In the cold embrace of a dimly lit mansion, a clandestine gathering unfolded, shrouded in whispers and heavy with unspoken reverence. The air, filled with a sense of finality, hung thick as the remaining members of the enigmatic organization gathered in silence. Shadows danced on the walls, reflecting the twisted nature of the figure who laid in the darkened room, his life ebbing away.
Despite his nefarious deeds, his charisma attracted countless members who wanted to leave their mark in the world, or held a grudge against it. Downstairs, in the drawing room, people there gathered in solemn respect and remained silent, while in the agonizing man, only his personal doctor and his current admin, Matori, stayed, along with his old Persian. The self absorbed Pokémon didn't seem to care about accompanying its owner in his last moments, preferring to just nap at the only glim of sunlight that is allowed to enter the dark room.
The room was adorned with extravagant but sinister decorations, reflecting the twisted nature of the man who laid on the bed, his life slowly ebbing away. The raspy breaths of the dying leader echoed through the room, creating an air of tension and anticipation among those who remained.
Matori, honoring her position as the Mayor Admin of Team Rocket, asked the doctor for the updates to her leader’s current health. Though a man well-versed in the clandestine arts of both medicine and secrecy, diligently monitored the frail figure on the bed and shook his head. There was nothing else he could do, and silently told her that it was just a matter of time. The old Persian, once a symbol of power and submission by the leader, now laid dormant, disinterested in the affairs of its fading master.
As the patient’s strength waned, he struggled to speak, his voice a mere whisper. "Where… is he?" he croaked, his eyes searching the room with urgency. Matori shook her head solemnly, denying any knowledge of the one he sought.
With a final, labored breath, Giovanni succumbed to the darkness, leaving behind a legacy of shadows and treachery. The doctor silently closed his patient’s eyes, signaling the end of an era.
In the aftermath of the leader’s demise, Matori found herself grappling with conflicting emotions. The respect and loyalty she had held for Giovanni throughout her tenure as his secretary-turned-admin now clashed with the uncertainty sown by the enigmatic revelations of his final days.
Giovanni's last moments had become a confusing amalgamation of truth and mystery. The legacy he left behind, once seemingly straightforward, had taken on a new, uncertain dimension. The leader of Team Rocket had always been shrouded in layers of secrecy, and in his final breaths, he had unveiled a side of himself that even Matori, his closest confidant, struggled to comprehend.
As Matori contemplated her next actions, she couldn't help but linger on the last unfulfilled will of Giovanni. Though she had obeyed his leader’s ultimatum, the individual she had saved and brought there had turned out to be an utter disappointment, leaving her with a distinct sense of discomfort and uncertainty at the young man’s intentions, now exacerbated by the sudden disappearance of such individual right at the moment of Givanni’s last breath. A gesture she expected he at least was going to fulfill considering her efforts to save him from a deadly end.
The old Persian, now without a master, observed the unfolding events with a passive gaze, yawning with indifference towards the shifting dynamics of power.
Though conflicted, she composed herself and put aside her worries in order to give the news about Giovanni’s passing to the rest of the organization. She exited the room and went to meet those waiting in the drawing room. As Matori entered the room to address the somber assembly, a hushed anticipation hung in the air. The news had cast a shadow over the gathering, and an air of uncertainty gripped the members of Team Rocket. In this moment of collective mourning, the weight of leadership transition loomed large.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please. It is with deep sorrow that I convey the passing of our esteemed leader, Giovanni. In his honor, I would like to observe a moment of silence. A moment to reflect on the legacy of a visionary, though controversial leader. Let us join together in quiet remembrance for the next minute, as we pay our respects to Giovanni. May his memory continue to inspire and….”
However, the solemn atmosphere was abruptly shattered by the impertinent chuckle of a young man who reclined on one of the couches near the window. His irreverent demeanor and disrespectful laughter cut through the gravity of the occasion, drawing disapproving glances from those present. Matori's gaze zeroed in on the source of the disturbance, a young and audacious figure she knew all too well.
The young man lay sprawled on the couch, an almost empty bag of chips in hand, his amusement at odds with the grieving mood in the room. His smirk and casual posture betrayed a lack of reverence for the moment, contrasting sharply with the subdued emotions around him.
Matori approached the impertinent youth with a stern expression, her steps deliberate and purposeful. She couldn't ignore the gravity of the situation, and this disrespectful display demanded immediate attention. As she reached him, Matori prepared to address the audacious individual, her tone firm and unwavering, ready to restore the decorum befitting the occasion.
“With me. Now”, she said with serious disdain.
