Whipping Back Into Action

My oneshots: Mienshanon's Oneshots

Prelude – Mist, Walls, and an Invitation

It was a foggy Wednesday morning.
A postbus wound its way up the mountain along the winding country road, its post horn sounding every other harsh bend to alarm oncoming traffic of its presence.
You've always liked looking out the window and gawking at the landscape while riding the bus. It's a bummer that the weather decided to be grey this morning.
Instead of seeing the Alps in their usual morning glow, you saw a pale, purple ermine visage in the windows reflection lazily looking back at you.
Its narrow, maroon-coloured eyes were mocking you...
A testament to what became of you six weeks ago.
You dwelt on your reflection for another few seconds, watching your yellow-tipped whiskers gently oscillating with the movement of the postbus.
The post horn sounded and everyone and everything shifted to the right as the bus was turning left. The fog behind the window gave way to the grey retaining wall.

You let out a quiet sigh and looked down at the letter sitting on your lap.
However, your legs were the focus of your attention.
They were now too short to reach the floor. Instead, they dangled like children's legs just beyond the edge of the chair.
You used to be a proud two metres tall, but now you measured a measly 147 centimetres.
You loathed your newfound dwarfism the most.
As the experience wasn't dehumanising enough, your feet certainly added insult to injury.
Each foot was adorned by three long claws, sharp enough to tear through a bag, or a duvet while sleeping.
You forced your eyes away from your grotesque form, back to the letter in your lap.
It bore the insignia of the army and was dated two weeks ago. It arrived one week after you filled out that government form to get financial aid for turned humans.
The government was quick to act if it wanted something from you.
God forbid if you needed something from them, though. You still hadn't seen a single penny and had to live off your savings.
You were fortunate enough to not be living hand-to-mouth.
But this letter was different.
It was from Christophe, your former platoon leader when you were a sergeant.
While you just did your militia service and the accompanying refresher courses, he became a career officer.
It seemingly paid off for him, as he recently got promoted to help the commander of the recruitment centre in Turnegg.
He had been tasked to look into possible hybrid platoons to incorporate turned humans — the military calls them "Affligés" for some reason, like you were cursed by the pestilence itself...
You heard the post horn again, followed by a hard turn to the right. Everyone on board shifted to the left. You saw the foggy nothingness again.

... Anyway, guess it was Chris' lucky day when he saw your dossier on his desk.
He invited you to go through the recruitment process again to determine whether you would be suitable for the role of instructor for the hybrid platoon.
The examination would include some sports tests and a physical and mental health check-up. The same things you already had to go through back when you were a recruit a decade ago.
As you were already an NCO, there was no need for you to take the leadership and psychological tests, though.
Not that you were able to anyway. Your paws surprisingly sucked for typing on a keyboard.
You only had three fingers on each paw. Not having a proper thumb was just the icing on the cake.
You were still able to grasp things – admittedly a small consolation, considering your overall situation.
Your lost dexterity had also led you to fill out that form in the first place. You no longer were able to work as a software engineer, after all.
Another horn. Another shift to the right. Another grey brick in the wall.

Even though it was the military, you actually enjoyed your service.
There always was something new to do, and you could experiment with your leadership style without fear of being fired.
The way you carried yourself with the soldiers went down well with the rest of the platoon, which was why Chris made you his deputy.
You two became really close friends after that, even outside of the armed forces.
He trusted you with basically anything. In turn, he had kept you out of trouble and defended you when you couldn't stop yourself again from speaking out of line against the staff officers' bullshit orders.
Your decision was an obvious one. The offer was simply too irresistible given your situation. So you effectively accepted Chris' offer on the spot.
Ever since the first humans turned into Pokémon a few months ago, you wanted to help in any capacity possible.
It was a strange kind of win-win in a way. Perhaps it was fate's strange way of telling you that you could help after all?
Besides, you were eager to see Chris again. Several years had passed since the last time you two saw each other. The military academy had taken up all his free time.

You slid the letter back into its envelope, stowed it in your daypack, then put the pack down in the space in front of your seat.
The small bag was standard issue with the army's personal equipment. It had just enough space to fit most of your important stuff.
Since you didn't need clothes anymore, the space it provided was more than enough for the next two days.
What had once only existed in your nightmares had now become a bitter reality. Leaving your home without putting on clothes was certainly an unpleasant experience.
The first few outings were agonising. You immediately started wearing a dark purple scarf around your long neck as compensation to avoid feeling too exposed.
Subsequent trips were easier, probably partly due to that little voice in the back of your head.
The news and other turnees considered the voices to be the soul of the original Pokémon.
If true, either the little voice pouts at you for taking its body hostage, or it wouldn't care and simple nudge you in the right direction occasionally. You were just hoping it was the latter, because you already had more than enough on your plate.

One more horn resounded from the bus. The waltz continued its dance to the left.
But this time, there was no fog.
Instead, the mist slowly but surely gave way to a panorama even Van Gogh could only dream of.
It was enough to snap you out of your reverie.
A veil of pearly-white mist stretched before you; beyond that, the Alps were ablaze in scarlet.
You couldn't help yourself, but smile a little.
"Guess the journey paid off just for that," you thought to yourself.

Some of the other passenger also seemed to notice the vista, as you heard some chatter and saw a few pointing fingers.
Most took just a quick glance at the burning grace.
Everyone, except a young man with dark brown hair and glasses in front of you.
He was preoccupied with his phone until the man beside him ― you assumed he was his friend ― tapped him on the shoulder, jolting him awake.
In shock, he dropped his smartphone in your direction.
The little voice suddenly jumped into action.
You leaned towards the glass sandwich to catch it. You captured the device between both your paws and saved it from a terrible fate on the bus floor.
Unfortunately, your reflexes weren't quick enough to save you from the handrail, which was now firmly pressing against your snout.
You could hear some passengers snickering. The voice joined in, before leaving you to your own embarrassment.
You felt your blood rushing to your head. Thanks to all the fur nobody seemed to notice your blushing, at least. A small comfort.
Thankfully, the top railing had padding around it, so it didn't hurt too much.
You slid off your seat during your acrobatic manoeuvre. Luckily, your claws missed your daypack by mere milimetres. It would live to see another day.
You shuffled to your feet, freeing yourself from your mangled position, holding the phone in one paw and your sore nose with the other.
You involuntarily glanced at the phone.
You knew it was bad etiquette to pry into someone's screen, but the content of the web page he was visiting caught your attention.
He was on the Bulbapedia page of Mienshao.
You look up to the brown-haired man.
You thought you were embarrassed by your cat-like behaviour, but the poor man could outshine the sun. He was as red as a tomato!
You bet he'd leap into an abyss right about now, if one were to open right in front of him.
Even worse, you couldn't shake the feeling that your bus neighbour usually wasn't easily embarrassed.

The silence was deafening.

You broke the awkwardness, "You should really consider not dropping everything the moment someone asks you for something. Unless, of course, you wanted to make me jump like a cat. In which case, congratulations! You succeeded." you mockingly said, still rubbing your nose with your right paw.

The man took back his phone and began to stammer. "Th-thank you, sir. I'll keep i- I'll keep it in mind, and sorry for making you jump like that."
He lowered his head in shame.
It seemed you misjudged your sarcasm and his reaction to it.

"Oh no, you're fine!" you reassure him, "No need to apologise. You couldn't have known that my instincts kick in like that. Even I was surprised by my actions!"

You tried to force a smile to ease the tension, but you only managed an awkward grin.
Your conversation partner looked up at you and started to smirk when he saw how unsuccessful your attempt at a smile had been.
"I guess we could both learn a few things, Mister Cheshire," he said.
You closed your mouth and cleared your throat.

"I guess we could", you replied, "But please don't call me Mr Cheshire, I'm Etienne."

You flipped the whip-like appendage on your right arm to the side and offered your paw for a handshake.
The young man returned your handshake. His grip was surprisingly firm.
The grip of a confident man! It turned out that your initial assessment of his character was half right after all!
"Nice to meet you Etienne, my name's Florin", he introduced himself.

"With that out of the way" you continued, "I gotta ask – why are you looking at the Bulbapedia page of Mienshao?"

Florin hesitated before answering, "I-i guess I was curious about what had been sitting right beside me for the past fifteen minutes."

"Makes sense, I'd probably do the same if some furry slinky were sitting next to me looking all melancholic", you jokingly said.

Florin began to laugh. "Furry slinky, really? Is that what you call yourself? But calling you Mr Cheshire is inappropriate..."

"I'm allowed to call myself whatever I want!" you protested.

You two continued to tease each other for a while. It seemed you got along well.
The novelty soon wore off, however, and you were both back to minding your own business shortly afterwards.
Florin was again mindlessly scrolling on his phone, while you committed yourself to spotting as many birds as possible.
You could have sworn you saw a Skarmory sparkling in the sunlight.

Chapter 1 – The Recruitment Centre

Part 1 – Welcome to Turnegg

Ten more minutes later, the bus finally arrived at the Turnegg bus stop.
You remained in your seat until most of the around 60 recruits left the vehicle.
It took a while, but once the corridor was empty, you shouldered your daypack, wished the bus driver a pleasant day, and stepped outside into the fledgling day.
You took a deep breath of the cool, fresh Alpine air of late September, which cheered you up right away.
You always liked the air up here and your improved sense of smell made you appreciate it even more!
The crisp air alone had reawakened your wanderlust. Anything to get out of the city!
You thought about whether there'd be enough free time over the next two days to satisfy your desire to wander.
The voice also seemed to share your sentiment, pleading you to explore the little village on the side of a mountainous forest.
You ignored the voice, but promised yourself that you would try to scout out the area later.
Invigorated by the air, you made your way to the entrance around the corner of the street.
As you trotted down the road, you looked around. You saw many houses and chalets, each one more beautifully decorated with gentians, alpine roses and pansies than the last.
At some point, you caught a scent of lavender, which made the whole sensory experience complete.
You reached the end of the street and turned the corner.
You were now able to see your destination: A big building complex, three stories tall. Its concrete walls were hiding behind decorative wooden planks.
It wasn't as aesthetically pleasing as the chalets around it, but at least they tried their best to harmonise the modern with the traditional. They even put some nice-looking bushes in front of where it wasn't easy to hide the exposed concrete.
You saw a commotion in the distance. It was the new recruits trying to sign in at the entrance.

You strolled leisurely towards the entrance, at least until you saw them: Stairs hid themselves behind a well placed bush! The entrance was about five metres up from street level.
Your mood took a hit right then and there. You disliked climbing stairs with your short legs. The steps were just high enough so you had to jump a little.
"Curses..." you muttered to yourself, the voice once again in agreement.
You readied yourself to hop up the stairs, when you saw your ray of hope on the other side. There was a ramp for wheelchairs and heavy trolley bags.
Relieved, you circled around to the other side and walked up the ramp, sparing you from the early-morning exercise. Potted plants decorated the small path to the elevated entrance.
There were still two or three dozen people waiting in line. You decided to wait it out on the sidelines.
You made your way to some empty flowerpots where the morning sun was already shining and sat on one of their brims.
You took the chance to chill and meditate for a while. You closed your eyes and let your mind go free as the warm rays bathed your purple, ermine body.
But it didn't take long to feel something tugging on your tail. You opened your eyes and looked down to your left.
A young looking calico cat pawed at the two purple tips of your tail.
Surprised by the unannounced guest, you moved your tail up and away from the vicious beast.
The cat, clearly upset that its toy had been taken away so soon, glanced up at you.
Its big, steel-blue eyes met yours. It meowed, as if to say "Let me play some more!"
You jumped off the flowerpot. The cat took a step back because of the sudden movement, but didn't run away. Instead, it tilted its head curiously to one side.
You squatted down and waited for the cat to come closer again.

You reached out a paw to it. "Hello, little one," you said, greeting it.

The cat meowed again and head-butted your paw affectionately. It then moved around you, rubbing its head against your legs.
You carried on petting the attention-seeking red-white-and-brown cat. This continued for some time.
«Looks like I'm not the only high-ranking officer who's taken a liking to you,» you heard a familiar voice call out from behind you.
Your ears autonomously perked up and moved backwards, then your head followed.
A lanky man with short blonde hair and a freshly lit cigarette in his mouth stood before you. His uniform's right collar featured a badge with a single, wide, horizontal bar — a major!
You stood up and saluted the officer with a big smile. The whip on your right arm was swinging all over the place because of the momentum. The cat focused intently on the movement.

"Christophe, it's been a while!" you greeted your old friend.

Christophe took a long drag of his cigarette.
«Repos, mon ami. You don't need to be formal around me,» he said, casually blowing out the smoke and returning the salute. He made sure to blow the smoke away from your sensitive nose.
You lowered your arm. The cat followed your every hand movement, its eyes narrowed to slits.
Christophe's emerald green eyes mustered you from head to claw, before he gave you a big, brotherly hug.
«It so good to see you again, Etienne! How have you been?», he asked you, patting you on the back. It felt somewhat awkward, since you were now two heads shorter than him.

You patted him on his left shoulder and replied, "Good, considering the circumstances."

«Glad to hear that!» The officer said and let you free. He then looked down to the little fur ball to your side. It was preparing to pounce on its prey.
You followed Christophe's gaze to the tiny, tricoloured predator. You knew what it wanted, and you accepted your fate and held your right arm out in front of you. The purple-tipped, snake-like extension of your arm now swung dangerously close to its own demise. A declaration of war!
Christophe chuckled with anticipation. «Vas-y, colonel Benny !» he encouraged the cat.
Finally, Benny sprang at its nefarious opponent, claws out and ready to finish the "serpent" off. You made sure the fight wasn't one-sided by moving your arm around.
Christophe and you couldn't stop laughing your sides off at the adorable display of murderous instincts.
The fierce battle continued for a few moments.
The purple snake demon weaved around the colonel, who tried his best to parry and riposte with quick strikes.
First an attack from the left, then from above. None of them were a match for the seasoned feline. He knew how to cover his blind spots and exploit his enemies' weaknesses. Sun Tzu would have been proud of his prowess!
Another strike, this time from the front. The colonel readied himself to deliver the coup de grâce — a direct hit!

