Love, gimme love, gimme love
I don't need it, but I'll take what I want from your heart
And I'll keep it in a bag, in a box
Put an X on the floor
Gimme more, gimme more, gimme more
Archer twisted in Chester’s grasp, bracing one palm against the grunt’s chest as he attempted to push himself free. He didn’t want to resort to extreme measures, but it seemed he had no choice. The other male was just far too stubborn for his own good. He schooled his expression into something blank, relaxing in his harsh grasp.
The hand pressed against him in defense was something Chester decided to ignore. If anything, all the grunt did was lean forward a fraction of an inch, just to try and disgruntle Archer a little more. What the man said next was hardly a compliment,
“You really are quite charming, aren’t you?”
Not the reaction Chester was expecting, but perhaps he set his standards a little too high. As quickly as the Executive’s out of character behavior (though, Chester didn’t know the man well enough to consider it out of character; Archer could have been like that all the time) had surfaced, did it finally pass. Now that Chester knew it was there, however, it was hard to take him seriously.
Then again, Archer might’ve been more in control than Chester had previously thought. With this sudden vulnerability or not, Archer was still an Executive. Chester could be thrown out of Team Rocket for manhandling one of them; they had the authority.
Hidden by a smug expression, Chester actually did care about that. He didn’t respect Archer in any way (that right had to be earned), but getting kicked out was something he did not want to happen. There wouldn’t be anywhere for him and he was damned if he’d go crawling back to his parents after this. So when the white-cladded man mentioned getting him fired, Chester almost lost his composure, fingers twitching against Archer’s shoulder. Maybe if he didn’t comment, it wouldn’t happen–
“Didn’t have any female friends, they were too fucking annoying,” came a growl. Or any damned friends in general.
At this time Chester leaned in further, ignoring the slight discomfort from his cheek as he grinned into Archer’s ear, “this is pretty fucking exciting, especially when it’s being done to such a collected bastard like you.” He let his thumb stretch over Archer’s neck, pressing it harshly against the man’s trachea. Chester grasped the hand on his chest, fingers curling around the wrist. He didn’t make a move to tug it away and kept it there, though was wary of Archer’s free hand. What’ll you do now?
“Is this how being an Executive feels like? Controlling petty grunts in your hands, having absolute control over them like this– you’re right about one thing, it feels damn good.”
More often than not did Chester find himself at bars, drinking until his head was spinning in a thousand different directions. He knew what alcohol did to him and how much trouble he got into while he drank, but none of that stopped the grunt from coming back for more. The other male grunts among his group would rather have Chester drunk that his normal cranky, disastrous self, anyway, and often encouraged him to keep up the good work.
Which meant it was their entire fault he acted like this, naturally. This time, however, one of Chester’s party decided to be the good guy and remind his buddy about an assignment they were talking about earlier. It hadn’t been brought up since everyone thought Chester would remember, but that was idiotic of them to assume; Chester’s memory while intoxicated was downright horrid.
“What do you mean I have a mission?? I don’t wanna go!”
“Too bad, dumbass! You were supposed to meet Chantelise hours ago!”
–Plus they could actually get away with calling him such names, as they were too afraid to when he was sober. Chester couldn’t even understand what they were calling him, anyway.
“But I– huh? Who?”
“Chantelise.”
“Chandelure? What’s that?”
His ‘friends’ chortled with laughter, “one of our females! Not at all bad looking, if I say so myself. Am I right, guys?”
“But they all look the same!”
His comment either went unheard or neither of the others decided to acknowledge it. They were too busy having a chugging contest all of a sudden, spilling beer all over the place. Chester could only giggle as the Bartender yelled from across the bar at how much of a mess they were making. Things only got worse from then on, from broken glass to the grunts even filling their own glasses when supposedly nobody was looking.
Not that they were going to pay anyway, they were Team Rocket after all. Anyone and everyone were highly offended by the behavior, but at the same time there wasn’t a single person willing to stand up to them. A bunch of punks, like many thought Team Rocket were.
“Damn, man, ya gotta get outta here! The Executives will rip ya a new one if ya miss this!”
As much as he didn’t want to–
“But missions are boring! I want to stay here with you guys!”
–And he really didn’t want to, all the pestering he was getting from the others was getting him amped up to go and do it. He wouldn’t know they were kicking him out of fun time was for their own amusement. Wherever the mission meeting was supposed to be, they knew Chester would have a horrid time trying to get there. All of them would follow him, hiding from view to see just how much Chester struggled.
Unfortunately for them, Chester was somehow able to find where he and his partner to meet. How he accomplished such a task was a complete mystery. He couldn’t even walk a straight line; much less know where he was going!
