Dorian and Matori strolled through the bustling underworld beneath Castelia City, navigating the labyrinthine alleys that pulsated with the heartbeat of illicit activities. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the air echoing with hushed conversations, clandestine deals, and the occasional growls of Pokémon engaged in territorial disputes.
The dimly lit passages were a chaotic tapestry of shadows, concealing the myriad dealings that unfolded within. Neon signs flickered, casting eerie hues on the damp, graffiti-covered walls. Unruly Pokémon slinked through the darkness, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and menace.
Dorian, now sporting a cleaned-up appearance, moved confidently through the chaotic atmosphere. His once disheveled demeanor had given way to a more polished look. His clothes, while still casual, now exuded a certain style, accentuated by a dark denim jacket from a renowned designer brand he personally requested. Sunglasses perched on his nose, a touch that Matori found ridiculously unnecessary in the dimly lit surroundings.
"Sunglasses, Dorian? Planning to dazzle the shadows?" she remarked, her voice carrying a slim note of sarcastic amusement amid the underworld's symphony of whispers and clandestine dealings.
Dorian chuckled at Matori's disapproval, relishing the capabilities of his sunglasses.
"These aren't just for style, Matori. Remember that for the rest of the world, I perished in Bobby’s hideout, so these help me keep my identity concealed. Besides, they've got some nifty features." With a mischievous grin, he tapped the side of the sunglasses, activating its interface.
The lenses transformed into a digital display, revealing a wealth of information at Dorian's fingertips. He navigated through the device, showcasing its functions to Matori. "Check this out. Pokédex, official criminal records, maps, and a direct line for reinforcements. It's practically a C-Gear for the modern outlaw. Not to mention it has my favorite feature."
As he demonstrated the x-ray vision feature, Matori sighed in disapproval. "Dorian, don't tell me you're using this for—"
"For investigative purposes, of course!" he interrupted with a sly smirk, earning an eye roll from Matori. Despite her skepticism, Dorian couldn't resist a cheeky glance through the augmented reality lens at a young woman passing close by, his smirk showing his appreciation to the device's more unconventional applications.
“That’s not a toy but an expensive and vital tool for Team Rocket’s incognito operations, so treat them with the utmost care” Matori demanded.
“How can an already defeated organization be capable of developing such a gadget? Your resources must not be that plenty as before,” Dorian inquired.
“The Devon Corporation provided the original design, and we modified it to suit our needs. Team Rocket might not flaunt its influence like before, but make no mistake, we still pull the strings where it matters,” Matori responded.
As the duo continued their excursion through the passages of the underworld-crowded main road, Matori expressed her skepticism.
“So, where are we going next in this charming underworld tour? You mentioned we were here to test and recruit, but if you ask me, it would have been more effective and safe to just make a subtle call to these lowlifes from our headquarters."
Dorian chuckled, enjoying the vibe of the gritty underworld. "Did the position as admin make you so pompous that you forgot the thrill of getting your hands dirty and cleaning up the mess?”
Matori remained silent. Dorian's words carried a taunting edge, yet nestled within the mockery, there lingered an undeniable truth regarding the profound transformation she and Team Rocket had undergone.
"When your organization veered away from the visceral thrill of hands-on operations, where the mere mention of your name sent shivers, and traded it for the boring realm of bureaucracy, politics, and stock market maneuvers, that's when you lost your grasp on the shadows. You turned a blind eye to the promising new talent in the darker corners, one you could work with instead of just using them like pawns.”
Dorian's words resonated with a certain and unexpected charisma, a whisper promising liberation rather than exploitation.
"These ‘lowlifes’, as you called them, hunger for something beyond their current existence and reach. What they need is guidance, a path to their desires. We're not here to exploit; we're here to show them that way. Twist their yearnings until they clamor for more, and in that desire, they'll find a purpose that can be aligned to ours."
Matori studied him for a moment, sensing the subtle manipulation in his words. "You're aiming for loyalty, then?"
