Pokemon fic: Special Ops Electric
Title: Special Ops Electric
Author: mangobug
Rating: PG13 for violence, blood, and a little swearing.
Verse: Game.
Characters: Lt. Surge, a few original characters.
Summary: Series of events in Lt. Surge's career in the military before becoming a gym leader. Written for pokeprompts musical flash fiction challenge. Not sure how many of the same prompt I can do, but I figure I'll go until someone tells me to stop. :D Enjoy my terrible taste in music <3
Circus - Britney Spears
There’s only two types of guys out there
Ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared
So baby, I hope that you came prepared
I run a tight ship so beware
The young soldier hurried as people ran past him, each absorbed in their own individual tasks, darting from tent to tent. “E-6, I’m looking for E-6?” he asked as a group of medics with their chansey fairly flew past him, but none heeded him any mind-not that he was expecting any response. Tensions had been running high ever since the staccato of faraway gunfire had echoed over from the northwestern border, and communications had been knocked down for the past two days.
“You! Boy!” He instinctively turned around to face the voice and saw a man inside one of the canvas tents, sitting on a cot as he bandaged one of his hand. He was muscular with blond hair and hard, no-nonsense eyes. The cigarette in his mouth was beginning to grow too much ash, and even as the recruit noticed, the man flicked it away. The marks on his jacket shoulder marked him as a sergeant. “Looking for E-6?” His jolteon sat next to him, her almond shaped eyes narrowed and watching the young soldier warily.
“U-um , yes.” He saluted immediately. “Private Aaronson for the Special Ops Electric.”
The sergeant took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it away into the ground, grinding it out with a heel of his boots as he got to his feet. “You’ve found it.”
“I have orders from the front to join your-”
“How long were you in training?”
Aaronson stopped, baffled. “What?”
“I said, how long were you in training?”
“Six months.”
The sergeant leaned in close to Aaronson, and he could just barely resist moving backwards. He had a scar running from the bottom of his right eye to his ear, gnarled and twisted. “And did they teach you how to properly address your commanding officer while in training, Private?” he said, dangerously quiet. His jolteon had followed him, and Aaronson couldn’t help but notice nervously how electricity crackled through her fur as she watched him silently.
“Oh, um, yes sir, sorry sir-”
“That’ll be “yes sir, Sergeant Surge!”” He bellowed in Aaronson’s face. “And if you think you’re going to become part of my squad, you’re going to show some respect!”
Aaronson sprang into a salute. “Yes sir, Sergeant Surge!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t help but notice that everyone was giving them a rather large berth as they rushed by now, carefully avoiding eye contact with the sergeant.
Surge straightened, nodding stiffly as he clasped his hands behind his back. The tropical heat had given him a sheen of sweat coating his face, though it was still early morning. “That’s better. You’d better shape up if you think you’re going to succeed in the Electric Division. This ain’t a goddamn circus.” Whirling on his heel, he called over his shoulder, “Come inside. We’re going to start briefing for tomorrow’s maneuvers in ten.”
As Aaronson followed hurriedly, he couldn’t help but hope that he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.
We’re Not Gonna Take It - Twisted Sister
We’ll fight the powers that be just
Don’t pick our destiny ‘cause
You don’t know us, you don’t belong
The blades of the helicopter beat through the air with brutal force, pushing them higher and higher as they sought refuge in the gray clouds. Surge had on thick aviator shades and even thicker headphones, punching buttons rapidly as he steered the military bird higher. Private Glattis was crouched near the door opening, leaning out slightly as she clutched the rail, and squinting through the clouds. The wind had whipped much of her hair free from her ponytail, but so intent was she that she didn’t bother fixing it. Abruptly her eyes widened, and she pointed.
“There!” she roared to Surge over the howling of the blades above her. Surge banked left towards where she was pointing, and dipped low, giving the rest of the crew a start. Glattis’ twin pikachus clutched onto their restraints tightly as the bank threatened to spill them all over into oblivion. She craned her head around, counted the helicopters behind them-three.