A blur of pink and black caught Chester’s eye. He wasn’t sure what it was, until his wobbly legs caused him to crash into it. Neither fell to the ground, as Chester was able to support himself on what felt to be the softest pillows he had ever felt in his life. He stayed there for a while, eyes wide and face crooked into such puzzlement like he was trying to figure out why what had happened, happened. It had been a hilarious sight to see, if the grunts from earlier hadn’t of gotten bored and stuck around. The normal Chester wouldn’t have even looked at a woman’s chest if he was sober.
After a few minutes, Chester rocked back on the balls of his feet, letting go of Chantelise. He almost fell backwards in the process, but managed to keep his balance. With a blush and a cheesy grin, all thoughts of apologizing hadn’t even crossed his hazy mind.
“You’re– you’re really soft, Chande– Shan– Lisa!”
“The Great Chester is finally here! What are we doing?”
A feeling of anger began to burn deep inside Hulda when he snatched away her Pokemon. They were her partners, he had no right. But what could she do? She was backed up against a wall in Team Rocket’s base. She wasn’t exactly in a good position to tell him what to do. Gible, Golbat, Bronzor and Glameow… Now in his possession.
Eventually, she piped up when Chester began rattling the capsules next to his ear. “H-hey! Don’t shake them like that!” Despite feeling angry, Hulda’s voice was nothing but a squeak. He looked as if he was about to run, to where, Arceus knows.
It was either now, or never.
With a small grunt, Hulda whipped the Rocket hat off of her head and threw it right in Chester’s face. Now, she had a few seconds to grab her Pokemon, while he was distracted. She launched herself at him, quickly grabbing the small capsules out of his hand and held them in a tight grip as she bolted down the hall, past all the other angry-looking grunts.
"Golbat, haze!"
The large bat-Pokemon was released from the red light, emitting a thick black smog from it’s mouth. Okay, good. Now those grunts couldn’t see where she was going. Quickly, she dove into another hallway, a quieter one, and ran into one of the spare rooms, slamming the door shut behind her. She was safe.
For now.
Hulda leaned against the door heavily, trying to catch her breath. They’d be looking for her now, no doubt. If she was going to be found, she just prayed it wasn’t by that horrid Grunt she met earlier… Or were all grunts like that? She didn’t want to think about it. For now, all she could do was huddle into the far corner of the small room and wait.
Chester didn’t expect a hat to be thrown in his face– to receive that type of reaction at all, for that matter. He was more than shocked when he realized the Pokemon he had in his hands here no longer there, and by the time he attempted to throw the hat right back at her, a thick haze had begun to clog the air.
Shit, I didn’t expect that at all–
Even after his little scare tactics, Hulda was able to remain loyal and fight back. It wasn’t an impressive show, but the brat was still able to defend herself and her Pokemon, which she obviously cared about to a great degree (something Chester didn’t understand fully).
His attention was snapped from thought upon hearing other grunts hollering all around him. Their shrieks rang in his ears and they weren’t doing anything to help his growing headache. With a heavy frown, Chester pushed forward, shoving whoever he came in contact with out of the way. The haze was just starting to fade as he turned a corner, now faced with an empty hallway just barely out of pollution.
Though he wasn’t far from the confused yelling, the air was quiet. Chester waited, feeling his frustration bubbling in the pit of his stomach. The woman shouldn’t have gotten very far, though he had no idea how fast she was. Eyeing at the doors lined on both sides of the hallway, Chester started to weigh his options. He felt his Pokemon rattle in their capsules, eager to help their less-than-loveable trainer. Sandslash immediately popped into his head.
Flicking his wrist with a Poke Ball in hand, she appeared on the ground, blinking in a confused state as if she was surprised to be out and about. Chester ignored this and held out Hulda’s cap, urging it towards Sandslash.
“You can track, can’t you? Smell this.”
There was a pregnant pause. Annoyance tugged the corner of his lip, but before he could repeat more harshly, his Pokemon already had the hat in its claws, nose buried in the fabric. Another drawling moment went by before Sandslash turned, scattering to one of the doors. A grin overtook Chester’s features as he followed, swinging his leg up to kick open the door. It slammed against the wall, making his Pokemon flinch in surprise, but as they both peered on the inside–
“Got you–!”
They weren’t met with a reply. Even as Chester entered, tearing blankets off the beds and looking underneath, nothing but empty sacks of darkness greeted him. Roaring with frustration, his attention turned back to Sandslash, who was sitting patiently by the doorway.