Dorian, still chuckling, followed through. He licked the chips’ residual salt from his fingers, and gave the empty bag to one of the guests, who received the waste with incredulity and scorn painted all over his face.
Matori and Dorian walked until they reached the enormous gates of the room they were about to enter, one the young man had taken as a hiding spot since he arrived there. The library within the mansion stood as a testament to both opulence and desolation. Towering bookshelves, laden with ancient tomes and forgotten knowledge, stretched from floor to ceiling, their spines bearing the weight of secrets and lore. Dust motes danced in the dim light that filtered through heavy, velvet curtains, casting a spectral glow upon the myriad of books that lined the walls.
The room exuded an air of solitude, accentuated by the muted creaks of the aged floorboards and the hushed whispers of pages turning. High-backed leather chairs, worn from years of abandonment, were scattered throughout the space, each one seemingly untouched by recent occupants until Dorian arrived. A grand fireplace, also lit by the young man, dominated one end of the library, its crackling flames offering a flickering warmth that fought against the pervasive chill that hung in the air.
The chimney, a majestic structure crafted from dark, weathered stone, reached toward the vaulted ceiling. Its flames danced with an almost ethereal quality, casting long shadows that played upon the walls adorned with portraits of long-forgotten ancestors. The warmth emanating from the hearth created a stark contrast to the coldness that permeated the rest of the mansion.
The scent of aged paper and burning wood intermingled, creating a unique olfactory tapestry that lingered in the stillness of the library. Dusty tomes, some bound in faded leather and others in ornate covers, beckoned those few who had dared to explore the knowledge held within their pages.
The library seemed frozen in time, a sanctuary for forgotten wisdom and untold stories, but mainly bought on a whim rather than with a useful purpose in mind. The silence was occasionally interrupted by the distant echoes of footsteps in the mansion's corridors or the soft purring of the old Persian, who now recently found its way to the library, seeking solace in the warmth of the fireplace.
“When we brought you here, I didn’t expect anything”, Matori coldly declared as she closed the doors of the library. “But the least I expected was for you to show up and offer some comfort to your grandfather’s last moments as a gesture of respect.”
Dorian, still smirking, retorted, "Respect? For a man who never even bothered to show up or assist my mother or me? You are beyond delusional, ma’am."
Matori clenched her fists, trying to retain her composure. "He was asking for you, Dorian. His last living relative. Have some decency, at least for that."
“Decency…”, Dorian repeated, now with genuine ill-feeling. “Like the one he had when he rejected his own daughter just like when someone gets rid of a defective item or a bad investment. That kind of decency?”
Matori stopped and for a moment, she felt a bit of sympathy towards the young man. She had spent the last days attending Giovanni in his last moments that she did not even talk to Dorian beyond some indications during his staying in the mansion.
"I admit he was not the kindest person, and that his request to look for you was something motivated more by his own regret before passing away rather than genuine care for reconnecting with you”, she said, and could notice that her words had had some effect on him. “You may not care about the man, but he was still your family. He wanted to make sure you had another chance, Dorian. Don't let it slip away because of your pride and resentment."
Dorian, torn between indifference and a flicker of curiosity, finally nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Fine, let's get this over with. But if it's boring, I'm out," he warned.
Finally catching Dorian’s attention, Matori began. “Giovanni always had contingency plans in case of his passing away. Steps he prepared in order to keep Team Rocket’s legacy and…”
“Legacy…”, Dorian interrupted with a nonchalant tone and indictment question, "Legacy of what, exactly? Have you and the rest of those old goozers spent so long inside this boring palace that stinks of defeat, taking care of a broken old man, that you ignore what has been going on there in the last ten years? Do I have to repeat the headline I’m sure it still haunted Giovanni’s last moments of his pathetic life?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Matori, realizing the difficulty in dealing with Dorian's insolence but fair points, remained silent as she quietly invited him to continue.
"Pokémon Champions and the International Police victorious. Team Rocket finally dismantled", Dorian repeated with genuine amusement. “I was like ten when that happened, and I remember that the only thing I said when I read the headline was: good”
As if the ghost of their biggest failure came back to haunt her, Matori endured the cold but true words of Dorian.
"Yes, Team Rocket faced a significant setback, and the headlines you mention were indeed a turning point. But, Dorian, Team Rocket was always known for its resilience. Even when the public eye deemed it defeated, remnants and loyal members still persist, working from the shadows."
Dorian dismissively chuckled but she continued, "Giovanni foresaw a possible downfall, but he also believed in the ability of Team Rocket to rise from its ashes like Ho-Oh’s legends. He left something for you, a plan to rebuild, to revive the legacy in a different form. It's not about resurrection; it's about rebirth."
