Disclaimer: I own Allison, the whiney little prude. J+J’s failure reports is a beautiful idea that belongs to Ophelia.

Other: Another chaste PWP(Zelda’s new trademark in the world of yuri…) And I think just about everyone’s OOC in this one…Oh, and for any Brave New World fans(other than me), Al says she’s a Beta, but close readers might notice a slight flaw between her stated class and her color choice(hey, I just noticed it now…) The rest of you will probably just wonder why Allison screams the name of an American car company when she’s upset. Oh, and Pearl Hart is a real Wild West outlaw. The only woman who ever robbed a stagecoach, in fact.

Cassidy sighed unhappily. Sometimes it was the childhood crushes she missed the most.

It really was a shame that Miyamoto was the one who never came back. The purple haired woman had been the first one to make Cassidy realize that, unlike her friends, it wasn’t her dream to grow up and have a beautiful wedding with a gorgeous white gown. True, one of her friends was Jesse who even at a young age was torn between a breathtaking wedding dress and a groom who was willing to wear a breathtaking wedding dress.

And even if Miyamoto had been a callous bitch at times…well, that was part of what Cassidy admired in her. Miyamoto never put up with the pathetic whinings of dumb redheads, even if that redhead was her own daughter.

Cassidy was thinking of Miyamoto not because of a weak obsession—as she kept telling herself—but because she was almost out of options. Jesse’s current stance was that she was only bi if James counted as a girl. So, in Cassidy’s view, Jesse was bi in the bad way. In terms of other prospects, things had ended on a sour note with Misty…Things tended to end on a sour note in most of Cassidy’s relationships, but this one seemed sour with little hope of continuation. That left either Jesse’s rumored clone—that had been a failure report that had kept Cassidy’s imagination and nether regions stimulated for a month—or Allison.

Allison was a thought. She was real, which was a definite advantage over Jesse’s clone. (Jesse and James lied about their missions all the time, and everyone knew it) Allison’s partner also wouldn’t put up the slightest resistance. He’d probably be happy for an opportunity to try to get in James’ pants.

Cassidy scowled. There was one problem though: Allison was bitterly possessive of James. Especially the bizarre fantasy that the blue haired boy was straight. Although the future-bimbo had never shown the slightest interest in the present mimbo, that probably meant that Allison was more afraid of Jesse than attracted to James.

It was a common dilemma.

Besides, attractions to James meant nothing. He was, after all, the proud poster child of androgyny. Even Cassidy had had a crush on him, at least until he opened his mouth and ruined it with his low, effeminate whine.

It didn’t even bother Cassidy that the target with the most potential—i.e. the closest girl she was still on speaking terms with—was possibly/most likely straight and also a girl Cassidy knew almost nothing about. That Allison was from the future, a raging soma addict—whatever soma was--oddly jealous of her partner’s attempts to seduce James with no hints of who she was actually jealous of, and slightly unhinged was common knowledge in Team Rocket.

Naturally, mental instabilities and weird addictions added nothing to Allison’s charm. Her charm—for Cassidy, anyway—was the fact that she somehow managed to look like Miyamoto and James in drag at the same time, a combination with a certain appeal.

One of the lounges in Team Rocket headquarters—normally one of a Team Rocket agent’s favorite make-out spots—was oddly vacant. The only occupant was a purple haired girl who was far from being considered the ideal Team Rocket agent. She was currently sprawled on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Allison was having a slight crisis. She had, quite unfortunately, been born on the fringes of massive social restructuring. So while she was quite sure that everyone belonged to everyone else, there were also times when she was quite aware that certain people definitely belonged to one person. The cute bisexual Clay was currently seducing, for example.

Allison knew that, in this, the best of all possible worlds, the cute bisexual belonged to everyone. And that she was everyone. She also knew that Clay had seen him first and had been gushing for days. Therefore, the cute bisexual belonged to Clay, and it would be wrong to have the cute bisexual. Allison sighed bitterly. Even though she was well aware of this, her soma supply was running low, and for some reason she couldn’t figure out, a completely pneumatic girl like her hadn’t had anyone in months.