“I know you know how to fuckin’ track, so what the Hell was that?!” His tone caused Sandslash to flinch and she lowered her head in dismay. The reaction made Chester falter. If he had a caring bone in his body, it would be for her, which was why he felt horrible for yelling. A frustrated groan and he snatched the hat back, bringing it to his nose and inhaling. Sandslash is usually decent at tracking, but this smells like that damned haze back there. It must have clouded the little shit’s scent.
With her ears still down, Sandslash peered up at her trainer, who had his brow furrowed in thought. He must have been thinking hard, glaring at what seemed to be nothing for quite some time.
Until, finally, “let’s just get outta here. She’s in this shithole somewhere, the little brat has to come crawling out sooner or later. I need a drink after all this–”
The Pokemon expected to be withdrawn, as her purpose for being released had been over with, but instead of watching Chester reaching for the Poke Ball, she was watching him head out the door instead. Not wanting to waste any time on this rare occasion, Sandslash was quick to scurry after him, almost tumbling over her feet in the process.
One last glance towards the rows of doors, Chester scowled. I’ll find you later, you little shit– make you feel safe until then.
All of Hulda’s hope was shattered by a single question,
“Do I look like a fuckin’ good guy to you?”
She could only listen to him chuckle at her menacingly- mockingly. She opened her mouth to protest, but was immediately cut off as the taller grunt continued,
“Of course you’re not part of Team Rocket, you stupid fuck..! A Rocket grunt wouldn’t break down like you’re doing!”
The worst part of this was that he was right. Hulda didn’t have the attitude to act like one of them- accepting to this mission was like walking into death’s jaws. How stupid of her.
Her thoughts were immediately interrupted when Hulda felt herself being shoved into a corner rather roughly by the taller grunt. Flinching slightly, Hulda dug her heels into the floor to prevent her from moving while using all the strength she could muster to push away from the grunt. “Ack- Let go-!” was all she could utter before she felt herself being cornered.
Hulda’s hand flew up to cover up her shoulder once Chester had let go. He had grabbed onto it so tightly she felt as if something was out of place, perhaps he had fractured it? Nonetheless Hulda gritted her teeth as she tried to move it, only to send a sharp pain down her entire arm.
Just as the pain began to fade, Hulda jumped slightly when Chester had slammed his fist into the wall she was currently leaning on, just mere inches from her head. Out of all the grunts in this wretched building, this guy was who I had to run into? Hulda cursed to herself, pushing herself even further into the corner, away from Chester. A large smirk was still on his face; he was obviously amused by the whole situation.
When Hulda was asked about where she came from, her eyes widened and she let out a small whimper. She couldn’t tell him she was from Galactic! The Commanders would be furious!
While Chester towered over her, obviously expecting a reply, Hulda just simply stood there, huddled into a corner, her mouth sealed. There was no way in Hell she was telling anyone here anything, even if that did mean putting her life in danger. She continued to stare up at the taller grunt, her eyes wide with terror. Please, for the love of Arceus, don’t let him be carrying a weapon…! Hulda prayed silently to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Chester obviously wasn’t going to take no for an answer; Hulda was just dreading what may follow after refusing to give out information.
Even with how terrified she was, Hulda still stood remained loyal to whatever group she came from. Chester had to admit, he was impressed- even if it was just by a little bit. This had just earned her some brownie points.
Nah, not really.
With the earpiece now gone, Chester settled on grabbing for the poke balls attached to her belt instead. As if to guess what was inside, he rattled the capsules up to his ear, but it was obviously just to be cruel to whatever Pokemon were occupying them.
"I'll just take these little shits then, how do you feel about that? You're brave so I'll save whipping your dumb ass." The whip strapped to his belt was all too tempting, though it had only been used once. It wasn't his style, really; he only felt cool wearing it out of anything else.
Maybe that got her attention. Withdrawing from Hulda, Chester took a few step backwards, holding up her Pokemon to show he was serious. He would dart at any moment, if they were even her personal team to begin with. Whether they were or not, it wouldn't matter- they were needed to battle.
"Unless you want to be whipped, huh? Fucking sicko-"
Under Chester’s groggy stare, the executive started to feel a pang of disappointment. Holding the knife closed in his hand now, he raised an eyebrow and cast a neutral expression back to Chester’s tired blinking. He gave it a few seconds, and watched as the grogginess turned to tired bewilderment. Then, he realized.
… He has no idea who I am.
While he would have liked to start giggling, he twisted his face into a look of pure hurt and dejection instead. “Oh, dear! Don’t tell me you don’t remember your commanding officer? How simply dreadful!”
He’d leaned in close and everything, but still not much of a reaction. It was pretty clear by this point that the grunt wasn’t going to provide much entertainment while he was still about as awake as a slowpoke.
