Brody struggled with the pacing of the battle. Commanding his Skarmory to dodge attacks from the two opposing Pokémon, he anxiously waited for the screen to designate a new target. As the primary focus, he sought a chance to regain momentum and escape the chaotic onslaught. However, both Brody and Skarmory were pushed to their limits. A direct Overheat attack from the opponent's Houndoom found its mark, leaving the steel Pokémon unable to endure any longer. Skarmory collapsed to the ground, only to be ensnared by the powerful arms of Grapploct. The cephalopod Pokémon swiftly finished Skarmory with a devastating Close Combat attack, cracking the once sturdy wings of the steel bird. Brody watched helplessly as Skarmory was thrown into the pits alongside the defeated ones.
Brody's frustration intensified with each passing defeat, the weight of another failure adding to his already substantial pile of unsuccessful endeavors. He could no longer fathom the purpose of engaging in these senseless battles.
"This is ridiculous! Why the hell are we killing each other like this?!" he yelled, his impassioned voice echoing through the expansive and dimly lit battleground arenas. Yet, his fervent protest seemed to be just a desperate plea in the chaotic symphony of clashing attacks and the relentless struggle for survival unfolding among the other members of Ren. Each participant fought with a mix of determination and desperation, creating a dissonant yet determined atmosphere in the Pits.
Brody's remaining opponents paid scant attention to him. Though the leader's rules dictated that defeated trainers must experience the same retribution as with the Pokémon under their command, compliance seemed negligible in his case. Too pitiful to comply, too little worth in silencing such “crybaby”.
To Brody’s lack of vision, it was an assembly of automatons mindlessly engaging in conflict under the influence of an absurd creed he struggled to comprehend.
Yet, a peculiar glint in their eyes contradicted his assessment. There was something within them that distinguished these participants from those swiftly vanquished, as if they were yearning for an unattainable desire amidst the chaos.
Brody grappled with conflicting emotions. He couldn't decide whether he resented the indifference of the others or the perplexing sensation of not garnering the same focused attention as the rest. Pride and confusion intermingled, leaving him without a clear answer.
His introspection was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of two men.
"Boss wants to see you," one of them dictated.
"Piss off," Brody defiantly retorted, attempting to leave. However, the men firmly gripped his shoulders, compelling him to comply with their directive.
----------------------------------------
Dorian ascended to the elevated ground overlooking the cacophony of punishment in the Purging Pits. His mischievous and anticipatory expression resembled one eager to unveil a new and dark discovery. Matori stood by his side, ready to introduce the very first individuals who endured the brutal training session that Dorian mandated for the entire organization in order to, according to what he previously stated, "erase Team Rocket's weaknesses once and for all."
"So... These are the ones," Dorian declared as he contemplated them.
"Yes. The first two victors after winning three sessions in a row," Matori confirmed.
Dorian looked at them, the contrast stark. A middle-aged man and a young woman, likely not older than Dorian himself. He approached the man first, a towering figure with a severe expression adorned with scars telling tales of countless battles and experiences. A face Dorian already knew since the first day that man led his group to the rescue operation from Bobby’s grasps.
"I remember you," said Dorian. "You punched me in the stomach the first time we met."
The man, however, maintained an unfazed gaze, fixed on the young leader's emerald eyes for almost a minute as if he was analyzing Dorian’s apparent resentment. Then, he responded with an unwelcome grunt. Dorian chuckled, then turned to Matori with a lingering question.
"Seriously, Matori. What’s going on with these people’s ability to speak? Seems like a trait".
"Captain Goreth, leader of the special ops 'Matori Matrix,' a revered veteran since before you were even born," Matori introduced with a respectful tone. "He was also with Giovanni during the very last moments of the final battle. If there was someone who could attain such success, it would have been him."
"’Matori Matrix’? Really?" Dorian responded with amusing irony. "And you thought I was a narcissistic prick?"
"And it's not that Captain Goreth doesn't talk, at least not since the fall. He just reserves his speech for those he deems worth it... or really upsets him."
Dorian, not being one to waste an opportunity to try his luck, continued to prod at the stoic captain.
"What drives you, Goreth?" Dorian inquired with a sly grin. "Why bother with these victories? Or was my little training session a mere warm-up for someone of your caliber?
But Goreth, true to form, offered nothing more than another impassive grunt.