At last, the battle was won! The colonel stood triumphantly before its slain adversary and meowed once again.

"Well fought, Colonel! Congratulations!" You congratulated the proud victor and scratched him behind the ear as a treat. A loud purr erupted from God's perfect killing machine.

Christophe was still recovering from his laughter, wiping a tear from his left eye. «Goodness! Turned or not, it's always fun with you around, isn't it?» he stated.

"Trying my best," you replied while cleaning your arm from the battle debris.

Suddenly, the cat heard a bird moving around inside the nearby shrubbery. The young colonel had found a new addition to his badge collection and sped off towards the bush.
«Well, that's that,» Christophe said. He took his last drag of the cigarette and flung it into the nearby ash tray.
«Unfortunately, I have to go to a different military base for the rest of the day to complete some administrative tasks,» he began. «We'll have an after-action review tomorrow at fourteen hundred to discuss your potential role in the hybrid platoon.»

"Aww, that's a shame," you replied, sounding defeated. "I was looking forward to catching up with you!"

«I know, I know... We'll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, including our private lives,» he reassured you.

"If you say so. See you tomorrow then, Chris," you concluded.

«À demain, Etienne !» Your friend said with a warm smile as he put his military cap back on. «Best of luck with the recruitment exams!»

"Merci ! Good luck with the higher-ups! You probably need it more than I do." you replied with a grin.

Christophe snorted. «You know it.»
The two of you bumped fists as a final farewell. Christophe then went over to the G-Class that was already waiting for him at the end of the ramp.
You were on your own again. You looked at the entrance. There were only four people left in the queue, so you went inside to sign in.

Part 2 – The Struggles of Signing In

Once inside, the distinct, sharp, alcoholic smell of hand sanitiser crept into your nose.
Your eyes immediately began to water.
You instinctively covered your nose with your paw and started breathing through your mouth.
It didn't help much, the damage had already been done.
You blinked wildly while trying to keep the accompanying dizziness in check.
It was similar to when you tested the seal on your protective mask and you agreed to pull your mask off for a quick laugh.
How on earth did you manage to do ten maskless push-ups in that tear-gas-filled trailer back then?
No! You've been through worse, you can't give up at the first hurdle!
"Tenacity in difficult situations! Stiff upper lip and all that," you reminded yourself.
You lowered your paw and forced yourself to breathe through your nose.
You took a first, quivering breath.
It stung like hell, your nose was in agony, and your vision was a blurry mess.
You focused on yourself, ignoring the thousand needles prodding your nose, and took another breath.
The dizziness was starting to ease off. However, your nose was still displeased by your insistence.
Another inhale.
Your nose slowly began to get used to the lingering aerosols.
You took a few more breaths and eventually recovered your footing, and your nose stopped sounding the alarm.
It still stung, but it was becoming bearable.
You hoped that not every new sensory sensation would irritate you like this.
You dried your eyes with your arm and sniffed your nose.
With your eyes clear of tears, you could finally see the entrance room in its full, grey glory.
The walls were mostly concrete, with a few pictures of military equipment and historic events to break up the otherwise monotonous boringness.
Several tables were set up to cope with the rush of recruits from earlier.
Besides you, there were just a few soldiers loitering around and one recruit still signing up.

While you were busy with your overloaded sense of smell, a soldier behind one of the sign-in desks had stood up and looked at you concerned.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
He made a move to go around the table and help you, but you gestured for him to stay where he was.

"I'll probably survive, thank you," you replied. "Did you happen to spill a palette of disinfectant? The smells's revolting!"

The man sniffed the air with a raised eye brow.
"No sir, but we have a strict disinfection policy for everyone signing up," he explained and sat down again.

"I see... That's gonna be annoying...", you replied while making your way to the desk.

It was COVID all over again, it seemed.
Minus the masks, at least.
"Anyway, let's get you checked in," he said, and began rummaging through a pile of papers behind him.
"A Mienshao Affligé..." he said to himself, probably searching for a specific document.
He finally pulled a piece of paper from the pile.
"Ah, there it is! I assume you must be Sergeant Etienne, then?" he finally asked.
You straightened up and moved your arms back into a mantis-like stance to not drag your whips on the ground anymore.
You pulled your snotty nose up again.

"You assumed correctly!" you replied.

"Wonderful! We just need you to fill out this form and sign it at the bottom on the back side," he told you, pointing to the different fields on the front and back of the paper he slid towards you.
You looked at him with a slightly tilted head.

"Don't you already have this information?" you asked.

"It's to confirm that the data in our system is still correct," he replied.
He then put a pen next to the document.

"OK then..." you muttered.

"Could I borrow a tissue, please?" you asked, sniffing up the mucus again. "My nose is still a bit runny."

"Oh, sure. One sec." The man opened the chest pocket of his uniform, took out a packet of tissues and handed you one.
You thanked him and blew your nose, then took a liberating breath without snot.

"Ah, much better!"

You glanced down to the form and the ball point pen beside it.
You actually haven't written anything with a pen since turning.
You grabbed the pen with your right hand.
Without a thumb, you couldn't properly hold it, so you tried a few different styles.
Holding it like a human with thumbs would?
Obvious result...
Maybe pinch it between your digits?
Not enough grip strength...
The Private watched you with amusement.
You eventually settled on clutching the writing utensil with your fist.
The form just asked for some general information, such as your place of residence, national insurance number, occupation and emergency contacts.
Writing was easier than you thought. It felt like you were five again, but at least you were still able to write things down.
Your whip appendage on the other hand...
You filled out a few lines, just for the whip to smear your writing.
You flicked the furry snake away and retraced the messed up letters.
You jotted down a few more lines, just for the purple menace to ruin it again!
You felt many eyes on you.
...
It happened again — for the third time.

"Argh, screw those bloody whips!" you blurted out.

You stared at your involuntary blotting paper – now sprinkled with blue ink – and wondered whether you should just tear it away.
You knew full well that it was a waste of time, as the bloody thing just grew back after a day or two.
...
Screw it! They gotta go!
Just as you were about to rip the leash off with your left paw, another soldier nearby joined in.
"Why not wrap those things around your arms if they annoy you?" he suggested.
You stopped writing and glared up at him.

"And how would that he-" you interrupted yourself mid sentence.

Your mouth stood agape.
What?
How didn't you come up with that idea? It was so simple!
"Six bloody weeks..." raced through your mind.
For six long weeks, you either tore them off or tried to ignore them.
For six annoying weeks, the voice occasionally reminded you to hold your arms up like a dog standing on its hind legs and be proud of the whips pristine sheen.
For six humiliating weeks, you gave in, mainly because cleaning them up after dragging them through the mud would have been worse.
Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and, even worse, self-doubt.
The voice seemed to have influenced you more than you initially thought.
It wasn't just pouting after all!
It wasn't a passenger, but the copilot.
But those six weeks were over now.
You were in charge — completely this time!
Hopefully...
There was a lot to think about yourself and that little weasel in your head, but it had to wait.
You cleared your throat and turned to the soldier, who stared at you as if petrified by Medusa.

"Please forgive my anger. I was just about to rip those things off, but your suggestion is actually so much better!" you told him, trying to soften the glare you'd shot at the man a second ago. "Merci!"

The soldier hesitated, but gave you a smile and a salute in return. "Glad to help, Sergeant!" he said with relief.
You grabbed the whip on your right arm and started to wrap it around your forearm.
You secured it by cramming the purple tips into the gaps.
Your copilot in the meantime was howling at you, telling you were a disgrace if you didn't show your weapons with pride.
...
You wrapped the left whip around your limb.

Afterwards, you shook your arms around to see if your efforts had paid off.
Luckily for you, they held fast.
Your forearms felt a bit strange and they were a bit thicker now, but after six weeks, your wrists were finally able to move freely without anything obstructing them.
Even better, you no longer had to walk around like a praying mantis to avoid dragging your long fur on the ground.
You could feel slightly more human again.
A relieved sigh escaped your mouth.
You adjusted a few creases to feel more comfortable.
You thanked the soldier again and then continued filling out the form.
Once finished and signed, you slid the form back over the table.
The soldier took the form and checked it to make sure it was all legible.
He nodded, put the piece of paper on a different stack of forms and handed you another, more colourful piece of paper.
The vibrant, colour-coded page contained the whole time table for your stay.
"That's the Picasso for the next two days," he began. "You're in group three."
"The commander's speech starts in 55 minutes," he continued, "You can take your luggage up to your room on the second floor; room number 204. You'll be sharing it with two other Affligés. Please deposit your belongings and then make your way to the waiting area in 40 minutes at the latest." He then pointed to the room to your left.
You nodded, still mustering the Picasso for your group.
After the speech, there was the sports exam together with group one, followed by some time to shower and have lunch.
The medical examination took up the entire afternoon, leaving just free time after dinner.
The next morning was left empty for group three, while the other groups were having the leadership and service aptitude tests.
After lunch, there was a big block labelled "Assignment".
You assumed that this last block would be the exchange that Christophe told you about.
Between the blocks were awfully long gaps.
You folded the paper up and put it in your bag.
You thanked the soldier and made your way up the stairs up to the second floor.
There was no saving grace for you this time, as the elevator was for staff only.
You gain some, you lose some...
So you started hopping up the stairs.
At least the voice seemed to have calmed down.

Part 3 – The Triumvirate

Two stories and 40 hops later, you arrived at the second floor.
Fortunately, your stamina has improved drastically with your new body.
Jumping around like that would've certainly wrecked you seven weeks ago.
You looked down the long hallway.
The right side was full with lockers and doors to the bedrooms, while the left side had lots of windows and mostly empty walls.
There wasn't much going on, but you could still hear some chattering coming from the rooms.
Above the first door hung a WC and bathroom sign.
You were a bit thirsty from the journey, so you had a quick look inside.
As you expected, there were about a dozen toilets and urinals, two room-long basins with mirrors and the usual large wet room with shower heads.
You walked over to one of the basins and turned on one of the taps and took a few good gulps.
The cool water felt great going down your long throat.
You also took the opportunity to clean the ink from your fur.
You unwrapped your right whip and started scrubbing.
Your fur wasn't as oily and water-repellent as the coat of an otter. Even so, the ink was quite easy to wash out.
Once the most egregious spots were cleaned, you wrung out the whip and wrapped it back around your arm.
Surprisingly, the voice seemed to have accepted the wrapping already and didn't cry out again.
The slightly wet sensation reminded you of all the times your sleeves got caught under the stream while you were washing your hands.
Satisfied, you went back to the hallway and marched to the next door to figure out where your room was exactly.
The first bedroom showed the number 225.
"Fantastic..." you murmured to yourself.

You leisurely started to make your way to the other end of the hallway.
The light-grey, rubbery floor felt oddly nice to walk on, as it feathered your gait while the Lego-like texture basically gave your feet a massage.
The clattering of your claws, on the other hand...
The emptiness of the hallway and general absence of activities amplified the noise.
You were not a fan, but there was nothing you could do but soldier on.
While you walked further down the hallway, you noticed some pictures hanging between the panes.
You had a look at some of them to distract yourself.
There was the obligatory "Patrouille Suisse flying in formation and showing their bellies with the snow covered Alps in the background" picture.
You always liked the iconic red and white livery of the F-5 fighter jets.
Too bad you weren't fit enough to become a fighter pilot back in the day. Flying through the mountainous terrain while dipping in and out of the fog always had been a dream of yours.
Now you were fit enough, but your ermine form wouldn't allow for piloting a supersonic war machine anymore and you highly doubted that they would custom build one for you either.
...
Maybe Affligé was the correct term after all...
You passed room 217.
The next picture was a great one — an action shot of an artillery piece mid-fire. The shock wave kicked up dust and dirt around the gun as the round, surrounded by thick, light-grey smoke, left the muzzle.
Room 209
Lastly, you saw a frame full of badges that you could earn during your service.
You knew around half of them and got four of your own: the service badge, the marksman's award, self-help and comrade assistance / CBRN defence, and domestic operations.
You were proud of those badges, even if they weren't particularly hard to achieve.
You wondered, if the army would introduce Pokémon-specific awards and if you could perhaps get them yourself.
Thinking about this made you realise what a badge junkie you actually were.
No matter, it always felt nice when you got some recognition for a job well done.
You finally got to room 204. It was the last one before another bathroom and staircase.
The door was half open and you could hear two voices inside.
One sounded higher and had a slight humming to it, while the other sounded more like chirping.
You paused for a second before knocking on the door and letting yourself in. The two voices fell silent.

The room itself was pretty basic. There were two bunk beds and a small shelf between them to your right. There also was big window looking out over the back of the building. The left wall was bare, apart from a single picture of an IFV.
At least the walls were covered with ingrain wallpaper and not simply left with exposed concrete like the rest of the building.
Perched on top of the further away bunk bed frame was a roughly basketball sized, black and red feathered bird with yellow wing tips.
The bird turned its head slightly to the side to get a better look at you.
"Salut!" the Fletchinder greeted you with his chirpy voice.

"Good morning," you replied and gave him a nod.