Proton was a little frustrated that he hadn’t pissed Chester off like he’d intended, but there was still time. And he did want to ask about how the grunts were making out staying in the base anyway.
Slipping his knife back into his left pocket with a sigh, he donned an unusually serious expression.
"You wanna grab a coffee or something? I was gonna go nab one myself — been here since six in the damn morning." He nodded at the now closed door. "Gotta ask you about how everyone’s gettin’ along in there anyway."
“Oh dear! Don’t tell me you don’t remember your commanding officer? How simply dreadful!”
Tried as he might, the light bulb was still not blinking on like it should have. Chester still didn’t have a clue on who this man’s identity was, but at at least he knew something– a commanding officer of Team Rocket, if he was telling the truth, that is. By the way he talked, Chester wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. He doesn’t expect me to remember what everyone fucking looks like, does he? ‘Cause I really don’t give a shit–
Just when Chester was going to label him ‘weirdo,’ his demeanor seemed to change completely. And, at the mention of a drink (regardless if it was just coffee), Chester felt himself agreeing to the generous offer. Of course, if he realized it was just coffee instead of the alcohol he was looking forward to in hazy mind, Chester would’ve decline. And, since he didn’t, all the grunt managed was a jerk of a nod.
“I don’t give a shit about anyone else, but I’ll drink. Only if you’re paying, though.”
Heading towards the kitchen, or at least where he thought the kitchens were, Chester looked over his shoulder at the other male. He didn’t look like any other grunts, and he did say he was a commanding officer. One of the executives Chester had heard so much about, maybe? The thought lingered on his hazy mind for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.
“So– if you’re a so-called commanding officer, why don’t you ask those assholes how they’re doing yourself? Not that it would matter, I guess. All of them are annoying as Hell anyway.””
Suddenly Chester’s snoring roommate came into mind. The grunt was as useless as they came, always slacking off and blaming others for his own failure. He was an excellent drinking partner though, Chester gave him that much. If only his battling was as good as how well he could hold liquor, then Team Rocket would be set.
Archer made his first mistake when Chester spun him around to face him. He had a clear expression of fear on his face that translated right into ‘victim’. He composed himself quickly, but not quickly enough.
Instead of immediately pushing the grunt away from him, he scrambled to brace his hands back against the desk to keep himself rooted in place.
An eyebrow was raised at Archer’s unpredictable behavior. It was a sight to see; highly amusing until the man decided to defend himself. Sharp, bleeding lines cascaded down Chester’s face, making his eyes widen in surprise. It hadn’t of hurt, hardly at all, but the action was still annoying. What a worthless attempt to get away–
“Release me.”
Even with the irritating urge to rub his cheek, Chester didn’t do as he was commanded to. His hand was still clasped firmly on Archer’s shoulder, grip relaxing only slightly upon seeing such a submissive expression on the man’s face. The grunt was only thrown off, really, watching as his executive practically begged to let him go. At least, to Chester it sounded like begging. Where had that strong, demanding tone of voice go?
Chester was lucky it was just the two of them; he wouldn’t know what to do if Team Rocket’s boss were in the room. Never had he been in that situation, but somehow Chester had a feeling Giovanni knew about his reckless behavior. Maybe nothing would happen until he actually hurt anyone else. More so than sprained ankles and broken wrists, that is.
“I’ll be doubling your punishment.”
Really, now?
“And how the Hell are you going to do that,” Chester asked, more lax than before. A hint of amusement was present in his tone. After seeing Archer blanch like he had, even for just a minute, Chester found himself unafraid of the man. What other expressions he would display if things went further, Chester wondered. All that shit from grabbing his shoulder, that’s fucking hilarious. What would happen if I shoved him against a wall and punched him?
It was tempting, but Chester didn’t act upon thought. There’d be more times for manhandling, he was sure. He’d be walking on a thinner line than he already was, but it all seemed to be worth it.
“You sure you want me around as your fucking maid? After this little charade, you look like a scared little girl.”
When the young man finally spoke, Kotone frowned. “They didn’t lie, I would be able to tell!” She crossed her arms defensively before speaking again. “I will not catch a new team! Those pokemon are my friends and I would do whatever I can to find them! And plus, once they wake up and realize that they aren’t with me, they would just pop out of their pokeballs. If I can’t find them myself, I can just wait for that.”
Staring at the young man, Kotone took hold of his hand and began to walk. “You look like you don’t want to help me, but I have a feeling you could be really good at interrogating, so I’ll make you help me!” She smiled to herself, not even thinking about asking if he was fine with that. “My name’s Kotone, by the way!” She flashed another smile in his direction. “What’s your name?”