"Are you finished? We may continue with..." Matori attempted to steer the conversation back on track, but Dorian kept pushing.
"Is it at least better than rotting amongst Team Rocket's corpse?"
"I saw men and women I fought with side by side for years collapsing under the pressure of your sick playground," Goreth finally uttered with a grasp and deep disturbing voice. "People I considered strong enough to rise again and face the world with the might of what Team Rocket used to inspire... Then I realized how weak we had become in such a short time."
Dorian grinned again. Despite not an entire affirmation of Goreth's towards Dorian's resolve, there was at least some consideration.
"I still don't understand what you are trying to accomplish with this 'Ren' thing you came out with. But if it holds the promise of showing our true might once again... then push these weak bastards beyond their limit."
Dorian laughed with satisfaction and patted his arm.
"You will, Goreth. You will as long as you walk towards that goal".
Having successfully gained Goreth’s allegiance, Dorian then approached the young woman, his keen eyes noting her subtle yet uncontrollable trembling. It definitely wasn't due to cold, and he couldn't help but wonder about the hidden fears plaguing her.
"And what about you, sweetie? What's your name?" he inquired, genuinely interested in that frightened Tandemaus’s success.
However, she remained silent, her long, fading pink hair and hunched posture concealing the unspoken terror she was experiencing.
"She's Marianne, an archivist from... The 7th underground floor?” Matori provided some background as she read the information in her pad, her surprise evident. “I didn't even know we had one. Seems she had been working in complete solitude since she entered into Team Rocket a couple years ago."
Dorian's frown shifted to surprise. "An archivist, you said?" he confirmed, then smirked with sinister pride. "You took my statement back to Bertram's balcony a bit too literally, Matori. Send me her battle recordings. I want to know how she did it."
Suddenly, an impassioned voice of protest echoed through the expansive and dimly lit battleground arenas.
"This is ridiculous! Why the hell are we killing each other like this?!"
The owner of those words expressed his frustration, lost amongst the symphony of chaos and violence. But Dorian, despite being accustomed to such complaints from those who attempted and failed in the Pits, felt a sense of annoyance. And this time was different— like a Nincada’s screech interrupting a moment of contemplation.
"Bring to me whoever said that at this instant," Dorian ordered two lackeys who were keeping guard.
With his command executed, Dorian redirected his attention to the terrified woman. Gently lifting her chin, he sought to meet her eye to eye. Her long hair moved gracefully, resembling a curtain that unveiled the lost expression in her olive eyes, marked with stains of blood and battle wear drawn all over her face.
"Look at you. Ain't you pretty?" Dorian mockingly complimented her, but she averted his gaze. "It's rare that someone or something catches my attention, but you possess quite remarkable instincts if you, of all people, survived three complete rounds with minimum injuries."
Marianne's trembling intensified with each passing second of Dorian's unsettling interaction. Even Matori, a woman seasoned in witnessing various shades of human emotion, couldn't ignore the evident fragility of the poor girl, teetering on the brink of extreme anxiety that threatened to unravel her fragile mindset.
"Tell me, Marianne. What is it that you desire the most?"
"I don't wanna die!" The terrified woman's immediate declaration reverberated through the place, her voice a stark reflection of her fear and now unleashed desperate instinct for self-preservation. For Matori, it was a disturbing confirmation that Marianne's psyche was undoubtedly not okay, and the consequences with having such a person amongst them could jeopardize the operation. However, for Dorian, her distress became yet another plaything, a source of perverse amusement.
"Well, Marianne. If you show the same determination and skills you displayed, then you will live a long life," Dorian assured her, his tone a twisted mix of reassurance and cruelty. He ceased holding her chin, and her head collapsed, hunching once again in a pitiful display of submission to her tormentor.
As Dorian finished his unsettling conversation, the two lackeys returned, gripping Brody firmly as they dragged him to stand before Dorian. The young man resisted their hold vehemently, a steadfast display of his defiance against Ren’s leader.
Dorian, with his enigmatic air, greeted Brody's disdainful sniff with a smirk, fully aware of the simmering rebellion within the young recruit. Retrieving his sunglasses, he engaged the interface with a practiced grace.
"Well, well, well. Another dissident voice is here. I expect that you at least show more resilience and will than the previous ones."
Brody, unyielding, maintained his silence and avoided meeting Dorian's gaze. Behind the opaque lenses, Dorian's eyes were focused on the emerging information, dissecting the details of Brody's past and present with a calculated curiosity.