Dorian, still skeptical, crossed his arms, "Rebirth, huh? Sounds like fancy words for a failed comeback. What exactly did the old man leave behind?"
Matori, maintaining her composure, handed him a sealed envelope. "This contains Giovanni's last instructions, and a key. The things we need to move forward and build something new from the foundation he left. Whether you choose to accept it or not is up to you."
Dorian, still with his irreverent smirk on his face, took the sealed envelope from Matori's hands. The room's dim light accentuated the defiance in his eyes as he held the key to Giovanni's final plan. The crackling fire in the grand fireplace casted dancing shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of uncertainty.
But instead of opening the envelope, Dorian gazed at it for a moment, contemplating its significance. A mirthful grin escaped his lips, betraying his mockery of the idea that Giovanni could leave anything of value. Then, and with a swift motion as he looked directly into Matori's eyes, Dorian tossed the envelope into the hungry flames of the fireplace.
The paper rapidly caught fire, its edges curling and blackening as the flames eagerly consumed it. The ashes rose and mingled with the air, carried away by the draft from the chimney. Dorian watched the process with a detached expression, seemingly unfazed by the act of destroying what might have been his grandfather's last message.
Matori, witnessing the blatant disrespect for Giovanni's legacy, couldn't contain her frustration anymore. "You fool! Do you have any idea what you've just—"
But Dorian cut her off with a dismissive wave. "Save the dramatics. If the old man's plan was anything like the last attempt, I'd rather not waste my time. Team Rocket is an already sunken ship, and I'm not in the mood to play captain for a doomed voyage."
His words hung in the air as the flames devoured the remnants of Giovanni's final communication. The crackling fire provided the only soundtrack to his moment of defiance.
Matori's words finally lashed out like a bitter wind, filled with anger, frustration, and sorrow.
“You are but a good-for-nothing tramp! A disappointing failure who blamed everyone else but himself! If it wasn’t because of Giovanni, you would have met a forgotten fate under some bridge after your debt collectors had finished with you!”, she yelled as tears streamed down her face, a mix of emotions cascading through her as she unburdened her pent-up frustrations.
Through it all, Dorian stood as unmoved as a monolith, letting her words wash over him like rain on a stone. When Matori finally seemed to exhaust her torrent of emotions, Dorian spoke in a tone that cut through the air like a cold wind.
"What is it that you desire the most, Matori?"
Matori, still teary-eyed and clearly emotionally drained, hesitated for a moment before answering, "The continuation of Team Rocket's legacy, just as Giovanni intended."
Before she could elaborate, Dorian interrupted her, his voice sharp and decisive, "Those are Giovanni's intentions, not yours. If that's all you've got left, then it seems the only one already forgotten is you. Nothing remains of Matori's wishes, just the last words of a dead man."
The room fell into a heavy silence, punctuated only by Matori's stifled sobs. The weight of Giovanni's passing and the uncertain future of Team Rocket hung in the air, leaving both of them grappling with the aftermath of the man's final act.
Dorian, his expression unyielding, spoke with a pointed intensity. "Since the day we met, you've expected me to become something I detest, something that's already outdated. Tell me, Matori, why do you think you were never given the title of the leader of Team Rocket despite your unwavering loyalty and the inability of Giovanni’s continuing leadership?"
For the first time, Matori hesitated, caught off guard by the directness of Dorian's question. He continued, his voice firm, "Giovanni wanted loyalty among his underlings, even among admins like you. But for a possible successor, he likely intended to choose someone with the same independent nature as him. Though I detest the idea, I admit that it's something we both had in common, making me the obvious choice. I don't need to read anything to know my grandfather's wishes; I already know what I must do."
Dorian's unusual but firm tone of conviction hung in the air, a stark departure from his usual immature demeanor. Matori, now more composed, asked him directly
“Are you willing to take up the mantle and lead the organization?”
Dorian responded with a dismissive chuckle.
“I already told you, those ways are outdated. If you truly want me to continue in a certain direction towards Team Rocket’s legacy, many things would have to change—some of them to such an extreme degree that I must ask you before you make a choice”, Dorian said with rare conviction “Are you ready and committed to make those adjustments, despite what I will inevitably unleash?”
Matori, still concerned but not entirely certain of the implications, nodded.
Dorian pressed her once more, giving her the last chance to retract and leave things as they were.
“Are you sure? You could continue leading what remains of the organization and let it fade away under your command, still retaining its values and original foundation.”
The idea seemed to shake Matori, but after a moment's contemplation, she confirmed her commitment, signaling a willingness to embrace whatever changes Ren had in mind.