"Oh, oh, oh! Is our little trio complete now?" You heard an excited but bodiless voice say from your right.
Something shuffled around on the top bunk right next to you.
The mattress on the bed was higher than your head, so you stretched as far as you could to see the stranger, who was probably trying to get up.
To your surprise, however, the bed seemed to be completely empty.
You wondered which Pokémon the military summoned to participate in their little publicity stunt.
It should be someone strong or with an extraordinary ability to get the upper hand in battle.
A ghost-type perhaps?
You didn't have to wait long to find out, because a tiny yellow head with four blue eyes appeared over the edge of the bed frame.
The little creature lifted his right front leg and waved it at you. "Howdy!"
What? Why?

"Uh, hi?" you greeted the yellow tick with slightly widened eyes. "I honestly didn't expect a Joltik to be here."

The Joltik puffed himself up. "Neither did feather brain over there, yet here I am!" he said, looking over to his feathered comrade.
The Fletchinder flapped his wings. "Hey, I have a name you know!" he hissed at the tiny arachnid.
"I know~" the electric spider gleefully responded.
The Joltik looked back to you.
"Anyway, my name is Joel." He said, trying to salute you with his right little arm.
"And I'm Nick," added the fiery avian. "Nice to meet you!"

"Likewise! I'm Etienne," you introduced yourself with a smile.

What a quirky little group you had found yourself in!
You made your way to the bunk bed below the Fletchinder, put down your daypack in front of the night stand and hopped onto the mattress.

"I assume this one isn't taken yet?" you asked around.

The Joltik made his way down to the mattress opposite of you.
"Technically no bed is taken yet. Nick just perched himself up there and I wanted to be on eye level with him." Joel explained with a soft hum.
Nick fluttered down to the bed and made himself comfortable next to the much smaller Joltik.
"I was up there because I don't like the feeling of being enclosed by things." he said.
"Feather's claustrophobic~" Joel teased him.
Nick looked at Joel with narrowed eyes.
"You know that birds eat bugs like you," Nick grumbled at him.
You heard a soft crackling from the Jolitk, as he was building up static.
Joel then stood up on his hind legs to be more intimidating.
Well... as intimidating as a tennis ball sized, cute fur ball can be.
"Try me!" Joel spit back. "Electric is super effective against flying!"
Without a comment, Nick flapped his wings, creating a small gust.
The little bug-type immediately lost his balance and fell backwards onto his back. The static fizzled out while he tumbled.
"Hey, not fair!" he complained.
He started to flail with his four short legs to get himself back up.
You snorted.
They behaved like old friends. Maybe they did their apprenticeship together or perhaps they knew each other since childhood?
Before you could say anything, Nick turned his attention away from the struggling Joltik.
"So, how have you adjusted to being a... Sorry, what Pokémon are you anyway?" he asked you.

"Oh, uhm, I'm a Mienshao," you monotonously said.

"Mienshao, huh? Something after the fourth generation then?" he responded.

"Yeah, it's a fighting-type from the fifth generation," you explained to the bird.

You started rummaging through your bag for your phone.
Meanwhile, Joel was still lying on his back, wriggling and straining to find something to turn himself over.
But the empty mattress didn't have anything to grab onto.
You found your phone at the bottom of the daypack.

"But to get back to your question; settling in has been hard, especially with the constant emotional and psychological strain," You continued and put your phone on the bedside cabinet.

Nick tilted his head. "Didn't get spared by the intrusive thoughts, huh?" He said in a somewhat sombre tone.

"Guess so. Still adjusting to the whole..." You smacked your lips. "...experience?" You half-questioned yourself and gestured to your body.

You still weren't really sure of what to think about turning into a noodle with fur.
And frankly, you didn't want to think about it right now either.

"What about you two?" you started, to change the topic away from yourself. "Both of you seem rather comfortable with yourselves." you asked the two Pokémon.

Joel, now lying still and defeated on his back, was the first to respond.
"I think I'm one of the first cases nationwide. I turned half a year ago," he said. "I don't have a lot of psychological problems, though. Only that I want to french-kiss power sockets sometimes..." He chuckled while eyeing the outlet above the bedside table.
There was a moment of silence in the room as Joel tried to get up again.
He quickly gave up.
"Okay, I'm sorry I called you feather brain, Nick," he apologised to his tormentor. "Please help me get up!" He pleaded, stretching out all four limbs as if he wanted to hug someone.
Nick looked down to the helpless electric-type and shrugged as best as he could.
"Hmph, alright, grab on," he called out to Joel, hopped closer to him and extended his right wing above him.
The Joltik gladly grabbed the feathery arm that toppled him just a few moments ago and pulled himself back on his feet.
"Much better, thank you!" replied the relieved spider.
The Fletchinder just nodded and turned his attention back to you.
"As for me, I turned three and a half months ago. No real negative side effects either, other than not liking enclosed spaces." he said while he adjusted his wings to sit more comfortably.
"To be honest, I've never felt better! I've been a big fan of birds and flying all my life and I always wanted to be a pilot someday," he added with a happy chirp in his voice.
He tried to smile as much as his beak would allow.
"You'll get used to it, I'm sure of it!" He tried to cheer you up.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll get used to it," you protested. "Im just in a very long round of Schwingen at the moment, and I can't seem to heave the instincts and urges down into the sawdust. But I'm not going down that easily!"

The Joltik's eyes lit up when you mentioned the national sport.
"Did you wrestle in the sawdust ring before turning?" he asked with anticipation.

"Oh, not much," you admitted. "I rarely wore the wrestling trousers myself, but over the years I regularly attended the Swiss Wrestling Festivals with my grandpa!"

"Ooh, I always wanted to go to one — I love Swiss wrestling! Everyone I know only ever watches boring football and I never had the chance to visit a festival myself," Joel said, practically buzzing with excitement.
His joy was highly contagious and brought a smile to your face.
You saw an opportunity to make a new friend.

"Wanna go together to one sometime?" you asked him.

You didn't think he could get any happier, but he literally began to glow blue with joy.
"Yes, absolutely!" he hummed, jumping up and down with joy.

You turned to Nick. "What about you? Want to join us as well?"

Nick hesitated.
Eventually, he flapped his wings. The little bundle of joy beside him flinched and stopped glowing, fearing he would be flipped upside down again.
"Ah hell, why not. Sounds like a fun enough trip," Nick finally said, giving another hearty flap. "I'm not the biggest fan of Schwingen, but festivals are always fun."
Joel let out a happy buzz. "Yay!"

Joel and you chatted a bit more about your spontaneous plans.
Nick had meanwhile fluttered back to his previous spot above you to look outside.
You guessed that he wasn't as comfortable on the lower bed and that he wasn't as invested in the conversation.
Joel raved about the television broadcast and how he always wanted to start wrestling himself.
You told him how you got into it and that you mainly did to spend more time with your grandpa before he tragically passed away earlier this year.
After mentioning this, Joel's uplifted mood deteriorated, as if it had brought back painful memories.

"Are you alright?" you asked him.

"Yeah... just some bad memories." he dismissed you with a cold voice. "I'm sorry for you loss."
The way he answered made you believe that he must have had a very profound experience. You've never seen anyone get sad so quickly just from the mention of death.
...
You knew it was better not to ask the obvious next question.
Instead, you grabbed your phone to look at the time.
You didn't realise how fast the time had passed. The clock already showed 08:36.

"Well, we should really go back down to the waiting area. We got ten minutes left to gather," you told your newfound friends.

"Oh really?" Nick said from above. "But it's way more comfortable in here and we still got ten minutes!"
The room wasn't really that inviting in your eyes.

"Why's that?" you asked, remembering the order to go to the waiting area straight away after bringing your luggage up here.

"Well... you know how we turnees just get stared at constantly, right?" the bird explained.
You knew.
Joel joined in too. His voice didn't have that sombre undertone from before anymore. "The stares just don't stop and it makes me nervous."

The constant stares never really bothered you, but you still felt how people constantly glanced at you in your new, everyday life.
But you'd also been trying to avoid as much exposure to society as possible for the past six weeks in general.
The trip here was actually the longest time you'd been in public by a long shot.
You sympathised with the two of them, but orders were orders.

"I know, I know. But we still need to gather in the waiting area, regardless of the stares," you tried to convince them. "Orders shouldn't be ignored so early in your career."

Nick glided down beside you, staring at you with narrowed eyes.
"You sound just like my former lieutenant. Aren't you a private, like we are?" he accused you.
You were found out.
Well, it wasn't a secret to begin with, but it still felt like it.
There was no reason to hide it.

"Sergeant, actually," you corrected the suspicious bird.

Nick hopped a step away from you. "Oh shit, should I have called you 'Sir'?" he gasped.

"Heavens, no!" you immediately replied, your paws held up in an apologetic gesture. "I've never been one of those NCOs with a power trip fetish. I dropped that act after the first twelve weeks of RS. It's perfectly fine to address me informally!"

"Man, what a twist," the electric-bug-type chuckled.
Nick cleared his throat. "Sorry, many NCOs kinda have a stick up their bum."

"You're good. The army does have a lot of those..." you remarked, lowering your paws and jumping off the mattress.

Joel recited one of the derogatory sayings about militia NCOs and officers. "A failure in life; a cadre in the army~"
Unfortunately, the saying hit the nail on the head in many cases. There was an overabundance of incompetence in the commanding ranks of the militia.
While you were on topic, now was the time to ask that question that'd been bugging you for a while.

"So, you were privates before turning," you began. "Did you two serve together?"

Nick looked up to you with a puzzled look on his face.

"How do you know that?" he asked. "We served in the same regiment. Joel was a mechanic while I was the driver of a Piranha AFV. Well, we still kinda are — on paper I mean."
Bingo! You were mostly right with your assumption.

"The way you interacted with each other gave it away," you told them.

Little Joel was making his way to the edge of the mattress, but didn't jump down yet.
"You are pretty observant," he expressed.

"A good leader should know the people he works with," you stated with pride.

They nodded.

"Anyway, we should probably go downstairs now." you said. "I really don't want to piss off the fish finger faction this early."

Both of them agreed with a chuckle, but Joel still hesitated to jump off the bed.
He looked.. helpless?
You went over to him and crouched down.

"Need a ride?" you asked the little four-legged arachnid.

"Yes please... I'm not as quick as I used to be and the idea of someone stepping on me is pretty unnerving, to be honest," Joel admitted.
You stretched out your arm towards him.

"Alright, hop on. Standard charges apply," you invited him with a smile.
"Cheers, Sergeant!" Joel said as he saluted you and jumped onto your arm.

Joel then made his way up your arm and onto your shoulder before finally coming to rest on your head.
You felt the urge to swat the bug-type away...
"You're really fluffy, you know?" you heard from the top of your head. "I kinda expected you to be... more otter-ish?"
That didn't help with the urge, either.

"Mhm"

You didn't like the remark, even if you made that connection pretty early yourself.
After you had told your parents about your condition, your mother also made the same remark when they visited you and she gave you a hug.
The petting that followed felt awful, even if she only meant well.

You grabbed your daypack and took out all the things you didn't need to carry with you. A towel, as well as your toothbrush and toothpaste.
You put the items on the mattress, put your phone back in and picked up the bag.
The three of you left the room and made your way to the stairs on the far end of the hallway.
While you were walking, you asked them about their service together.
Nick told you that his Piranha regularly broke down and needed frequent repairs. Joel was assigned to his regiment after the second time for rudimentary field repairs and acted as his personal navigator.
"Ah, good times" Joel revelled in nostalgia. "That stupid piece of junk always broke down at the most inconvenient time."
"Like that one time we somehow got stuck in a literal puddle in the middle of a field because the engine suddenly decided to output only 5% of its power?" Nick chirped, hopping beside you, trying to keep up your pace.
"Aw man, don't remind me," Joel chuckled from the top of your head. "For some reason, the engine was leaking oil in ways I never thought possible. It fucked up the differential somehow."
"Oh, right! It wasn't actually the engine that time," replied Nick. "It took us about seven hours to get back to base, too."
You just listened and enjoyed the conversation.
It was always nice to share experiences in the army. It was a great conversation starter.
The three of you went downstairs into the now empty entrance room.
The smell of hand sanitiser had dissipated somewhat, but was still lingering in the air.
The concentration was low enough to not bother you as much this time around.
You could hear a lot of chatter behind the door labelled as the waiting area.
You led the way into the room, Nick closely following behind you.

Your gaze swept across the L-shaped room to find a free spot at the edges. It was a spacious hall with lots of tables scattered around. Along the walls were large shelves, displaying brochures detailing all the various army functions one could be assigned to.
Almost all of the tables were occupied. Some of the recruits were browsing brochures, while many were scrolling through their phones and others were socialising.
Quite a few were looking in your direction too.
You guessed there were at least 200 people in here.
However, you couldn't see much around the corner.
There was all sorts of noise and chatter around you.
Suddenly, your left ear twitched.
Joel was poking it with his leg.

"Cut it out up there!" you commanded.

The poking stopped.
"Sorry..." Joel replied. "Your ears were swivelling around and I got curious."
They did? You hadn't noticed...
Nick flew past you to a table by the outer wall of the wing, near the corner, where there were still chairs available.
Some recruits ducked their heads as the bird flew just above them.
You followed him, but had to weave your way through the maze of tables and people.
You were kinda envious of Nick.
You could've turned into something with a helpful ability such as flight.
But you turned into a humanoid mink with whips instead of thumbs.
At least you were still fairly compatible with human infrastructure.
That was one thing you couldn't have envied him for.
You couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like to live as a Joltik or another Pokémon with an entirely different body shape.
How horrific it must be to navigate our world as a ten centimetre big bug...
You thought about how the little play session with Benny the cat would have gone.
Probably a lot less enjoyable...
Just the thought of it gave you goose bumps.
You were trapped in a Furry's wet dream, but it could have been so much worse.