"Brody, isn't it? Let's see..." Dorian's voice cut through the air as he paused, engrossed in the information displayed on his sunglasses interface. "After our frightened lady over there, you seem to be the youngest one, barely older than me. What brought you all the way here from Hoenn...? Ah, I see. Left your journey less than a year after you began without even obtaining half your badges. Came back to school, only to get mediocre grades, failed to get a job in the numerous fields you aimed for, and after having been kicked out of your unsympathetic parents' house, you arrived here."
Brody's blood boiled with each dissected intrusion of his private life as Dorian maintained his mischievous grin, reveling in the discomfort he stirred.
"And your career with Team Rocket hasn't been any better or remarkable. What we have here is the very definition of a loser, and I'm amazed that you have survived the Pits after trying twice."
"As if you were any better, scum," Brody defiantly retorted, his bold insult hanging in the air, causing a tense silence that Matori and Goreth, as veterans, considered a serious act that shouldn't be left unpunished.
Dorian, however, laughed heartily at the insult. He beckoned for Brody to step forward, setting them face to face as he addressed the lost lamb.
"The others tried to apologize immediately as they crapped their pants. You, on the other hand, may not be a lost cause. Seems that all you lack is a bit of motivation and perspective," Dorian declared, his tone dripping with amusement. "Tell me, Brody. What is it that you desire the most?"
Brody met Dorian's intense gaze, feeling the malevolence in the Ren leader's eyes akin to the hypnotic stare of a captivating Arbok luring its prey.
"That question again," Brody chuckled. "What the hell does it matter? We are supposed to..."
His defiant words were abruptly cut short by a reprimanding slap from Dorian, leaving Brody holding his cheek in stunned silence, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.
"I ask you again. What is it that you desire the most?" Dorian demanded, his patience wearing thin.
"You crazy piece of...!" Brody tried to retort, only to receive another, even stronger slap.
"It's not difficult, just answer my question, damn it!" Dorian exploded, a fretful and completely different tone that Matori had never witnessed before. "What do you desire!? What do you desire!? What do you desire!?"
With each repetition of the question, Dorian delivered a forceful slap to Brody, the violent reprimanding taking a disturbing turn. Marianne's trembling increased as she witnessed the violent scene unfold.
"Screw you!" Brody finally erupted, attempting to retaliate, but his effort was swiftly thwarted by Dorian's unexpected maneuver to restrain him.
Dorian, like a seasoned dancer, elegantly sidestepped Brody's aggressive lunge. With a swift twist of his body, he gracefully caught Brody's wrist mid-air, effortlessly redirecting the force of the attack. Utilizing his own momentum, Dorian smoothly guided Brody into a restrained position, showcasing not just physical strength but also what seemed a keen understanding of martial arts. The seamless execution reflected another facet Matori had completely overlooked about Dorian's exceptional agility and combat expertise nurtured in the underworld, leaving Brody momentarily powerless and bewildered.
Dorian's voice echoed through the grim atmosphere, his words a twisted form of encouragement.
"Turn that anger into passion and go for it. Or do you wish to forever be the one who never accomplishes anything?" he lectured Brody with an unsettling mix of mockery and motivation.
Matori, growing increasingly frustrated, sighed deeply and shut her eyes, her hand pressed against her forehead. She found herself a reluctant spectator to Dorian's unorthodox methods, aware of the inappropriate nature for someone in his position should avoid.
Brody's futile struggle continued, each attempt met with the skillful restraint of Dorian's maneuver. Barely able to speak, he managed to retort through gritted teeth.
"Such talk... For someone who got to where he is right now... Just because grandpa left him everything," said Brody, his disdain dripping with whatever remained of his pride.
Dorian's smirk vanished, momentarily replaced by a thoughtful expression as Brody's defiant words challenged his perceived privilege. In response, Dorian loosened his grip ever so slightly, as if extending an invitation to prove the skeptics wrong.
"Here's the thing with privilege: it's like cheating, alright?" Dorian began, his tone turning contemplative. "I had an upbringing similar to you until this chance, this privilege knocked on my door. I didn't care, nor wanted it at first, but now..." He paused, reflecting on the circumstances and choices that had led him to this pivotal moment. "So tell me, Brody, if you were presented a similar opportunity, what would you do?"
