Whipping Back Into Action
Prelude — Mist, Walls, and an Invitation
It's a foggy Wednesday morning.
A postbus winds 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 always liked looking out the window and just gawk 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 see a pale, purple ermine visage in the windows reflection lazily looking back at you.
Its narrow, maroon-coloured eyes mocking you...
A testament to what became of you six weeks ago.
You dwell another few seconds on your reflection, watching your yellow-tipped whiskers oscillating gently with the movement of the postbus.
The post horn sounds and everyone and everything shifts to the right as the bus is turning left. The fog behind the window gives way to the grey retaining wall.
You let out a quiet sigh before focusing back on 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 really acts quickly if it wants something from you.
God forbid if you need something from them, though. You still haven't seen a single cent and live off your savings.
But this letter was different.
The author was your former platoon leader when you served out your rank of sergeant, Christoph.
While you just did your militia service and the accompanying refresher courses, he became a career officer.
It paid off for him, as he recently got promoted to help the commander of the recruitment centre in Turnegg.
He was tasked to look into possible hybrid platoons to incorporate turned humans — the military calls them "Affligés"...
You hear the post horn again, followed by a hard turn to the right. Everyone on board shifts to the left. You see fog again.
... Guess it was Chris' lucky day seeing your dossier on his desk.
He invited you to go through the recruitment process again and determine if you'd fit the role of instructor for the hybrid platoon.
The examination includes some physical tests and a health check-up. The same things you already had to go through back when you were a recruit a decade ago.
As you're already an NCO, there is no need for you to take the leadership and psychological tests, though.
Not that you could take them anyway. Your paws surprisingly suck for typing on a keyboard.
Your lost dexterity also led you to fill out that form in the first place. You no longer were able to work as a software engineer.
Another horn. Another shift to the right. Another grey brick in the wall.
Even though it is the military, you actually enjoyed your service.
There was always something new to do and you could experiment with your leadership style without repercussion of getting fired.
Your demeanour towards the privates earned you a good reputation throughout the company, and Chris promoted you to his deputy.
You two became really close friends after that, even outside of the armed forces.
He could trust you with basically anything. In turn, he 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.
So you acted sensibly and accepted Chris' offer on the spot.
Ever since the first humans turned into Pokémon a few months ago, you wanted to help anyway, so it's kind of a win-win situation in a strange way.
You also wanted to see Chris again. It has been a few years since you two met each other. The military academy took up all his free time.
You put the letter back into its envelope and put it away in your shoulder bag.
One more horn resounds from the bus. The waltz continues its dance to the left.
But this time, there was no fog.
Instead, the mist slowly but surely gave way to a panorama.
A veil of pearly-white mist stretches before you; beyond that, the Alps are ablaze in scarlet.
You can't help yourself, but smile a little.
"Guess the journey paid off just for that," you think to yourself.
The other passenger also seem to notice the vista, as you hear chatter and see pointing fingers.
Everyone except a young man with dark brown hair and glasses in front of you is looking out of the window to take in the view.
He was preoccupied with his phone until someone taps him on the shoulder, jolting him awake.
In shock, he drops his smartphone in your direction.
Out of pure reflex, you lean towards the glass sandwich to catch it. You capture the device between both your paws and save it from a terrible end on the bus floor.
Unfortunately, your reflexes didn't save you from the handrail, which is now comfortably pressing hard on your snout.
You can hear some passengers snickering.
It makes you blush in embarrassment. Thanks to all the fur nobody seems to notice.
Thankfully, the top railing has padding around it, so it didn't hurt too much.
You shuffle to your feet, freeing yourself from your mangled position, holding the phone in one paw and your sore nose with the other.
You glance at the phone.
You know it's bad etiquette to pry into someone's screen, but the content of the webpage he's visiting has caught your attention.
He is on the Bulbapedia page of Mienshao.
You look up to the brown-haired man. 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.
The silence is deafening.
You break the quiet by starting to speak to him.
"You really should consider not dropping your things the moment someone wants something from you. Cleaning up your rifle after dropping it in mud is really bothersome and will leave a bad impression on your superiors. I regrettably speak from experience." you say, still rubbing your nose with your right paw.
The man takes his phone back and begins to stammer.
"Th-thank you, sir. I'll keep i- I'll keep it in mind."
"You're welcome," you reply, "but please drop the formalities. I'm Etienne, nice to meet you."
You flip the whip-like appendage on your right arm to the side and offer your paw for a handshake.
You try to smile, but all you could manage is a Cheshire Cat look.
Either way, the lad hesitantly takes your offer and shakes your paw. He has a surprisingly firm grip.
"N-nice to meet you too. My name is Florin." He responds, seemingly less nervous.
You two exchange a few more pleasantries, before each one of you turns back to his own business. Remaining silent for the rest of the ride.