Despite their drastically altered bodies, Nick and Joel seemed in tune with their new lives, perhaps they could help you out with tackling your ever-present dysphoria?
You were torn from your daydreams once again, as Joel was climbing down from your head and onto your right shoulder.
The urge to swat him away came back while he moved around.
You arrived at the table where Nick had asked if the two seats were free. They nodded.
You joined them, taking the last free seat and placing your bag on the ground beside you.
"Thanks for the ride, Etienne!" Joel said and jumped from your shoulder onto the table.
He jumped surprisingly far.
Once landed, he had a quick look around, then walked over to the newspaper lying on the other side.
Nick sat on his chair to your right.
His head barely cleared the edge of the table, but he didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually.
The two recruits you sat with didn't concern themselves with you, as they were staring at their phones. Luckily they weren't the gawking kind, nor were they very talkative.
The table had the perfect position for you to see the other end of the bent room, though.
It was a bit larger than expected, but still furnished with tables, shelves and recruits.
There was a small lounge in the corner, but what was sitting on the sofa was way more interesting.
A group of four women were chatting to each other.
Sitting with them was a white and blue Pokémon with long, curled-up ears and yellow eyes.
It was happily talking with its group and didn't notice its fellow Pokémon on the other side of the room.
And neither did your two fellows.
Nick was just staring holes in the air, while Joel was preoccupied with reading the newspaper.
You didn't read the news much because you felt it was bad for your mental health.
Arguably even more so than living with a Shaolin weasel in your head.
Now that you were back in the militia's limelight, you should probably start informing yourself again.

You leaned over the table and put your paw on the newspaper.

"Hold on tight or move off for a sec, I want to read too," you warned Joel, who turned to face you.

"Uh, sure," he replied and braced himself for the pull.
You carefully slid the paper towards you.
Joel stepped off the newspaper, once it was in front of you to let you read as well.
Joel had been reading the section dedicated to the Pokémon phenomena.
The whole double page was filled with updates to current happenings in Switzerland and Europe.
You skimmed through the segments.
A Frenchman had turned into a Swinub and became a famous truffle and porcino mushroom hunter in the Provence region.
There was a picture of said Swinub, where he was proudly standing next to around 5 kg of truffles and procinos. He looked quite pleased with his spoils.
There was another debunked sighting of a Lapras in Loch Ness.
Some Berlin citizens had misidentified a boar for a Pyroar... again.
Medical scientists at the University of Zurich had apparently begun developing their own diagnostic procedure for turnee's mental health issues, as they believed that Pokémon Induced Psychosis Syndrome (PIPS) had significant gaps in the actual help available to those affected.
Huh, that was an interesting one.
The few paragraphs didn't go into detail on what they were doing specifically, nor what PIPS was supposed to be.

"Does anyone of you know what this PIPS is?" you asked your accompanying Pokémon.

They had turned some time ago, they gotta know what it is.
"I heard of it, but I don't know what it is exactly," Joel replied. "What about you, feathers?"
Nick shot Joel a quick glare.
"Yes, I have," he began. "They diagnosed me a few weeks ago. There's two parts to it: One that diagnoses your memories, and the other that identifies your instincts and urges, I think."

"Interesting, how does it work?", you asked out of curiosity.

"It boils down to getting bombarded with questions about your past and then trying to figure out what Pokémon-specific alterations you have," he explained.

"What alterations?" you inquired.

"Things like you told us before," he continued. "Instincts, urges or atypical thought patterns. Merely psychological of course."
Nick presented himself, wings spread wide. "They can obviously see what happend to you physically." he said.
Joel spoke up. "I wonder if they're gonna use PIPS for the medical examinations this afternoon." he thought out loud.
"Could be." Nick replied.

"Well, thanks for the insights," you said to the fiery robin.

Your news reading was cut short, because a black-haired, middle-aged man in uniform had entered the room and demanded everyone's attention.
The room fell silent.
He asked everyone to follow him to the conference room for the commander's speech.
The room got pretty lively after that, as everyone stood up and started following the self-announced bear guide.
You grabbed your bag, and let Joel climb on your arm again.
This time, he stayed on your forearm.
You waited until the half of the people cleared out of the room.
While you waited, the group of women and the feline Pokémon passed you.
You exchanged glances, but no word was spoken.
They walked out of the room shortly after, and you three started to follow the rest of the crowd as well.
"I didn't expect a fourth turnee showing up," Joel remarked. "That was a Meowstic, right?"
Nick shrugged. "Dunno, definitely not gen four or earlier..." he said.
You weren't sure yourself.

"Aren't Meowstic supposed to be blue with white accents and blue eyes?" you asked.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure its just the female colouration," Joel replied.
You never saw it any other colour than blue, but you took the electric-types knowledge at face value.

You took a left out of the waiting room into the hallway.
From the looks of it the conference room was at the far end of the corridor.
While on your way, you three made bets on what the commander was going to say.
Joel bet that he would tell everyone how important their service is.
Nick was certain that the commander would spew a whole lot of nonsense about camaraderie, "finding ones limits", and how the military definitely isn't as terrible as its reputation.
You bet that he would tell everyone that "we are living in difficult times", while being as vague as possible to avoid stirring up controversy.
You all agreed that he would definitely talk about the Pokémon phenomenon in great detail while butchering every single 'Mons name.
Your group reached the door to the big conference hall.
As always, the early birds made themselves comfortable in the back, while the rest had to make do with the front and mid rows.
You looked around for free spaces.
You spotted two free chairs in the mid rows near the edge and pointed your feathery friend towards it.
Nick didn't hesitate and flew straight to the seats to reserve them for you ground-dwellers.
You saw him land and shoo away some recruits that wanted to sit beside him.
His chirping was remarkably loud.
You squeezed your way through the crowd to get to your reserved seat and sat down.
Joel moved up to your head again to see over the crowd.
Unfortunately, you were short and could barely see over the people sitting in front of you yourself.
Nick initially sat on the seat of the chair, but then hopped onto the backrest so he could see a little better.
However, his momentum almost caused the chair to tip over.
You immediately put your paw on the seat to stop it from tipping any further and put it back on all its four legs.
Nick looked pale, even through the plumage.
"Merci," he said quietly.

"Service !" you replied.

Now you waited.
The clock on the left wall showed 08:54
You waited until nine o'clock.
A grey-haired man in uniform shuffled to the podium. Three thick horizontal stripes adorned his right collar.
The colonel welcomed everyone to the facility and then began to inform you about what is happening the next two days.
He told you about what the military does, what alternatives there were, and how you should all be proud to serve under the flag.
He checked every mental box you three bet on.
It took an agonising thirty minutes for the speech to end.
You lost track of everything he said after ten.
After he finished and left the podium, the bear guide stepped up and instructed you on your next tasks.
The first examinations began at ten.
As you were in group three, you had half an hour to get ready and move to the sports hall.
Since you did not have to change clothes, that meant thirty minutes of free time.
You stood up and left the room with the others.
Maybe you'd bump into that Meowstic and have a chat?

Part 4 – Split Paths

With nothing better to do and no sign of the Meowstic, you went back up to your room with the others.
You didn't talk much while hopping back up the stairs.
Death by PowerPoint had made you all rather sleepy.
The hallway was bustling with recruits getting ready for the sports examination.
You weaved through the masses and went straight to your room at the end of the corridor.
Then everyone just kinda did their own thing.
Nick sat back on his usual spot above you, probably looking out of the window or just dozing off.
Joel latched onto the outlet to get some energy back for the next couple of hours.
You simply laid down on your mattress, left leg bent and right one crossed over it. You paws lay staggered on your chest so you could feel every breath.
Your resting heart rate and breathing cycles were definitely higher than those of a regular human.
Just another new normal for you.
You closed your eyes to meditate and relax.
You could hear the jumble of voices through the closed door.
The white noise helped you let your mind drift.
You felt mentally tired yet serene.
Some weeks ago, you found out about Mienshao's Regenerator ability online.
Since you couldn't really "withdraw from battle", you figured that letting your mind wander off while meditating should have the same effect.
And you were right with your assumption!
That was definitely something you were a fan of, and you exploited it over the past few weeks whenever you were overwhelmed by the changes or when you were just tired during the day.
How handy such an ability would've been in the past...
You thought back to an exhausting moment in the army.
Because of some dumb mismanagement, your group of four privates and you were assigned to stand guard for almost 48 hours.
Because three people was the minimum requirement for active guard duty, someone had to jump in for nearly the whole duration.
You could've just condemned one or two privates to overwork themselves, but your group did a pretty good job in the previous shift during the exercise and you didn't want to punish them for a job well done.
Punishment by incompetence was something you were highly allergic to. That was why you decided to take the double shifts yourself.
Getting energy back from just ten minutes of meditating would've been a blessing during those two days.
Too bad you were just a regular human back then.
...
Being a Mienshao actually wasn't that bad, was it?
Sure, the voice was annoying―as were the paws, claws, whips, your height, and of course the fact that nobody recognised you anymore.
...
That last one was especially devastating.
The owner of the bar where you were a regular, who no longer recognised you until you told him.
The same for the cashiers at your local Coop and Migros, as well as the regular faces you saw while grocery shopping.
The way they looked at you strangely when you greeted them like usual stayed in your mind for a while.
...
But other than that, you were healthier, got helpful new abilities, and a unique chance to break out of your everyday rut.
If Nick and Joel were any indication, that was where you were headed in terms of getting along with your new self.
You were in an emotional valley, but you had clawed your way out of other situations before.
It had always been worth the climb to see the view from the top again. This time wasn't any different.
<Keep climbing, no matter how painful the next step might be, because the fall will always be worse.> you heard your late grandpa say in your mind.

A knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts.
The door opened and a lanky looking warrant officer entered.
"Private Joel, Private Nick, are you two in here?" he asked.
"Yes, Adjudant," responded Nick above you. "We're both here."
"Good, listen up you two." the uniformed man began. "You won't be joining the regular sports exam with the rest. Meet at ten-hundred in the waiting area, prepared for your individual physical tests."
"Understood! Meet at ten in the waiting area," Nick acknowledged. You heard the rustling of feathers.
The warrant officer nodded, raised his straightened right hand to his temple to return the salute, and then left the room.
He left the door wide open.
There was silence for a short while. Only a few voices could still be heard outside.
"Hey, Etienne. What time is it?" Nick then asked you.
You grabbed your phone next to you and turned on the screen.

"Twelve to ten," you replied.

"Alright, we better just go down now," the bird Pokémon said and fluttered down to the night stand where Joel was still charging himself up.
Joel didn't react to Nick landing beside him at all.
He was fast asleep.
"Hey, Mr. Blackout, you coming?" he asked the four-legged arachnid.
Still no reaction.
You uncrossed your legs and sat up.
Nick tried to shake the electric-type awake, but before he could touch Joel, a small flash of electricity arched to his wingtip with an audible crack.
He flapped back in shock.
Joel woke up from the gust of wind, lost his grip from the socket and fell back-first onto the table beneath him.
"...not again, Nick!" he drowsily cried out.
The Fletchinder looked at his wing that had just been tased and shook it up and down to ease the sting.
A few yellow feathers gently fell onto the nightstand.
"How was I supposed to know that you'd just shock me!" Nick reproached him.
"Oh, I don't know... maybe don't touch something that is attached to a literal power outlet next time?" the spider Pokémon retorted sarcastically.
"Yeah, sorry... but how was I supposed to wake you up?" Nick responded and walked over to the Joltik still lying on his back. "Anyway, grab on."
He helped Joel get back on his feet again―without getting shocked this time.
"Just scream at me next time or use your pretty wings to make a breeze like you just did?" Joel suggested.
In the meantime, you pressed your feet together and held them with your paws to pull them towards you for a quick stretch.

"I hate to interrupt, but didn't you want to go downstairs?" you asked.

The electric type looked at you puzzled. "Why, is it time already? How long was I out?" he asked.

"We still have ten minutes, but you two got different orders just now." you stated.

"We'll fill you in while we go downstairs," Nick chimed in.
Joel agreed and jumped on Nick's back to hitch a ride.
You decided to go with them, in hopes to bump into the Meowstic that had vanished after the speech.
That, or find a Selecta vending machine for a quick snack.
Together, you made your way back down the flight of stairs again and to the nearly empty waiting area.
On the way, Nick told Joel what the Adjudant had told him.
In the waiting hall, you hung around for a few more minutes, before you went your merry way to meet the other group at the gymnasium.
Luckily, the way to the sports hall was well signposted.
To your stomach's dismay, however, no sign lead you to a Selecta machine...

Part 5 – With Fiery Wings

Twenty minutes you were waiting here now.
Ten minutes ago, someone was supposed to come pick you up in the waiting area.
Five minutes ago, some sergeant came and escorted Joel to his special fitness test.
Now you were alone.
Just you, the ticking of the clock on the wall next to you, and the tingly sensation in your right wing.
You never were shocked by a taser before, let alone by an outlet!
At least you knew now that you could survive 230 volts without ending up as roast chicken.
Still, you hoped to newer experience that again.
Getting hit by lightning mid flight would be disastrous...
15 minutes late now...
With nothing else to do, you started to think about your imminent special test.
It was probably something similar to the regular sports exam. Planking, standing long jump, throwing a medicine ball, balancing on one leg, and running in circles with progressively less time between reaching checkpoints.
Which of those things were you still able to do anyway?
Doing the flamingo was still possible.
So was jumping.
Throwing a ball that was 80% of your weight and size would be a challenge―but with what hands would you even throw? Your stick legs certainly weren't up to the task.
Running was awkward at best, too. You were just big enough to walk normally, but anything more than a brisk walk was in hopping territory.
Maybe you'd have special tests that included flying? That would be absolutely delightful!
You imagined yourself flying through an obstacle course – weaving, diving and gliding elegantly at blistering speeds.
While you were psyching yourself up in your daydreams, an annoyed looking sergeant entered.
"Private Nick?" he asked.

