"The Pokélife Chose Me"
"We're All Clones (All are One and One are All)"
While our heroes venture out into the forest looking for more pokémon to exploit, Officer Jenny travelled to a nearby pokéstop to investigate a serious crime. What dastardly plot unfolded on Officer Jenny's watch? Let's find out...
"And then they exploded! Like rotten tomatoes stuffed with firecrackers!"
The results were all over the gore-caked pokémon arena deep in the woods outside Pallet Town. What wasn't soaked in thick, clotted viscera was pock-marked with burning impact craters. The Silph Co. vending machine, set off to the side of the arena, was sprayed in blood and sported a disembodied head stuck in a hole in the glass made by its impact.
Visibly shaken, a young adult trainer stood between three impact craters, his pink and red shorts and t-shirt, stained a deep crimson from being in the splash zone.
Officer Jenny, pen and notepad in hand, wrote while she talked. "Let's see, that's... Alton Altmer?"
"Yes, like I told you already!"
"And you were visiting this remote pokémon gym with... your brothers?"
"Yes! We all came here to practice our pokémon fighting skills, until all the sudden exploding rocks landed on them!""
"I see..." Officer Jenny took a look at the trainer's identification cards. "All of which the only ID we could recover was yours. Because your brothers have no ID."
"Because they were vaporized! Come on, officer! You have to find the man who did this to me! I mean... get your Growlithe to track them. They can smell a pokémon's attack and chase it back to the attacker, can't they?"
Officer Jenny looked back to her Growlithe, who cringed every time he got a millimetre closer to the arena. "I would but... Growlithe can't pick up a scent." The Growlithe whined and balked to come closer. "That reminds me, you stink. Please maintain your distance and go take a shower after we're done here."
"They are not listed anywhere in the citizen's database." Officer Jenny stopped writing, and started to scribble. "But suspiciously they have profiles in the Pokémon League."
"I don't know what to say..."
"And I can see a barcode on what remains of one of your brother's neck." Officer Jenny pointed a pen towards the disembodied head embedded into the vending machine.
Snapped out of his shock by being completely irked, Alton Altmer wailed, "They're clones, alright?! My brothers are clones! I thought of all people YOU'D UNDERSTAND!"
Idly, Officer Jenny chewed on her pen while slipping into distracted thought. It was agonizing moments before she responded. "I don't know what you mean, Mister Altmer."
"OH COME ON!" Alton shouted, exasperated. "There's one of you in every town!"
Officer Jenny glared, "What do you mean, 'one of you'?"
Paralyzed, Alton stuttered, "You know... aren't you all clones?"
Officer Jenny's glare didn't leave Alton for a full, tense minute.
"I'm not going to dignify that with a response." She said as she went back to scribbling. "And even though cloning is technically legal, you know that human clones aren't protected under Kanto law. Clones don't have rights, so technically no crime's been committed."
"WHAT?! This is a crime!"
"And what crime would that be?"
"Ummm..." Alton looked around the scene, his eyes brightened as he came up with an idea. "...destruction of personal property?"
Jenny stopped scribbling. "As in the arena and the vending machines?"
"Ummm... I mean... you know... my brothers."
In a huff, Officer Jenny jotted down a final note on her notepad. "I think we're done here."
"You mean..." Alton cried, "...you can't help me?"
Officer Jenny shrugged. "Can't and won't are two different words, but if you find out who vandalized that vending machine," She tore the page out of her notepad and dropped it and his photo ID on the ground, "you can use the number I just wrote down." She bowed, faux politeness barely hidden, and joyfully closed the conversation with, "Now I have to go fight some real crime. See you later!"
When Officer Jenny and a relieved Growlithe piled into the squad car and drove off, Alton finally moved. He took the paper off the ground, uncrumpled it, and read it.
"1-800-E.A.T.-C.O.C.K... WHAT THE FUCK?! Aren't you supposed to give a shit?!"
He picked up his photo ID and yelled, "YOU DREW DICKS ALL OVER MY FACE?! REAL MATURE!"
Three Days Earlier
The Trainer, with Gogo, his Dragonite companion, were making their way through the forest to their next pokémon gym. When the cleared the bushes and entered a large soccer field, complete with stands and a vending machine, he saw a strange sight.