Brody, determined not to give Dorian any satisfaction, remained silent
"Four million," said Dorian. "More than enough to solve your problems and start a new luxurious life. Want to make a bet?"
Brody was perplexed. It seemed like an invitation, a chance to change his circumstances. He hesitated for a moment, trying to grasp the true meaning behind Dorian's offer.
"You might think I'm a pompous brat tossing family money around," Dorian continued, dispelling any misconceptions. "But no, let me show you and the rest what you can accomplish with Ren."
With a gesture, he released his grip and invited Brody and Matori to descend with him, leaving an air of mystery and curiosity about what awaited them.
"I won't waste my patience trying to make sense of your unorthodox ways, but if you are going to do what I think you will, then I advise you to stop such unnecessary measures," Matori attempted to reason with Dorian, her voice filled with exasperation.
"And miss all the fun?" Dorian giggled.
"Just reprimand the guy and set an example".
Once the group reached the outskirts of the battlegrounds, Dorian strolled over to one of the staff members holding the poké balls used by the grunts training under the Pits' rules. His fingers moved with deliberate precision as he selected a particular poké ball, leaving the staff members, Matori, and Brody perplexed, their anticipation building as they awaited his next move.
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"Pick yours now," declared Dorian, addressing the still-confused dissident young man. Brody obliged, caught in a moment of contemplation, weighing the unique opportunity before him – not just the chance to earn more than he could ever amass in his entire life, but also the prospect of putting the sadistic leader in his place.
As if the surprises weren't enough, four more members took their place in the battleground, their disheveled appearance adding to their vigilant looks. Dorian, standing at the center, maintained his confidence.
"Make sure I'm the target all the time. Oh, and transmit this to everyone else within our organization. I want to make my point clear," he commanded, leaving the already-stressed Matori with another otherwise-minded task before he took center stage.
"I'll make sure to enjoy this, you cocky asshole," Brody muttered to himself, a smirk gracing his face as his indignant feelings were replaced with a newfound hunting instinct.
In the midst of the charged atmosphere, Matori's hovering pad rang at the most inconvenient time. She would have brushed it off, but it seemed to be a call she couldn't easily ignore. "What now?" she asked with exasperation.
"Heavens, ma'am! A bit of politeness wouldn't harm you, especially when I've brought you very good news," Bertram snickered with such greedy joy that his dewlaps seemed to clap. "Our events have amassed such popularity and profits that they may be transcending the borders of our underworld enterprise, almost as if Ren is becoming a trending topic or something. Don’t worry, though, I’m making sure we still maintain our discretion but I even thought about selling some merch since it is becoming quite the fashion trend. Is Dorian there?"
"Yes, doing another stupid, nonsense, reckless thing as always..."
"Why? What is he up to now?" asked Bertram, his face rotating through the hovering screen to help him see the battle about to unfold. He only had to cast a glance at Dorian facing his five other opponents to realize what was going on.
"Are you sure you want him there?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.
Matori, staring at the battleground, emitted a dismissive huff. "Frankly, I don't care anymore. Maybe with his broken limbs he'll stop doing these foolish and nonsensical attempts to solidify his position,".
"Who cares about Dorian? I'm talking about your lackeys" Bertram clarified, perplexing Matori. "You really don't know anything about Dorian's life before, do you? There's a very good reason why he was forever banned from the underworld's battle circuit, especially in the Purging Pits."
"He used to be a participant in those battles?" asked Matori, genuinely surprised.
Bertram's grin widened, revealing the anticipation of a grand showcase. "You better fasten your seat belt, ma'am, because this will be quite a rushing and ugly spectacle."
The participants called forth their Pokémon with an air of tension that hung over the battleground. Dorian was the first to reveal his choice—a majestic Arbok. The serpent Pokémon's hood expanded with an intimidating pattern, exuding an aura of allure and threat as it slithered forward, poised for the impending battle.
In response, Brody summoned his chosen Pokémon. Druddigon, the ferocious Dragon-type, took center stage, showcasing its massive and powerful jaws. The lineup continued with the formidable Coalossal, the electric-type Eelektross, the sharp-edged Bisharp, and the mysterious Beheeyem. Despite the apparent low skill level of the trainers involved, the odds seemed stacked against Dorian, and Brody couldn't help but savor the anticipation of the impending battle's outcome.
