Michael Corleone
New Member
Sin City
Four years in the same uniform, and now I can’t get used to not wearing it. My civilian clothes aren’t as tight fitting, so I feel they’re about to slip off. Without the sever black and red tunic, with it’s red “R” logo of authority, I feel like I have lost any authority I once possessed. Out of habit I’ve neatly combed my thick, brown hair, even though I hated doing it when I first arrived at the headquarters. My large blue eyes in the mirror I stand before are the same; my face is still too long and pale as if it’s reflecting a harrowing life, and my body is still tall and lightly built enough to almost make me look ill. Still it doesn’t feel like me underneath the denim jacket, so vital for covering my arms, my Hard Rock Café T-shirt, and plain, black trousers. Less smart than those of the uniform despite their colour. All it needs to make me look like a slob is some stubble. For a moment I panic. I think this is a big mistake. So, whipping the sweat from my forehead, I turn around to avoid confronting the fact that I’m quitting my life as a Rocket grunt and becoming a Pokemon trainer. Now I’m looking at my cheap apartment style room, crammed and particularly utilitarian with all my personal effects in a sports bag on the bed. The company’s famous red and black colour code was everywhere, and all the furniture has the R on it. They can’t let you forget how grateful you should be to them for taking you in. I spot a picture resting on a table next to the bed. I forgot to pack it. I take it and looked at the three uniformed men on it, all smiling happily, and I realise with a shock that one of them is me. I looked so young. Almost childish. I checked to see that my most precious possessions, in their non-descript, innocent looking biscuit tin, are safely at the bottom of the bag, with clothes and things on top to make sure no one sees it. I have to take my Vulpix, called Vulcan, with me of course, but I wouldn’t consider putting him in a Pokeball for the journey. He was on the bed, watching me.
“Your not on the photo. I guess we weren’t close enough yet. Sorry” I say to him.
“Vul Vulpix Vul Pix Pix” he replied. I take it he’s telling me it’s ok.
I dropped the photo in the bag. Someone knocks at the door. I know I can’t avoid another person saying goodbye, can’t just pretend I’m not here till whoever it is goes away, so I answer. I see it’s Meowth, and I suddenly feel contempt for his ridiculous appearance. A stupid, giant cat like some children’s cartoon, with a bad gangster accent. What was next? A Penguin from Alabama?
“They’re ready for ya downstairs. You know I never saw one a’ these leaving ceremonies before. Is it true the boss’ll be there to give a speech?”
“It’s just my waiting around for ages while the executives give boring speeches about how I should take Team Rocket’s values out into the real world. Like what? Always let them know you’re coming using a stupid motto? I don’t want this. I want to leave quietly. I’m not even dressed for an official gathering.”
“That’s the point. Besides you look fine.”
“I look like Henry Hill, after he joined the witness protection programme. Adam Kails, unimportant man walking.”
“If ya don’t wanna quit, I think now is da time to say it.”
“I want to quit. When I came here, before the new “Humanitarian” rules about who could become a Trainer were created, I did this stuff because it was the only way I could get a Pokemon. I’ve always said since then that I’d leave once I found something slightly better. Now I’m starting to do jobs because I like it. When you enjoy all this you know its time to hand in your notice.”
“OK. We’re all waiting.”
Four years in the same uniform, and now I can’t get used to not wearing it. My civilian clothes aren’t as tight fitting, so I feel they’re about to slip off. Without the sever black and red tunic, with it’s red “R” logo of authority, I feel like I have lost any authority I once possessed. Out of habit I’ve neatly combed my thick, brown hair, even though I hated doing it when I first arrived at the headquarters. My large blue eyes in the mirror I stand before are the same; my face is still too long and pale as if it’s reflecting a harrowing life, and my body is still tall and lightly built enough to almost make me look ill. Still it doesn’t feel like me underneath the denim jacket, so vital for covering my arms, my Hard Rock Café T-shirt, and plain, black trousers. Less smart than those of the uniform despite their colour. All it needs to make me look like a slob is some stubble. For a moment I panic. I think this is a big mistake. So, whipping the sweat from my forehead, I turn around to avoid confronting the fact that I’m quitting my life as a Rocket grunt and becoming a Pokemon trainer. Now I’m looking at my cheap apartment style room, crammed and particularly utilitarian with all my personal effects in a sports bag on the bed. The company’s famous red and black colour code was everywhere, and all the furniture has the R on it. They can’t let you forget how grateful you should be to them for taking you in. I spot a picture resting on a table next to the bed. I forgot to pack it. I take it and looked at the three uniformed men on it, all smiling happily, and I realise with a shock that one of them is me. I looked so young. Almost childish. I checked to see that my most precious possessions, in their non-descript, innocent looking biscuit tin, are safely at the bottom of the bag, with clothes and things on top to make sure no one sees it. I have to take my Vulpix, called Vulcan, with me of course, but I wouldn’t consider putting him in a Pokeball for the journey. He was on the bed, watching me.
“Your not on the photo. I guess we weren’t close enough yet. Sorry” I say to him.
“Vul Vulpix Vul Pix Pix” he replied. I take it he’s telling me it’s ok.
I dropped the photo in the bag. Someone knocks at the door. I know I can’t avoid another person saying goodbye, can’t just pretend I’m not here till whoever it is goes away, so I answer. I see it’s Meowth, and I suddenly feel contempt for his ridiculous appearance. A stupid, giant cat like some children’s cartoon, with a bad gangster accent. What was next? A Penguin from Alabama?
“They’re ready for ya downstairs. You know I never saw one a’ these leaving ceremonies before. Is it true the boss’ll be there to give a speech?”
“It’s just my waiting around for ages while the executives give boring speeches about how I should take Team Rocket’s values out into the real world. Like what? Always let them know you’re coming using a stupid motto? I don’t want this. I want to leave quietly. I’m not even dressed for an official gathering.”
“That’s the point. Besides you look fine.”
“I look like Henry Hill, after he joined the witness protection programme. Adam Kails, unimportant man walking.”
“If ya don’t wanna quit, I think now is da time to say it.”
“I want to quit. When I came here, before the new “Humanitarian” rules about who could become a Trainer were created, I did this stuff because it was the only way I could get a Pokemon. I’ve always said since then that I’d leave once I found something slightly better. Now I’m starting to do jobs because I like it. When you enjoy all this you know its time to hand in your notice.”
“OK. We’re all waiting.”
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