Lying within the compartment on the stroller's underside, you feel a mixture of relief and pride. Relief, that you managed to secure safe transit to the Prism Tower. Pride, that you had the insight and initiative to seize that chance. But even as you lie there, the voices of an infant god echo overhead, as the bored child begins to bash his toys' heads upon one another. He will soon want for a replacement, and a simple patdown from his mother lead to you getting press-ganged into being a plaything. You are going to need to flee while the others are still distracted.
Thankfully, a solid hiding spot, possibly even a path to salvation, rests just beside the nearby elevator. You slip out of the stroller and rush along the vast tile expanse of the Prism Tower's lobby, seemingly evading the attention of the s distracted child and his parent. As you near the hole, you turn your head to see if you have been spotted. The baby is still distracted in his games... the mother is drumming her fingers against the desk... and the secretary is typing on a computer. Just when you think you've gone unseen, the secretary turns her head in your direction. She looks down at you with a hint of surprise before her expression shifts. She simply adjusts her head upwards ever so slightly before turning back to her computer, almost as if she were adding you to a mental tally.
Unsettled, though undeterred, by the uncharacteristic nonchalance of the giant receptionist, you make your way into the dimly lit interior of the mousehole. A few steps in, you feel an unexpected softness beneath your foot. You trip forward and bump into a cold, smooth surface. You press around the surface, wondering what it is. Metal? Glass? Marble? As you run your hands against the surroundings, you realize that you are in a near perfect cylinder, with the only gap being the one through which you entered. A dead end. Perhaps you made a wrong turn? Dead end or not, staying in here certainly beats waiting out there. Here, at least, capture is very unlikely. Still uneasy over your uncertain future, you sit down and rest your back against the cool wall, hoping to get a nap.
As you drift towards sleep, your senses begin to dull. You hear voices and a rumbling. More voices. More rumbling footsteps and frightful sniffing sounds. You catch a glimpse at the muzzle of a Pokemon, perhaps a Growlithe, peering into the hole. But you are not alarmed by this sight. What are you going to do about it? No, you simply relax and hope that he doesn't decide to spew fire into your hideout.
Soon enough, the Growlithe's owner chides it, and it leaves. Perhaps it was never there in the first place. Sleep is now very nearly upon you. As you drift off, you barely notice that one of the sporadic thuds of your surroundings seems to be far louder than the others... or that your view of the lobby has become distorted. A quirk of your grogginess, perhaps. You'll figure it out when you wake up. As you nod off, you feel a sudden sensation of warmth flowing through your body, and a gentle weight suddenly imposes itself upon you
It is the accompanying sensation of being suffocated that snaps you awake. Feeling adrenaline course through your veins, you thrash in place, eventually getting to your feet. As you struggle to gulp down fresh air, you feel a slight irritation in your throat. You're covered from head to neck in.. something. Something... white. Whatever this is, it can't be good. You begin to claw your way towards the opening, only for your fingertips to find the familiar smooth surface of the wall. Did you get turned around? You desperately run your hand against your surroundings, and quickly find that the path through which you entered simply is not there. Was it ever there at all? No, it had to be... and that THUD from earlier must have been . Yes... you can see the light of the lobby, yet reaching for it leads only to your hands dragging against glass.
Before you can piece together your situation with any greater clarity, you hear a loud burst of air .A powerful force overtakes your body, and all grows dark. The white fluff around you -in reality a mass of cotton - does well to cushion the impact. After a roller coaster ride's worth of motions, you are brought into the light once more. You find yourself in what appears to be a maintenance room filled with pipes and machinery.
Examining your surroundings, you realize that you appear to be inside of a pneumatic tube, shunted upwards like a simple check. Could this be how Clemont takes in tinies? It certainly is an efficient system, but you'd like to tell him that it could stand to be a bit more comfortable. In fact, you aren't entirely convinced that this isn't a trap. Actually, it probably is a trap.
A vacuum nozzle suddenly appears from the far end of the capsule you're in, and you are sucked in along with the cotton. Before you can come to grips with your surroundings, mechanical limbs seize your ankles and wrists and splay them out into an x shape, your body now suspended several 'stories' over the room's floor. This is definitely a trap. Why would you have hoped otherwise?