Dorian chuckled. "Loyalty is worthless here. Too difficult to cultivate, too easy to lose. All it takes is a bit of fear and self-preservation in order to see your investment go down the toilet. Instead, we’ll show them a way to get what they crave, and they'll willingly follow our creed." As they approached the clandestine battleground, the chaotic symphony of battle and cheers enveloped them.
Matori, intrigued by Dorian's plan, inquired, "What kind of desires do people seek in this lawless underworld?"
As they approached the clandestine battleground, the roaring cheers momentarily halted Matori in her tracks. The intense energy of the crowd, fueled by the thrill of the recent battle outcomes, resonated in the air. Defeated Pokémon lined up alongside those deemed unworthy to continue, creating a grim spectacle.
Dorian, still navigating through the chaos with a smirk, responded, "Not that different to what people want outside here — power, revenge, lust or even just the thrill of the fight. And right now, I desire to test some of my grandfather's old Pokémon."
Matori raised an eyebrow. "You plan to enter the battles yourself?"
Dorian shook his head and grinned again. "No, I'm here to set a spectacle, and I know the right guy for what I’m planning”.
“Another ‘charming friend’ of yours?” Matori asked.
“Of course. He's one of the biggest scums down here — greedy, selfish, cruel, and downright disgusting. But he has one quality that makes him easier to do some business with."
Matori raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what quality might that be?"
Dorian grinned. "He despises Zeke like no other. And as you will witness, that common ground between us is all I need.”
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Walking through the opulent corridors of his establishment adorned with rich tapestries and exquisite Pokémon statues, a tall, overweight man with a fine attire showcased his ostentatious wealth. His perverse face and unique style marked his position as the one holding the reins of the battlefield below his pompous palace of clandestine operations. Alongside him, two imposing guards, their eyes vigilant, enforced his will.
As a disgruntled man approached, attempting to voice his grievances, he argued that the battle had not been conducted as promised. The man claimed that certain items were not supposed to be used, but the well-dressed figure waved him off with a dismissive gesture.
"Your Lairon is nothing but a feeble creature, hardly worth the spectacle," he declared with a condescending tone. "Consider it a favor that I even allowed the bout to continue. Without my intervention, the fight would have been over too quickly, and that doesn't bode well for our profits."
The disgruntled man, seething with frustration, was promptly blocked by the guards, preventing any further protest. The well-dressed figure continued his leisurely walk through the establishment, seemingly indifferent to the discontented voices that occasionally reached his ears.
Reaching the colossal, ostentatious gates of his office, the portly man entered, his two imposing guards flanked the entrance. The man's presence cast a temporary shadow over the bustling corridor as onlookers hushed their conversations, recognizing the influential figure known for his insatiable greed and penchant for collecting both beauty and brawn.
The man's office, concealed behind ornate double doors, was a chaotic spectacle that defied the elegance of its exterior. Papers, pens, and antiquated office items created an unruly landscape, as if the room itself resisted any attempt at order. The only exception to this disarray was his chair, a relic of discomfort that paradoxically retained a degree of cleanliness. With a heavy sigh, the man extracted a handkerchief, its fabric bearing the stains of many prior uses, to mop away the perspiration accumulating on his wrinkled forehead.
"Seems those scummy practices are finally taking a toll on you, Bertram," a younger voice echoed from the shadows, prompting the portly man to turn and face the source of the remark. He squinted, trying to discern the identity of the black-haired intruder who donned a pair of sunglasses. The audacity of this unexpected visitor prompted Bertram to summon his guards, but before he could vocalize the command, two sharp, pointed objects pressed against his ample frame.
"Make any sound, and Beedrill will ensure you experience the most agonizing pain," declared a middle-aged woman's voice, emerging from the clandestine corners of the office. Bertram stood frozen, grappling with the realization that these two interlopers had skillfully bypassed his formidable guards.
"You know you're not going to leave this place alive, right?" Bertram confidently asserted, attempting to maintain some semblance of control.