"Present," you replied, just like you'd been taught during your service.

"Good, come along!" he commanded you. "The more time we lose here, the more time you'll lose for lunch."

"Understood," you replied slightly irritated.

Of course their time-keeping mess would be your problem...
You followed the sergeant out of the room and through the entrance hall.
He walked quickly, same as Etienne. A common sergeant illness it seemed.
While you managed to keep up with Etienne and his short Mienshao legs just fine, following a human around was more taxing on your own physique.
All you had to do was make it outside, then you could just fly alongside the sergeant.
The sliding door of the entrance opened and both of you stepped outside.
The weather was mild and overcast. The sun was shining through the gaps in the clouds and there was a slight breeze coming in from the west.
Finally, no roof to contain you any longer!
You spread your wings and leapt into the air.
Your feathers immediately trapped the wind, and with just a few flaps you were in your element a few metres above the ground.
However, your sense of freedom was cut short when you heard the sergeant shout angrily at you from below.
"Private, to me!" he called you back in a stern voice.
You begrudgingly followed suit and landed beside him.
He looked down on you, both physically and mentally.
"You are not permitted to take off until you are given the order to do so, understood?" he hissed at you.

"But I was going to fly-" you wanted to explain, before the sergeant cut you off.

"Do I make myself clear?" he demanded with even more authority in his voice.
Great, a loudmouth... No sense in arguing...

"Understood!" you replied with false élan in your voice to not agitate him further.

"Good. Onward, march!" he said in a smug voice and began to jog, as if he knew you would struggle with keeping up with him.
You hopped slightly behind him, struggling to keep up.
You started to hop with a single flap between landing to keep the pace.
Luckily the sergeant didn't yell at you for exploiting the grey area.
You felt yourself getting hotter by the minute.
You opened your beak and began to pant to cool yourself down a bit, but it hardly helped at all.
Your "jog" continued along the road to the bus stop and then a bit further to a large meadow, where a second guy in fatigues was standing by a modular vaulting box.
He had his back to you and was looking at papers spread out on the padded surface.
You overheard the sergeant calling him lieutenant, but it really didn't matter right now.
You felt as hot as an industrial furnace and the panting did nothing.
The distance from here to the recruitment centre was only around a kilometre, but you felt like you just finished a marathon.
You could fly for hours without a break, but running really wasn't your thing anymore.
You missed being able to sweat to get rid of excessive body heat...
But being part fire-type had it's perks.
You took a deep breath and concentrated on the flame sac in your belly.
You started to feel all the heat flowing away from your exhausted body and towards this single organ.
Once you felt cool enough, you turned away from the two talking militairs and jumped up into the air.
On the apex of your jump – around chest height – you released the stored up energy out of your open beak.
In order to not hurl the fire hazard towards the village, you flapped your wings to break the projectile up.
Timing was everything. If you flapped your wings too early, the ember would hit them and explode in your face. If you flapped too late, however, you would just give it a speed boost.
But if you hit it just right... perfection!
You hit the ember with the very tips of your wings, giving the ember enough of a twist to break it up.
The accompanying wind did the rest: A crescent-shaped shower of sparks spread out before you.
The cackling of the dissipating embers startled the two soldiers behind you.
You turned around while still in the air and landed with you facing the duo.
You still felt the heat behind you, but your body felt refreshed.
The sergeant was pale as a sheet, while the lieutenant looked in awe.
"That was a remarkable display, Private! But I'd appreciate if you gave us a warning next time," the lieutenant said.

"Pardon me, running around makes me hot," you started to explain. "I can't sweat anymore, so that's how I get rid of most of the built up heat."

It was either firing off an ember or panting for the better half of an hour, but they didn't need to know that.
"Interesting..." he replied while rubbing his chin with his left hand. "Anyway, let's start with your test, shall we?"
The lieutenant dismissed the silent and still pale sergeant, who saluted and then hurried back to the recruitment centre.
<Serves him right you thought to yourself.
"Please come and sit on the Swedish box, Private Nick," the officer invited you while making space on the vaulting box. "I prefer talking on eye level."
You followed suit and hopped on to the gymnastic unit.
He then started to explain why you had a special test and what the goal of it all was.
Like you already guessed, you weren't built for the regular test and would most likely not reach the threshold to be considered fit for service.
To give you a chance, they made some changes to the disciplines and how the points were calculated.
You started with the one-legged stance, as it was kept the same.
You stood on your stronger leg and the lefty started the timer.
The padded surface was solid enough to not throw you of balance, but it kept you active.
Ten seconds―you closed your eyes.
You were still okay, but not having a point of reference on the horizon anymore made it a bit more difficult.
Twenty seconds―you threw your head back to "look" skywards.
Your sense of balance was better than pre-turning, but it still caught you off guard.
You keeled over pretty much immediately.
"23 seconds, that would be five points," the lieutenant said.

"That last one caught me off guard..." you said while you stood up again.

"You stood rock solid until then, though!" the officer remarked.
You made yourself ready for your second attempt.
Once you lifted your left leg up, the lefty started the timer again.
Ten seconds passed, then twenty.
You were prepared this time.
Thirty
You felt the westward breeze going through your plumage, and you had to counterbalance the forces it applied.
Forty
The wind died down and you almost lost your balance.
Fifty-five
You were still struggling to keep your balance.
Then, a gust of wind from the south ruined your attempt. It hit you just in the right angle under your tail feathers to flip you over instantaneously.
You tried to catch your fall with your wings, but they unfolded too slowly. You landed face first onto the padding.
"59 seconds, 20 points," the lieutenant said and noted the time and points on his clipboard.
You stood up again.

"Not too bad. Stupid gust..." you stated.

You two had a short chat about how it felt different to being a human.
He noted your remarks on the clipboard as well.
"Okay, thank you," he began. "With your input, we can improve the test in the future. While the wind can be problematic, it probably is more realistic to what you can expect while in the field."
You nodded.
While it sucked that you lost points for something you couldn't control, it was a fun challenge. It kept you on edge and and required your full concentration. Definitely an upgrade to the boring human discipline.
The lefty rummaged through a bag at his feet and presented you with a tangled mess.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked you.
You mustered the construct of tangled straps and a plastic plate.

"Uhm, not really?" you replied.

"This is a harness that is normally used for attaching cameras to birds," he explained.
"It is slightly modified, so the plate is on your stomach instead of on your back," he continued. "The plate can be equipped with up to five kilograms of weight and there is a GPS transmitter built in to track your position."

"Oh, so instead of throwing medicine balls, you just want me to carry some weight?" you guessed.

"Exactly," he confirmed your guess.
"But not just that," he continued to explain his plan. "Instead of planking, you'll be flying in place in a designated one by one metre square, hence the GPS tracker."
You wanted to smile, but your beak couldn't bend the way human lips could.

"That sounds incredible!" you said full of anticipation, and moved towards the officer, so he could put the harness on you.

The lefty let out a laugh. "You like being a Fletchinder, don't you?" he remarked while he untangled the last few strings of the harness.

"Mhm, I love every second of it!" you chirped. "Flying was always a big dream of mine!"

"How lucky for you then, most Affligés I've met were more on the grumpy side," he stated.

"Like Sergeant Etienne?" you asked.

The officer looked up to you. "Who's Sergeant Etienne?" he replied.

"He's the Mienshao that is here as well," you elaborated. "...I thought you might have met him already. Excuse."

"Oh, that fellow! I caught a glimpse of him during the commander's speech." he responded. "What about him?"

"He's nice, but I can't shake the feeling that he hates being a Mienshao..." you told him while he started to put the harness on you. "He tries to hide it, but the way he behaves leaves no doubt about it."

The lefty gestured you to turn around. "Well, hard to judge someone I haven't met myself, but the sergeant might suffer from dysphoria. At least that's what many Affligés have told me." he said while adjusting the strings on your back.
"Please turn around again and open your wings," he commanded. You followed his instructions. "What strikes you as odd in his demeanour, if I may ask?"
You curiously watched the lieutenant adjust the plastic plate while you thought about his question.

"...It's hard to explain, but it's the way he walked without letting his claws touch the ground naturally, that he wrapped his appendages around his arms and the way he reacts to remarks about his appearance..." you listed some things you observed.

There was a moment of silence.
"Sounds to me like he still has some inner demons to fight," the officer replied. "I can imagine that his changes weren't as drastic as yours, hence his refusal to accept them as easily."

"...I guess..." you said, not quite sure what to make of his reply.

"Bon, how is the harness fitting? Feeling any restrictions?" he asked you afterwards.
You moved your wings around, folded and unfolded them and pulled a leg in like you would in-flight.

"Seems fine to me!" you replied while pulling on one strap below your right wing because it bent a few feathers in a weird way.

"Very well, let's start with flying in place then," he said.
He instructed you to fly at any height where you could comfortably recover from a fall and with enough wind to glide in place. He'd use a whistle to give basic instructions and updates.
You took off and flew around to find a good spot not too far away.
The officer was keeping an eye on you with his binoculars.
You found the perfect spot about 20 metres above ground, where the wind blew constantly from the east.
You turned into the wind and cried down that you were ready.
A whistle gave you the signal that the timer began counting.
You looked down and fixed your gaze on the Swedish box to stay in your one by one metre boundary box.
All the hours on helicopter simulators had prepared you for this.
You heard a short whistle after twenty seconds.
You had to adjust your angle of attack constantly to not sway off course.
You weren't sure why, but you knew exactly how much you were off the centre by just looking at the vaulting box.
It was a delicate dance between you and the wind.
You twisted your wings and tail feathers and shifted your weight around to not fall behind the constant little changes in the wind.
If you had reacted instead of predicting just once, it would have been over.
You heard a second whistle – forty seconds.
You had to concentrate hard, but anticipating the winds next move brought you immense joy.
You turned into the wind every time the air shifted ever so slightly. From east-north-east, to north-north-east, to north―it didn't matter.
By the fourth whistle you entered a zen-like state and let your instincts take over completely.
It was just you and the elements up here. Total freedom.
Before you knew it, you heard three long whistles. 300 seconds had passed without you even noticing.
You dove down and landed with pinpoint accuracy back on your spot on the vaulting box.
The lieutenant had an impressed look on his face.
"300 seconds and you didn't even come close to the boundary of your square," he said. "25 points, congratulations!"
Hearing that filled you with pride.
After he scribbled down your score and remarks again, he instructed you on the next discipline.
The lieutenant rummaged through a bag at his feet and put a few identical looking, black blocks onto the leathery surface of the gym unit.
"Okay, this is going to be the last discipline," he began. "Those blocks all weigh between 400 grams and five kilos."
You thought you didn't hear the first part right.

"Wait, aren't there supposed to be five disciplines in total?" you asked puzzled.

"Er, yes, normally there would be two more after this, but..." He stopped talking and started pushing the pieces of paper scattered around the makeshift table.
"We've decided to combine the last three into a single, larger discipline," he finished, having apparently found what he was looking for on a page.
He put the note in front of you.
It was a crude drawing of an obstacle course with three posts marked on it.
You studied the plan while the lieutenant explained some of the details.
You were tasked to fly a predetermined path while carrying increasingly more weight.
The three posts were: Crawling through shrubbery, climbing up a tree, and something the lefty called "accuracy gliding".
The entire exercise was timed, just like the progressive endurance run of the usual test. Not only did you have to carry increasingly more weight, but you also had less time to complete the individual tasks as time progressed.
Again, just like with the endurance run, the rhythmic timings were played through a speaker to provide auditory guidance.
If you were out of sync too long and heard the officers whistle, you were out and needed to return immediately.
"I hope you got all of that. To get the full 75 points, you'll be going around the course for approximately one hour." said the officer in conclusion.
You took another good look at the plan written on the paper before you.
You didn't catch any impossible tasks, nor something that would get too difficult as time went on.
But you also didn't really know how the ever increasing weight would bother you, especially since the heaviest thing you had carried ever since turning was your phone.
One last thing wasn't really clear.

"When do I change weights exactly?" you asked.

"Oh, I forgot!" the lieutenant exclaimed and cleared his throat. "Every fifth lap there will be a very short break where I switch out your weights. The timer will be paused, of course."

"So I start with 400 grams and then it goes up by 400 every fifth lap up to five kilos?" you asked for confirmation.