“Mosquito 16 to Lemon House,” Surge said into his mic, “we have a visual on our targets and request permission to execute operation E-Storm, over.”
The speaker crackled to life almost immediately. “Take your shots, Sergeant,” said the commander.
Surge broke into a wide smile as he twisted his head. His voltorb were still securely fastened in the bank, glowing white as they focused on charging the chopper. “You heard ‘em, Sergeant,” he hollered. “Let ‘em rip!”
“Sergeant” Kicks the jolteon smiled a razor sharp smile as she leapt fearlessly to the edge of the floor, the world open right before her paws. The two pikachus followed anxiously, led on by Surge’s confident Riachu.
Kicks opened her mouth and howled.
The sky rolled in with black clouds, and as Surge made another pass, he could see the other choppers hovering as best they could with their electric pokemon at the door openings. Lightning leapt to life from within the clouds, as if it had always been there, and as more pokemon joined the fray , the electric storm grew larger and larger, lashing down at the camp below them, incinerating tents, supply crates, and even tanks-nothing was left standing in its path as the lightning came down as thick as hail. The few people below that were making it out, tiny specks, were fleeing north, into the woods.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” roared Surge into his mic to the other pilots. “We’ll be home in a week if we keep this up.”
I Won’t Be Left - Tegan and Sara
I know you're sad even though you say that you're not
I know you're scared even though you say that you're not
I won't get mad when you say things are getting too hard
The scatterings of bullets followed him as he leapt into the trench, clutching Kicks tight under his arm. Usually he would be roaring orders to return fire, or demanding to know where his cover was. If only it was usually.
“Medic!” he screamed down the trench, and Glattis stumbled backwards, running for help as he lay his jolteon down on the dirt. She lifted her head up and looked at him, smiling weakly, and pressed her cold nose into his callused palm even as he scrambled for bandages, bandages, where were the fucking bandages-
When he turned back with the white tape, Kicks was licking at the stump where her front leg had been blown off, the blood leaking out staining her muzzle. A third of her face had been torn to shreds, and her eye… Surge’s stomach rolled as he fell on his knees beside her. The stale smell of blood usually present in the trench was revived in full force as blood soaked the dirt in a sticky dark stain, gushing from her wound with frightening speed.
“Always trying to outrun those landmines, Kicks,” Surge murmured to his jolteon as he fumbled with the edge of the bandage, trying to sponge the blood and stray ligaments away to see the damage-not that it would matter, he’d never been a medical man and wouldn’t know the first thing about it. All that he knew was that it looked bad, rough in the worse ways possible. “What did you think would happen?” He wrapped the bandage tightly around the stump as best as he could, his teeth bared, mirroring Kicks’ grimace of pain. As he went around again, she leaned forward and began licking her blood off his hand.
“Stop it, Kicks, it’s okay.” He swallowed hard as Kicks looked up at him. Her breathing was slowing, growing thick and tired. Her eyes were fluttering, even as she desperately tried to maintain her eye contact. “It’s okay,” he whispered again, and ripped the remainder of the bandage away, tying it tight. Hopefully it would staunch the bleeding until help arrived. “You did a great job. You’ve at least gotten promoted to lieutenant.”
Where such a quip would usually make her eyes crinkle in laughter, she could only whine softly. He’d had her since he was fifteen years old, and in all those years, he couldn’t remember a time he’d heard her cry. Her eyes fluttered closed, and down the hall, he could hear footsteps, running. He didn’t want to think of how much blood she’d lost.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said again, and this time he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to her, or to himself. “You don’t have to be scared. You’re going to be okay.”
Strawberry Fields Forever - The Beatles
Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me
He was in full ceremonial military dress, which meant that the gun in his holster wasn’t loaded. He restrained himself from thumbing the safety absentmindedly as the colonel made his way down the row of rigid soldiers, all standing at attention, and reclasped his hands behind his back. It was funny how the heat of the tropics compared easily to the weight and thickness of the uniform he was wearing, and he could feel his shirt sticking uncomfortably to the sweat on his back.
“Lieutenant Matthew Surge!”