With that final gesture, Dorian nodded, then approached the chimney, his gaze fixed on the fire.
“Are some guests connected to the International Police or any other useful networks?”, Dorian asked with an air of unsettling determination.
“Why?” Matori, visibly uneasy, questioned the purpose behind his inquiry.
“I just want to know who is still useful and worthy of aiding in this rebirth. The rest… may be loose ends we can take care of right now”, Dorian responded while taking one of the burning logs with the chimney tongs. “Like the Ho-Oh’s legend you mentioned earlier. We choose who will help us raise from the ashes”
Matori, now terrified by the realization of Dorian's intentions, urgently ordered him.
“Put. That log. Down.”
Dorian, his resolve unyielding, reminded her that there was no turning back, and what he was about to do was necessary. Without further hesitation, he hurled the burning log into the library, igniting a rapid blaze. Matori, stunned into silence, watched as Dorian gave her a last command.
“Leave this place. Warn and take only those you deem useful.”
The burning log soared through the air, trailing embers as it cut a path toward the antique, book-lined shelves. Upon impact, a spray of sparks ignited a cascade of paper, and flames quickly consumed the literary treasures within the library. The ancient wood crackled and hissed, casting a haunting glow that danced across the ornate walls.
As the fire took hold, it painted a surreal tableau—the once hallowed repository of knowledge now transformed into a blazing inferno. The heat surged, causing the air to ripple with distortion. The scent of burning books, polished wood, and the unmistakable aroma of history being consumed by fire permeated the room.
Within the burning deposit of knowledge, the old Persian stirred from its nap, sensing the encroaching danger. With a sudden start, it leaped from one of the windowsill and darted through the doorway, escaping the impending blaze.
Dorian stood unfazed, watching the conflagration unfold with an almost detached air. His eyes reflected the flickering flames as they danced in chaotic patterns, mirroring the upheaval he intended to unleash upon Team Rocket's remnants.
Meanwhile, Matori, paralyzed by a mix of shock and horror, hesitated before finally snapping back to reality. Dorian's stern command echoed in her ears, breaking her trance. Trembling, she scrambled to round up those she deemed valuable, leaving behind the rapidly devouring flames and the remnants of a legacy that now existed solely in the ashes.
As the burning log crashed into the library, flames eagerly consumed the centuries-old tomes and wooden shelves, escalating the destruction. The fire's voracious hunger rapidly spread throughout the mansion, snaking its fiery tendrils into every nook and cranny.
Giovanni's room, where his lifeless body lay, became a macabre centerpiece for the inferno. The flames licked hungrily at the edges of the ornate furniture, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The heat intensified, causing the air to shimmer with distortion, and the scent of burning wood and furniture mingled with the stillness of death.
Amidst the chaos, Matori, now fully aware of Dorian's ruthless resolve, orchestrated a covert evacuation of those guests she deemed still valuable to Team Rocket's potential resurgence. Silently and efficiently, they slipped away, guided by Matori's secret knowledge of safe exits.
However, for those whose purposes had been extinguished, there was no escape from the engulfing flames. The mansion, once the last haven for Team Rocket's clandestine activities after its demise, became a blazing pyre, with secrets, regrets, and ambitions turning to ashes in the relentless firestorm. The symphony of crackling flames drowned out any cries of despair, leaving only the anguished whispers of history being erased in the inferno.
From afar, Dorian, with an unfazed expression, observed the chaos he had orchestrated.
"Have you ever had this feeling of regret after having done something so dreadful, you cannot help but wonder why you did it in the first place?" Dorian casually remarked, a possible gleam of humanity Matori expected the least from someone like him. "I thought this would finally be the case, but I guess I was wrong."
Matori, caught between horror and suspense, gazed at Dorian and the perverse satisfaction now gleaming in his face. His demeanor, a stark contrast to Giovanni's, who cultivated loyalty and a stern goal of global domination, left her questioning the consequences of unleashing such chaos in the name of Team Rocket's legacy.
As the flames danced against the night sky, casting twisted shadows on their faces, the weight of their actions settled in the air like a thick fog. The old Persian, having escaped the inferno, watched with wide eyes, as if understanding the irreversible turn of events.
For Dorian, the burning mansion symbolized a cleansing fire, wiping away the remnants of an outdated legacy. For Matori, it was the beginning of an uncertain journey into the unknown, where chaos and ambition intertwined, leaving her to grapple with the repercussions of a destructive path she had helped set in motion. The night bore witness to the birth of a new creed, shrouded in the ashes of Team Rocket’s foundings.