"That is correct, but..." he affirmed. "But there will be bigger steps after the two kilo mark."
The officer sighted. "Admittedly, we only found eight weights that can be clipped to your harness."
You nodded and glanced back at the plan.
"Alright, prepare yourself for a warm-up lap. If you do something wrong and I'll see it, I'll whistle you back to me," the lefty instructed. "Aim for around a minute to complete a single lap."
And with that, you began to prepare yourself for the warm-up lap.
You started at the Swedish box and waited for the lieutenant's whistle.
PHWEEEE!
You hopped into the air, spread your wings and started dashing towards the nearby treeline.
You landed at the foot of the marked shrubbery and began to make your way through.
It was one of those bushes that bore small, red berries and had thorns all over.
You were taken down memory lane to your childhood, when you used to crawl through shrubs like these all the time with your friends.
You always wondered why the little sparrows and blackbirds liked to be in the thicket so much – and now you got to experience first-hand why they did.
You, however, were no small sparrow. The undergrowth was dense and you had trouble fighting your way through.
Your plumage protected you from the thorns, as long as you kept them away from your eyes at least.
Keeping your head stable enough to not blur your vision kept you on your toes.
After what felt like an eternity of going over and under thorn covered branches, you made it to the other side with both eyes unscathed.
Your harness got caught by some of the twigs, but it held fast. Definitely something to look out for once the weight was attached.
On to the next post―you could already see the small orange flag that marked the tree you were supposed to climb.
It was a stately fir with very low-hanging branches.
<Ideal for climbing,> you thought to yourself while making your way to the base of the tree.
You clambered up the trunk to the lowest branch using your beak for additional grip on the bark.
The climb wasn't too bad, even though it made you feel pretty hot already.
Ignoring the heat build-up, you proceeded to jump from branch to branch.
You used the thinner branches elasticity as a springboard to ease your climb.
You sometimes had to push yourself away in a different direction to not crash into the trunk or branches, but otherwise you were fine.
Once you were near the top, you scurried along a thick branch back towards your starting point.
It was time for the long glide back. There were some trees in the way and you weren't fully able to see the finish line...
You jumped and started to glide towards where you thought the officer was standing.
You weaved through the treetops of the small mixed forest.
The plan said that you were allowed to fly regularly until you cleared the last tree, just so you wouldn't lose too much altitude.
You dodged the gently swaying foliage with ease.
You were nimble and cutting it close was a fun way to keep you occupied.
As you flashed through, you felt one of the branches graze your right wing.
You took mental notes of other possible flight paths for the real laps, just in case it wasn't the fastest route.
Optimising this last part seemed important to catch up on lost time during the crawl and climb.
You reached the last tree, another fir. You flapped once more to gain some extra height, then let the wind carry you towards your target: a bright red plastic hoop on the ground next to the Swedish box.
You had found your third wire for the Case III, although your "Landing Signal Officer" seemed to not take his job very seriously, as he was just lazily looking at you with his binoculars.
You glided further towards the plastic ring, but in your mind you didn't see a meadow anymore, but a vast ocean. Your target: a CVN with a lazy LSO guiding you in your approach. "Call the Ball," it reverberated in your mind.
<Firebird, clara,> you thought to yourself, amused, as you called the Ball – or rather, lack thereof.
Instinctively you adjusted your angle of attack to get the best speed for the around fifty metres to the landing zone.
You adjusted your yaw with your tail feathers ever so slightly. The wind was relentless, so you had to anticipate every gust.
"Right for lineup," your telepathic LSO instructed you.
You corrected by slightly twisting your wingtips like ailerons.
With those corrections, you misjudged the updraft created by the wind — ten metres before target, you were still a fair bit above the optimal glide path.
"You are high," You heard the LSO in your mind tell you.
You adjusted your AOA by twisting your wings slightly forwards. You dropped down onto your ideal approach.
Meanwhile, the wind continued to lash from your right. You could practically smell the salty spray in your nose.
Right before you were over the landing zone, you leaned backwards to break your momentum, flapping once to terminate your flight.
You landed slightly off-centre of the ring — second wire, drifted left...
The harsh ocean and the swaying carrier gave way to the serene, mountainous meadow once again.
"Aaand time!" the lefty called out. "One minute and twenty-four seconds―not too shabby, although you could glide a bit quicker..."
You acknowledged his remarks with a silent nod.
The lieutenant noted down the time and a few other remarks on the sheet on his clipboard.
Both of you had a quick chat about your experience during the warm-up lap.
You told him all the difficulties you encountered and he vigilantly wrote everything down for the future bird-mon recruits.
After a short break, the lieutenant clipped the first weight onto your harness.
To your own surprise, you barely felt the 400 grams strapped to your chest.
You had a quick movement check and shook yourself around to make sure the weight was secured and didn't hinder your mobility.
"Okay, I'll start the tape in a second. On the second high tone, the clock will start ticking," the lefty instructed you.
You nodded, jumped down onto the short grass and walked over to the starting point by the hoop.
Once you were in position, the lieutenant started playing the ticking rhythmic tape over the speaker.
tick, tick, tick, tick, feeeep
The sound reverberated over the meadow.
tick, tick, tick, tick, feeeep
And you were off again.
The additional 400 grams of weight didn't impact you at all, as you were quickly dashing towards the shrub between the trees.
You were coming in hot and rushed beak first into the opening that you used before.
feeep
Basically blind, you felt thorns and twigs brush against your body. Your speed didn't allow for your head to stabilise enough to not leave a blurry mess right in front of you.
Saying you weren't getting motion sick would've been a lie.
A slight unease began to settle in the pit of your stomach, as you made another mental note to not rush too quickly through here.
You found yourself on the other side of the bush quicker than last time at least.
You took your time to get to the base of the fir to recover from your upset stomach.
Luckily you were a bit ahead of the timer, so you could take a quick breather.
feeep
And up you went again.
The warm-up lap, and the heat-buildup that came with it, had improved your agility by a great margin, you felt light as a feather as you were climbing up to the first branch.
The subsequent branches were no issue either. You nimbly made your way up to the top.
The glide down was exactly like before, just without your imagination going wild.
You paid more attention to be quick instead of being steady – only the landing mattered, after all.
You landed together with the feep of the audio track.
You missed the centre again, but this time you went too far to the right and ended up going long.
"Your timing is good—four more rounds," you heard the lieutenant yell as you were taking off again.
The next four rounds were easy as well. You felt hot, but it was at a low enough level to not get uncomfortable. In fact, you felt more alive than ever!
When you'd done your fifth lap, the lefty stopped the tape, waved you over to the gym unit and swapped your weight with the 800 gram one.
You felt the additional weight in the straps all around your body, but it still didn't feel like you were hindered by it.
The lefty gave you a countdown to restart the tape.
feeep
As you went through the next five laps, you could feel the twigs in the shrub giving way a bit more, the feathering of the fir branches made your jumps even better, and you could feel the weight pulling you down somewhat more during your glide back down to the hoop.
These effects only increased with the 1200 and 1600 gram weights.
After a while, the timing also became tighter. You had to push yourself harder during the flight and climbing sections, and you could feel your wings tiring during the gliding thanks to the extra weight you were carrying.
All while you increasingly got hotter and hotter.
You really started to struggle with the three kilo weight strapped to your chest.
The harness was pulling at your body uncomfortably and you felt feathers being pulled with each stroke of your wings.
Images of plucked chickens crossed your mind during the last glide before the next weight increase.
The lefty paused the timer and attached the four kilo weight.
Your legs began to shake with the additional kilogram burdening your body.
The officer looked at you with concern. "Are you alright to continue?" he asked.
You shook your head.

"No, but I want to at least finish one more lap," you told him.

The lieutenant shrugged and began counting down.
feeep
With the audio track restarted, you took to the air again—your thin legs relieved, but your aching wings bearing the full burden.
Each wing stroke hurt like hell and the heat became unbearable pretty much immediately.
Your right wing especially hurt. You hadn't noticed until now, but the aftermath of the electric shock lingered far longer than you had imagined.
A quarter of the way to the shrubbery you already heard the first feeep.
You were falling behind quickly, but you didn't want to give up just yet.
It took increasingly more out of you, but you forced yourself to keep flapping.
However, there was no rhythm to your wing beats anymore and your vision started to blur.
The only thought on your mind was to push yourself to the next checkpoint. Just one more lap!
The faint smell of burnt nylon crept into your nose at the halfway point to the bushes.
Everything hurt and breathing became a fight in itself.
-eep
You began to tunnel-vision in your struggle to make progress.
By the three-quarter mark you felt reality slip away.
PHWEEEEEEEEE! You heard the shrill whistle of the lieutenant.
You fell out of the sky just before reaching the shrubbery.
The last thing you remembered hearing was the dull thud of your aching, scorched body hitting the slightly damp grass.

When you came to, you found yourself stretched out on your back on a fire-resistant mat in what was presumably the recruitment centre's infirmary.
You felt like you were hit by a plane and then sucked through its turbine.
Your right wing felt incredibly numb and the rest of your body did its best to match it.
At least you weren't a literal oven anymore―it actually felt rather nice in here.
When you turned your head to the left, you saw a large fan gently blowing air over you on its lowest setting.
<Oh, that's why,> you thought to yourself.
You looked down to check for any injuries from your crash landing that would probably have left even Launchpad McQuack at a loss.
Everything was still mostly in place.
Mostly, because your feathers around where the harness scraped against your body certainly had seen better days. They were pointing in all directions, and some were stuck together by molten nylon.
Just how hot did did you get to melt nylon threads?
You looked over to your stretched out wings, starting with your numb right side.
Judging by all the dirt on your right flight feathers and coverts, you probably crashed right side first.
Some feathers were bent, while others were snapped.
The realisation hit you like a death sentence. Although you weren't grounded, even medium-length flights were out of the question for the next few weeks.
You dropped your head back on the cool mat and sighted, which was more of an half-chirp than anything.
You overdid it once again... congratulations...
This whole ordeal reminded you of your first few flight attempts after you turned.
You knew how to fly a plane and a helicopter, but the aerodynamics of bird flight eluded you.
That sure didn't stop you from jumping out of the third-floor window the very day you turned...
You had plummeted into the crown of a tree with the grace of a brick and got stuck because you hadn't adapted to your new body yet.
The fire brigade had to use the turntable ladder to rescue you from your precarious situation. Their expressions when you started talking to them were absolutely priceless, though―they probably had never seen a Pokémon before and expected just another animal rescue.
For a while you just listened to the humming of the fan and your own breathing whilst you were mentally preparing yourself for your flightless weeks.
After a while you noticed two voices approaching from the other side of the door.
One voice sounded familiar yet more muffled than the other. "I'm fine, seriously! Just give me a paper towel or something..." the voice told the other person.
"I think I’ve got some haemostatic cotton wool lying about here somewhere," a female voice replied. "Clean yourself up while I search for it, please."
The door opened. "The lavabo is in here on your left."
Through the door came a dishevelled looking, purple ermine.
Etienne was holding his nose with his left paw shut. The blood-stained appendage on his raised arm was hanging down and it looked like it was dragged through the gravel a few too many times. His right appendage was still wrapped around his arm.
He didn't notice you because he immediately shuffled towards the sink in the corner of the room opposite you.
You watched silently as he pushed a nearby chair in front of the sink, climbed on top of it and turned on the tap. He then held his left arm and head under the stream of water.
He whimpered as the water flowed over his head.
He then started cursing quietly to himself as he rinsed the blood from his fur.
You didn't want to interrupt his self-loathing thoughts, so you kept quiet.
...
You wondered how many points you got in that last exam.
Hopefully enough...

Part 6 – Admittance

You hopped onto the chair you had placed in front of the sink and looked at your reflection in the mirror that hung above it.
You looked even worse than you felt. Your fur was standing on end in all directions, and your usual white and purple coat was stained with blood. There were also lots of red rubber grains from the racetrack still stuck to your body, especially your left whip.
You let out a sigh.

"I should've torn them off after all..." you muttered to yourself. "Curse this fucking body..."

The ermine looked back at you gloomily with its maroon eyes.
You turned on the tap and released your grip on your nose. Immediately, blood started to drip into the sink and onto the whip on your left arm, which you had also put into the sink.
You leaned down towards the bottom of the sink, out of the ermine's view.
You were much more flexible now, so contorting yourself like that wasn't uncomfortable at least.
You exhaled sharply to clear the forming blood clot from your nose, then held your head under the water.
The tap water was glacial, and you let out a whimper when the cold seeped to your skin.
You closed your eyes and let the water flow over all of your head. You felt your ears move backwards on their own to not get wet.
Then you started rubbing your face with both paws to get all the blood and dirt off, occasionally opening them again to see your progress in the mirror above.
It took a few attempts to see the pristine white of your fur again, but the Voice guided you through the process. You gladly accepted the help for once, as you had no idea how to properly take care of your coat anyway.
Soon you moved from your face to your arm and then your whip.
You considered tearing it off, but this time you'd quietly given in to the voice.
It wasn't screaming at you like earlier at the entrance; perhaps it sensed that you were already beaten and mostly unwilling to continue the fight... how pathetic...
The long fur of the whip was hard to clean.
You had to soak it in water and wring it out several times until it was no longer blood-red.
Unlike the short fur on your arms and face, the whip remained a light reddish colour.
The Voice tried to nudge you to tear it off now, but you were too weary to comply.
Besides, you could have a warm shower afterwards—you could try cleaning them again afterwards without freezing yourself.
After wringing out the whip for the final time, you inspected the rest of your battered body for stains and dirt.
Luckily, there were only a few sprinkles of blood and red rubber on your chest, neck, and your right arm and whip, and they were barely visible on the purple parts of your body.
The cold water was seeping your energy enough already, so you decided to wait until you could take a proper shower to clean the rest off.
Your nose had stopped bleeding while you were wringing out your whip, but you still kept it under the running water just in case it started again before the doctor returned with the cotton wool.
You closed your eyes and moved your head closer to the tap until almost your whole face was under the stream.
How the hell did your whip come loose while running on the racetrack? They held fast the whole morning...
...Did you run inappropriately?
...
Now that you thought about it, you did feel weird running like you usually did.
You had forced yourself to run upright like you always did, and the Voice urged you to run in a more horizontal posture the quicker you ran, keeping your arms close to your body like a T-Rex.
However, you insisted on running like the old you. You already felt like an animal with all the other recruits around and you really didn't appreciate the stares while you did all the exercises.
You finally understood what Joel and Nick had meant earlier. The stares stung like needles, and you couldn't help but feel judged.
You felt... lesser...
You pulled your face away from the stream and looked down to your paws resting on the sink's edge.
Your eyes followed your arm down to your wrist, then travelled along the long strands of hair to the frayed, purple split ends resting at the bottom of the sink.
Your clawed right foot got caught in the loose appendage, causing you to tumble spectacularly to the ground, with no chance to break your fall with your free arm.
Two recruits had helped you out of your predicament while the rest laughed their asses off...
You straightened yourself and looked back into the mirror with a sigh.
What an excellent sergeant you were...
The ermine looked at you in frustration.