The anticipation reached its peak as the screen finally signaled the commencement of the battle. Brody wasted no time, propelled forward by a potent blend of inner retribution and the tantalizing allure of the money prize that awaited the victor.
“Druddigon, use Crunch!” The command echoed through the arena, accompanied by a chorus of similar directives from the other competitors. A Rock Blast from the colossal Coalossal, a Thunderbolt crackling through the air from Eelektross, an Iron Head thrust forward by Bisharp, and a Psybeam piercing through the battlefield courtesy of Beheeyem—each attack launched simultaneously. The Pokémon, driven by shared disdain and greed, mirrored the motives of their trainers.
The response was swift and calculated.
“Smokescreen. Full force,” Dorian's calm voice cut through the tension. Arbok obeyed the command, releasing a thick, inky black smoke from its mouth. The dense gas enveloped the battlefield, shrouding the combatants in a momentary haze that caused Brody and the others to cover their mouths, temporarily halting their commands as they fumbled to locate their elusive targets.
Amidst the swirling darkness, Brody's voice cut through, calling out to the unseen foe. “Hey! Beheeyem’s partner! You seem to have the perfect way to clear this thing! You mind?”
“Y-yeah, you're right! Beheeyem, use Psychic and dissipate the smoke!” The response came, filled with a mixture of urgency and agreement.
The cerebral Pokémon obliged, its eyes glowing with an eerie purple light. An indigo aura emanated from Beheeyem, slowly dispersing the thick fog, revealing the arena once again.
“Crunch,” commanded Dorian. Arbok emerged from the dissipating smoke like a skilled predator seizing an opportunity. Its vicious jaws snapped shut, trapping Beheeyem's face in a super-effective Dark attack. The force of the assault drove the Psychic Pokémon into the ground, leaving it battered and struggling.
“There it is! Druddigon, use Strength and trap that worm!” Brody's command resonated with irritation.
“Dig,” responded Dorian, maintaining not only his calm mindset but also unwavering control over the unfolding battle.
Before Druddigon and the other Pokémon could enact a strategic maneuver to trap their target, Arbok swiftly dove underground, leaving behind the wounded Beheeyem, desperately trying to regain its footing.
From the outskirts of the battlefield, Matori gazed with amazement at the extraordinary battle facet that Dorian had maintained in secret. For someone who boasted about not being concerned about getting his hands dirty, he certainly had not displayed such a principle until now.
“I hate to admit it, but he made a pretty great opening,” Matori stated. “Why did you say he was banned?”
“Wait for it,” Bertram responded
As the tension escalated, Brody, fueled by vexation at the underhanded yet effective tactics, barked out his next command. “Don’t just stand there and force the worm to come out! Use Earthquake!”
Druddigon responded swiftly, leaping into the air and crashing down with force. The battlefield trembled violently, causing substantial super-effective damage to Coalossal and Bisharp, who struggled to regain their footing.
“Hey! Watch out, you idiot!” complained the temporary partner of the Rock-type titan.
“Shut up! There it is!” shouted Bisharp’s partner as Arbok emerged just in time to avoid being hit.
“Eelektross, use Thunder Fang before it hides again!” comanded the third grunt.
With skill and speed, the eel Pokémon clamped its big, gross mouth onto Arbok, sending electric shockwaves coursing through the cobra's body. Eelektross, determined to prevent its prey from escaping, used its clawed, paddle-like arms to restrain Arbok, leaving the snake Pokémon at the mercy of the electric onslaught.
“Prize’s mine!” declared Eelektross's proud partner.
However, the premature celebration was abruptly cut short by a well-aimed rock launched towards Eelektross’s head. Not willing to let the chance of victory slip away, Coalossal’s trainer swiftly commanded a Rock Blast. The attack caused the electric-type to lose its grip on Arbok, who, seizing the opportunity, quickly slithered away.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?!” demanded Eelektross’s partner.
“No way I’m giving up this chance! Got any problem with that?” defiantly responded to the other grunt, determined to capitalize on the chaotic turn of events.
The initial collaboration among grunts quickly unraveled into a chaotic free-for-all, with Druddigon, Coalossal, Bisharp, and Eelektross now facing each other. The once-coordinated battle dissolved into a cacophony of shouted commands and heated arguments, the allure of the prize money overshadowing any semblance of strategic collaboration.
