TWO blue eyes fluttered open, and the white, furry mass shifted as she woke.
Oh, if only that we’re true.
Else’s good eye was the only one that actually opened; the other did nothing. The camera that took up her left remained on no matter what she did, and while it helped her stay alert in the arena, she wished that, for once, she could be a normal Volcarona, who evolved normally. Who looked normal, and worked normally. But no, she was stuck for all eternity in this accursed laboratory, and her once organic body was laced with metal parts. She hated it, however much she hid that fact from the others.
Maybe she should have given up the “goody two-shoes” act a long time ago. It was obvious that she was never getting promoted, all because of what those idiot humans had done to her. But she’d used it so long that it was drilled into her mind, and nobody could ever change that. Actually, that was a lie. The scientists could probably do whatever they wanted to her, and she couldn’t lift a finger to stop them. Not that she had fingers, anyways. It was a wonder they hadn’t altered all their brains to be mindless machines, although they probably wanted to see how their experiments affected our mentality.
Experiments; it was a word that most, if not all, of them spat out as if the very taste of the word on their tongues was revolting. It was a word that signified the humans’ dominance over the lowly creatures known as Pokémon, a word which triggered hatred and malice. Changed destinies, corrupted fates, the very fibers of their being altered without their consent. They were powerless against these horrible beings, and they know it. It was their choice whether they wanted to side with them and harness this power, or if they prefer to plot against the humans and work towards their ultimate demise.
Else was one who was torn between the two. Her nature prevented her from outright hating the scientists, because they probably thought they were doing the right thing. At the same time, she hated the way they treated their Test Subjects, and wanted them to pay. Torn between her emotions, she stayed on the neutral side of the battle.
Shifting in the uncomfortably small bed she called her own, Else unfolded her cloth wings and shivered to get her muscles moving. Today was another day for an arena battle, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
She sat quietly as the room woke slowly, and eyed those who had woken up before her. These Pokémon would soon be her opponents in battle.
-~-~-
IN a different bed, a brown ear twitched, and the grumpiest Raichu in the world opened her eyes. She took some pride in that; she was grumpy, and everybody with half a brain knew that. She was THE grumpy Raichu, and that was how it would stay.
Of course, having ridiculously sensitive ears didn’t help at all. Thunder hated waking up early, and that was hard to prevent when the slightest of noises woke her up. At least it was useful in the arena, the same way that Else’s eye was. Thunder hated failure about as much as she hated being woken up early, if not more, and her ears had helped her with avoiding that more than once.
Today, they’d probably help her once more in the Arena. She despised working for the scientists, but what more could you do if you were stuck in a laboratory? Besides, the fighting was kind of exhilarating.
Pushing herself upright and stretching, she rolled off her low straw bed and stood up. “Good morning, folks,” she said, sarcasm tinting her tone with a darker note. “Fine day, ain’t it?” This was a routine for her; every day they had to go to the Arena, upon waking up, she commented on what a nice day it was. Oh yes, it was very “nice”.Â
-~-~-
BUT in the Assistants’ chambers, two mortal enemies woke. Normally, they wouldn’t wake so early, but today they were needed in the laboratory. Two discolored canids’ eyes shot open at the same moment, and then found each other as they glared across the room. Each rose, warily eyeing each other as they got to their feet, refusing to take their eyes off of one another.
Wildfire, the shiny Manectric. Placid, the albino Umbreon. Each hated the other with a passion, and each knew that only the scientists prevented them from attacking each other.
Silently, Wildfire stared long and hard at Placid, and then stormed out of the room as he did every morning. His cold eyes showed dominance, as well as the darker side of him; his slowly growing case of insanity. The feral manic in his eyes combined with the cold, no-nonsense glare created an intimidating effect, the expression he always wore. Intimidation gave him respect, and with respect came power. It was power that he craved over all else, and it was power that ate at him from the inside and worsened the growth of his insanity.
Placid stayed in the room and began nudging those who were still asleep awake. He took responsibility for as many things as he could in the hopes to be promoted to the one level above an Assistant, the nameless position that would give him more power to rebel. He knew that Thunder for sure would never make it, due to being cloned from a traitor who had reached that level, but maybe he would have hope. Still, the scientists wouldn’t forget his part in the old rebellion very easily.
And yet, he had to try.
Ooc; You might have to read Thunder/Placid/Wildfire’s past to get this one. They’re long, but they explain a lot :P