She started to pout. What she really needed was a few grams of soma, a good daily hate, and the song “Two Ladies” from Cabaret out of her head. When the door creaked open, she didn’t bother to sit up.

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassidy asked. It wasn’t her usual pick-up line, but Allison’s posture and expression seemed to inspire it.

Allison could feel her mood worsen. “Nothing,” she replied.

Cassidy shrugged and walked over to her. The pout looked like either Jesse and James—those two did look sickeningly alike at times—but the stormy expression in Allison’s cheap color contacts seemed especially Miyamoto. A faint smile tugged at Cassidy’s lips. “I’ve been wondering something,” she asked.

“What?”

“What are you?”

“A domme,” Allison replied without thinking. Dammit! She’d probably screwed up the prime directive somehow by indicating that she tended to think in BDSM terms. As far as she knew, there were four people who thought like that, and she was related to all of them.

Cassidy smirked. She liked tops. Hell, she considered herself to be a damned good one. Still, the dommes of the world often had an advantage over submissives: it was far more fun to force a domme to realize she was really a switch, if not completely and utterly submissive. It was also interesting to see how Allison’s warped little mind worked… “Oh, really?” she asked.

“Are you making fun of me?” Allison asked, leaping to her feet and reaching for her pokeballs. If she hadn’t been alone, she might have launched into a motto. “Because what the hell were you expecting me to say?” She can’t possibly know about the other thing…

The blonde shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “After all, everyone in Team Rocket knows about you…”

Allison rolled her eyes. “Look who’s talking, Cassidy. As the official lesbian slut, I think you should prepare for—“ Allison stopped, mostly out of shock, when Cassidy pressed a finger against the younger girl’s lips.

“Either version of that motto is before your time,” Cassidy said sharply.

If she’s pissed about that, she’ll be really mad when she remembers that I wear black lipstick, and she wears white gloves...

The look in Cassidy’s purple eyes seemed to say that she’d stopped caring about dirtying her accessories. Her predatory smile grew wider as she looked into Allison’s wide eyes. She noticed something and took a slight step back.

Allison raised an eyebrow. “What?” she asked. “I’m not good enough for you?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. I would’ve had to reapply anyway…

Who the hell is she? Cassidy silently wondered. Between Allison’s pupil and the false iris of her contact lenses was a ring of very familiar blue. “It’s not that, I just…” Cassidy looked down at her hand, glaring at a black smear on her index finger. “What are you, gothic?”

Allison’s eyes narrowed. She grabbed a strand of hair that wasn’t dangling in front of her face and held it out. “You try finding a better color with this hair.”

“Is it natural?”

“Yes, it is! I’ve only dyed my hair,” Allison had to stop and think for a moment, “four times!”

“This is natural!”

Allison barely repressed a laugh and several anecdotes she probably wasn’t supposed to know. “What do you want, Cassidy? If you want to bitch about someone’s taste, go bug Jesse.” Allison plopped down on her couch again. “I’m busy.”

“I can tell,” Cassidy muttered.

Before she was quite sure what had happened, Allison was on her feet and screaming. “Listen, you bleached bimbo, do you know what it’s like to go six months without a daily hate or at least a VPS? No, you Epsilon-sub-moron Savage! Not only am I forced to lead an actual emotional life and not have whoever I want, no one even treats me the way I deserve to be treated!”

Cassidy didn’t even flinch. She had spent a good chunk of time with Jesse who, during her preteen years, would wail that she had been cursed by fate at every opportunity before switching back into gushing about her “perfect face.” With this experience under her belt, Cassidy gave Allison a slightly annoyed, mostly patronizing look. “No one treats you like the little dominatrix you think you are?”