The young man chuckled in response. "Come on, Bertram. You know I'd never hurt you like this. I apologize for having to meet you like this, but I had no other choice."
"Do I know you?" Bertram inquired, squinting with suspicion.
Dorian finally took off his sunglasses, revealing his emerald green eyes and mischievous gaze. Recognition flashed across the portly man's face. "Dorian..." Bertram called, bursting into laughter with a mix of amusement and realization. Dorian made a subtle gesture to Matori, prompting her to command Beedrill to cease its threatening stance. "You've got a nerve to ambush me like that, kid! For some reason, I knew you didn’t die as they said."
"And I plan to keep it like that, if you were so kind," Dorian said, adopting a tone that suggested a veiled threat.
"You don't look as awful as before. Trying to get back into the game with a new identity?" Bertram asked, then turned to address the woman who had been threatening him moments earlier. "Who's she? Your new sponsor or what?"
"More like my babysitter," Dorian laughed, with Bertram joining in. Matori, however, remained unfazed.
"Let me give you a piece of advice, ma'am," Bertram continued, now addressing Matori. "If you ever do business with Dorian... be ready to lose everything and more."
Bertram laughed again, his face turning completely red as he sweat profusely. He added that he wouldn't even entrust a Pokédoll to Dorian. Deep inside, Matori felt a subtle uneasiness and caution behind the man's laughter.
Dorian, however, did not find amusement anymore and wanted to continue. "Give me a break, Bertram. Of all the scum I've worked with, you are the one I despise the least."
"The amount of money you owe me says otherwise, Dorian," Bertram responded, his seriousness now recovered.
“That’s one of the reasons why I came to your place,” Dorian said, a sly grin on his face as casually retrieved a thick stack of bills from the inner pocket of his stylish jacket. The cash, crisp and neatly bundled, was handed over to Bertram, momentarily stunning him, his beady eyes widening in disbelief as he clutched the unexpected windfall.
"This should settle our accounts, along with a bit extra. Consider it a token of appreciation for old times and a reminder to keep quiet about my current status, especially with Zeke," Dorian said, his tone carrying a mix of nonchalance and veiled threat.
Bertram, still struggling to process the sudden turn of events, managed to stammer out a question. "Did an important relative die, or did you kill someone?”
"A little bit of both," he said sarcastically, but with an enigmatic glint in his eyes hinting at a darkness beneath the surface.
Bertram, with a wicked chuckle, tucked the money into the depths of his coat. He then looked at Dorian with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming with greed.
"What Zeke was offering for you is quite the number, much more than this tiny amount. Why do you think I'd not just sell you off?" Bertram's tone oozed with malice.
"You hate Zeke."
"When it is about money, personal issues are set apart, Dorian. You more than anyone should know this," Bertram reassured.
Seeing Matori about to resume her threatening stance, Dorian dismissed her with a subtle hand gesture.
"That would be an extremely stupid way to throw money away, Bertram," Dorian retorted. "Not when we could become partners in such a fructiferous enterprise that would dwarf what Zeke offers. In fact, we could easily remove him from the game completely."
Bertram chuckled skeptically at such a dangerous enterprise.
"Even I'm not that crazy to go against him. However, I'm quite interested in what you have to offer so… let’s hear it."
Bertram settled into his worn-out chair, retrieving three glasses and a bottle of wine. He poured the crimson liquid into each glass, an air of anticipation lingering in the room. Ready to delve into Dorian's plan, Bertram awaited the revelation.
"Purging Pits," Dorian uttered, dropping the enigmatic name like a bombshell, momentarily stunning Bertram and leaving Matori in a state of confusion.
Bertram scrutinized Dorian with a more intense, almost concerned gaze. "High risk, high reward. Quite an audacious venture for a novice in this business like you," Bertram remarked. "But convincing trainers to risk their Pokémon's lives in such a manner is a challenging feat."
