TOXICITY [☠] SKULLSHIPPING

[☠] PART 1

ROUTE 13, ULA'ULA ISLAND, ALOLA

This little room in a dirty, cramped camper is going to be the death of her. She feels herself dying already; she can't stand the thought of life without them, without him. Team Skull was all that she had. And here she is, barely thriving on the outskirts of the Haina Desert. All she has is the remnants of her uniform, a faded photograph, and the pokémon that she raised.

She lost everything else. She lost her friends. She lost her leader. She lost her will to live.

The fluorescent streetlamp outside is the only light source in the room. It's enough for her to see her wretched reflection in the dirty, dingy mirror she has. It is smudged and caked with dust, but somehow it's nicer than the one she had back in Po Town.

She holds a makeup compact in her hands. The powder inside is a stark white, meant to be used all over your face for a striking pallor. But, she used to like caking it around her heavy eyeliner. The loud contrast, snow white on pitch black... He said it made her look beautiful.

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"Y-You're looking so gorg in that m-makeup," he slurred.

Her heart skipped a beat. "You... You really think so?" she sputtered. Did he, the big bad boss, really pay her a compliment? He never did this. He would never praise his grunts and underlings in such a way.

"Yeah, th-that's why I fuckin' said it," he said. He turned to face her, eyes glazed over. He wouldn't remember any of this in the morning. All he would have of this night is a bad headache and an empty bed.

She frowns. She hates seeing him like this. She doesn't know why the hell he does this. Is this all because of his demons? Is it because of his shortcomings? Nothing really explained his bad habits and Team Skull. But still he sat there, in his purple 'throne,' drinking like a Magikarp out of water.

"You like... You're l-lookin' like a Tsareena with th-that liner. All mean a-and..."

He stops speaking. His empty eyes gaze out of the broken window. Everything in this room was broken: holes in the walls, dents in the bedframe, a shelf that barely stood under the weight of all the liquor bottles it held.

This could be it. This could be her one fleeting chance. She loved all of her stupid little grunts with every last bit of her heart. But Guzma... She felt something different for him. If she could help him tonight, if she could just get him to drop the bottle...

"Guzma..." she starts. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

Everything freezes. But slowly, Guzma clenches his fist tight around the bottle of whiskey he was drinking from. He expects a number of things from his admin. But counseling? Fuck that. He snaps his arm forward and sends the bottle flying. It hits the wall hard, shattering into a million pieces upon impact.

The sudden movement and loud sound makes Plumeria scream. "Guzma!!" she shrieks. "Why?!"

"It's n-none of ya f-fuckin' business!" he shouts. "Y-You got somthin' else 'ta say?!"

She'll never forget the vacant stare he gave her. How could something so hollow cut her so deep? She watches as he makes his way to the liquor cabinet. He grabs his second bottle for the night, another handle of bottom-shelf vodka. With a drinking habit like his, the cheap shit is all he can afford.

"G-Get the f-fuck out, P-Plum-Plumeria," he sputters, hardly able to speak.

"Guzma, no, I have to help—"

"G-Get the fuck out!" he screams. "I'm s-sick of l-looking at your b-beautiful face!"

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She clenches the compact so tight her knuckles are turning white. White, like that powder, like the makeup he loved so much, like his messy, ugly hair. She screams as she tosses the compact with the same force Guzma tossed his empty bottles. It went smashing through the mirror, sending large shards of glass crashing down onto the dirty carpet.

"Plumeria?!"

The door to her room went flying open. Light from the main area filtered into her room, but most of it was blocked by the shadow of an overweight woman.

"Sweetie, I heard glass breaking—"

"Get the fuck out," Plumeria replied, her voice shaking. She turned to face the woman in her doorway. One of her former grunts was oh-so kind to take her in. The only stipulation was that they would be sharing the world's smallest camper with her overbearing mother.

The grunt's mother nodded furiously as she reached for the doorknob and slammed the door shut. Plumeria turned back around to face the wreckage. The entire mirror laid in pieces on the floor. There was spilled white makeup all over the carpet, a telltale sign the compact had been busted open.

That stupid Guzma... He's going to pay for what he did to her. She hasn't slept in weeks. She's barely eating. All she can do is lay on a mat on the floor, staring at the ceiling, wondering what would've happened that night if he wasn't so drunk... Or if he wasn't drunk at all.

This has to change. She can't go on like this anymore. They have a score to settle, and it's about damn time it's taken care of. She has to find Guzma. And she has to find him now.

She threw whatever necessities she had in a small rucksack. A change of clothes, undergarments, her trusty black eyeliner, three poké balls that contained her pokémon, various medicines, and a ride pager. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

Plumeria reached around her head to readjust her bandana. It was snug, and her bag was packed, and she was ready to hit the road again. She took one last look at her dusty, dirty, dreadful room. She was relieved that she wouldn't be back here for a while.

She was almost stopped by the former grunt and her mother, but one glare sent them stepping back. She exited the camper and was surrounded by the stifling, hot Haina Desert air. Plumeria inhaled deeply. This barren desert was almost comforting. But this is not what she wants. She wants the place where rain falls in sheets, where the sun never shines. She wants Po Town.

The shanty town she used to call home is at the northwestern-most part of the island. This is where she suspected that Guzma is at. After all, it's where the old base is. Where else would he be?

It would be quite the trip on foot, and if she was to reach him in a timely manner, she'd have to get there fast. The ride pager was her only option at this point. She turned the device on and sent out a call for a Charizard. She wouldn't be making a quiet entrance, but that would never be in Team Skull's fashion anyway.

The fire and flying-type swooped down in front of Plumeria. She hopped onto its back and held on tight to the saddle. As the Charizard took to the sky, she shut her eyes. Whatever was going to happen in this town, she only hoped that it would go over well.