Surge straightened, staring straight ahead as the major pinned the two metals onto his chest. When he had finished, he reached out his hand and shook Surge’s warmly. “Thank you for all your years of service, Lieutenant.”
“Just doing my duty, sir,” came the standard response. As the major moved away, Surge allowed himself to look down at the decorations on his chest. The bronze star twinkled up at him, as did the silvery flying cross-high awards, far higher than his father had ever received.
Funny, he thought he would feel different.
Many Moons - Janelle Monae
We match all around ‘til the sun goes down, night children
Broken dreams, no sunshine, endless crimes
We long for freedom, for freedom
You’re free but in your mind, your freedom’s in a bind
He would never tell anyone that he still has dreams sometimes that make him wake up in a cold sweat, reaching for his pistol or pokeball or both. Both was always better. You could never be too careful, and he’d made a lot of enemies in the war for helping to end it as quickly as possible.
He knew his paranoia was not paranoia at all when a “trainer” brought a revolver into his gym, drawn out by his faithful magnetite. That’s when he knew he was still in a war, it was just in a new city, one far away from his hometown. He was still playing for keeps. “Keeps” several years ago meant “to the death,” because that’s what you do in war. It was hard to switch his mind over when there were still constant threats made against his life.
Which was why he installed the traps. Make them sweat. See what kinds of people they were behind his barrier as they fought other lovers of the electric or even old members of his squad. Only then could he relax enough to play fair.
When his voltorb finally fell to the trainer before him, he smiled and applauded. “Nice work, kid. I like your guts!” he shouted to her. The girl smiled, returning her onix as she crossed the floor to him. “As promised-your badge,” he said, and she beamed as he pinned it onto her bag strap next to two others. It twinkled, bronze and proud.
He would never tell anyone that he’d melted down his old army metals. Though he had strove for them for years, it was strange to look at them and realize that he didn’t need them-in fact, he didn’t even really want them. It felt better to give them to new people who were deserving, who received them with a special gleam in their eye, who gave them to their pokemon to carry proudly. He had his memories, and they were enough.
Author: mangobug
Rating: PG13 for violence, blood, and a little swearing.
Verse: Game.
Characters: Lt. Surge, a few original characters.
Summary: Series of events in Lt. Surge's career in the military before becoming a gym leader. Written for pokeprompts musical flash fiction challenge. Not sure how many of the same prompt I can do, but I figure I'll go until someone tells me to stop. :D Enjoy my terrible taste in music <3
Circus - Britney Spears
There’s only two types of guys out there
Ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared
So baby, I hope that you came prepared
I run a tight ship so beware
The young soldier hurried as people ran past him, each absorbed in their own individual tasks, darting from tent to tent. “E-6, I’m looking for E-6?” he asked as a group of medics with their chansey fairly flew past him, but none heeded him any mind-not that he was expecting any response. Tensions had been running high ever since the staccato of faraway gunfire had echoed over from the northwestern border, and communications had been knocked down for the past two days.
“You! Boy!” He instinctively turned around to face the voice and saw a man inside one of the canvas tents, sitting on a cot as he bandaged one of his hand. He was muscular with blond hair and hard, no-nonsense eyes. The cigarette in his mouth was beginning to grow too much ash, and even as the recruit noticed, the man flicked it away. The marks on his jacket shoulder marked him as a sergeant. “Looking for E-6?” His jolteon sat next to him, her almond shaped eyes narrowed and watching the young soldier warily.
“U-um , yes.” He saluted immediately. “Private Aaronson for the Special Ops Electric.”
The sergeant took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it away into the ground, grinding it out with a heel of his boots as he got to his feet. “You’ve found it.”
“I have orders from the front to join your-”
“How long were you in training?”
Aaronson stopped, baffled. “What?”
“I said, how long were you in training?”
“Six months.”
The sergeant leaned in close to Aaronson, and he could just barely resist moving backwards. He had a scar running from the bottom of his right eye to his ear, gnarled and twisted. “And did they teach you how to properly address your commanding officer while in training, Private?” he said, dangerously quiet. His jolteon had followed him, and Aaronson couldn’t help but notice nervously how electricity crackled through her fur as she watched him silently.
