“Anarchy! Anarchy! Anarchy!” screamed the voices in his head. The youthful trainer moves around erratically up, down, left, right. Going into his bag. Looking away from his bag. A rattata appears in a shrub near the Route 1 sign post. Out comes Squirtle, as if by instinct. “Democracy! Democracy! Tackle! Tackle!” The rattata is weak and prime for capture! “Anarhcy! Run away!” What?! The trainer thinks he might have a psychosis.
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