The question was mostly asked out of courtesy. The young brunette didn’t pay attention to his answer, her mind was set on finding her missing pokemon. Seeing a small, casual restaurant, Kotone felt her stomach grumble. “Actually, we should eat first!” She laughed a bit, dragging him inside and sitting at a table. She waited for him to sit down, staring at him as he did.
When the waiter came around, she smiled as she took her menu. She mumbled a thank you, looking at the choices. “If you don’t have money, I’m fine with paying.” Kotone didn’t mind if he chose something expensive or not, she had a lot more money than she needed. She might as well buy a potential friend some food.
When Kotone knew what she wanted, she put her menu down. She looked over at the man, realizing she didn’t hear his name. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?” She laughed lightly, nervous smile on her face. “I was distracted earlier. I swear I’ll pay attention this time!”
Before Chester could even think, the bubbly girl – Kotone – had taken a hold on his arm, tugging him in the direction of a restaurant. She seemed to be talking a mile a minute and the disgruntled man had an annoying time trying to keep up with it all. And here I thought I was all over the fuckin’ place
“I’m sorry, what was your name again? I was distracted earlier. I swear I’ll pay attention this time!”
“…Hey, woman! Get me a beer,” he called over to the waitress, not even caring if she was in the middle of taking another’s order. If Kotone was paying, he’d obviously be stupid not to accept such a generous offer. There would have to be some self-control on his part, however, as getting drunk in front of a minor wasn’t smiled upon. Not that Chester cared about what other people thought, but who knows how he’d screw up he mission if his opposing self came out and fucked it all up.
“Nathaniel– Nate,” Chester lied, narrowing his eyes at the brunette. In truth, it didn’t matter if she knew his real name or not, it wouldn’t change that he had half her team in his pockets. He’d have to rid of her soon, since if what she was saying about the Pokemon escaping were true, then that would mean they were sleeping at the moment. When they wake up, they should notice it wasn’t their kind, warm-hearted trainer carrying them, but a cold-hearted one instead.
He’d slip away, right after he got his bear. The waitress was still taking the damned couple’s order, not appreciating being rudley barked at like she had. An unsettling impatience was nipping at Chester’s nerves, who was tapping his fingers on the little glass table they sat at in an attempt to rid of it. Of course it hardly did anything, but it didn’t stop him from tapping harder.
“Weren’t you worried about your precious team a minute ago? Where the fuck did that go? Didn’t last very long, if you ask me.”
The Executive stared Chester down with exasperation, then pressed a hand over his own mouth in a bid to keep himself from lashing out. Never in all his years as Interim Leader (granted, they were few), he had never been treated with such disdain.
“Yes, a maid. At least you’re not completely so incompetent that you caught that little detail.”
“What’s with that smug ass smirk of yours? It’s annoying, fucking stop–”
All of this was embarrassing, to say the least. This wasn’t what he signed up for! Chester joined Team Rocket for thrills of stealing and doing wrong, not scrubbing toilets and catering to needs like a little bitch. He certainly wasn’t going to quit, but if things didn’t go his way, well, Chester didn’t know what would happen then. Things almost always went his way, this was one of the rare times where it didn’t and it was unfamiliar to him; he didn’t like it.
“Hey–!”
Archer’s sarcastic response went amiss, Chester not exactly caring; whatever was said. It wouldn’t have made the grunt angry anyway, but what had was how he was now being ignored as Archer turned his back. It was the icing on the cake, so to speak, and before he could even contemplate how his actions would affect him, Chester reached out and roughly grabbed Archer’s shoulder, forcing the man to spin around and face him. The paperwork Archer had begun to gather was now scattered about on the floor, Chester having of knocked them out of his hand somewhere during the manhandling.
“Did you even fuckin’ hear me?! Don’t. Fuckin’. Ignore. Me!”
Chester didn’t see an executive in front of him anymore; it was just a man who he felt was mocking him and the degrading situation Chester had put himself in. Fingers digging into fabric, nails into skin– if he hadn’t of worked himself up so much, Chester might not have resorted to such behavior towards an executive.
An executive who could kick him out of Team Rocket for good, Hell, Archer had already stripped his rank and replaced it with something else. Granted it was only temporary, Chester realized right then that he’d rather be thrown out than be reduced to a maid.
Hulda could only watch in horror as the taller grunt snapped her earpiece in half, before snarling,
“Fuckin’ explain, then, kid. Sounds like treason to me; I’ll whip your ass if it is!”
Taken aback by his threat, Hulda began to back away slowly, pulling her hat down, covering the terrified expression on her face. Yelping slightly as her back hit the corridor wall, she began to regret agreeing to this mission. Trying to string together something that would get her out of trouble seemed impossible.
