The Mask Maker

A Deal With the Devil

Ouch

The floor was hard and cold. The Mask Maker had awakened, but didn't want to move too much yet. That was partly because she wanted to decipher her surroundings before giving her conscious state away, and partly because she was in a lot of pain. Every part of her was sore, especially her neck. She was stabbed with a needle there, after all, but she felt like it hurt more than it should. It felt as if something like a bandage had been put over it. She kept her eyes closed and took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out exactly what state she was in. The trainer had fought harder than she realized. The room she was in—from what she could hear— was silent, except for a distant droning of unknown origin. She could feel a blanket or quilt of some sort underneath her that was thin enough to feel the ground below it and a pillow under her head. 

That's nice of them, I suppose...wait a second. My mask! Oh no, did they take it off?  Has my identity been revealed? Has my journey been cut short before it even started? Is the life of my mask-less self ruined because I—

"Hey, she's awake!" a voice exclaimed from a short distance away. 

Startled, her eyes shot open. It looked and felt like she still had her mask on, but a deep seed of worry had been planted within her mind. Did they take it off while she was unconscious? Did they know? Of all the people to know, Team Rocket wasn't the ideal choice. She tried instinctively to jump up and fight, but was stopped in the seated position. 

"You probably don't want to do that, unless you want to fall right back down again," the voice said. 

"Yeah, that stuff hasn't completely worn off yet. You don't even have complete control of your muscles back. We've been watching you to make sure you don't die in your sleep!" a high-pitched voice interjected. 

"I...appreciate the diligence," The Mask Maker said. She was sitting with her back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her. She looked around, squinting. It felt like she had just been woken up from the deepest sleep stage imaginable, probably because she had been. She was in a small room, occupied by herself and two Team Rocket grunts—one male, one female. She looked down. Her hands had been tied in front of her, and her coat and tie had been taken off. She assumed the tie was to prevent her from choking. She had also used up her psychic stamina, and it hadn't been restored by her involuntary sleep. 

"So where am I exactly?" she asked. 

"In our headquarters. Well, one of them, at least. There's one for every region." 

"And we're in the...?"

"We, can't tell you that, silly! Haven't you ever been kidnap—" 

The grunt stopped after receiving a glare from her partner. 

"Ahem, I mean, haven't you ever—uh—been forcibly rendered unconscious and taken to a secret location against your will?" 

"You're a guest as long as you don't try to attack everyone unprovoked and jump out of a plane," the other grunt said, extending a hand to help their "guest" up. 

She didn't take it. She could stand up by herself, thank you very much, hands tied or not. 

It turns out, she couldn't. She underestimated the after-effects of whatever she had been injected with and started to fall over. The grunts caught her, and she growled. They helped her onto a couch nearby. She was still very weak and out of energy, and she didn't like being this helpless. She didn't like it at all. 

Even though the room was small and mostly empty in terms of furniture, it was neatly decorated. The walls were a very dark gray, with deep red accents. A red rug sat on the floor in front of the couch, which was also red. A couple of tapestries with the "R" logo had been hung up and a statue of a Meowth with its paw on a coin sat on a pedestal in the corner. Looking closer at it, the trainer was pretty sure a camera was imbedded in it.