Soon a webcam nearly as big as you are tall descends towards you and pans around your body, scanning you from head to toe. You hear a loud ding, and your body begins to move towards another device, this one cylindrical in nature, with a narrow hole at the center of one of its tips. The hole begins to glow a faint red, and you hear an ominous whir as the device begins to spin. The whir and the light intensify, until you can be sure that what is to come will bring with it ruin
A crimson beam shoots out from the hole, and you feel an intense pain the moment it strikes your stomach. With ruthless efficiency, the machine swiftly drags the beam across your stomach, searing a message onto your belly. By the time you're able to finish your agonized scream, the laser has already faded, vanishing as if it were never there. You are soon brought to another machine, which moves behind your back. You cry out in pain as it presses against you with an unsetling KCHUNK. The pain does not subside until a third machine arrives and promptly injects you with something. You pass out.
=========
"WAKEY WAKEY SIXTY NINE."
A commanding, albeit boyish, voice carrying enough force to rattle your surroundings wakes you from your sleep. You immediately spring into motion, only to smash your head against a glass wall. Looking around, you find that you are once more in a glass capsule, only this one is barely bigger than your body is. You turn your head this way and that, unable to focus on any one thing in your panicked state. The world is practically a blur as you desperately try to kick and punch your way free.
Suddenly, the world truly does become a blur to you, as a force far beyond your own shakes the glass tube in which you are trapped "awww.... what's the matter Sixty Nine? Did you have a bad dream?" You turn your attention towards the source of the voice. A brilliant circle of light... actually... a pair of them. You cower against the glass as the light speaks to you. "You look SO scared. I guess you've never had an owner before, huh Sixty Nine? Well. There's a first time for everything. Hey. My name's Clemont. And you're gonna be helping me out!"
As the voice speaks, you slowly begin to get ahold of yourself. Looking at the lights, you realize that they are just the glasses of a young male...and that male happens to be Clemont, leader of the Lumiose City gym. But why is he calling you Sixty Nine? Well... as you peer into his glasses, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection, and see the numbers '69' branded onto your belly. That's your number. The number that Clemont gave you. To replace your real name. 69.
Clemont sets you down on his desk and begins to inspect you. "Heh. Cute... but you've got some muscle. tiiiiiny package though... "
You press your hands meekly against the glass, and begin moving them about as best you can in an attempt to find some way out. you only find airholes. The boy chuckles and plants his thumb over the airhole, grinning a mischievous grin at you. "What... wanna get out? Gotta be patient little guy. I'm going to let you out soon enough. And if you keep on fussing about I might tape those airholes shut. Wanna see if you can survive a week without breathing?"
Tears begin to well in your eyes. You slump back, resting your hands against the glass in front of you and simply looking at him with the most pitiful expression imaginable. THIS is a gym leader? Someone people look up to? And he just threatened to suffocate you? "Aww. See. I knew you'd come around Sixty Nine. You've got nothing to be afraid of. You're really gonna make an impact, you see. Wanna know howwwwww you're going to help me out?" He inquires, setting your capsule down on a nearby desk. He leans forward and rests his cheek against the desk, rolling your tube around with a single fingertip.
"I've been helping out the community... you see.. there are a lot of runaway tinies like you. It's a hazard. And we have these things called 'exterminators' for that. And you can't always rely on people or even Pokemon for that so...I'm making tiny exterminating robots! And I need tinies to help test them out. You up for that? It's super easy. You don't even have to make any notes... I got a tracking chip in ya that'll let me know when you go flatline. You just gotta try to survive as long as possible. Then your part is done. Imma handle ALL of the documentation. What do you say, Sixty Nine?! " Clemont rests his finger over your airholes once more, smirking. Realizing refusal is pointless, you meekly nod your head. "Awright!" he cries out with genuine enthusiasm. "Don't worry Sixty Nine. When we're all done I'm gonna give you a shoutout...by putting you in a spreadsheet."
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