach flip into grief.
“Legendary.” The word pinned me like a bug under glass.
The black dissolved into green-lit chrome. Tubes pulsed with luminous liquid. The air reeked of ozone and pennies. Shapes floated in tanks—sleeping, peaceful, wrong. Corpses posed for display.
I tried to move. Straps cut into me. Muscles failed. A whimper escaped.
Footsteps echoed—heavy, deliberate. A man in a black trench coat emerged, face half-shadowed. For one stupid second I thought he was another prisoner.
“Help me! We’ve gotta get out of here!” My voice came out wrong, brittle.
His eyes caught mine like sunlight on glass. “Ah. You’re awake. Call me Emperor. You’re here for my collection. Don’t expect an angel. I am your god now.”
Cold realization crushed me.
“You—you’re the voice? The one who told me I was… this?”
“Guilty,” he said, smiling faintly. “Mason, correct?”
My chirp fractured into a gasp.
“I speak many languages,” he continued. “Human. Pokémon. Most importantly—the mind.”
Certainty slid under my skin. His gaze cataloged me like a specimen.
My wings thrashed. I spat. Brown flecks hit his cheek. “I am NOT a Pokémon! I’m human! Change me back!”
He wiped his face. Slowly. Anger sharpened his features.
SMACK.
The backhand stung. Metal filled my mouth. Heat turned to ice in my chest.
“Do that again,” he said softly, “and you’ll learn how much worse this can get.”
I shrank into the straps. Even if I lunged, even if I screamed, I was just a toy.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, the restraints went slack. His hand brushed my cheek almost tenderly.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “Please… don’t hurt me.”
He smiled. “I’m sorry, too. But you are home now. I gave you new life. New purpose. I saved you from mediocrity.”
His palm pressed to my forehead. Heat pulsed into my skull. Sleep tugged. I fought it, clawing for myself, but the dark pressed harder.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “We have much work ahead.”
The lab fractured into memory. Swings creaked. Sand crunched. Roger and I ran under the old oak. Relief spiked—then soured. My fingers twitched wrong: too many, too green.
Two kids darted past. Roger in overalls. Me in that stupid Pikachu shirt.
“Why’d Mom make me wear this? It sucks!” my younger self snapped.
Roger’s face fell. “Well, I’m sorry for sharing my heart with you!” Tears welled—tears we once traded over scraped knees.
We spoke together. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean—”
“Leave me alone, you big bully!” Roger bolted into the street.
“No! Not again! Look out!” I screamed.
Tires shrieked. A thud. I couldn’t look.
My younger self glared at me. “You deserve this. You’ll never go home again. Bully.” He ran on, eyes forward.
Roger’s body twitched—then lifted like a puppet. His head turned toward me, voice hollow: “Never go home again… you are mine now, Mason.”
“Please,” I choked. “I’m sorry.”
I looked down. Not six human fingers. Just a tiny green paw.
Emperor’s laughter swallowed the scene. It vibrated in my bones—until my own laugh broke free, thin and rust-tasting, not mine.
Something cold scraped the base of my skull. Memory cracked. Roger’s face blinked out like a photograph sinking underwater.
The world narrowed to absence. My straps cut. My claws dug. The laugh inside me answered.
Wrong. All wrong.
—————————————————————————————————————
RED ALERT. BREACH DETECTED. UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY.
The alarm hits me like glass in my skull—sharp, unbearable.
I savor the ache. Pain proves I am real.
From my observation ledge high above the compound, white cloaks fracture the perimeter—sleek silhouettes throwing arcs of crackling energy. They move like a single beast: precise, practiced, annoyingly efficient.
“Right on schedule,” I murmur. Timing is art.
Their beams shear through my sentries. Chrome limbs collapse under blue fire.
I answer with reinforcements—droids plated in armor, shields sparking as they grind into the corridor with mechanical precision.
“We can’t hold them all! Too many!” a voice hisses through my feed.
“Focus,” the leader barks. “Retrieve the Celebi. This is a rescue.”
As if I’d let them.
With a flourish I slam the big red button. The chamber floods with another wave of machines.
Let them choke on difficulty.
They rip into my central lab—my garden of curiosities—right where I left the prize. Perfect.
A white cloak hesitates, hand lifting toward a tank.