Dorian, however, responded with a malicious grin, relishing in the perplexity he stirred. "That's the neat part about it. No one except me is taking the risk," he declared, placing a belt adorned with six Pokéballs on Bertram's table. "I provide the Pokémon; you just lend me Pit. Fifty-fifty."
Bertram found himself bewildered by Dorian's seemingly lackluster negotiation skills. It was as if he was indifferent to the potential profits, hinting at motives that surpassed mere monetary gain.
Intrigued, Matori couldn't help but voice her inquiry, "What is a 'Purging Pit'?"
But Bertram sealed the deal with a firm handshake, ensuring the agreement before any doubts could arise in Dorian's mind or Matori could intervene. As he took the belt adorned with Pokéballs, he delivered a parting message.
"You can use my personal balcony to watch the match. I'll instruct my guards," Bertram stated. "Excuse me; I have to prepare the arena and call some people. This will be a night to remember."
With that, Bertram left, leaving Matori with lingering confusion. She turned to Dorian, seeking answers through his expression.
"Come. I've always wanted to see Bertram's eccentric balcony," Dorian commanded.
Matori, still puzzled, followed Dorian as they made their way toward the mentioned balcony, guided by Bertram's guards. She couldn't contain her inquiry any longer.
"You still haven't answered my question," Matori asserted as they walked. "Considering what that man said and showed, the 'Purging Pit' doesn't sound safe for the Pokémon you brought, the same ones that saved you when we came to rescue you."
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Dorian began to unravel his cryptic intentions. "The path I'm setting is not only for people but also for Pokémon who want to fulfill their desires. Those you retain are nothing more than tools and slaves, blindly obeying everything you tell them to do. If I wanted that, then I'd just lobotomize them or something."
Matori struggled to comprehend Dorian's bizarre perspective. She maintained silence as they finally arrived at Bertram's ostentatious and eccentric balcony, a spectacle of lights, pinks, and violets that mirrored the owner's peculiar taste.
Dorian, with a hint of disdain, commented, "Just as ugly and vulgar as I expected from Bertram. But at least we have the best view of the entire arena."
Matori glanced below at the battlefield. The arena resembled a dark and twisted version of those on the surface. There was no camaraderie or respect between opponents; only the thirst for battle and profit prevailed. While the old Team Rocket also used such settings, there was always a sense of dark purpose rather than chaotic self-enjoyment that transpired in such a place.
As more people filled the dark stadium stands, Matori pondered that the word must have spread rapidly about the so-called "Purging Pit." With Dorian's refusal to disclose details, she anticipated witnessing whatever spectacle awaited them.
Then, the presenter finally made the long-awaited announcement that had drawn so many people to the stadium.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, we bring you a unique and brutal special event, crafted just for you!" The voice reverberated through the speakers, effectively stirring up the already lively crowd.
"Undoubtedly, one of the favorites but also the most brutal type of battles that so few have a chance to witness!"
The voice heightened the anticipation, and the crowd responded with energetic yells and cheers.
"It’s Purging Pits tonight!"
As the name echoed, thunderous and disturbing cheers filled the stadium. Simultaneously, six Pokémon, accompanied by a temporary master, made their appearance in the arena. Machamp, Trevenant, Steelix, Conkeldurr, Crabominable, and Magmortar stood at a certain distance from each other, facing off.
Matori couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort as she witnessed the formidable Pokémon she had supervised during their training being used by nobodies in that spectacle orchestrated by Dorian. His strange agenda seemed to mock her sense of pride once again.
The presenter announced the main rule with a sense of anticipation: everything is valid, except surrendering. The last Pokémon standing would be declared the winner.
Matori sighed, voicing her realization that it was just a free-for-all, nothing special. Dorian, however, remained silent, his smirk indicating an eagerness to shock Matori with what was about to unfold.