"Who in their right mind would accept an oversized, clumsy ferret as their superior?" you asked yourself while looking at your familiar yet alien face in the mirror. "I can't even run properly anymore..."

Water dripped rhythmically from your two whiskers, which hung dejectedly downwards.
You turned the tap off and dried your face with the towel next to the sink.

"All I'm good for is being a pet," you lamented quietly to yourself.

The ermine's lips... your lips were quivering in your reflection.
...

"FUCK!" you howled and punched the edge of the sink with your clenched right paw.

The sound of your voice and the clang of the metal sink rang in your ears.
"A-are you okay, Etienne?" you heard a concerned voice from behind you.
Your heart sank to your stomach.
You whipped your head around and saw a familiar bird lying on a bed at the other end of the room.
He looked as though he had gone through a meat grinder.

"Nick...? I didn't reali—" your voice cracked.

You cleared your throat and tried again.

"I didn't realise that you're here as well. What happened to you?" you asked to divert attention from your outburst.

Nick pulled himself up so that he was standing on the fireproof mat.
"I... got caught up while moving through some shrubbery... but I'm fine!" he chirped with a bit of unease in his voice.
You mustered his ruffled plumage, which was stained black and sticky with something unrecognisable.
You raised an eyebrow. You felt like he wasn't telling you the full truth. Simply moving through shrubbery wouldn't have left him battered like that... would it?
You were about to speak up when you heard a knock on the door. The doctor came through not a second later.
"Mister Etienne, did you yell just now? I finally found the haemostatic cotton. How is your nose?" she asked you with a smile.
You jumped down from the chair and walked towards her.

"Nothing serious... I just got frustrated at cleaning myself," you told her, telling her a half-truth.

Nick just tilted his head in confusion.
"Okay... please take a seat." The doctor gestured for you to sit down on the chair you had just jumped off.
You went back and turned the chair around so it faced the doctor, then sat on it.
As always, your short legs were hanging down from the seat.
The doctor went over to Nick. "Ah, Mister Nick. How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? You gave us all quite a scare."
Nick looked up to her. "Hello Madam. Yes, I'm fine... Thank you!" he replied with the same unease from before.
The doctor looked at Nick for a few moments.
"Good, glad to hear you don't have any immediate complications." she began. "But please rest until I'm done with Mister Etienne. Lieutenant Daniel should come by later as well. He told me that he still wants to talk to you."
Nick nodded silently.
The doctor turned around and came to you.
"I see your nose has stopped bleeding, Mister Etienne," she remarked.
You nodded.

"I held my head under the cold water for long enough."

"Very good, in that case I'll give you the whole bottle with the haemostatic cotton in case your nose starts bleeding again." she said and handed you a small brown bottle from her pocket.
You saw the doctor watching your paws as you took the bottle.
"Can you open the bottle and tear away a small ball of cotton with your hands?" she asked bluntly.

"Huh?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh my, I'm sorry for asking so bluntly." The doctor covered her mouth with her hands. "I'm not used to working with turnees and I sometimes forget my manners when talking about one's appearance."
You looked at her with an open mouth.

"Oh, um... don't worry about it. I just didn't expect such a direct question." you reassured her. "I should be able to open the bottle myself and pull the wool apart."
"Thank you for your concern!" you hastily added.

The doctor then went on to tell you, rambling a little bit to perhaps cover up her faux pas, about the various courses she was taking to help diagnose and help turnees with injuries or other health issues.
She gave you the impression that she truly cared about affected humans and their well-being.
She also knew an astonishing amount about Pokémon anatomy. She even threw some new terms for new body parts around, like for your whips.
Apparently these things were called "sturdy-haired appendages".
Whips still sounded better in your head, but it was interesting to hear about all the new terminology doctors and scientists came up with.
After listening to her story for some time, she excused herself and went over to Nick.
She asked him whether he would be okay if she checked him for any injuries.
The fiery bird agreed with a nod.
The doctor then began to physically examine Nick's body from beak to tail feathers and checked him for any injuries.
Her movements looked professional yet relaxed, and she basically coerced Nick into going along with it.
She laid him on his back and felt for any injuries, then his stomach, and then she checked every joint to see if he was able to move them freely. The whole time, she was telling him what she was doing and what she was checking.
Judging by Nick's expression, he was both frightened and impressed – as were you.
According to their conversation, the bird Pokémon was completely fine, apart from his damaged plumage, which he had to mend himself unless he wanted to be grounded for a few weeks.
Nick let out a sigh of relief and started to groom himself by plucking at some of the damaged feathers.
The doctor watched him for a few seconds, put a bin next to the bed so he could throw the feathers away, and then came back to you.

"You seem quite well versed in avian biology as well. Did you study veterinary medicine for birds?" you asked out of curiosity.

A bright smile formed on her face. "Oh no, my husband is an ornithologist, and we have a pet parrot. I picked up a few things from him and studied the basics in one of the Pokémon-specific courses I mentioned," she said proudly.

"How interesting," you replied in awe.

"Would you mind if I check you as well?" she asked you after a short moment of silence. "Just to make sure you don't have any injuries besides the bloody nose."
You thought about it for a while.
No one had taken a look at you since you turned and you kind of didn't want anyone to touch you.
You looked down at your dishevelled fur.
...you'd probably need to be checked someday in the future anyway. It might be a good idea to jump over your own shadow now to get rid of the anxiety before anything worse happened to you.
"It's okay if you don't want to be examined if you feel fine. I won't force you," the doctor interrupted your thoughts with a warm voice.
You looked up and met her emerald-green eyes.
You let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of your muzzle with your paw.
A feeling of unease began to take hold of you.

"No, please continue with the check-up. I'm just... nervous?" you said like you were unsure of your own reasons, even though you knew exactly why you were hesitating.

"I assure you, Mister Etienne, that I will handle you with the utmost care," she replied in a serious tone.
Nick chimed in as well, briefly interrupting his grooming. "It won't be too bad — I'm still alive!" he encouraged you.

"I-it's not that," you dismissed them both and looked down again. "I'm... just not really comfortable being touched..."

You looked back up and were met with a questioning look from the doctor.
Before she could say anything, you interrupted her with words you hadn't admitted to anyone before – not even yourself.

"I... turned six weeks ago, and I'm—" You paused, thinking about how to phrase it. "...I'm failing to cope with all the changes."

Nick stopped grooming himself and looked at you, still holding a feather in his beak.
You couldn't make sense of his expression. Surprise and pity were your best guesses.
You loathed the silence that had taken over the room all of the sudden.
You looked away in shame and felt your face turn red in embarrassment.
Your heart raced, and so did your mind.
Why did you tell her that?
Before you could be completely consumed by self-doubt and regret, the doctor spoke up: "I don't know what you have gone through in those six weeks, but you have to start somewhere."
You still avoided eye contact, but you saw her move over to a chair and sit on it out of the corner of your eye.
"Like I said before, I won't check you against your will, but if you truly think you can't get over your situation by yourself, seek help," she tried to talk sense into your stubborn head. "Talk about it during your assessment later in the afternoon. My colleagues will listen and try to help as best they can," she added.
Deep down you knew that she was right.
Yet, either the Voice or your own pride – you weren't sure which it was anymore – got in your way.
All your adult life you took problems into your own hands and fixed either yourself or the situation you found yourself in.
Not this time, though. For some reason you didn't find the strength to push through, but...
Something had to change...
You had to change.
You sighed, knowing what you had to say next would hurt, as you stood up and looked at the doctor.

"You're right," you began. "I thought I could sort it out myself, but I'm clearly out of my depth."

You walked over to her. Despite her being seated, you were at eye level with her.

"Please check me over," you told her with feigned confidence.

She nodded. "Okay, I will be as gentle as possible. If anything feels wrong or hurts, please do not hesitate to tell me."
She led you to the room next door and you sat on the examination table.
The next few minutes were mentally unpleasant, as she examined you from head to claw, looking for any external or internal injuries.
Just like with Nick, she told you about everything she was doing and also asked for permission frequently.
As expected, apart from the sore nose, you were completely fine. Not even a tooth came loose.
Apparently your fur gave away a slight malnutrition in omega-3 fatty acids.
Nothing too bad, but you should try and eat more seafood or take nutrition supplements.
This surprised you, as you were already eating fish once a week.
Another thing to add to the pile of changes you needed to make.
You then returned to the previous room, where a lieutenant was just saying goodbye to Nick.
On his way out he greeted you by name, even though you hadn't seen the officer before.
You two saluted each other. You noticed that his right hand was bandaged.
When you looked back to Nick, you sensed that something was bothering him immensely. He was just looking at the mat beneath his feet.
You wanted to ask him what's wrong, but the doctor cut you off as soon as you opened your mouth.
She gave both of you some advice for a quicker recovery and told you that if something happened you shouldn't hesitate to call for her.
She would also inform the other staff about what happened so they could prepare themselves for the psychological exam in the afternoon.
Afterwards, she released you both and wished you a pleasant rest of your stay.
While you exchanged some last pleasantries with the doctor, Nick managed only a brief "Thank you" and "Goodbye", and left.
You followed a few seconds after, but the bird was nowhere to be seen.
Hopefully he was okay... Just what did that lieutenant tell him?
You made your way to your room alone.
On your way up the stairs you saw a slightly damp Meowstic coming downstairs.
"Salut Etienne, how's your nose?" the long-eared cat asked.

"Hi Vani," you greeted her. "Doing better already!"

"Glad to hear — that fall looked nasty," Vanessa replied.
There was a short pause of you two just looking at each other.
"Anyway, I'm heading out to soak in the sun and completely dry myself. Wanna join?" she asked you. "Joel is probably already waiting too."

"Sure! Just let me take a shower first as well."

You two parted ways and you hurried to your room, grabbed shampoo and your towel and headed to the showers at the end of the hallway.
At no point did you see your feathery friend.
You worried that the officer brought terrible news, probably in connection with his sports exam.
You hoped that he would already be with the others, he could probably use the company as well.
The hot shower felt rejuvenating. You couldn't get all the stains out of your whip and coat, but you had to look closely to see them.
After you dried yourself as best you could – resisting the urge to shake yourself – you wrapped your whips back around your arms, and put the towel over the bar hanging from the bed frame to let it dry.
On your way back down, you spotted a red shape partially hidden in a nearby tree.
Hopefully the company of your fellow victims of fate and the sun would improve your mood until lunch-time.
It had to―you weren't sure how much more you could endure today.

Part 7 – Soaking in the Sun

You stepped outside and took a deep breath of fresh, hand-sanitiser-free air.
It was warmer now, but still refreshing.
Vani and Joel were waiting to your left, right around the corner of the building.
You, however, turned to the right and walked towards the tree you saw from the window upstairs.
You reached the tree and looked up to try and spot the distinct plumage of the Fletchinder.
There he was! He was still sitting at the top, barely visible if not for his bright colouring.
You tried whistling to get his attention, but the snout of a Mienshao, turns out, wasn't built for whistling. Your aggressive exhale seamlessly turned into an annoyed sigh.

You shouted up the tree instead, "Hey, Nick! I know you're up there!"

You thought that you saw his head turn towards you. He didn't respond, though.

"You just stormed off. What did that Lefty tell you while I was away?" you asked.

Again, no response.
You let your shoulders slump in frustration and let out a quiet sigh. This will take some patience...
You moved away from the tree, sat on an empty flower pot, and made sure that Nick could see you.
In silence, you looked up the weathered wall of the recruitment centre.

"I bet the view up there is a lot better than down here," you began. "But I think you're not just up there to enjoy the view, are you?"

You heard something shift in the tree top. A Reaction?

"You know, I might be preoccupied with myself a lot, but I'm not blind. Something happened during your sports test and it's bothering you," you called up the tree while not looking at it.

The silence returned and you let it settle.
Some birds were chirping and the slight breeze made the leafs rustle pleasantly.
You already guessed that Nick was somewhat shy around new people, but you hadn't thought that he'd shut himself off so directly.
Perhaps he would respond to authority if you were too much of a stranger to him? It was worth a try, you thought.

"As your potential future sergeant, it's in my best interest to help a comrade in need, you know? We're a team. A machine only works with all its parts working together, don't you agree?"

You heard another shift in the tree, but no chirp, nor a word.
You sat on the pot in silence for a moment, just in case Nick decided to finally speak up.
He didn't.
That lieutenant left quite the impression... or was it you he didn't want to talk to?
Either way, there was nothing you could do for now, but you hoped that your words would have an effect down the line.

"Anyway, Joel and the Meowstic are waiting on the other side of the building to soak in the sun before lunch." You jumped off the pot. "Feel free to join us when you feel like it. I bet she'd love to meet you too!" you called up to the sullen bird Pokémon.

You looked up the tree again just to see Nick hastily looking away.
You paused and just listened to the rustling.

"Keep your chin up, Nick!"

You saluted the private.

"I know we both have to..." you added quietly.

With those final words, you dismissed yourself and left Nick to his own devices.
He'd come around, you were sure of it.
Perhaps he needed more time to think, or maybe he didn't trust you fully. You did have a mental breakdown right in front of him after all...
How could you trust someone with your troubles when they've just broken down in front of you? It would be foolish to think that anyone else wouldn’t have reacted in exactly the same way.
You needed to get a hold of yourself if you wanted to be a dependable sergeant. Just... where could you start?
You passed the entrance again.
Your pile of troubles was enormous and all you had was your bare hands.
Man, if only Michelle didn't break up with you... she'd know a tool or two to help you start working on that pile.
No matter how you turned it, Lady Luck spat in your face and dealt you a low-scoring hand straight after.
...
Others said that it would pass, that it would get easier after adjusting, but what if that wasn't your last bad hand? Your only trump card was your wit, yet a single card couldn't win you a game.
You shook your head. Enough of the bad thoughts. You'd been dealt your cards and you were determined to see it through to the end. Maybe life would make a bad play and let you steal the victory in the end?
You emptied your head as you turned the corner. It was time to relax.

