The Cursed // [idk who my alliance is even lol?]]

honestly i was meant for the hngry games with all the slashing and the cutting and da pokremans and im da bes. can't w8 to get to the gyms and get my badges from the reigon im da bes, gonna beat all the basics all over again. it's like season 12 you know what that means? BROCK. he gonna return everntually i promise, now imma fight my way to the elite 4 u don't even kno, i was meant for these fukin games. no careers got shit on me #8 life, my pts is da only one that matters.

districts and things blah blah blah they throw me in the TRAINING ROOM and TRAINING is what i LIVE FOR. TRAINGINGINGIGNGINGINGINGINGIGNIGNGINGIGNGNGN. there's all these sharp objects but no POKEMANRS what's the point of training a knife. where is the FIRE.

"Who knows. Maybe the hats will be in the hell hole to use as a weapon."

WHO THE FUCK AR YOU

i THROW THE KNIFE BECAUSE IT IS USELESS.

ONLY LVL 2, WHERE IS MY STARTER

"WHO NEEDS HATS WHEN YOU HAVE POKEMAN BADGES"

RARARRARARARARRAARARRAAAR

Asami Sato felt a jolt in her stomach when her name was called. The Hunger Games? That existed? Here? Before she knew it, she was being whisked out of Republic City faster than she could call for Korra. She clung to the electric glove she’d been testing out in her lab when her name had been called. This one was particularly defective. It was either just producing a tiny little shock no more than one reserved when rubbed onto a carpet or a fiery jolt that could send you flying.

The Training Center was full of strange people. One was even a talking hat! Asami held her glove to her chest as she carefully trekked through the room, sidestepping a long-haired no-nothing boy in all black and a sexually-forward pirate who was harassing a young woman. Then, she stopped cold in her tracks.

There stood Zaheer, of the Red Lotus. Her face reddened and in an instant, she had her gloved hand extended, humming out in front of her as she spat out, “Zaheer! Not a step closer.”