“Oh, um, yes sir, sorry sir-”
“That’ll be “yes sir, Sergeant Surge!”” He bellowed in Aaronson’s face. “And if you think you’re going to become part of my squad, you’re going to show some respect!”
Aaronson sprang into a salute. “Yes sir, Sergeant Surge!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t help but notice that everyone was giving them a rather large berth as they rushed by now, carefully avoiding eye contact with the sergeant.
Surge straightened, nodding stiffly as he clasped his hands behind his back. The tropical heat had given him a sheen of sweat coating his face, though it was still early morning. “That’s better. You’d better shape up if you think you’re going to succeed in the Electric Division. This ain’t a goddamn circus.” Whirling on his heel, he called over his shoulder, “Come inside. We’re going to start briefing for tomorrow’s maneuvers in ten.”
As Aaronson followed hurriedly, he couldn’t help but hope that he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.
We’re Not Gonna Take It - Twisted Sister
We’ll fight the powers that be just
Don’t pick our destiny ‘cause
You don’t know us, you don’t belong
The blades of the helicopter beat through the air with brutal force, pushing them higher and higher as they sought refuge in the gray clouds. Surge had on thick aviator shades and even thicker headphones, punching buttons rapidly as he steered the military bird higher. Private Glattis was crouched near the door opening, leaning out slightly as she clutched the rail, and squinting through the clouds. The wind had whipped much of her hair free from her ponytail, but so intent was she that she didn’t bother fixing it. Abruptly her eyes widened, and she pointed.
“There!” she roared to Surge over the howling of the blades above her. Surge banked left towards where she was pointing, and dipped low, giving the rest of the crew a start. Glattis’ twin pikachus clutched onto their restraints tightly as the bank threatened to spill them all over into oblivion. She craned her head around, counted the helicopters behind them-three.
“Mosquito 16 to Lemon House,” Surge said into his mic, “we have a visual on our targets and request permission to execute operation E-Storm, over.”
The speaker crackled to life almost immediately. “Take your shots, Sergeant,” said the commander.
Surge broke into a wide smile as he twisted his head. His voltorb were still securely fastened in the bank, glowing white as they focused on charging the chopper. “You heard ‘em, Sergeant,” he hollered. “Let ‘em rip!”
“Sergeant” Kicks the jolteon smiled a razor sharp smile as she leapt fearlessly to the edge of the floor, the world open right before her paws. The two pikachus followed anxiously, led on by Surge’s confident Riachu.
Kicks opened her mouth and howled.
The sky rolled in with black clouds, and as Surge made another pass, he could see the other choppers hovering as best they could with their electric pokemon at the door openings. Lightning leapt to life from within the clouds, as if it had always been there, and as more pokemon joined the fray , the electric storm grew larger and larger, lashing down at the camp below them, incinerating tents, supply crates, and even tanks-nothing was left standing in its path as the lightning came down as thick as hail. The few people below that were making it out, tiny specks, were fleeing north, into the woods.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” roared Surge into his mic to the other pilots. “We’ll be home in a week if we keep this up.”
I Won’t Be Left - Tegan and Sara
I know you're sad even though you say that you're not
I know you're scared even though you say that you're not
I won't get mad when you say things are getting too hard
The scatterings of bullets followed him as he leapt into the trench, clutching Kicks tight under his arm. Usually he would be roaring orders to return fire, or demanding to know where his cover was. If only it was usually.
“Medic!” he screamed down the trench, and Glattis stumbled backwards, running for help as he lay his jolteon down on the dirt. She lifted her head up and looked at him, smiling weakly, and pressed her cold nose into his callused palm even as he scrambled for bandages, bandages, where were the fucking bandages-
When he turned back with the white tape, Kicks was licking at the stump where her front leg had been blown off, the blood leaking out staining her muzzle. A third of her face had been torn to shreds, and her eye… Surge’s stomach rolled as he fell on his knees beside her. The stale smell of blood usually present in the trench was revived in full force as blood soaked the dirt in a sticky dark stain, gushing from her wound with frightening speed.