The presenter instructed the audience to pay attention to the screen to see the match order. The crowd grew more expectant, and a hush settled over the stadium as the screen flashed, seemingly randomly selecting the order. Then, in the center of the screen, the image of Steelix appeared, with the rest of the roster surrounding it and a symbol of Vs. The picture was crystal clear: it was a savage showdown of 5 vs 1.
The Pokémon, initially confused, didn't react immediately. However, Machamp's temporary trainer took charge, commanding a dynamic punch straight at Steelix. The rest of the trainers followed suit, instructing their respective Pokémon to attack a single target in the most dishonorable way possible.
Steelix's trainer mounted its head, urging it to use Coil and take a more defensive stance as the other five Pokémon unleashed their attacks. Fire blasts from Magmortar, shadow balls from Trevenant, and a barrage of punches from Machamp, Conkeldurr, and Crabominable assailed the steel Pokémon. Despite its efforts to defend, Steelix bore the brunt of the assault, its sturdy frame nearly breaking under the relentless onslaught.
The roar of the crowd echoed with sadistic delight as each blow intensified the spectacle of brutality. From the balcony, Matori watched in shock as Steelix struggled to retaliate, attempting an Iron Head against one of its opponents only to be thwarted by the impact of another shadow ball.
"This is a massacre," Matori exclaimed, turning to Dorian. "Is your spectacle worth the danger you've put one of our Pokémon in?"
But Dorian's expression remained unperturbed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Wait for it," he cryptically replied.
As Trevenant advanced to unleash yet another shadow ball, the screen once again shuffled the images of each Pokémon contender, mixing them like a deck of cards before revealing the change in target. Now, it was Trevenant who became the focal point of the relentless assault.
A brutal ice punch from Crabominable found its mark on Trevenant's side, followed by another one. The Pokémon growled in pain as Magmortar, from the opposite side, delivered a final fire blast that burned the ghost-type Pokémon and caused it to collapse. The first loser of the night was announced, and its picture on the screen turned black and white. The public erupted in a mix of cheers and boos.
Matori, believing that Trevenant's punishment was done, asked Dorian about treating the Pokémon's wounds. "What are you talking about?" replied Dorian. "Trevenant's number is not finished yet."
Right where Trevenant lay, a hatchway opened, engulfing the Pokémon into parts unknown as if a hungry beast craving for weakling had found its prey.
"And the pit has claimed its first victim! Who will be next?" announced the presenter, and the public went wild once again.
Matori, clenching her fists and teeth, realized the quite literal reason behind the name. The Purging Pits were an insane and brutal display of pure sadism she couldn't believe people enjoyed watching. Even when Team Rocket had also engaged in unspeakable activities during its path to world domination, it was always with a goal and purpose. What she was witnessing, however, was nothing more than a dishonorable spectacle for twisted personal satisfaction.
Now it was Conkeldur's turn, and Steelix trapped the mighty Pokémon to restrain it while the others launched attacks against the defenseless creature. Fortunately, Conkeldur's concrete pillars allowed it to break free from Steelix's embrace, using them as leverage. It skillfully dodged one of Machamp's punches but couldn't avoid an ice punch from Crabominable, followed by an Overheat to its back from Magmortar. Annoyed by the fire Pokémon's continuous long-range attacks, Conkeldur's temporal trainer decided to retaliate with a Stone Edge directed at Magmortar, disregarding the onslaught from the other Pokémon.
The rock attack narrowly missed Magmortar due to the interference of the other Pokémon, causing Conkeldur's Stone Edge to go off target. Suddenly, the order of the battle was changed once more, and now Crabominable found itself against the rest. Machamp and its temporary trainer seized the opportunity, launching a relentless assault on the ice Pokémon. Machamp grabbed Crabominable's arm, attempting to separate it from the rest of the body. In ordinary circumstances, this move might have been a fatal mistake, given that Crabominable could easily retaliate with its free arm. However, in the Purging Pits, rules were entirely different. Steelix imprisoned Crabominable's other arm, and both Machamp and Steelix pulled in opposite directions, as if trying to tear the ice Pokémon apart.