“What about the others? We can’t leave them—”
“Orders are clear,” the leader snaps. “Retrieve the Celebi. Everything else is expendable.”
I rise. Stretch. Step through shadow into a portal—
—and emerge behind the nearest intruder.
My fist drives through his chest. Ribs snap like twigs.
He looks down at the hole where his heart should be, eyes wide, then goes still.
“One down,” I murmur, tasting triumph.
They surge. Sparks crawl across my skin—hot, sweet.
I flare an energy bubble; it bursts outward like shattering glass.
Intruders fly. Rag dolls slamming into walls in a spray of sparks.
I lunge. Seize one by the throat—
CRACK.
A blue whip lashes my spine.
A disruptor arcs from a cloak’s wrist mount.
My bubble shudders. Muscles lock.
I hit the floor hard.
Lucky bastard.
“It’s over, Emperor!” one shouts.
I whistle.
Dark purple fur ripples from shadow.
Red eyes burn like knives.
Starr hovers—psychic hum tasting of iron and ash.
The nearest cloak screams as thought-sparks rain from his skull, then goes slack.
“Meet Starr,” I say. “A Dark Mew. Protective. She doesn’t usually kill unless I order it.”
Their formation stutters. Even trained killers flinch at her arrival.
“Starr—leave three alive.”
“Celebi acquired! Do not engage!” someone cries.
Smoke erupts—pungent, choking flowers that burn my nose.
For a moment my world is ash and coughing shapes.
When it clears, the cloaks and Celebi are gone.
Damn.
I stroll to the terminal where I seeded the bait, palms warm on cool metal.
UPLOAD COMPLETE blinks once, then steadies into a quiet green hum.
Data planted. Memories leashed. Breadcrumbs to lead them back into my design.
“Onto the next phase,” I say.
The lab hums back at me—obedient, eager, alive.
Chapter 1
I woke up floating.
“What the hell—?”
The first clue something had gone wrong was weightlessness.
The second was my hands. Small. Green. Not mine. Wings quivered where my shoulder blades used to be.
“Congratulations,” a voice said, far too cheerful. “You’re the legendary Pokémon Celebi.”
My thorax locked. Static surged through me—the urge to punch something, anything.
I knew the name. Roger had been obsessed with Pokémon when we were kids, explaining every evolution like it was gospel. I’d forgotten most of childhood, but not him. Not the way he laughed until he cried.
I opened my mouth. A thin alien chirp spilled out. Not my voice. Yesterday I was Mason—a guy who could count his good days on one hand. Now I didn’t even know what a hand was.
Roger would have squealed to see me as a fairy. The thought made my stomach flip into grief.
“Legendary.” The word pinned me like a bug under glass.
The black dissolved into green-lit chrome. Tubes pulsed with luminous liquid. The air reeked of ozone and pennies. Shapes floated in tanks—sleeping, peaceful, wrong. Corpses posed for display.
I tried to move. Straps cut into me. Muscles failed. A whimper escaped.
Footsteps echoed—heavy, deliberate. A man in a black trench coat emerged, face half-shadowed. For one stupid second I thought he was another prisoner.
“Help me! We’ve gotta get out of here!” My voice came out wrong, brittle.
His eyes caught mine like sunlight on glass. “Ah. You’re awake. Call me Emperor. You’re here for my collection. Don’t expect an angel. I am your god now.”
Cold realization crushed me.
“You—you’re the voice? The one who told me I was… this?”
“Guilty,” he said, smiling faintly. “Mason, correct?”
My chirp fractured into a gasp.
“I speak many languages,” he continued. “Human. Pokémon. Most importantly—the mind.”
Certainty slid under my skin. His gaze cataloged me like a specimen.
My wings thrashed. I spat. Brown flecks hit his cheek. “I am NOT a Pokémon! I’m human! Change me back!”
He wiped his face. Slowly. Anger sharpened his features.
SMACK.
The backhand stung. Metal filled my mouth. Heat turned to ice in my chest.
“Do that again,” he said softly, “and you’ll learn how much worse this can get.”
I shrank into the straps. Even if I lunged, even if I screamed, I was just a toy.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, the restraints went slack. His hand brushed my cheek almost tenderly.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “Please… don’t hurt me.”
He smiled. “I’m sorry, too. But you are home now. I gave you new life. New purpose. I saved you from mediocrity.”