“I think I get it now,” Matori commented, her tone tinged with a newfound admiration for Dorian's cunning strategy. “With money on the line, Dorian found the perfect way to turn his opponents against each other. Exploiting their greed reminds me of Gio...”
“Yeah, if only,” Bertram interjected, dismissing the reminiscence. “He only wanted them to ignore him, so no one would interfere with what’s coming.”
The tension peaked, and just before the trainers could erupt into physical confrontation, Brody urgently interjected, “Wait! Wait! Wait! Where the hell is he?”
The focus shifted from internal disputes to the pressing question of Dorian's whereabouts. The participants and spectators alike scanned the battlefield, desperately trying to spot Ren’s leader amidst the chaotic swirl of battling Pokémon and grunts. Yet, Dorian seemed to have vanished, leaving an air of mystery and uncertainty.
“You coward, just come over here and fight like a man!” Bisharp’s partner goaded Dorian.
“As you wish,” Dorian calmly responded.
From the ground, Arbok emerged, its serpentine body a menacing presence. However, its threat was merely a distraction for the real danger that emerged alongside it.
Dorian, grabbing Arbok’s tail and using its momentum to emerge alongside the poison-type Pokémon, executed a swift and unexpected move. He hurled a sharp, thin needle with precision, and it found its mark in the chest of Bisharp’s temporary partner. The initial shock eclipsed the pain; the needle, approximately 30 cm in length, had narrowly missed his heart by mere inches. Blood began to spill, creating a thin, crimson stain that descended like a morbid waterfall. The needle shattered after mere seconds of piercing the target.
“You psycho! What the hell wa-wh-what the…what did…?!” The man struggled to articulate his shock, choking on his words with each attempt, perplexing the remaining opponents. His body trembled, and he finally collapsed, the abrupt and brutal turn of events leaving the battlefield in stunned silence.
The customary chaotic clash, which had echoed throughout the battlefield since the introduction of the Purging Pits, yielded abruptly to an uncanny stillness. The dust settled, and the air thickened with an unspoken tension. Brody, along with everyone else present, including the spectators, found themselves caught in a suspended moment, grappling with the startling turn of events. The abrupt hush that enveloped the arena was a stark departure from the frenetic energy that had pervaded it just moments ago.
As the dust particles hung in the air, creating an almost surreal atmosphere, the realization dawned that Dorian had strategically and seemingly unfairly deployed a particular poison weapon.
Amidst this stillness, Bisharp stood, bereft of a master. The once-vigilant Pokémon, now without direction, appeared lost and uncertain.
But it was just a warm up.
Seizing the moment of confusion, Dorian swiftly advanced towards his next target, fixing his penetrating and vicious gaze on Coalossal's temporary partner, mirroring the predatory intensity of his Arbok.
“Coalossal, use Heat Crash!” its partner commanded, now caught between alarm and confusion as to who posed the greater threat. The Rock/Fire titan leaped into the air, enveloping its massive frame in a sphere of yellow-orange flames.
“Dodge and use Iron Tail once it lands!” Dorian responded, his calculated tactics guiding Arbok's actions. Owing to Coalossal’s considerable size, evading the impending crash proved relatively easy, resulting only in a billow of burning debris and a heat-induced breeze that propelled both sides to execute their attacks. Arbok's tail radiated a blinding white glow, capitalizing on the slow recovery of its opponent due to its significant size. The tail struck Coalossal's diminutive head with such force that the only response from the Rock-type Pokémon was a final, painful bellow.
“Okay, okay! I give up! I give up!” Coalossal’s partner pleaded just before Dorian could unleash another deadly needle against him. Ren’s leader chuckled malevolently, his gaze expressing profound disappointment. He offered a last, mocking salute before leaving the defeated trainer to pursue the remaining adversaries.
“Alright! You and me! Let’s take this bastard down!” Brody declared, addressing Eelektross’s partner in a final, desperate move. Reluctantly admitting the psychological toll of Dorian’s unconventional strategy—targeting trainers rather than their Pokémon—Brody sought a last-ditch effort to turn the tide.
“Fifty-fifty then!” the opponent responded. “Let’s do it! Eelektross, use Discharge!”
The electric eel's body crackled with blue static electricity, starting at its mouth and cascading down to its tail. It unleashed the gathered energy towards Dorian and Arbok.
