(no subject)
This is a fanfic I collaberated on with thekatiepark that never got past the prolouge. It was suposed to be an alternate timeline where the Team Rocket trio got kicked out of Team Rocket before the Orange Islands episodes, and james had to go on a ~soul searching~ journey with the assistance of a Sigmund Freud fanboy who helps him heal from the trauma of his childhood in an incestuous bondage-loving Dixie-Japanese family.
Onward!
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It definitely was not the news James had hoped to hear.
Now, as he sat on the stairs outside of the Viridian City Team Rocket Headquarters, he started to wonder what exactly he was going to do with his life now. He’d never really planned on being fired but, well, after that spectacular failure with the mission at the Pokémon League tournament, he wasn’t all that surprised. That particular blunder had been broadcast to every household in Kanto and then some. Giovanni’s voice still rang in his ears: Do you have any idea how much money I’ve wasted thanks to you two!? Millions, gone. All of my best mecha, gone. Not to mention that your little stunt at the Pokémon League has made us a laughingstock all over Kanto. I’m extremely disappointed with you morons. You give the whole organization a bad name.
James wanted to bury his head in shame, even though no one else was around.
All of the failed schemes, the wasted time, the years of training…
It was easy for anyone to see why the boss wasn’t a happy camper.
Jessie and Meowth were long gone, and any evidence of a continuing friendship between the three had instantly vanished upon their unemployment. Those two had taken off to goodness knows where without so much as “see ya!” Unlike James, they probably had some idea of what they were going to do with themselves.
Jessie, although occasionally a little too, well, fiery for her own good, was a confident, attractive woman who would have no problem landing a job. Meowth could talk, and that alone was enough to get him by in the Pokémon world. James was… was…was a spoiled rich boy who could barely even fend for himself and had about as much common sense as a paper bag.
“What on Earth am I going to DO~!?” he racked his mind for even a vague idea of what to do next. He hadn’t thought this hard in a while. He could already feel the beginning of a migraine coming on. He put his head in his hands and moaned.
He could move back to the family estate in Sunny Town; that is, if he wanted to be forced into a marriage with that psychopathic fiancée (James shuddered at the mere thought! the horror, The Horror, THE HORROR!) of his. He could go to one of his old summer homes, except that he had absolutely no idea where they were in relation to where he was now. It’d been years since he’d even SEEN the places! He was pretty sure that his old bike gang wouldn’t take him back after their brush with the twerps, and his reputation as the dumbest student to ever grace the hallways of Pokémon Tech meant that they wouldn’t exactly want him there.
He eventually realized that since he really didn’t have anywhere to go, he’d might as well get out of Viridian City and maybe start trying to fend for himself for once.
He lifted his head, pushed his light blue hair out of his face, and slowly rose to his feet.
He took the most logical course of action he could muster and decided to use his remaining money to buy a plane ticket.
James eventually found his way to the Viridian City airport. Viridian Air lay right outside of the city limits - close enough not to take a cab, but the trek there still took a good while, especially when one is as down-in-the-dumps as James happened to be that day . It wasn’t a big airport, or a nice one at that.
A couple of hangars housed a few raggedy airplanes that, honestly, didn’t look very safe to fly. Despite the cheery atmosphere of Route 2 and the unusually nice weather, the place held a feeling of foreboding and neglect. The sign read “V.A.” and had a small picture of a jet under the initials. Or did it? It was so faded it was hard to tell. A few scraggly flags clung onto rusty flagpoles for dear life as the occasional breeze floated through. The rushes of air passed through the mostly-empty hangars, causing them to make eerie, almost otherworldly noises.
This was the part where James would usually become far too disturbed to go on, and, in all honesty, he was. Very disturbed. But this time, he knew he had no choice but to try and get somewhere.
He wandered the grounds, still a little afraid, until he came face to face with the main office. It was a little building only slightly nicer than the airplanes themselves. A few bells rang as he opened the screen door and peered inside.
The room was dim, the only sources of light being two fluorescent light tubes that were desperately trying to stay lit. A few old chairs were scattered around, along with some wood-paneled coffee tables covered in various brochures and business cards. The weathered desk was made of some inexpensive wood dyed an unnatural dark color. He nervously entered the building, jumping when the door clapped shut behind him. Pictures as faded as the sign outside lined the walls. James thought he could make out one advertising Tangelo Island. He studied the picture for a few seconds in a futile attempt to soothe his nerves.
“Did you have a question?”
James yelped and spun around to face whoever had just said that. An old lady stood grinning at him. Well, he wouldn’t have described it as “grinning” so much as “baring her teeth like an angry Growlithe.” She was short, barely 5 feet tall, but her ridiculous up-do made her seem almost as tall as he was. She was clad in a horrendously tacky suit, which, when combined with her gaudy costume jewelry, made for an incredibly tacky outfit.
James couldn’t do anything except stare, flabbergasted, at the mutilation of fashion that he saw standing before him.
“I said, did you have a question?” Her voice was as harsh as the vivid, fake red-orange color that coated her hair.
“Ah, yes, actually? Could you please tell me whe-”
“Spit it out, boy! I don’t have time for time-wasters!”
“Could you please tell me when the next flight out is? I-I’d definitely appreciate it.”
“Next flight out to where? Cinnabar? That plane just left, kid.”
“A-anywhere, actually. I-I’m not too terribly interested in where it’s headed, as long as it’s, you know, away. ”
“You sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Uh huh, I see…” she said as she walked behind the desk, yanked open a drawer, and ruffled through some documents. She pulled a few out, gave them a good look over, and finally settled on a thin light green folder. “And you’re positive that you don’t mind where this plane’s goin’ to?”
James nodded.
“Well, you got lucky, kid, cause we only have one commercial flight outta here a week, always on a Friday. Today happens to be a Friday. We gotta plane scheduled to leave for Celadon, that sound alright?” She said as she offered him the folder.
“That sounds okay…” James said as he took the folder cautiously and looked inside. “Is there anywhere that I need to-“
“Sign right here,” she said, jabbing a manicured nail down toward the bottom of one of the pages. “That’ll cost ya $50. A real deal, huh?”
“And… when exactly does this flight leave…?” James asked as he neatly wrote his signature down on the checked line. It was only 2:26, and he really didn’t feel like waiting around all day.
“2:30 sharp. If you run you should be able to catch it.” Upon seeing the rather panicked expression on the man’s face she laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s still in the runway,” she said as she gestured towards the window, “Won’t be for long, though”
“U-um. Here’s your money, madam. Thankyougoodbye!” He said as he simultaneously threw the money in the general direction of the desk, grabbed the folder, and bolted for the door.
As lacking in common sense as he was, James still knew that the road ahead of him was not going to be an easy one.