A Realistic Pokemon RP
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Already, your existence is a burden.
Too many mouths to feed and not enough hands to hold; you are one of two and that is already three too many. You are born second, already at a disadvantage, and learn to struggle before you ever learn to talk or walk.
Your guardians change like phases of the moon. Once, it was the woman who birthed you (or so you're told—you don't remember anything about her). The term [i]mother[/i] seems too generous for the woman who left you and your sibling on the step of the police station. The state takes the two of you for some time, passing you between families and guardians. First, one couple with seven adopted children already, but neither you nor your sibling know how to get along with others. A few scratched faces and broken dishes puts you with an elderly man with three Stoutlands that are fed better than you. The rest pass in a blur: a woman who's kindness has soured with age, a couple that tries desperately to instill in you the values their children never held, a foster home with three caretakers and thirty children.
Your sibling reaches eighteen first and from then on, you learn the true meaning of loneliness.
A living scraped out of filthy alleyways and pungent dumpsters is not much of a living, but what other choice do you have? Saffron City is too populous—there are too many kids, lost and sick and hungry, just like you to keep track of. Some will inevitably fall under the radar. You are one of them.
And you are a rather unremarkable street urchin. Rather than beg, you steal, from places and people alike. You fight Rattata for food in the streets, snatching the leftovers from a nearby restaurant from the thing's mouth, kicking it until it scurries away, snarling.
You never learned kindness. You only learned how to survive.
You make a mistake that should have cost you your life.
With age, you've learned, but apparently not well enough. You know how to pick the targets that'll give you the most with the least effort, but this time, you bit off more than you could chew.
She isn't wearing a suit, which is the problem. You mistake her for a simple businesswoman, one of many crowding the streets of Saffron City. She walks into an alleyway without hesitation—another sign that you should stay away, but you're starving and cold, and you follow her anyways, a switchblade hidden in your clenched fist.
You follow her to the end of the alleyway, ready to strike, knife at the ready, when she turns, her face eerily calm, and [i]something[/i] hits you from behind, landing on top of you as you fumble to the ground.
Whatever is on top of you is a Pokémon, but with your face pressed to the grimy pavement, it's difficult to tell what it is. It's heavy, though, and there's a snarl when you try to move. The woman kicks the knife away from you and crouches, grabbing your face by the chin and examining it.
She could have left you dead in that alleyway. You know that when she gestures for her Pokémon to release you and you see a massive Houndoom that stands nearly as tall as you.
"You could be useful," she says, almost to herself. Then, she turns to you. "There's somebody I'd like you to meet."