"A Shiny Umbrella, you say? You could fetch tons for something like that. Maybe hand it over to the Boss for a promotion!"
"Now why would I do that?" the redhead refuted her fellow admin in the lounge of the Team Rocket base. Word had already spread in the entire hideout of Katarina's catch of the day and many had already pestered her about seeing the Pokboy in the flesh, much to her annoyance. The other admins, envious of her spoils, had also attempted all they could to convince her that handing the Umbrella over to the Boss would be a wiser idea. As if.
Katarina had never been the type of associate to kiss ass. She was more invested in her personal success than Team Rocket's, treating the latter as a quick, but stable way for cash flow. Her passion lied in poaching, though, and her sport made her name infamous among trainers and tempting among clients. Katarina seldom brought trophies home, but when she did, it was usually worth it.
The poacher had been out that evening and came upon an ambitious trainer who challenged her to a battle, claiming she had a "secret weapon" up her sleeve. One by one, Katarina's Zoroark, an exotic Cowgirl herself, practically mowed down her opponent's roster, right down to her last Pokemon. When her opponent revealed the last card up her sleeve, the Shiny Umbreon, she knew she had to have it for herself. Team Rocket had never played fair and the organization's selfish methods of creating a Pokemon army came in handy when they invented contraptions like Dark Balls specially designed to steal owned Pokemon. They were scarce and high in demand in the ranks, but Katarina had a couple, just for these occasions.
The devastated trainer, beaten and vulnerable with no able-bodied Pokemon in her roster, watched in horror as Katarina seized the Umbrella for her own. He was hers, now. Not Team Rocket's. Hers.
"Have you released him yet?" the nosy admin asked her, his eyes twinkling.
Katarina retrieved the Dark Ball from her belt and tossed it lightly onto the ground. She hadn't bothered to heal him yet, so she wasn't worried that he would lash out, especially not with another admin and two of her Pokemon present in the lounge. One long leg crossed over the other as she watched his form materialize in front of her. "Won't you greet your new mistress?" she ordered coyly, also proud to present her new catch to her fellow admin.<|im_end|>
The eagerly anticipated Shiny Umbreon materialized tall and proud, intelligent aureates scanning around in cold ire, thin lips curling into a faint sneer. Unlike many Pokeboys new to civilization and human ownership, the Umbreon's outfit indicated familiarity with human customs. His jacket was nearly skin-tight, black paneled with gray and decorated with ruffles and a zigzagged string. One hand gloved, the other left bare, a touch of edgy mirrored by the single streak of dyed hair. Fitted falcon jeans were tucked into steel-toed boots ending just below the knee. He could have passed for an immaculately dressed pop singer, had it not been for the glimmering bands of cobalt on his thighs and shoulder, the small of his back, and, of course, ringing his flattened ear and faintly bristling tail.
He was not badly injured from the events prior, a slim cut on his cheek from flying debris and bruises lining his forearms constituted the extent of his injuries. But he was exhausted. Despite his rolled back shoulder and upturned chin, his fatigue was obvious in his matted bangs and the way standing seemed to take great effort. The Pok battle had taken whatever energy he had remaining; even his tail seemed to droop as he ascertained his surroundings with feigned bravado.
In a way, Pokeboys were not unlike succubi; wild Pokeboys did not require sexual essence to live, but they grew strongest under loving attention and care. The capacities of a feral Pokeboy versus that of one raised by a diligent trainer are as different as night and day. And though this Umbreon was obviously previously owned, an experienced trainer could easily deduce a lack of care from his quick exhaustion and slow recovery. Molten golds darted around, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. He recognized the self-assured female trainer from the previous battle, but the rest of the battle seemed a blur. His eyes lingered on the unfamiliar Pokeball; it wasn't the home he was used to, and yet appeared to be his new lodgings. His eyes narrowed in a cross between unease and aggression as he spotted the Zoroark standing just behind. It disgusted him the ease with which the clearly well cared for Pokegirl wiped the floor with him. He wasn't weak...he wasn't...but his tragic history of being shuttled from collector to collector and finally to an abusive trainer had taken a toll on both his psyche and strength. When he was young, his coloration had been a source of pride, but now he couldn't help but see it as a curse.
When the request came, he hesitated. He knew well that despite the phrasing, it was a command, and from experience, refusing those always led to very bad things. But while he wanted to shirk before the confident human, to run, he knew he wouldn't get far with two well-trained and alert Pokemons in the room. "My name's Kaine," he grumbled under his breath, casting a leery gaze at the seated woman. Another pause before he added, voice barely above a reluctant whisper. "...mistress."<|im_end|>