Origin Story: Part 1 - Haunted by the Truth

CH09: Hidden Warehouse

"Frank, who is this kid? You're compromising our mission right now," a huffy woman snorted in annoyance as she stood in your way, your hand clutching at your hood to keep your hair out of her focus while your other hand was in your pocket, where your honchkrow was currently waiting to be set free, and would probably start pecking at the tall adult if she got any closer to you.

"Sorry Mrs. Lina, but this is a kid friend of mine. I'll send her off, but I need to talk to her, for a sec. I promise to you she won't be any trouble."

"Hmm... Well," she glared down at you, probably not liking the idea of bringing a kid on a very top-secret mission, but then again this could be the perfect opportunity to have a new recruit, and she is aware of the grunt's old background. So maybe this is another potential new young recruit into the team's ranks, "I will let you do this, but only this one time, and she better be gone in less than an hour. We all need to board the ship before the police arrive. I have no doubt they're on to us."

"Yes ma'am," your friend smiled happily, a bit deviously, but he kept a tight grip on your hand as he pulled you into the inner hideout of Team Rocket, your eyes unable to stop glancing around, curiously, at everything that you saw.

It was obvious that this wasn't a big ass base for Team Rocket. It was hidden in a storage facility where crates would be stored after ships undock at the port. You saw random crates all over the place, holding... well, whatever, but what truly caught your attention was the multitude of cages filled with small pokemon, all looking horribly miserable, some crying out for help and others accepting their fates in silent, smoldering dread and rage.

Back then, before you lost your mum, you would have instantly ran to those cages and try to free every pokemon cage you came across, but now a days... after seeing so much with your daddy, you know just how cruel the world can be, and if you don't want to be thrown back out onto the streets, you need to keep your mouth shut and ignore the cruelty around you. Yeah, sure, it was difficult, but you wouldn't even be here if you hadn't run into Marko, and you want to talk to him as quickly as possible.

So, it didn't take him long to find a quieter spot, far away from the movement all around you, as grunts continued to move boxes and crates around, and several sending the frightened pokemon into pokeballs, pokeballs designed to capture pokemon that have already been captured by legitimate registered pokeballs. You noticed that he seemed to try to shield you from the chaos by putting his larger frame in front of the people walking about, as you two hid behind crates, as if you were cornered at the end of a hedge maze, but you know Marko wouldn't do something shady... you hope, but you could tell he was worried as well as serious, as he glared at you with his dark golden pair of eyes, as if he was staring right into your very soul.

"Look, Violet, we don't have much time. So let's get to the point. Where's your dad? I thought you went off with him months ago –"

"Dead," you practically spat out, glaring back up at him since he was glaring down at you, your arms crossing over your chest as your arms tugged at the straps of your backpack a bit too uncomfortably. "He's dead, Marko, 'kay?"

"W-wah?... When? I never thought such a guy could die so easily," he decided to ask, but noticing the distort look in your angry eyes, he quickly put up his hands, "b-but if you don't want to talk about it, that's cool. I get that."

"... I think... h-he angered some people, and they sent assassins to kill him... and maybe me, too," you responded in a meek tone of voice, unable to hold your composure as you began to stare at your shoes, and notice just how gross and muddy your small hiking shoes actually are. "... I'm scared, Marko. If I end up dead somewhere, I-I just hope someone figures out who that dead kid is."