i don't even know

“For fuck’s sake, Adams you piece of shit, lemme light this proper before you get some!”

The upstanding youth shot his equally upstanding friend a glare as he sparked the lighter under a spoon. The sickly Glaceon sitting on the table wheezed, moving to get out of the way of a couple droplets of warm, refreshing, coke-suffused water. It looked towards Adams searching for sympathy, but the beanie and bangs completely drawn over his eyes afforded it no reassurance.

“Goddamn, you can’t even let me get my high on before you go grabby grabby at it like it’s your fuckin’ own,” Seth said, tying a rag around his arm. “Seriously, you are what is wrong with this country.”

“At least I’m not a fucking autistic faggot,” Adams said with all the vehemency of a 4channer. He scooped up the Glaceon into his arms, the Pokemon taking no time to curl into his lap. “Just hurry the fuck up.”

Seth inhaled sharply, the plunger hilting in the syringe. “Already there,” he said as he undid the tourniquet. He loaded the syringe up again, holding it out to Adams.

“No, you ignorant nigger,” he said, “I don’t want to grab it by the fucking tip. I want to get high, not my fucking finger.”

“Alright, alright, alright man, alright. Shiiit, lemme try some reverse shit.” With the skill and finesse of a coke addict, he tried to spin the syringe like a pen around his thumb.

A coke addict possesses neither skill nor finesse, so the syringe simply fell from his grip. It clattered on the table and fell point-down into Adams’ lap. Conveniently, his Glaceon was between the syringe and his junk, so only the Pokemon took the brunt of the injection. It yelped in pain for a moment before going completely stiff.

“You motherfucker Seth!” he roared, dumping the Glaceon on the table as he stood up. “What the fuck, really?” Only after his outraged burst did he notice the syringe still in his Pokemon’s paw and remove it.

Seth laughed, balling his hands into fists. “What are you gonna do about it? Fight me? I feel like a million fuckin’ bucks!”

“I’m going to shoot your dumb fucking ass.” And he did just that, drawing his concealed carry and putting a nine millimeter hole between his eyes.

After magdumping into Seth’s body to ascertain his death, Adams quickly picked up the Glaceon and slung it over his shoulder. It looked lifeless, eyes dead and jaw slackened. “We’re gonna get you patched up, little guy. We’re gonna fix you up all nice and right.”
---
The ride to the Pokemon Center was short and uneventful. His Glaceon remained motionless for the entire drive, which concerned Adams for obvious reasons. He even left his car engine running as he bolted through those glass doors, Pokemon hanging limply in his arms.

It was only then he realized the concept of socialized medicine - he ran past the line, which wrapped around the block. In blatant contradiction, the line to the PokeMart inside the Center was nonexistent because everybody was either poor or a stingy bastard.

Adams recognized his favorite worker, Amar Fatma Bassem, working at the Mart. He slammed down his Glaceon and started asking for help. A Max Potion, a Full Restore, anything!

“No, no,” the bearded man chuckled in a heavy accent, “These things cost money, friend. A lot of money. If you give money, I treat Pokemon.”

As an edgy teen doing coke in someone’s shitty-ass apartment, Adams clearly didn’t have much money. “Can you do it for free? He’s really hurt, you see!”

“Free? What does that mean?” Amar Fatma Bassem asked. Adams swore he could see the merchant’s nose grow a little larger with that question. “I cannot do for free.”

Twenty minutes of boisterous argumentation later, both Adams and Amar Fatma Bassem grew irritated to their wits’ ends. Unsurprisingly, the line behind them hardly moved at all.

“I’ve had it, Adams!” Amar Fatma Bassem said angrily, slamming his hands on the counter. “You can take that stupid Pokemon and wait in line! I take money only!”

The noise seemed to have finally roused the Glaceon. It shook its head in confusion, then let out a long chilling breath. Amar Fatma Bassem’s beard crystallized into a solid frozen crystal, eyes becoming slits.

Without further ado, Amar Fatma Bassem pulled out a rifle from under the counter, old wooden assault stock, armor piercing muzzle, and banana high capacity clip affirming its status as a baby mauler. “I’ve had it with stupid culture and stupid lifestyle and stupid religion. Allahu Arceus!”

As the crowd began to dissipate in a hysteric wave of fear, Adams and his Glaceon split to seek cover. He could see Nurse Joy at the Center counter also pull out another babykilling military assault pistol, screaming some demonspawn incantation. Amar Fatma Bassem tried to track the Glaceon with his rifle, but the drug seemed to do the trick as it zipped around the room faster than a Jolteon, shooting ice attacks left and right indiscriminately.

Adams started to return fire from behind a table, but under the heavy rain of Amar Fatma Bassem’s heat seeking incendiary hollow-point FMJ bullets he could not do much. However, one of these bullets struck the Glaceon in the same place where it got stuck by the syringe.

A blinding light filled the room as the Glaceon seemed to evolve, growing unnecessary appendages such as swagtastic hair, silver wings on its back, and some sort of streamers from its paws. With this evolution, it quickly beat Nurse Joy and Amar Fatma Bassem’s  attack to nothing as it froze both of them to death with a [REDACTED]. This phenomenon would go on later to be called a [REDACTED].
---
Both Adams and his Glaceon got citizen medals for uncovering and routing a local terrorist organization.