His palm pressed to my forehead. Heat pulsed into my skull. Sleep tugged. I fought it, clawing for myself, but the dark pressed harder.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “We have much work ahead.”
The lab fractured into memory. Swings creaked. Sand crunched. Roger and I ran under the old oak. Relief spiked—then soured. My fingers twitched wrong: too many, too green.
Two kids darted past. Roger in overalls. Me in that stupid Pikachu shirt.
“Why’d Mom make me wear this? It sucks!” my younger self snapped.
Roger’s face fell. “Well, I’m sorry for sharing my heart with you!” Tears welled—tears we once traded over scraped knees.
We spoke together. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean—”
“Leave me alone, you big bully!” Roger bolted into the street.
“No! Not again! Look out!” I screamed.
Tires shrieked. A thud. I couldn’t look.
My younger self glared at me. “You deserve this. You’ll never go home again. Bully.” He ran on, eyes forward.
Roger’s body twitched—then lifted like a puppet. His head turned toward me, voice hollow: “Never go home again… you are mine now, Mason.”
“Please,” I choked. “I’m sorry.”
I looked down. Not six human fingers. Just a tiny green paw.
Emperor’s laughter swallowed the scene. It vibrated in my bones—until my own laugh broke free, thin and rust-tasting, not mine.
Something cold scraped the base of my skull. Memory cracked. Roger’s face blinked out like a photograph sinking underwater.
The world narrowed to absence. My straps cut. My claws dug. The laugh inside me answered.
Wrong. All wrong.
—————————————————————————————————————
RED ALERT. BREACH DETECTED. UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY.
The alarm hits me like glass in my skull—sharp, unbearable.
I savor the ache. Pain proves I am real.
From my observation ledge high above the compound, white cloaks fracture the perimeter—sleek silhouettes throwing arcs of crackling energy. They move like a single beast: precise, practiced, annoyingly efficient.
“Right on schedule,” I murmur. Timing is art.
Their beams shear through my sentries. Chrome limbs collapse under blue fire.
I answer with reinforcements—droids plated in armor, shields sparking as they grind into the corridor with mechanical precision.
“We can’t hold them all! Too many!” a voice hisses through my feed.
“Focus,” the leader barks. “Retrieve the Celebi. This is a rescue.”
As if I’d let them.
With a flourish I slam the big red button. The chamber floods with another wave of machines.
Let them choke on difficulty.
They rip into my central lab—my garden of curiosities—right where I left the prize. Perfect.
A white cloak hesitates, hand lifting toward a tank.
“What about the others? We can’t leave them—”
“Orders are clear,” the leader snaps. “Retrieve the Celebi. Everything else is expendable.”
I rise. Stretch. Step through shadow into a portal—
—and emerge behind the nearest intruder.
My fist drives through his chest. Ribs snap like twigs.
He looks down at the hole where his heart should be, eyes wide, then goes still.
“One down,” I murmur, tasting triumph.
They surge. Sparks crawl across my skin—hot, sweet.
I flare an energy bubble; it bursts outward like shattering glass.
Intruders fly. Rag dolls slamming into walls in a spray of sparks.
I lunge. Seize one by the throat—
CRACK.
A blue whip lashes my spine.
A disruptor arcs from a cloak’s wrist mount.
My bubble shudders. Muscles lock.
I hit the floor hard.
Lucky bastard.
“It’s over, Emperor!” one shouts.
I whistle.
Dark purple fur ripples from shadow.
Red eyes burn like knives.
Starr hovers—psychic hum tasting of iron and ash.
The nearest cloak screams as thought-sparks rain from his skull, then goes slack.
“Meet Starr,” I say. “A Dark Mew. Protective. She doesn’t usually kill unless I order it.”
Their formation stutters. Even trained killers flinch at her arrival.
“Starr—leave three alive.”
“Celebi acquired! Do not engage!” someone cries.
Smoke erupts—pungent, choking flowers that burn my nose.
For a moment my world is ash and coughing shapes.
When it clears, the cloaks and Celebi are gone.
Damn.
I stroll to the terminal where I seeded the bait, palms warm on cool metal.
UPLOAD COMPLETE blinks once, then steadies into a quiet green hum.
Data planted. Memories leashed. Breadcrumbs to lead them back into my design.
“Onto the next phase,” I say.
The lab hums back at me—obedient, eager, alive.
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