"I- I, um…" she stuttered, still thinking of something that would stall him just for a little longer, "I’m in a bit of a hurry, I really need to get going-" she began to walk past the grunt, only to be stopped by a rather large hand digging into her shoulder. Wincing at the sudden contact, Hulda did her best to pry his hand from her shoulder, but to no avail.
Looking around frantically, for something, someone that could help, Hulda could only see Rocket grunts giving her looks of disgust- they knew. She needed to get out of here and fast, before something worse happened.
"Okay, m-maybe I’m not a part of Team Rocket, b-but if you’d just be kind enough to let me go, I’ll leave without another word, please, sir.” She was desperate, now just throwing excuses at the taller male, in a vain attempt to leave unharmed. She noticed that she was now trembling, how pathetic.
Hulda was known to be a bit of a crybaby, which she could sometimes use to her advantage. She felt the tears pricking her eyes, quickly blinking them back, hoping the Rocket grunt hadn’t seen- She quickly used the last bit of her energy in a vain attempt to push him out the way and make a quick escape down the hall, but she couldn’t. He was taller, stronger, and most likely smarter than her. Even if she did somehow manage to get past him, there were another dozen grunts scattered down the hall, prepared to stop any intruder that entered the building. Fumbling with the broken earpiece, she listened to it carefully for anything, just a sound-
If the girl even thought she could get away from Chester of all grunts, she was surely mistaken. Before even a step could be made, Chester clasped his hand down, fingers digging so hard into her shoulder he was sure the bone would break under pressure. The idea had a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, before being whipped clean when the poor girl started to shake.
How pathetic..!
And if she even thought those tears were going to move him, she was surely mistaken–
“Okay, m-maybe I’m not a part of Team Rocket, b-but if you’d just be kind enough to let me go, I’ll leave without another word, please, sir.”
“Do I look like a fuckin’ good guy to you,” despite his harsh tone, Chester found himself chuckling at how amusing it was to watch Hulda beg and plead like she had. Someone actually thought a Rocket would be kind enough to do something? It was tempting to throw his head back and laugh.
“Of course you’re not part of Team Rocket, you stupid fuck..! A Rocket grunt wouldn’t break down like you’re doing!”
What took away his sliver of a good time was how she struggled against him, still trying to escape as if it were even an option. Frowning, Chester pushed her back, hand still on her shoulder as he backed her into a corner. It was a rough action, he knew, but it didn’t stop him from doing it. All the grunts in the hallway knew that it was in his nature to be rough, whether it was unlawfully disciplining other grunts – when it was clearly not in his authority to do so– or just for shits and giggles, it didn’t matter.
“So, tell me,” Chester cooed, letting go of her shoulder to slam the side of his fist on the wall next to her head. He leaned down then, still towering over her since his arm was raised. A mocking smile danced on his lips, eyes narrowing dangerously as the tone of his voice lowered.
“So a little black Mareep has stumbled in a horde of Houndoom, huh? Where the Hell did you come from, crybaby? You’re wandering into some pretty fuckin’ dangerous territory here.”
Proton leaned idly against one of the walls in the empty hallway. The place had been dull lately, and missions for him were scarce, so he’d taken it upon himself to start getting a few scares out of the newer recruits. He pulled a butterfly knife out of his pocket and began practicing his tricks. He was better with his left hand than his right, so he chose to work on closing that gap.
The slender executive was often armed regardless of whether he was on duty. Currently he carried his prized butterfly knife, a switchblade in his left pants pocket and a set of three sleek throwing knives tucked into the front of his shirt just below the collar. He found that his lean build and innocent face often caused people to underestimate him, allowing him to take them by surprise with weapons. Most of the older grunts knew this and backed down, but the inexperienced and stubborn often forgot that he was made executive for a reason.
Across the hallway from Proton was the room where beds had been set up for members with nowhere else to go. He chose this spot to keep an eye out for infighting most often, mostly because he’d lived in such a place for a few years and he knew how much it sucked when someone else in there hated you.
The closed door suddenly swung open, and with a slight smile on his face he took in the image of the man in front of him. It was one of the stubborn ones, who never seemed to really catch on that actions have consequences here. As their eyes met, Proton threw on his best baby-faced smile knowing it had a good chance of pissing the other guy off.
So you get up, you’re groggy, you walk outside and here’s this stupid asshole smiling at you like your mother never did while twirling a knife around. What are you gonna do about it?
"Top of the mornin’ to ya Chesty, did you remember to brush and floss today?"