Meanwhile, Conkeldur ignored Crabominable, continuing its relentless attacks on Magmortar. The fire Pokémon retaliated with lava plumes and other fiery assaults, but Conkeldur adeptly blocked each one with its concrete pillars. The frenzied cheers from the audience indicated that their bloodlust was far from satisfied.
Conkeldurr gathered its strength and hurled one of its pillars towards Magmortar as it drew close, preventing the fire Pokémon from evading. The concrete projectile struck Magmortar's belly, shattering its structure and inflicting devastating damage. As Magmortar succumbed to defeat, another hatchway opened, and the Pits claimed its second victim.
Meanwhile, Machamp and Steelix continued their relentless assault on Crabominable, nearly tearing its arms apart. The ice Pokémon growled in pain, but its cries were abruptly silenced as another of Conkeldur's pillars struck it with the same force as the earlier blow to Magmortar. This caused Steelix and Machamp to release their grip on Crabominable. Fainted and battered, Crabominable was engulfed by the hatchway, leaving only half of the initial contenders remaining.
The screen changed once again, showcasing the remaining Pokémon that were already fatigued and battered from the prolonged battle. It had been a considerable amount of time since they had been pushed to their limits, and despite their resentment towards the forced confrontation, a strange sense of enjoyment and fulfillment lingered within them, an experience they couldn't quite comprehend.
Now, it was Machamp's turn to be the target. The four-armed Pokémon held its ground, enduring an Iron Tail attack from Steelix and a High Horsepower from Conkeldurr, whose concrete pillars had been shattered in the prior onslaught. Machamp, displaying an unexpected resilience, seized Steelix's tail with its upper arms while enduring Conkeldurr's powerful slam with the other two. Instead of being deterred, Machamp concentrated its remaining strength on eliminating at least one adversary.
The presenter lauded Machamp's fortitude and endurance, speculating whether they were witnessing the emergence of a new legend in the making. The crowd's excitement surged, eager to see how the battle would unfold.
Machamp emitted a determined growl as it strategically lifted Steelix's massive body, gripping it firmly by the tail. Using the steel behemoth as a makeshift weapon, Machamp swung it forcefully, colliding with Conkeldurr and launching it to the opposite side of the battlefield. Recognizing their diminishing influence, the temporary trainers withdrew, allowing the final moments of the battle to unfold without further intervention.
Conkeldurr struggled to stand, but the relentless Machamp closed in rapidly. With a resounding dynamic punch to Conkeldurr's face, the Fighting-type Pokémon spiraled in the air before collapsing, defeated. Only one opponent remained, and the outcome of the battle hung in the balance. The crowd's anticipation peaked as the final showdown approached.
Machamp and Steelix faced off in a final showdown, their battle-worn bodies revealing the toll of their fierce confrontation. The years of camaraderie under Team Rocket's discipline seemed forgotten in those moments of intense struggle.
Steelix, summoning its last reserves of strength, lunged at Machamp with a decisive Iron Head—a final, desperate blow that aimed to determine the outcome of the battle. However, Machamp didn't retaliate with an opposing attack. Instead, it lifted its two upper arms, bracing itself for the immense impact of Steelix's assault. The collision was powerful, burying part of Machamp beneath the arena floor.
As the dust settled, an eerie silence fell over the crowd. Machamp, undeterred and displaying incredible strength, extended its other two arms. A radiant blue aura enveloped its limbs, signifying the concentration of power for a final, devastating move. Closing both arms as if attempting to crush Steelix's jaws, Machamp unleashed an overwhelming force, breaking the steel Pokémon's jaw in the process. The display was so intense that Machamp's right arm began emitting shockwaves as if it was a malfunctioning machine, catching the attention of the observant Dorian.
