Pidgey on the Team

You watch the Pokéball shake once, twice, thrice before it clicks, and you drop to your knees, tension fleeing from your body, a new partner in hand. You plant a firm kiss on the cold metal, and stash the Pokéball away as Bulbasaur slumps beside you, its bulb worn from the scuffle. You turn to pet it, when a sleazy wolf-whistle snaps your attention. A tall, scrawny guy—must be in his early twenties—emerges from the shade of the forest ahead of you, expression masked by the sun still dawning behind him. 'Well, damn, girl,' he says, as he reaches into his unbuttoned shirt to grab a Pokéball, 'You're a treat, huh? Doesn't look to me like your little friend there can do much, does it?' He flicks his wrist, tossing the Pokéball lightly. 'It's no match for my Beedrill—you could make this easy for the both of us!' he jeers, as a large, red-eyed Beedrill emerges, eyes locked already on your weakened Bulbasaur.

You panic as his words crawl over your skin—face burning with a mix of shame and anger as you frantically search your bag for your potion. 'Beedrill, use Twineedle!' he calls, watching you fumble with the potion in your hand, 'That potion ain't gonna help that little runt. Just give up already, babe—you know you want a good time,' he taunts, while you quickly spray your Bulbasaur.

Before you can even call a move though, Beedrill crashes into your Bulbasaur, its stingers mercilessly sending him flying from your arms, knocking you backwards. 'Bulbasaur, no!' you cry, scrambling to reach for him. But, even with the potion, it's too late. You stand, stunned for a second, as the weight of what just happened sinks in, before that creep's voice drags you back to the present. 'Told you that small waste of space wasn't worth a thing.'

Anger surges through your veins. You want to walk over to this bastard, this… this excuse of a human, and beat the crap out of him. Waste of space? You'll show him what a fucking waste of space is. You recall your Bulbasaur quickly, and press the cold surface of its ball to your forehead, and whisper, 'Don't worry, you're worth the world to me. Rest easy, buddy,' before pocketing the ball and turning to face the prick opposite you. 'I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but nobody calls Bulbasaur a waste of space!' you cry, lobbing Pidgey out. 'Pidgey, go!'

Pidgey bursts from its Pokéball, wings flapping—though you notice one droops slightly crooked from its earlier battle. It lands, talons scraping the dirt, eying Beedrill with a shaky glare. Your heart pounds—Pidgey's hurt, and this bastard's smug grin... like he's already won... 'Beedrill, end it with Poison Sting!' you hear him command, his voice filled with smug confidence. Your jaw clenches, you slap your cheeks. This is for Bulbasaur—but also for Pidgey, you think as you gather yourself, before crying out, 'Pidgey! Dodge, quickly!' Beedrill buzzes forward, stingers poised to strike, but Pidgey just barely dodges it, crooked wing dragging. 'Again, use Poison Sting!' you hear, as your Pidgey recovers from its late dodge. You've got to do something, you can't just keep dodging.

You step forward, heart burning with both anger and passion, as you call out to your new friend, 'Pidgey, get behind it and use Peck!'

It barely manages to lift off with its damaged wing, but nonetheless it manages it. A fierce chirp from Pidgey echoes through the sky as if, in slow-motion, it dives behind Beedrill and delivers a critical hit to its back, sending it crashing to the dirt.

You watch as the trainer's grin vanishes, a blank, confused expression flooding his shaded face. 'No fu—No way, that little—' You smirk, blood still boiling, but laced with something new—vicious pride. Pidgey flaps back to you, wobbling but proud, and you kneel, stroking its feathers. 'You did it!' you cheer, heart swelling. 'Pidgey, return,' you call, tapping its beak with its Pokéball, before planting a signature kiss on the cold metal. Your eyes return to the smug prick who's calling his Beedrill. "Gonna show me that ‘good time’ now, tough guy?" you call out?

You walk over to him, a fake smile on your lips. You haven't forgotten what he called your Bulbasaur, and you will make him pay for that. But for now, you'll play your part, get his guard down, and then you'll make him apologise.