The Misdreavus Menace

Chapter Eleven — Top Cat

The Persian walked around the field in search of a likely hangout for the night. He was going to have to keep watch all night, so he had go make sure it was somewhere comfortable. He found a likely candidate, sniffed to make sure the territory wasn't marked, and with a few agile leaps made his way to a branch near the top. He checked that the transmitter strapped around him was in working order, and settled himself down.

He was enjoying taking part in these overnight activities alongside the humans who worked under him. Sharing in their work increased their respect for him as an interim leader, gave him plenty of time for thinking and planning, and allowed him to doze on the job. Unlike humans, his feline characteristics enabled him to take naps while still keeping an ear open for anything of note.

Having made himself comfortable, he allowed himself the chance to reminisce. After his former companions had messed up so many years ago, landing themselves, their leader and half the organization in prison, the whole enterprise would have fallen apart if it were not for him. He seized the opportunity afforded by the power vacuum, his keen mind, and his firm loyalty to the organization. As a Pokémon, he had to overcome the prejudice that the remaining members held. After all, to them a Pokémon was something to be stolen, exploited, sold like a commodity. Had he not been able to speak their language, he would never have been able to pull it off. Having sharper claws than humans had also come in handy more than once.

Thinking back, he felt a pang of loneliness. He missed the times when as a Meowth, he and Jessie and James would hang out, try and succeed in petty crimes, fail miserably and endlessly in trying to catch that darn twerp's Pikachu. But times had changed. After their demise, he realized how much they had held him back, how much he was capable of without their ineptitude standing in his way. He still felt for them, of course. He was far too loyal and romantic a character to reject them or to cease to regard them as friends. However, he had to be practical about the job at hand. And with his evolution, it was time to make a break with the patterns of the past, and to work towards a new future.

Real hope for the organization emerged when a group of Rockets caught a ghost Pokémon at Mt Silver. They thought they were capturing a rare Misdreavus to fetch a good price. Little did they know when they threw that fateful Poké ball what door they had opened, a chance of restoring their organization to its former glory and beyond, a hope that pulled their shattered ranks together to work towards a common cause.

His ability to speak fluently to both Pokémon and people was an invaluable asset that reaffirmed his position. While those weird creatures had some limited psychic ability, communication between them and humans was often unclear. Half the people thought that the creatures referred to them as "group missile", the other half as "projectile set".

The Persian had to think carefully about their plans for the future. The Misdreavus needed to fulfill their part of the bargain. His team had to do their part. There were some in the organization who were always alert for opportunities to be gained by double-cross. They were useful to have there, but their tendencies had to be kept under control. This was not the time. More was to be gained by on-going co-operation.

After a while, content with his plans and thoughts, Persian settled his head between his paws on the branch he was on and decided it was time for a nap. "Everything's under control," he though to himself, "so I don't have to hang out on a limb." He smirked inwardly at his play on words. Ever since he learned to speak human, he could never resist the urge to savour and enjoy his linguistic prowess. With that happy thought, he dozed off.