Steelix's defeated form lay scattered in pieces, its once-mighty jaw now crushed and strewn across the battlefield. Meanwhile, Machamp stood resolute, frozen in the aftermath of its devastating final attack. A brief hush enveloped the arena before an eruption of chaotic cheers from the crowd. The screen declared Machamp the victor, and the presenter heralded it as one of the most thrilling battles ever witnessed in the Purging Pits.
Security struggled to contain the excited masses attempting to enter the arena and catch a glimpse of the victorious Pokémon. On Bertram's balcony, a stark silence persisted. Matori's expression remained unchanged throughout the entire spectacle, her disapproval evident as she regarded the use of Team Rocket's Pokémon in what she deemed a shallow pursuit of self-satisfaction.
"I know what you are thinking, and it is comprehensible," Dorian remarked, acknowledging the conflict within Matori's thoughts. "But you will understand in due time," Dorian continued, his voice carrying an air of confident mystery. "What we have started here will echo throughout the entire world. Not only here in Unova but in the rest of the regions."
Just as the weight of Dorian's words settled in the air, Bertram entered, abruptly interrupting the moment with his cheerful demeanor. It was evident that it had indeed been a night to remember, and profits couldn't have been greater. The battle had even been transmitted through various betting shops, adding to the night's success, and Bertram was in the mood to celebrate.
"I want a full treatment for our Pokémon, along with a complete analysis to confirm their well-being," Matori demanded, her concern for the Pokémon under her charge overriding any sense of celebration.
Bertram chuckled, assuring Matori that they would receive the medical attention they needed. However, he couldn't muster much optimism for the first contender, noting that it had sustained significant damage during the intense battle.
Matori, her concern for Trevenant evident, demanded compensation in case the Pokémon didn't survive the ordeal. Bertram, growing weary of her complaints and demands, assured her that they were well aware of the risks when Dorian made the deal.
"You listen to me!" Matori attempted to threaten Bertram.
"Enough with you two," Dorian interjected, cutting off any escalating tension. "Any Pokémon eliminated so quickly to the point its life is now at risk is of no use to me. That's why it's called Purging Pits: it erases weaknesses, in this case, the remnants still grappling from Team Rocket's defeat."
"Wait, wait, wait… Did you say Team Rocket?" Bertram asked, trying to process the revelation as he exchanged looks with Matori and Dorian, and then nodded with realization. "I see… It makes sense and explains why you appeared like this, Dorian. Pretty sure you're related to the old man, right? Giovanni, the bastard who forgot his roots in the underworld and, as a result, was utterly defeated."
"Do you have any problem with that?" Dorian inquired, his tone challenging.
Bertram chuckled. "Out on the surface, Team Rocket is a name no one wants to hear after what they did," he acknowledged. "But here, you know that name is worthless and not threatening enough. Since they stopped making any moves here for more than two decades, I and many others occupied the niche they left. One we are quite happy to maintain without any plan of giving up to a rising new Team Rocket.”
"I do not intend to bring it back," Dorian replied, his voice firm. "I burned it down to make sure it remains where it belongs: among the ashes of the past."
Bertram, like Matori before him, remained puzzled. He wasn't sure what Dorian intended as the heir of what remained of Team Rocket. As if it wasn’t enough, Matori received a phone call at the worst of moments.
"I hope it is important," she answered, temporarily diverting her attention from the unfolding conversation.
"So what exactly do you want, Dorian?" Bertram inquired. "I highly doubt entering the business of clandestine fights is your main objective."
Dorian smirked, his mischievous gesture playing on his face. He approached Bertram, searched for something inside his jacket, and then handed it to the fat man: a red presentation card with a single 'R' written on it. However, the letter was printed in a rebellious, street-like black font that made it quite distinct from the one associated with Team Rocket. Bertram scrutinized the card, flipping it to check for any hidden details, but there was nothing else.
"What is this?" Bertram asked.
"The symbol of what we are going to build," Dorian responded with a confident gleam in his eyes.
"If we are together in this, you must stop talking in this annoying, cryptic language you use," Bertram warned. "You say you want nothing with Team Rocket and yet you used their symbol. You sure you want the attention that comes with bearing that? 'Cause I don't."