Five identical pre-teen boys, all dressed in the same red trunks and red and white t-shirt as the taller adult who'd taken the field, facing down another similarly dressed pre-teen boy, only his clothes had a yellow motif.
While a tiny Hoppip was facing off against a gigantic and aggressive Dialga, the young adult, the oldest of the group outside The Trainer himself, took a seat.
On the back of another similarily dressed young boy sharing his exact looks, only he dressed in blue.
"Mmmrrrrrrhooorrrooofff?" Gogo snorted, stunned. ("What kind of pedo horror show did we just stumble upon?")
An iron head attack from Dialga knocked Hoppip clear from the arena.
"Hey... the kid might look the same, but he's Team Instinct. He'll to fight the six other pokémon and clear the gym and the Team Valor boys have to wait until he's done. If they give him grief or start feeding their pokémon berries you jump in, Gogo. Blitz 'em, take 'em out before they can be boosted. Got it?"
"Alright, let's rock this bi..."
"I FORFEIT!" The kid in yellow raised his hand.
"I concede." Said the adult.
The Trainer looked on, in stunned silence, as the kid in yellow left the field, leaving five Team Valor pokémon on the field.
"The hell?" The Trainer stormed over, halting when the big leader stepped up.
Snatching a pokéball from his belt, the biggest and oldest of the group tossed it into the center of the gym. "Blissey! Take over for Hoppip! Be the best pylon you can be!"
"WHAT THE HELL?!" The Trainer, no longer in the mood to restrain his outrage, screamed at the group. "You can't just use your... ALTS to take out a pokémon in the gym so you can sneak your pokémon in there! That's cheating!"
The pokémon gym went silent, as The Trainer felt a half-dozen set of eyes settle firmly on him. The identical young ones were not pleased. Each reached for a pokéball, ready to battle.
While the oldest of the bunch crossed his arms and looked contemptuously at The Trainer. He didn't reach for a pokéball or make any threatening movements. The cocky crook of his smirk and dismissive exhalation of a weak laugh was enough to communicate to The Trainer that he could not win.
Not even at The Trainer's most irrational did he favor his odds. Gogo, taking a step back, was inclined to agree.
The oldest of the group, however, had words to say, anticipating The Trainer's retreat prematurely. "Don't tell me how to have my fun."
Back to irrationality, The Trainer retorted, "Don't use that tired old statement as an excuse to shit all over everyone else's fun! It's isn't all about you ya know!" He whipped out his pokédex and gave the trainer a scan. "Alton Altmer! Time to report your ass to the league!"
Alton cupped his hands and called out to the wilderness so loud that Spearows shot out of the trees in alarm. "HELLO!? Pokémon league! Some rando's whining about my brothers taking over this remote gym and now he's gonna report me for cheating! You better help him!" When silence once more took hold, he waited, cupping his hand to his ear to better listen. "See? Nobody cares!"
"I care, you ass! Now pack your shit and get out of here before I clear the gym out!"
The Alts synchronized their laughter.
Alton raised his hand and silenced his 'brothers'. "You don't get how things work, do you? Pokémon gyms in remote areas are barely cleared out. We have no choice but to shove pokémon out with my brothers, otherwise we don't get any pokécoins."
"Brothers my ass." The trainer pointed to the expose neck of the quivering improvised seat that was the 'brother' in blue. "I can see the QR code on their necks. Silph Co. Specials."
"So?" Alton sneered. "They're not illegal."
"But registering them for the Pokémon League to grift gyms and arenas is."
"Technically it is, technically it isn't. My brothers don't have any rights, but the Pokémon League is progressive that way. They give clones the chance to compete if they feel like it. Aren't my brothers allowed the right to live just like regular human beings? Clones have no rights, so why are you against clones having them?"
"CLONE RIGHTS MY ASS! YOU'RE USING ONE AS A LAWNCHAIR!"
"That just goes to show how loyal my brothers really are." Alton snapped his fingers. Yellow ran and kneeled at his side. "Because what good is cloning yourself if they won't be loyal to you? Yellow! Remove my shoe."