The backside of the complex was rather nice. There was a somewhat open courtyard with a grassy area and a tree.
The white-and-blue, long-eared cat and a barely noticeable yellow speck sat on the recently cut lawn.
The scrabbling of your steps on the neatly arranged cobblestone made Vanessa's ears perk up and she looked your way.
She waved you over to her and Joel.
You trotted over to them. The still slightly damp grass felt more pleasant to walk on than the rough cobbles.
Vanessa had a grin on her face as you came closer. She turned her head to the electric type. "Told you that he'd be here soon!"
You greeted them both and sat down cross-legged next to them.
Joel sat with his legs tucked in under his body – much like a cat would, funnily enough – while Vanessa leaned back on her arms while stretching out her legs.
The way she was lying on the grass didn't fit the graceful appearance of a Meowstic at all. It was a funny sight.
"Anyway, where was I?" Vanessa asked everyone, trying to pick up the thread again. "Oh, yeah, doing anything physical suuucks!"
Apparently, you interrupted Vanessa as she was talking about all the exercises and how a Meowstic fared in them.
She ranted about her weak core strength and that she barely reached 12 points in every discipline.
"The worst thing is that during my service, I always reached over 80 points to get the ribbon," she lamented, her ears drooping.

"Huh, I'm actually the opposite," you said. "Got a lot of points everywhere, but only barely got the ribbon once before I became like this." You gestured at yourself.

Vanessa's ears perked back up. "Oh? Bragging aside, how many points did you get?" Vanessa asked. "I didn't really pay attention to you during the tests."
You didn't intend to brag and apologised. The cat Pokémon dismissed your apology, stating with a chuckle that she was only messing with you.
You then began to tell them your points and what changed from before turning.
The one-legged stance was flawless and got you the full 25 points. You were always bad at balancing yourself before, barely balancing 30 seconds for mere 7 points at times.

"I guess because I have such short legs now, that my centre point of mass is lower as well," you concluded.

Vanessa nodded. "The fact you're a fighting type probably helps as well," she remarked while she scratched the base of her right ear. "Did they make you tug in your tail as well to stop you from using it as counterbalance?" she followed up.

You sighted. "They did. It was more annoying to keep it in place than actually balancing myself without it, though."

"Oh, so your tail is more vestigial than mine are, huh?"

"I... guess?" you replied.

You looked behind you and watched your tail move about. You still didn't really get how to intently move or use it, nor whether it fulfilled an important role with keeping balance. You just could sometimes—like earlier when that cat pawed at your tail and you had to get it out of harms way.
Luckily, the Voice helped with these seemingly insignificant things when they were needed. As much as you despised it, you were thankful that you didn't need to actively think about getting your tail out of closing doorways or thinking about keeping balance with it.
You looked back to Vanessa, just to see her remove a blade of grass out of one of her tails.

"Anyway, I guess it hindered you more than it hindered me?" you asked her.

Vanessa thought about it for a second while she moved her tail back behind her. "What do you think? Small body with a big head isn't exactly a great combo. My tails are what keep me upright most of the time. They really screwed me over with denying me to use them..." She frowned.
Joel looked at you two and lowered his head a bit. "Man, that sounds scummy. At least you had something to actually do. They just let me balance on increasingly smaller poles."
Vanessa's ears perked up again and there was a small spark in her eyes. "Really? That sounds way more fun! Why do you think it was boring?"
"Well, it would be, if I weren't a spider that could literally walk up walls..." he replied sarcastically.
"Oh... You got full points, didn't you?"
"Yep," he responded dryly.
After a short pause, Vanessa began to laugh. "Guess the military is as clueless as ever, huh? Some things just never change, despite a global disruptive event."
Her laughter was contagious, and you both laughed heartily along with her.
After the three of you calmed down, Vanessa leaned in towards the spider Pokémon. "They didn't force you to throw a full size medicine ball, right?" she asked.
Joel just looked at her in silence, before trying to keep back another laugh.
"Oh no!" She burst out laughing again and let herself fall backwards onto the lawn.
You leaned forwards and held a paw to your forehead, joining the laughter.

"Of course they'd do that," you said while still chuckling. "How embarrassed was the guy when he realised his mistake?"

"Verily. The Lefty apologised a hundred times and scrambled to get me a better suited ball," Joel replied, while Vanessa sat up again.

"Which was?"

"First we tried a tennis ball. After I struggled to lift the thing, he found a smaller rubber ball."

"Alright, I guess you threw that one and got some points?" you enquired.

"Yeah, I threw it about a metre. The Lefty then calculated my points based on the size difference between the balls, and myself compared to the average man. Got me 17 points!" he said proudly, puffing himself up.
"Oha, nice work! I only managed nine points," Vanessa replied. You could see from her big, yellow eyes that she was annoyed.
Noticing that you stared at her, she turned towards you and asked what you scored.
You got 20 points by throwing the ball 7.5 metres. Keeping the theme of comparing pre-turned scores with post-turning scores you also added that you usually just got five points in the past.
"From man with noodle arms to full al dente noodle, huh?" Vanessa remarked with a smile.
Your smile faded.
She picked up on your mood shift immediately. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to―"
"No, it's fine. I'm still in the adjustment phase is all." you told her.
"Oh? When did you turn if I may ask?" She leaned in closer to you.

"About six weeks ago. You?"

You tried to redirect attention away from you again. You really didn't want to dwell on it and bring down the genuinely good mood.
Vanessa returned to leaning back on her arms and thought for a moment. "Hmm, I'm not sure. Probably four to five weeks if I had to guess."
That was way lower than you expected. The way she moved and had control over herself made it look like she had several months to get to that point.
It made you feel bad that you didn't get along with your new self as easily.
Joel spoke up afterwards, perhaps being surprised by her answer as well, asking whether she had any PIPS symptoms.
Vanessa was lost in thought for a while. Whether it was because she didn't want to tell or because she wasn't sure herself, you couldn't tell.
She pulled her legs up to her chest and put her arms around them, rested her head on her knees, and looked out into the distance.
"Well, I'm actually not so sure," she began. "I don't really have strong instincts, but I sometimes have sudden surges of psychic power. Worst migraines I ever had!"
She then unfolded her ears to reveal the two eye-shaped, red markings. "I get headaches pretty quickly when using my powers, which sucks. I guess the universe just likes to prank me, because I'd love to use telekinesis more often," she said with a frown, before folding her ears again.
Joel looked at her ears in awe. "That sucks... I'm sorry to hear that. What can you do with this power, though?"
"The usual for a psychic type, I guess?" she replied. She thought for a moment, then continued, "generally I just move stuff around."
"Ooh, like what? Can you lift cars?" Joel said with excitement.
"Nah, the biggest I was able to lift was my dad," she replied. Then her ears unfolded again and the markings, as well as her eyes, began to glow a bright blue.
You immediately felt something tug at your whole body. Your coat quickly stood on end and your whiskers and tail pressed themselves close against your body.
It felt like something was trying to lift every individual cell in your body simultaneously.
It wasn't painful, but you began to feel something primal settling in your stomach.

Before you could protest, you found yourself levitating a few centimetres above the ground.
At that moment, the Voice began to wail at you, triggering a full-blown fight or flight response.
Vanessa, seeing your expression again, immediately stopped and set you gently on the ground again. The glow in her eyes faded and her ears folded in again.
Your eyes were widened and you panted heavily, your heart raced, and the Voice wanted to force itself into control.
You could barely hold yourself together. Losing control now would mean danger for the other two—you were sure of it!
You forced yourself to lie back-first onto the damp grass and spread your arms and legs. The cool lawn help you calm down.
You closed your eyes and began to take deep breaths.
You heard Vanessa scramble to her legs. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" Her voice sounded terrified.
You heard how both of them hurried over to you. Not long after, you felt the little feet of the bug type on your chest.
You could feel every little twitch of the small arachnid on your body. It seemed that your senses were heightened by all the adrenaline flushing through your body.
It freaked you out. For the first time you clearly felt everything in your body. From the slight breeze nudging your whiskers and fur, to your tail that was uncomfortably bent between your body and the lawn.
"Hey, Etienne! What just happened?" Joel asked, concern in his voice. You felt a slight static radiating from him.
You grumbled in response. Luckily for you, you calmed down just as quickly as you'd got all worked up.
Breath in. Hold. Breath out. Hold. Repeat. You were really glad you took up meditation before you turned.
While your breathing and pulse swiftly returned to normal, your heightened senses didn't. You felt every blade of grass losing contact with the fur on your back as you slowly sat up to give Joel time to jump off you.
As he did, you felt his body tense up before he leapt.

"I—I don't really know," you said. "I just felt something tug at every cell in my body and then it just... overwhelmed me."

The Meowstic came closer to you. "So... you have strong instincts?" she sheepishly asked.
You hesitated to answer and opted to look at the ground.

"I somewhat have, but... I never had such a violent outburst before..."

There was a short silence between the three of you.
"Oh, I see..." Vanessa eventually said. "I'm terribly sorry that I used Psychic on you. I should've known it would interact badly with fighting types." She frowned, her tails timidly wrapping around her legs and her hears drooping heavily.
You felt really bad for her.
It was your time to dismiss her apologies. You didn't want to see her worried.
As scary as it was, you rather had that experience now than in a more serious moment.
It got you thinking, though. You felt an ominous power wrapping you up and seeping into every cell, but what was her experience with it?

"How does it feel to use your psychic powers?" you asked while standing up, as your heightened senses slowly faded. Interestingly, you still had full control over your tail.

Vanessa silently stood in front of you, staring into space while still wrapped up in her own tails.
While she was thinking you realised just how much shorter she was compared to you. She barely reached your chest.
You wondered how she felt about her height and whether she despised it just as much as you did. She was good at hiding it, if it were the case.
Vanessa finally spoke up. "It's kinda hard to explain if you didn't experience it first-hand..." she began. "Think of it as an extra arm that you can move around."―she was making gestures with her arms, as if she wanted to grab something in the air―"Everything you touch is enclosed in the hand. Then you can just manipulate the object like you would with your real hands, I suppose." Her tails uncurled while she spoke and her hears perked up to their normal position.
You imagined how psychic powers could possibly feel like, and once again, you felt bad about yourself because you didn't really have any such cool powers. Compared to the others, you really were just a misshapen, furry human.
At least it took your mind off your instincts going haywire.
The conversation moved along while you three sat down again, as Vanessa first asked Joel what powers he had, before asking you the same question.
Joel didn't have much to say, other than that he could taser people, "eat" electricity, and walk up walls.
Then it was your turn. You just told them what you thought just moments prior.
Vanessa's right hear drooped after your answer. "Really? Nothing?" she questioned you.

"Yes, what are you trying to get out of me?" you snapped back, slightly annoyed. "I don't have psychic powers, nor anything else 'unnatural'"―you made air quotes with your paws―"The only remarkable thing is that meditating has a refreshing effect on me."

"Ah, see? There is something special about you after all!" she said with a wide grin while pointing at you with her left paw.
Ugh. She had a point, but it certainly didn't feel like something special to you. In fact, you were pretty sure a regular human could do the same with enough practice.
Joel also inserted himself into the conversation. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't Mienshao supposed to be super quick and strong? Like 'pulverising boulders with kicks' kinda strong?"
You had read the dex entries, but you didn't pay them any attention until now.

"I haven't done anything like that, nor do I honestly think that I'm that quick, considering how hard I fumbled the endurance run in the exam." You held your nose.

"Aww, throwing in the towel after one minor setback already?" Vanessa playfully mocked you. "Are you always that gloomy?"
You didn't answer. Vanessa just nodded and replied with a monotonous "Right..."
For the rest of the remaining time you three shared some boring stories about everyday life. Unfortunately, Nick didn't show up.

At twelve, you three made your way back to the entrance to get lunch in the canteen.
At the entrance stood a Major.
«Sergent-major chef Vanessa?» he asked.
Vanessa saluted. "Yes Major, what do you need?"
«The Colonel wants to speak to you before you have lunch. It's about your proposal to switch functions,» he replied with a heavy French accent.
"Oh, um, yes, of course!"
The Major then lead her away after you all said goodbye.
Before Joel and you went inside too, you glanced at the tree.
Nick no longer sat in the branches. Maybe you'd see him in the cafeteria?
"A Fäudi, huh?" you heard Joel say to himself as you moved towards the canteen.
He looked up to you. "Are Nick and I really the only privates here?"

"Looks like it, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. She seemed above all of that rank stuff."

However, you were more curious about why she had requested a switch. Was she fed up with being responsible for administering a whole company?
"Something you two have in common at least," Joel remarked, pulling you out of your reverie.
Once you entered the canteen you saw a huge queue to the food distribution stand by the kitchen.
Before you spotted the sign with the menu, you already sniffed out what today's menu was: Pot-au-feu!
You took a tray, cutlery and a paper napkin.
Joel asked if he could hop onto the tray so he wouldn't be trampled by accident.
You complied and asked him if he needed anything else.
He declined, stating that he already charged up on the outlet and would maybe just nibble on a piece of meat from your serving.
You had a look around the room to try and spot Nick somewhere, but you didn't see the brightly coloured bird Pokémon anywhere.
With nothing else to do but wait, you told Joel about what happened to Nick.
Joel told you that he sometimes did that and that he'd usually come around quickly.
"I'll have a chat with Feathers, if it eases your mind," he said.
You thanked him.
Then the both of you waited patiently in line.

Glossary