“Use Iron Tail and bury it into the ground,” Dorian commanded. Arbok complied, becoming a lightning rod that redirected Eelektross’s attack into the ground. A malicious grin adorned Dorian's face as he maintained control of the match. “Let’s end this. Go, you beast!”
In an unorthodox move, Dorian opted for a direct confrontation, commanding Arbok to speedily slither towards the two adversaries as Ren’s leader mounted his serpent companion.
“Earthquake, Druddigon!” Brody instructed, deploying a final, super-effective attack in the hopes of slowing down both hunters.
“Assist with Thunder!” the other grunt commanded. Both attacks merged into a singular display of raw and desperate power. In that critical moment, money became the least of their concerns.
“Detect.”
Arbok's eyes glowed with a light blue intensity, a manifestation of its sharp instincts as it deftly dodged both opponents' attacks. Closing in with proximity for a potential retaliation, the opposing Pokémon prepared for a countermove. Yet, the adversaries unexpectedly ignored them and redirected their focus toward the grunts once again.
Seizing the moment, Dorian acted swiftly. He threw another sharp, white needle that found its mark in Eelektross's partner's stomach. The shock on the victim's face mirrored that of the previous target as the needle hit its mark. Now, the symptoms of the poisoning began to manifest rapidly, fueled not only by the physical injury but also by the psychological impact of witnessing his impending fate.
Druddigon, vigilant of its partner’s safety, maneuvered as swiftly as its robust body allowed, leaving behind a now masterless and bewildered Eelektross. However, Dorian jumped from Arbok’s body, his resolve for a last personal injury and proving his point too tempting to let it go.
Brody, though not a complete novice, revealed a rudimentary understanding of martial arts— a fleeting glimpse of competence he had received since joining Team Rocket. With a gritty determination, he attempted to employ the limited techniques he had learned in an effort to parry Dorian's impending physical assault.
However, the vast experience gap between them became glaringly evident as Dorian deftly countered and overwhelmed Brody's defensive maneuvers. The fluidity of Dorian's movements, coupled with a seasoned understanding of underground martial techniques, rendered Brody's efforts insufficient. Despite his attempt to resist, Dorian's strategic strikes swiftly brought him under control, leaving Brody subdued and grappling with the realization that, in this particular arena, he was outmatched.
“You damn cheater! Using weapons now? Fu…!” Brody's protest erupted, his voice laced with the remnants of pride that clung desperately to his wounded ego.
“Oh, these are not weapons but Arbok’s Poison Stings,” Dorian clarified, the cold, clinical tone of his explanation sending a shiver through the air. “And you owe me four million.”
The words hung in the charged atmosphere, and without hesitation, Dorian deftly grazed Brody’s throat with the poison dart. The detestable artifact shattered upon impact, and while the wound appeared superficial, the venom within it took effect with ruthless efficiency. Brody, in close proximity to his jugular, felt the numbing tendrils of the poison spread rapidly, making each breath a struggle. Any hope of calling for help dissolved within the stifling grip of the venom.
Dorian stood beside his incapacitated prey as the digital screen declared him the undisputed victor of the match. His satisfaction manifested in a triumphant grin, surveying the audience. The spectators, caught in a strange limbo, exchanged uneasy glances, torn between the urge to cheer for the victor and the unsettling dissatisfaction that lingered in the aftermath.
“See? That’s what he did time and time again. As if he wanted to have the entire spotlight without understanding that people wanted to see Pokémon battles, not someone piling up bodies,” Bertram remarked to a contemplative Matori. “‘The Marquis of Ecstasy,’ he once told me he wanted to be called. Such a diva, don’t you think?”
Amidst the turmoil, health personnel hurried to the arena to tend to the poisoned ones, but Dorian halted their advance with a commanding hand gesture.
“I don’t know how much Giovanni was willing to get his hands dirty, but let me be clear about something,” Dorian proclaimed to the entire organization, his tone commanding and authoritative, even capturing Goreth's attention from above. “There will be nothing, not even the most twisted and repulsive task I’ll ever command, that I’m not willing to do myself! Do you know why? Because when accomplishing my deepest desires, just as you should, I do whatever it takes! We are Ren!”
If there were still doubts about Dorian’s motifs and skills of leadership, they quickly banished after such display and declaration. From the once chaotic facility, a surge of conversation and chatter now emerged, weaving through the air and sparking discussions even among those who observed the unfolding spectacle from a distance, finding themselves engaged in discussions, as if the charged atmosphere had sparked a collective need to process the disturbing events they had just witnessed.
