Project: Titans -- A Pokemon Story (OC x Piers)

Chapter 27

"Father," I mumbled, shifting around in my bed. "I've got a headache today, so no missions, alright?"
"Missions? Piers, I think you might've hit 'er harder than ya thought."

Eyes snapping open, I leapt off of whatever I was laying on. At least, I tried to. I was tangled in a snare, bound like a mummy in thick ropes, so I ended up just squirming around like a Wurmple, eventually falling off the bench I was tied up on and hitting my head with a grunt.

Once I got myself into a position where I could look at my captors, I immediately recognized them. Piers, looking all smug and confident, was leaning against a chain link fence. Clad in a Dark-type uniform and cropped white motorcycle jacket, he looked like a Gene Simons-in-training, especially with his hair. Three ponytails of black and white locks hung down by his waist, and one of his piercing, green eyes was obstructed by some of it. He wasn't a man one could forget easily.

The other was a little girl, with black hair pulled back in two pigtails. She wore a simple pink dress, and had a black leather jacket on. I recognized her after a good few seconds of looking as the girl in the Morpeko dress, and the girl who had found Meowsie; Marnie. She must be his successor, I thought.

For a moment, I wondered why they were looking at me from the other side of a fence. Then, I realized they were looking into a cage-like area, surrounded by walls on three sides and a fence on the other side. The cage looked out onto a concrete battlefield (The Dark Gym, no doubt), with a stage on my left-hand side and some sort of team logo in neon lights behind it.

Admittedly, I was a bit nervous at what might happen. I hadn't been arrested since I was nine, and I'd never been taken hostage by an enemy organization. But, I couldn't let on how worried I was, so I went with my age-old motto; When in doubt, be sassy.

"Have you been watching me sleep this whole time?" I asked, eyeing Piers like I was suspicious of his 'ulterior motives'. And I was, in a way. I had no idea why it was an ex-Gym Leader with people problems staring me down instead of a police officer. "I mean, I know I'm pretty hot, and I know I might look helpless being perpetually short and all, but really. I have fans, but nobody's ever gone so far as to stalk me in my sleep."

He flushed pink, but he said nothing to deny how creepy he'd been. "Besides, I'm not really into men who wear Pokemon-skin hats. They're cruel, they look like somebody stuck a Zigzagoon on their head, and they went out of style with parachute pants and Donna Summer."

"That's my hair, actually," he growled, the pink turning into a deep crimson of anger.
"Wow. And I can't even get mine to hit my back when it's straight," I murmured. Trying to stand, I realized I wasn't just tangled up in some random rope. My legs were bound in a series of complicated knots. So were my hands. Actually, I was completely wrapped in black rope from chest to toe, and I couldn't even take a really deep breath without chafing my skin.

"Let me out of this rope," I snarled slowly, giving him my best death glare. To my surprise, he didn't even flinch. He must have noticed my surprise, because he said, "If you spend enough time with intimidatin' Pokemon, you get used to them. But I doubt you're any scarier than a Purrloin."

"Let me out of here and I'll show you scary," I yelled, struggling to loosen myself from the ropes binding me. I was about to call Meowsie and tell her to slice the ropes to ribbons, when realization struck like a Thunderbolt. My backpack. It wasn't in here. All my luxury balls were gone. Which meant all my Pokemon...

"Where are my partners?!" I shouted angrily, flailing around, wiggling my arms out of the cocoon. "Nowhere you should be concerned," he said flatly. I almost had my right arm loose. Just a little more...

"Now, you're probably wonderin' who I am an' where you've been taken."
"You're Piers," I replied, wiggling around even more, my other arm almost freed. "The ex-Dark type Gym Leader. Got a bit of credit for doing some above-average street performing, and leading around a band of lunatics who have no respect for people, or the word 'quiet'."