The moment his tired, drooping eyes cracked open, Chester knew it was going to be a slow day. A slow day, that, unfortunately, was going to be boring and there was only one thing that kept himself going on a predictable day this morning already started out to be. It started with hardly any sleep, which was strange considering he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol the previous day. Only through the course of a hangover did Chester find it difficult to sleep, something that should have been the opposite of what it was, but thinking about it only made his head hurt worse. I need a fuckin’ drink…
Climbing out of bed was regretful, taking several tries for the new grunt to even be on his feet. His roommate, who claimed the top bunk the first day, was still snoring, and Chester resisted the urge to lie back down and ram his heel into the back of the mattress. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t of minded sleeping on the bottom bunk, the other being it was much easier climbing out of bed than struggling down that damn stepladder attached to the side.
“Hey– hey! Knock that shit off before I–”
Unfortunately for Chester, his oh-so-enjoyable roommate simply rolled over, still sounding like an Ursaring in a cave. Turning ones back towards someone like Chester while he was making threats would normally be a mistake, but said grunt was too groggy to care at the moment. With a simple grunt of annoyance and roll of his eyes, Chester got himself dressed in the dark and went to the front door without any effort. His eyesight excelled in the dark, it only took him a little longer since the only thing he was struggling with was the urge to go back to sleep.
The sudden, bright hallway lights temporarily blinded him, causing the grunt to squint.
“Top of the mornin’ to ya Chesty, did you remember to brush and floss today?”
Just as his eyes had begun to adjust, a familiar voice invaded his ears. Though not immediately did a face match up, Chester knew no ordinary member would greet him in such a way. He may be somewhat new to Team Rocker, but making enemies and being conceived as a threat was something he was good at regardless of trying.
Instead of coming up with a retort, he stared the supposed stranger, eyes narrowed as he tried to remember who the man leaning against the wall was. The nickname he gave had Chester’s lip twitching, but nonetheless no other negative reaction was given.
Fuck, what’s this guy’s name again? His voice is annoying.
Stepping off the large ferry, Hulda took in the beautiful scene that was the Kanto region. It was a whole lot better than the dull city of Veilstone, which she spent most of her time in. The air felt crisp and clean. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. Everything was perfect until-
"Remember your -KZZT- mission- H-47 KZZT-"
The sound of Saturn’s voice crackled in Hulda’s ear, through the small earpiece she was given back at Veilstone. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” She replied sarcastically, earning odd stares as she was ‘talking to herself’. “May I ask though, Saturn” She continued, “why did you assign this mission to me? I mean, c’mon, we both know I’m terrible in the field.” There was a silence, then the faint crackle of Saturn chuckling to himself.
"Just- carry -KZZT- out thiszszsz successfuly-y and -KZZT- we may be able to make arrangements of a new -KZZT- Commandererer…"
Saturn, that was not easy to believe.
Adjusting the hat on her own cheap version of a Team Rocket uniform, Hulda started to make her way towards Celadon City, which she had been told was where Team Rocket HQ was hidden, beneath a Game Corner. She reminded herself that Team Rocket were not like Team Galactic at all- oh, no no. They were thugs.
Keeping her head low as she followed the path into Celadon City, she instantly recognized the Game Corner that had been described to her earlier. With it’s bright purple neon lights and the faint sound of music being played drawing the attention of anyone who steps into this city, it wasn’t wise of Team Rocket to make it their hideout. Pushing open the door and stepping inside, she glanced around the brightly lit room. The sound of electronic voices and game consoles made it hard for Hulda to make out anything Saturn was saying to her, so she kept her eyes trained on a poster at the back of the room, which she had been told hid a switch that allowed you to access Team Rocket HQ. How sneaky.
Double checking she wasn’t being watched, Hulda carefully peeled off part of the poster, exposing some of the switch. Quickly pushing it and heading down the new set of stairs, Hulda then spoke into the earpiece, reporting that she was now in Rocket Headquarters.
The corridors were slightly similar to the ones back in Veilstone; long and narrow. There were a few Rocket grunts loitering about in the hallway, all of them talking among themselves. Hulda would occasionally tip her hat respectively to those who walked by, trying to fit in with with those around her. Just one more corner and-
-WHAM-
Staggering backwards, Hulda lifted her hat up slightly to see a rather peeved looking member of Team Rocket, his uniform matching hers. Realizing she had just walked directly into him, she took a moment to compose herself before smiling awkwardly at the man standing before her.
"O-oh, I’m terribly sorry for bumping into you like that! I wasn’t looking where I was going, I take full responsibility!" Her voice sounding very high-pitched compared to the others-
He looked as if he was going to let it slide, before the worst possible thing happened.
