Team Rocket it is

Clad in your usual Team Rocket uniform, you feel just as unstoppably evil as ever. Your white cap compliments your jet-black hair, and nicely matches your white shirt and pencil skirt. The shirt, however, is a bit small. It doesn’t even reach the bottom of your boobs, much less your midriff. A triangle is cut out of the bottom as well, a seemingly unnecessary design choice which exposes some upside-down cleavage. Your eye-catching melons would practically be hanging out in the open if not for a skintight black undershirt, but it covers your boobs and not a centimeter more, still leaving your smooth tummy exposed. Not that you mind, because sex appeal is just one more tool you have for doing evil things! Your skirt is equally tight, allowing enough space to walk but that’s about it. No bra or panties, obviously. They’re just stuffy garments that would get in the way of your fun. To top things off, you have black latex elbow gloves and thigh highs. And who could forget the red, capital ‘R’ on your shirt? Anybody who sees you knows that they’re in trouble.

Title Changed: Team Rocket **** → Team Rocket Grunt

Sitting in the bushes, you wait for the next easy target to come along. This place is nice and secluded, but trainers pass by occasionally, and that’s when you’ll strike. Indeed, it wouldn’t do for a cool, smug, domineering lady such as yourself to be spotted while waiting-

“Uhh, hey lady. What are you doing?” There’s a guy on the path staring straight at you. In retrospect, you weren’t camouflaged very well.

You leap from the bushes and point directly at the boy. “Curse your bad luck, because you’ve just attracted the attention of Team Rocket! Prepare to be robbed for everything you’re worth! …Hey, you’re awfully short. Can I see your ID?” He’s shorter than you, which is rare to begin with, but especially for a male.

He ignores your prompt and stares slackjawed at your chest. Ah, right. Big boobs and disrespectful boys. You cover your boobs with one arm, bringing the boy back to his senses long enough to hand you his ID. Yup, he’s legal, but barely.

“Alright kid,” you declare. “Get your pokemon out. Unless you plan on getting shaken down without a fight!”

He continues his perverted stare as he sends out a Rattata. Ha, this will be easy.