-The Dragon King-

-Redline: Ch 3-

The Rocket officer’s office was a quiet thing. There was a nice table, with a laptop on it and plush chairs on either side, and that was about it. The floor was fake wood tiles, but that didn’t really count as interesting. The walls were barren, empty.

Whatever decorations had been hung there by the previous occupant had been removed, and Mustermann hadn’t bothered to replace them.

His coat and hat were hung on the back of his chair, leaving him in a charcoal button up shirt, with a flared collar atop it.

“Do you mind if I ask what exactly your job is?” Mark asked as he took a seat.

“Of course not, but I’m afraid there isn’t horribly much to tell.”

Max Mustermann leaned back in his lavish desk chair, and took a sip of his coffee. Mark was still convinced that name had to be some kind of fake ID thing, considering it meant “placeholder name” to the Germans of his old world.

“Some of my peers act like we’re hot shots, but truthfully I’m just a salesman. I meet with customers and either buy products my organization needs, or that we can use to turn a profit, or I sell the customers something that they’re struggling to get ahold of through more official channels.” Max shrugged. “That’s all. It just so happens that I get a good cut of all the deals that come through my trade network.”

“I didn’t think you guys had set up shop in Sinnoh.”

“We’re working on it. My company wants to break into a foreign market, and after the man they sent before me failed to get a foothold, I was the one they sent to replace him.” Max sipped his coffee. “They know I have a penchant for trying to secure long term clients rather than pressing for short term profits. We just didn’t expect there to be so much pushback by the local competition.”

“Is Galactic really competition for you guys? They don’t seem like much.”

“Don’t let a scant few encounters with their lower grunts deceive you, their ranks might be filled with more scientists than fighters, but they have high end Ace trainers in their upper ranks. Galactic’s strength lies in the enormous resources they can bring to bear on any problem they deem worth their time.” The Rocketeer’s smile became half a degree more forced. “Catching the attention of the upper management tends to be a mistake of a more permanent kind. My predecessor learned that the hard way.”

Mark frowned. That sounded more intense than the Galactic in the games… actually, wait, didn’t they nuke one of the lakes to force out the lake trio? And they somehow did it while keeping the police and authorities off the site. Hmm. Maybe he had been writing off the Space Stupids a bit too easily.

“But enough about me and my friends. You’re here to do business, let’s see the product.”

The Pokeballs were handed over, and Max put them in a small device that was plugged into his laptop. It looked like a metal coaster, with an indent for the sphere to rest. When the Pokeball was placed on it, the device was forcibly expanded- (the implications of which were lost on Mark, since he only had six monsters on him at the moment).

The device took the capture spheres one by one, and fed their information onto the computer.

“Three Teddiursa. Healthy. Underdeveloped. Low TE readings, but that’s because they’re quite young. Teddiursa get harder and harder to tame as they get older, and it becomes basically impossible once they finally evolve, so if they’re wild they’re actually more valuable young and malleable than older and battle capable.” Max tapped a finger on his desk in thought, before clicking some keys on his laptop. “I’ll give you one thousand per. That’s three thousand in total, which is more than you made from your Gym win- and you had that doubled from your bet with Roark.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Two thousand per.” Mark immediately countered, causing Max to raise an eyebrow.

“There’s no one else willing to buy from you. You don’t have any leverage to negotiate with.”

“You don’t have anyone else to buy from in Sinnoh, and if you throw your nets too far, you’ll only pull Galactic’s attention. Two thousand per.”

“...the previous person to sit in this chair would have you thrown out of this building with a black eye and an empty wallet.”

“Sure, but he’s dead. You’re not.”

“Max Mustermann” stared at Mark for a few seconds in silence, reappraising the man in front of him. Whatever he found, he approved of with a smirk.

“You’re new to business, an unproven client with no history for paying your end of deals. If I were back in Kanto, it would be my job to press you for as hard of a price as I can get. But we’re not in Kanto, I need long term customers in Sinnoh, and you strike me as an ambitious fellow. I’ll give you one thousand five hundred for each, four thousand five hundred in total. Truthfully they’re worth a little less, but think of the extra as an investment to make sure you come back with more product.”

“Finally, someone on this planet that knows how shit’s supposed to work.” Mark grinned and clasped Max’s hand in a strong handshake. “Deal! I look forward to working with you in the future.”

-Dragon King-

Getting paid in physical cash was great. It wasn’t traceable, wasn’t taxed, and there was just something about the weight of hard money in your hands that made it feel worth more than the same number on a bank statement.

But as great as cash was, he wasn’t narcissistic(?) enough to get off on hoarding it like Smaug and never spending it on anything. There were plenty of things he would prefer in his hands than a lump of cash.

Mark grinned like a felon as he turned the revolver over in his hand. It was simple, just a plane hunk of metal with a wooden handle. Honestly it was ugly compared to the guns of his old world, but Earth had refined gunpowder weaponry to an art and then mass produced it on an industrial scale across the entire planet. This was something that ranchers might have on hand, as a backup, in case a Mighyena or other predator gets onto the farm while their Growlith was sick.

It was his first purchase from Rocket.

12 bullets were his second purchase.

Finally having some actual punch in his hands made any qualms about maybe helping Rocket be more annoying to people across the globe go away.

He was a fighter at heart, a soldier, so just holding an actual weapon again made him feel more whole. It made him feel more sure of himself, more courageous.

…it also wasn’t going to be very effective, was it?

Mark’s pace slowed as he stared down at the gun, his grin sliding downwards.

His mind turned to memories of his fight with Steelix, and how much of a beating that monster had taken. There were also the fights he’d seen on TV, where Ace level Pokémon took blows that would turn a human into paste, without even flinching.

This little pea shooter wouldn’t do shit against a real threat.

Mark tried to picture Steelix rampaging in front of him. The massive snake was covered in thick metal armor that protected insides made of rocky minerals, its attention was focused on Shelgon, throwing out moves that shook the entire arena.

Then for a moment it paused for a breath.

Mark leveled the gun, aiming for the tiny gap in its defenses where a bullet this small could do anything. He aimed for the eye, a red apple on a tree down the road, and pulled the trigger.

BANG

The apple tumbled from the tree as the bullet shattered the branch next to it.

Mark clicked his tongue in annoyance. Mediocre shot, same as ever.

“At least all the worst ones have trainers.” The veteran grumbled as he holstered his revolver on his belt, and let his cape cover it up. “People at least die when you shoot them.”

He knew that much from experience.

-Chapter End-