“No, no one treats me like a Beta!” Allison was starting to pout again. “I am one,” she told Cassidy defensively. “I’m not a Beta-plus like some people…” Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to have anyone…I wish I was a Beta-plus…they seem to get ever so much more action than I do… Allison fumbled for her soma and realized she’d left it back in her room.

“What?” I knew she was a bit…unstable, but…Maybe I should find Jesse. Cassidy sighed unhappily. True, Jesse’s past tended to change by the minute, and she was prone to several delusions, but at least she was delusional in vocabulary that Cassidy could understand. And generally unstable in a predictable way.

“Nothing.”

Cassidy let out a deep breath and shook her head. “It’s a good thing you’re not ugly,” she said.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, we can’t all have brains,” Cassidy said snidely. “And you seem to manage on your looks alone…”

Why does this sound so familiar? Allison asked herself. She started to snarl. “That’s not true!” In Team Rocket it’s mostly nepotism…

“And emulating Jesse and James isn’t a smart move…”

“I’m not emulating them!” That’s genetics… “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” said Cassidy, lightly pushing Allison onto the couch. She was amazed at how easy it was. If she’s a domme, then I’ll start sleeping with boys on a regular basis… “In fact, I’m sick of talking…”

“Huh?”

Realizing that she was the only one who could get this charade moving, Cassidy placed her hands on Allison’s shoulders, pushing her back, and kissed her roughly.

When it was over, Allison looked up at Cassidy. All right, no big deal… Allison said to herself while trying to think of the appropriate response. Hell, I did say I’d try this once, right? Right. So far, so good, even though I think I really do like men better…a lot…but in this, the best of all possible worlds, everyone’s inherently bisexual and everyone belongs to everyone else so… Allison started to tilt her chin upwards. But….dammit! Why does Clay get to have a boy when all I’ve got is Cassidy, who’s probably just loved and left every other chick in the vicinity…

“What?” asked Cassidy, noticing the slight curl forming in Allison’s upper lip.

“I…uhm…why me?” Allison managed a pathetic, sheepish smile that she hoped still managed to be cute and cuddly. Not that she seemed to be able to pull off “cute…” See, Allison? her mind asked her. Nothing wrong with girls. They kiss basically the same as boys…Cassidy’s actual a bit better than what’s his name. What’s-his-name—Bernard? Well, whatever his name was, he did have a really big dick though… Allison’s smile started to grow a bit less pathetic and sheepish.

Fortunately for Allison’s clearly distracted mind, Cassidy took a moment to consider her answer. In a rare moment of honesty, the blonde replied, “You make me think of my first crush.”

“Who was?”

“Miyamoto. I doubt you’ve ever heard of her, but—“

“I’ve heard of her,” Allison said weakly. Ford! “So…you picked me because I look like my--uh…Miyamoto?” The second I get out of here, I’m going to the Johto League. There has to be someone available there! Or, if I really want to try fucking a girl, I’ll hunt down that stoned bitch Professor Ivy. Although with my luck, she’s probably that kid I offered to have for Clay…I don’t know how we’d have adult children thirteen years before we were born, but…well, we are here thirteen years before we were born…

Cassidy leered at her and brushed Allison’s forelock aside. It naturally flopped back into place a few seconds later, much to Cassidy’s annoyance. “How do you feel about a little role-playing?”

Allison blushed. Of course she loved role-playing. Especially if drag was involved. This attitude had only begun to slightly worry her after a few months in a new time period where she realized exactly where she’d gotten said attitude from. “Does this involve pigtails?” Cassidy nodded. “And a black dress?” Cassidy nodded again. “I just remembered,” Allison said, pushing past the blonde and heading towards the door. “I have to go try to capture…uhh…gyarados. My boss would kill for one!”

“Gyarados?” asked Cassidy. Why are the pretty ones always obsessed with something?