"It doesn't stand for what you think," Dorian reassured.
"Then what the heck does it mean?"
Dorian stopped for a moment, savoring the answer he was about to give.
"Ren.”
"And what is ‘Ren’?" Bertram asked again, still confused.
Dorian smiled, putting his hand on Bertram's shoulder as if he was lecturing a new follower.
"Me... Matori... you, and soon enough everybody else who wishes to fulfill their inner desires," Dorian responded with alluring malice.
“We are Ren”
Matori, ending her phone call, addressed Dorian in private about a problem that suddenly came up.
"Headquarters called. There's a situation with two deserters: low-ranked members who tried to steal some relics in Galar, but they were captured by the police."
Dorian glanced at Bertram, then turned back to Matori. "If you consider them a problem, use one of your contacts with the International Police. Make sure they remain quiet. I don’t want anyone to spoil the show I'm preparing."
Dorian turned back to Bertram, his eyes reflecting a calculating curiosity. "How many Purging Pits battles do you think you can organize as soon as possible?"
Bertram leaned back, considering the question. "I'd say it's wise to do them sporadically. Too frequently, and the hype would die down quickly. That wouldn't just affect our profits; it might draw unwanted attention from authorities and others who could jeopardize the entire operation."
Matori couldn't help but interject. "Isn't your thirst for blood satisfied with the battle that just concluded?"
Dorian smirked. "It's not about money or the enjoyment these battles bring me,” he said, his smirk turning into a steely gaze. "Call back all our lackeys, grunts, and anyone currently on a mission. Heck, bring even the archivists for what I care. I want them back at headquarters. And modify the training grounds. Make them resemble the Purging Pits."
Matori's eyes widened as realization struck. "You want to purge our own people, just like the Pokémon in those battles?"
Dorian's grin widened. "You catch on quick, Matori. It’s time to cleanse our ranks from the kind of idiots you mentioned before."
Turning to Bertram, he gave the final order. "Keep me informed about the next Purging Pits battle you organize. Also, contact underworld arenas across the regions who may be interested in hosting the pits. We'll provide the Pokémon and trainers."
Bertram nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Understood. It's going to be a wild ride. Partner."
As Bertram left the balcony, Matori seized what seemed like the perfect moment to confront Dorian about his ruthless methods, believing they were only further destroying what little remained of Team Rocket's power. However, Dorian disrupted her intentions with a final question.
"How's our science and research division? Or whatever it's called?" he asked.
Matori took a moment to contemplate the question before responding.
“Our scientists are spread all over the world, operating incognito in various laboratories, some of them stealing secrets that could be applied later”.
"Practical, but boring," Dorian remarked. “Is there someone you consider the most insane, one whose ideas send shivers down everyone's spine?”
"So basically like you?" Matori retorted, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“Exactly! Someone you see and say: Damn! That’s a real mad scientist!” he dodged the sarcasm with his usual banter.
“You have access to Team Rocket's entire archives through the sunglasses, so you can conduct your own search,” Matori acknowledged as she also approached the balcony’s exit. “If you excuse me, I’m going to supervise our Pokémon that survived the Pits.”
Alone on the balcony, Dorian contemplated the arena where the brutal battle had just taken place. Security personnel struggled to contain the wave of people attempting to get close to the victorious. Despite the chaos and among the still trembling body of Steelix, Machamp remained unfazed, seemingly pondering the strange sentiments it was experiencing in that moment. The four-armed Pokémon then looked up to the balcony, and despite the distance, Dorian and him exchanged a meaningful look.
For Machamp, it was a gaze filled with disdain yet fulfillment, as if Dorian had just unleashed something the powerful Pokémon had long ignored since its introduction to Team Rocket many years back.
For Dorian, the exchange marked a moment of success. The seed he had planted with the first Pokémon brought under his liberating creed had begun to sprout much faster than he ever expected.