“Always trying to outrun those landmines, Kicks,” Surge murmured to his jolteon as he fumbled with the edge of the bandage, trying to sponge the blood and stray ligaments away to see the damage-not that it would matter, he’d never been a medical man and wouldn’t know the first thing about it. All that he knew was that it looked bad, rough in the worse ways possible. “What did you think would happen?” He wrapped the bandage tightly around the stump as best as he could, his teeth bared, mirroring Kicks’ grimace of pain. As he went around again, she leaned forward and began licking her blood off his hand.
“Stop it, Kicks, it’s okay.” He swallowed hard as Kicks looked up at him. Her breathing was slowing, growing thick and tired. Her eyes were fluttering, even as she desperately tried to maintain her eye contact. “It’s okay,” he whispered again, and ripped the remainder of the bandage away, tying it tight. Hopefully it would staunch the bleeding until help arrived. “You did a great job. You’ve at least gotten promoted to lieutenant.”
Where such a quip would usually make her eyes crinkle in laughter, she could only whine softly. He’d had her since he was fifteen years old, and in all those years, he couldn’t remember a time he’d heard her cry. Her eyes fluttered closed, and down the hall, he could hear footsteps, running. He didn’t want to think of how much blood she’d lost.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said again, and this time he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to her, or to himself. “You don’t have to be scared. You’re going to be okay.”
Strawberry Fields Forever - The Beatles
Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me
He was in full ceremonial military dress, which meant that the gun in his holster wasn’t loaded. He restrained himself from thumbing the safety absentmindedly as the colonel made his way down the row of rigid soldiers, all standing at attention, and reclasped his hands behind his back. It was funny how the heat of the tropics compared easily to the weight and thickness of the uniform he was wearing, and he could feel his shirt sticking uncomfortably to the sweat on his back.
“Lieutenant Matthew Surge!”
Surge straightened, staring straight ahead as the major pinned the two metals onto his chest. When he had finished, he reached out his hand and shook Surge’s warmly. “Thank you for all your years of service, Lieutenant.”
“Just doing my duty, sir,” came the standard response. As the major moved away, Surge allowed himself to look down at the decorations on his chest. The bronze star twinkled up at him, as did the silvery flying cross-high awards, far higher than his father had ever received.
Funny, he thought he would feel different.
Many Moons - Janelle Monae
We match all around ‘til the sun goes down, night children
Broken dreams, no sunshine, endless crimes
We long for freedom, for freedom
You’re free but in your mind, your freedom’s in a bind
He would never tell anyone that he still has dreams sometimes that make him wake up in a cold sweat, reaching for his pistol or pokeball or both. Both was always better. You could never be too careful, and he’d made a lot of enemies in the war for helping to end it as quickly as possible.
He knew his paranoia was not paranoia at all when a “trainer” brought a revolver into his gym, drawn out by his faithful magnetite. That’s when he knew he was still in a war, it was just in a new city, one far away from his hometown. He was still playing for keeps. “Keeps” several years ago meant “to the death,” because that’s what you do in war. It was hard to switch his mind over when there were still constant threats made against his life.
Which was why he installed the traps. Make them sweat. See what kinds of people they were behind his barrier as they fought other lovers of the electric or even old members of his squad. Only then could he relax enough to play fair.
When his voltorb finally fell to the trainer before him, he smiled and applauded. “Nice work, kid. I like your guts!” he shouted to her. The girl smiled, returning her onix as she crossed the floor to him. “As promised-your badge,” he said, and she beamed as he pinned it onto her bag strap next to two others. It twinkled, bronze and proud.
He would never tell anyone that he’d melted down his old army metals. Though he had strove for them for years, it was strange to look at them and realize that he didn’t need them-in fact, he didn’t even really want them. It felt better to give them to new people who were deserving, who received them with a special gleam in their eye, who gave them to their pokemon to carry proudly. He had his memories, and they were enough.