Despite the sadism exhibited by the leader, a subtle transformation occurred. Dorian, in all his unsettling glory, seemed to transcend the initial brutality, taking on an unexpectedly personal and down-to-earth demeanor. It was as if he had just introduced himself as a dark apostle, guiding his followers along a shadowy path toward what he deemed ultimate victory.
Whatever it takes.
As the lingering tension began to settle, Dorian issued a new command, injecting a twist of pitiful distaste into the proceedings. "Give these weaklings an antidote before they die," he ordered, finally allowing the health personnel to attend to the wounded.
However, a sudden and congratulatory clap emanated from one of the dimly lit corners, cutting through the ambient noise. All eyes, including Dorian's, turned towards the source of the sound.
"Good! It’s been ages since I witnessed such nonsensical but satisfying carnage!" declared the owner of the applause. The enigmatic figure, hidden in the shadows, stood as an intrigued spectator, injecting an unexpected element into the aftermath of the chaotic battle.
The man, standing tall despite his seventy years or so, projected an air of both knowledge and authority. His imposing figure leaned on a small cane for support. Yet, his movements were remarkably composed, each step reflecting a lifetime of experience and calculated precision.
Draped in a dark suit and a tidy lab coat, the attire signaled a background rooted in the scientific realm. His face, etched with the lines of countless years, bore the weight of untold experiences. However, it was not the wrinkles that defined him; it was the expression etched upon his features. Malevolent cunning emanated from his eyes, which, along with the passage of age, gleamed with a dark intelligence.
“Who are you? How the heck did you enter this facility?!” Matori demanded as she confronted the elderly man. Seemingly unperturbed, he responded with a mockingly patronizing tone.
“Young lady,” he began, his words dripping with condescension. “I supervised the construction of this building when you were still a lad playing with poké dolls. I know every room and secret passage in this entire place.”
Matori, taken aback by the audacity of the insult, stammered in disbelief. Ren’s leader, however, chuckled, intervening with a semblance of civility.
“Matori, Matori. Don’t be that rude. After all, you are in the presence of one of Team Rocket’s early founders,” he explained, extending his hand. “You must be Dr. Cadmus. After checking your file, I knew you would come.”
“Dr. Cadmus?,” Matori uttered with skepticism. “Never heard of him, and I’ve been here more time than almost everyone”.
The old man responded with a sinister laugh, revealing more of the darker undercurrents of his character.
“It doesn’t surprise me. My… ‘exit,’ if I could call it like that, made sure that my name was going to be almost erased from any records,” he explained, his words carrying the weight of untold history.
“This is what your research turned out to be, Dorian? Considering all the brilliant minds we have at our disposal?” questioned Matori. “I have my doubts.”
“Well, dear. I’ll have to prove to you and this young man that despite my age and mysterious background, I’m more than capable to aid in this… new administration. Let’s move to a more private place. We have a lot to talk about.”
Dorian, seemingly recognizing an interesting individual, grinned, his amusement evident. For some reason, the old man’s aura felt oddly familiar, and his apparent lack of respect and sarcasm, similar to his, added to the doctor’s malevolent charm.
“This way,” said Dorian, leading the way as Matori and Dr. Cadmus followed. The trio abandoned the battlegrounds, leaving behind the aftermath of the intense battle.
Upwards, where Goreth still remained watching the event's conclusion with inquisitive eyes, the sudden declaration of the terrified lady managed to cut his concentration.
“He’s going to kill us all…” Matori declared, her voice trembling with apprehension as she curled into a fetal position.
Goreth observed her, noting the fearful stance she had taken, as if resisting the pull of a revealed dark path. Seeking clarification, he asked, “You meant Dorian?” However, Marianne remained silent, her unease more palpable in the dimly lit space.
From his vantage point high above, Goreth's piercing eyes observed the amalgamation of shadows below—the convergence of Dorian's enigmatic leadership under Ren, the unsettling presence of Dr. Cadmus, and the lingering darkness that now engulfed what remained of Team Rocket. In that moment of realization, Goreth understood the gravity of the choices made, the paths crossed, and the inevitable fusion of ambitions that had birthed something ominous that should have remained distant at least.
And he was more than welcomed to it.