Yellow set to removing Alton's shoe, as he continued, "You know what sets me apart from the losers like you? The fact I'm willing to do anything to win. REMOVE MY SOCK!" He swatted Yellow on the back of his flinching head. "Like how if you go fight all six of our pokémon, we'll keep giving them berries until you either run out of healing potions or you leave. And let me tell you... berries are cheaper than potions. And I have plenty of brothers, each with enough supplies alone to withstand you sieging MY arena. NOW LICK MY FEET!"
The Trainer, in shock, pointed to himself. "The hell I will!"
"Not you, idiot!" He pointed down to his Yellow clone. There The Trainer and Gogo were frozen, transfixed in pure disgust over what they saw next.
Closing his eyes and extending his tongue, the Yellow clone gathered saliva in his mouth and let it trickle down the surface of his tongue. Slowly, he applied the tongue to the bottom of Alton's foot, it's sensually curled tip running up and down the foot's callous-covered surface. While Yellow's fingers kneeded Alton's tense muscles in the heel and tendon, his tongue wormed between Alton's toes, licking deep, heedless to any noxious odors or tastes.
"You see, it's lonely out here. Trainers don't come around enough to clear the gyms and let us get our coin. So we have to do it ourselves. And other times we can't get rid of pushy little trainers like yourself who won't let us get our full amount of pokécoin for the day, so we have to protect our own. Alts are the only way to do it. So before you go judging us for working within a broken system..."
When Yellow began to draw on Alton's big toe, Alton ordered, "Maybe you ought to look at yourself first. Yellow, put on your leather mask and find me my riding crop..."
"NO! No thank you! You've made your point!" The trainer turned to walk away. "Fuck all of you hillbilly clone boners. The gym's yours. Keep it. I'm out."
As The Trainer fumed his exit, the clones and Alton laughed their asses off.
"What's the matter? Your kink shaming as weak as your game shaming? Next time fuck off and don't tell us what to do!"
The Trainer felt a cold, familiar rage settle on him.
"Gogo, he said clones don't have rights, do they?"
"That means they don't have legal protection too, do they?"
"Just a thought. Let's go home. I have to plan."
Three Days Later
In the bushes, on a hill overlooking the pokémon gym, The Trainer waited. With twigs and leaves affixed to his denim jacket and tucked into his bandanna, he surveyed the area with his binoculars.
"Just in time." The binoculars swung in the direction of the gym entrance. He pressed the button on his handheld radio. "Golf-14-niner, this is Tango-3-niner. I've got visual. Targets stalled at rendezvous at 51 degrees 37.0N, 001 degrees 49.5W. Wind negligible. No go on Alpha, cleared to engage Alts. Ready Draco Meteors, execute on my mark... send it."
Back at the pokémon gym, Alton and his clone brothers spotted several purple and black-striped spheres laying on the ground.
"Hey... who left all these Stunky candies lying around? Go pick them up, brothers!"
The Yellow clone bent down to pluck one of the purple candies when the group heard a whistling in the sky.
Where once Yellow stood, the impact of a Draco Meteor blasted a shallow impact crater, and scattered Yellow's body like a thick, pasty mist.
Before Alton and his clones had time to react, more impacts landed, pinpoint accurate on top of the bodies of the clones. It was a rain of blood and viscera as each clone was systematically targeted with a falling explosive stone.
Despite the tremendous forces at play, Alton was untouched by the meteors, but not by the remains of his clones.
The only recognizable part left, Yellow clone's head, crashed through the plastic body of a nearby vending machine. The rest painted Alton and the arena red.
"What... the... fuck?" was Alton's pitiful squeaking response.
Attracted to the commotion, and the scent of candies, a mated pair of Skuntanks and their litter of Stunky crawled out of the bushes to investigate.
As a family of ferals, the creatures saw Alton, caught in the grips of post traumatic stress, move and twitch in a manner which alarmed the Stuntank family.
They raised their tails, turned their backs, and aimed at the surviving pokémon trainer.
A thought went through The Trainer as he watched the Stuntank pack spray Alton, "I do stupid shit when I'm angry."
He spoke into the radio once more. "Back to the barn."
"Stupid shit, but soooooo satisfying. Stopped some cheaters and mercy killed several clones, freeing them from degrading exploitation." With a joyful look on his face, The Trainer thought, "You did good, pally. You did good."