“In my time, they’ve been hunted to near extinction and…if we can bring several back to my time—“

Cassidy may have been oblivious to the bizarre blend of Orwell, Huxley, and, on occasion, Pangloss that Allison and her partner tended to babble, but she knew the plot of Star Trek IV when she heard it. “You’re just scared,” she replied.

Allison immediately tensed. She was used to her claims about the future being ridiculed. Anything involving gigantic fighting robots or moving sidewalks or the word “Crystal” before a city name was something she’d stolen from TV. She didn’t mind people calling her a liar when she was lying, but she hated it when she was telling the truth. And the accusation that she was afraid of something… “Of what?” she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“That you’ll have no clue what you’re doing,” Cassidy replied. “And that you won’t live up to the people before you.” Cassidy laughed harshly. “Jesse may be a failure at a lot of things, but she’s great with—“

“Then go find Jesse,” Allison said through clenched teeth. She walked out, trying not to think about what the second half of that sentence could be.

Allison was staring pitifully at her reflection. “I’m awfully glad I’m a Beta. And a very pneumatic Beta…I’m tall and pretty enough to be an Alpha, because I am extremely pneumatic, but I wasn’t decanted, so I should be very happy that I’m a pneumatic Beta…I am pneumatic,” she repeated, a slightly more desperate edge entering her voice. “Wonderfully pneumatic…I’d fuck me if I was a boy…but then I’d be my…” Allison shuddered slightly. “I’m still pneumatic though! Breathtakingly so!”

“Tweedly deet dee dee!” Clay sang as he entered. “Two ladies! Tweedly deet dee dee! Two ladies! And I’m the only man, ja!”

“Could you sing something else?” Allison muttered, briefly looking up from her mirror. “And I’m pneumatic in my own way…people want to have me for me, not because I fucking resemble everyone!” She turned away again to glare at her partner. “Why don’t you look like anyone?”

Clay pointed to his hair and continued humming. “Why are you in such a bad mood?” he asked during a brief pause.

Allison glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then said, “Your mom made a move.”

Her partner shrugged. “Al, you knew it was only a matter of time…”

“Do you know why?” Clay shook his head. Allison reached up and managed to split her hair into two sections.

“What?” Clay asked.

“Miyamoto, my slightly less psychotic grandmother,” Allison explained.

“Oh. Eww…”

“I know!” Allison looked at her sulking reflection again. “I will never doubt that I am pneumatic…I will never doubt the power of being pneumatic…”

Clay contemplated her for a moment. “You know, the problem obviously isn’t that you aren’t pneumatic,” he said. “And dammit, Al, what did you expect? You’re the exact same age as your parents!” He suddenly smiled. “I know something that’ll cheer you up.” He started singing again.

“Clay, why in the name of Ford would that…” Allison’s eyes widened as she realized the implications. “Are you serious?” she asked.

He grinned. “Life is a cabaret, old chum,” he said with a wink.

“You’re shitting me, aren’t you?”

“Orgy porgy, Ford and fun…Besides, a gram is better than a damn, but the only thing better than a gram is a good fuck.”

She grinned back at him. “I could use a daily hate too,” she said.

“I’ll find something on TV,” Clay promised. “How’s the news sound?”

Cassidy was not used to being rejected. Hell, girls who thought they were straight were normally her specialty. She was just about to plan a nice revenge when she heard the shrill, obnoxious cry of “Ring, ring, ring! Phone call! Phone call! Ring, ring, ring!”

It was Giovanni, who had a feeling he was going to regret what he said. “Cassidy, I need you to train some of the new recruits,” he snapped.

“Right away, Boss,” Cassidy immediately replied. “What are there names?”

“I’m assigning you to Pearl. She’s—“

“I’ll get right on it, sir!”

Giovanni raised an eyebrow. Even for someone like Cassidy, the reply was a bit enthusiastic. “Make sure you do,” he growled before hanging up.

Cassidy smirked. She had many specialities. One of them was recruits…and fortunately, she and Giovanni seemed to have similar tastes when it came to choosing female Rocket agents…