"H-47! What just -KZZT- happened? Who are you-ou-ou talking to? Stay focused-d-d!" Saturn’s voice blasted in Hulda’s ear, loud enough for her and the Rocket grunt to her perfectly.
Laughing nervously, Hulda realized she was running out of options.
Grumbling under his breath, Chester was stomping down the halls of Team Rocket HQ, obviously distressed, though from what he himself didn’t know. His headache could be a key factor, the throbbing pain having of jumpstarted one of his common temperamental mood swings. Coworkers kept their distances regularly, and it wasn’t a surprise to see them doing the same when Chester was feeling this way. It was obvious by the extra stress lines on his face that he was more irritated than usual, so none wanted to converse even in the littlest way.
Fuck, I need something to drink… It’s too damn loud in here.
There were only a few grunts in the halls, barely any light chatter here and there, though to Chester they might as well of been screaming back and forth. He wanted to wring their necks, force them to keep their mouth shuts so he could get some peace and quiet for one second.
Itching at his Rocket uniform, which the Boss seriously needed to change, Chester rounded a corner, too focused on glaring daggers at the big, red “R” to notice someone doing the same on the other side. They collided, the shorter looking perplexed as Chester refocused his gaze onto her.
"O-oh, I’m terribly sorry for bumping into you like that!”
A twitch tugged at the corner of his eye. Goddamn, her voice is annoying-!
Pinching the bridge of his nose, brows knitted in disdain as Chester went to push her out of his way, before a loud static met his ears next. The voice was unrecognizable, cutting off at unnecessary sequences and being interrupted by what he knew as interference. Normally, he wouldn’t give two shits and stomp off, letting the kid deal with her own problems, even it was a possible threat to Team Rocket as a whole. But, with how shocked the grunt was, Chester figured she’d be fun to mess with; a good doll to vent his frustrations on.
"Listen, I can explain-"
Before she could even begin to explain, her earpiece was roughly tugged away, now in Chester’s hold. There was a harsh frown as he listened carefully, only able to pick up a few meaningless words at a time. His impatient composure caused the device to be snapped in half, before being released, now dangling from the female’s form.
“Fuckin’ explain, then, kid. Sounds like treason to me; I’ll whip your ass if it is!” As if I have that authority-
Ignoring the grunt’s protests, Karen continued to drag the man down a hallway more dimly lit than the rest of the casino.
"You do have a mission, you idiot, there’s no other Chester in the whole damned organization! It’s not my fault if you can’t fucking keep track of your own shit, but it is my fault if your stupidity gets my ass in trouble!”
At last, she had reached the end of the dim hallway, and here lay what she’d been looking for: the restrooms.
She turned back to look at her catch and scowled at the pathetic face that greeted her.
To her disgust, he spoke:
"C-Can’t you let go of me?! The Great Chester isn’t supposed to be handled like this!"
Karen bared her teeth and wrapped her hand around his neck, her nails digging into his skin.
"I’ll handle you however I want,” she growled. She tossed him into the men’s bathroom, following him inside. The bathroom’s current occupants turned to view the commotion; the more sober ones seemed to be be simply confused, while the more intoxicated ones laughed, leered, didn’t notice at all. Regardless, all could recognize the sheer fury in Karen’s eyes, and they did vacate the room, leaving her alone with her prey.
"Wash yourself up," she said. "It’s supposed to be formal attire, but at least you’re not wearing your uniform."
"No way I'm wearing the uniform! It's itchy- too itchy..."
There was a lump in Chester's throat then, rapidly approaching his mouth and soon the grunt was in a vacated stall, emptying the contents of his stomach. On his knees, head halfway in the toilet, hands gripping the bowl tightly and to top it all off, chunks of what he ate that morning stuck to his bottom lip.
Pathetic, really. Throwing up was the worst part about drinking. There were ways around it, but how Chester drank― how much Chester drank, avoiding it was out of the question.
I've always hated this part―
After a few dreaded minutes of dry heaving, did he feel it was safe to stand, and he did so, flushing the mess and slamming the seat down. Not a glance towards Karen as Chester rounded to the sink, washing his face with warm water. Finally he looked at himself in the mirror, though all he saw was a blur of green from his hair. Lazily did he rub his eyes, trying to fix his vision as he faced Karen, leaning back against the counter for support.
"Who the," a hiccup, "are you? I think I'd... Remember someone like you."
The sober Chester did indeed know who Karen was or had at least seen her around base. Alcohol often messed with minds, and for Chester it was memory. Luckily it would start fading soon, for whatever this "mission" was, he certainly didn't want to screw it all up because of some booze. It wouldn't be the first time, but with this partner, there would be more than just a simple scolding.
