“Oh my! It seems that three of our adorable little rookies are still in the race!” boomed James’s voice from the raised stage.
“Magnificent work!” Jessie continued. “Once might have been happenstance, but winning two rounds shows some actual promise!”
“Especially against our Junior Executives! Those titles aren’t just for show, you know!”
“Meow,” the persian named Meowth – is that more or less creative than a persian named Persian? – concluded.
Could I… actually do this? Despite constantly reinforcing to himself that winning was impossible, staring at the board was making Hoshi’s heart race. I’m a third of the way there already. How many people have a ‘mon that can beat two in a row?
In his mild bafflement, it seemed that he truly was the only person with two Pokémon – a fact that was ratcheting up both his hope and his anxiety in equal measure. The refs haven’t stopped me yet. Is it just etiquette? Maybe they used to bring whole teams, and things ran out of control, or went way too long, so… a gentleman’s agreement was formed. Nothing in the rules, just all the higher-ups deciding to limit themselves together. It was the only rationalisation he could muster.
He was brought back to reality by another round of narration from the Executives. “In fact…” Jessie led in.
“Why don’t we get a few words from our intrepid baby Rockets? Come up here, you three!”
The duo gestured, and Hoshi’s gut did a flip. Fuck. Public speaking? This really is the worst bits of grade school all over again…
But as he moved forward and ascended the stage, he kept his spine straight. He wouldn’t be intimidated by a few men in suits, or by the harsh spotlight following him as he went – he was a Mutsu. There are only two people whose opinions I need to care about; the bosses. Ryan joined a moment later, and then Nerine brought up the rear, struggling up the side-steps with her overstuffed backpack. The tree of them stood, looking out at the crowd, as behind them the machamp struck a pose like it was a backup dancer.
Hoshi could feel Dabi’s stare needling into his back. In my head. It’s just in my head – keep cool.
“Magnificent showing, you three!” projected James, his voice actually seeming slightly less from close up – still impressive, but the design of the stage must be doing at least half the work to make their voices carry.
“Indeed! Rocket Grunt Mutsu, why don’t you start us off; tell us a bit about yourself!” Up close the older woman seemed, impossibly, even more attractive. Hoshi kept his eyes above her neck, but it was a struggle. “Hobbies, dreams, aspirations – you’re one of our older recruits, so I’ve no doubt you put a lot of thought into it before joining!”
He blinked. Am I? Moony and Puce look about the same age, and Ryan must be at least twenty… whatever. Dreams, huh? He opened his mouth – but despite already expressing himself to Black and the other grunts, repeating the exact same words while on-stage felt suddenly impossible. He struggled for a moment, clearing his throat.
“...I hear you’re actually related to our city’s electrifying Lightning Lieutenant! Why don’t you start off with that?” came the voice of James, rescuing him from the stretching silence.
Cool blue relief flooded his veins. Arcus, get it together. “We’re not related by blood. He was my dad’s best friend, and after he passed… Well, to make it short, I just think of him as Uncle Bob. He’s really helped me out, more than I could ever repay.” Though I’ve sure been trying to make it even, with how much his private lessons cost. “I probably have him to thank for getting this far.”
“Ooh! You hear that? Trained personally by the man himself!”
“I hope that soothes a couple bruised egos – no shame in losing to the Gym Leader’s nephew!”
His stoic expression held, but only barely. I didn’t say he trained me – even though he did. Don’t put words in my mouth!
The pair spun to the next rookie, the fair-haired Ryan. “Mr. Sampo! Your family has a bit of a pedigree,” said James. “Care to explain your deep connection to Team Rocket?”
Unlike Hoshi, the apparently-younger grunt took the attention of the audience in stride. “The Sampo family have been supporting Rocket from the moment they stepped foot in Viridian City,” he stated, his voice proud and his chin held high. “My grandfather, Leon Sampo, was a close friend to Giovanni Capo – our family’s money helped to fund the expansion of the Viridian City Gym, turning it into Kanto’s largest stadium.”
His smile shone, and for a moment the weird proportions of his face were eclipsed – under the spotlight, the young man seemed every bit a proud, patriotic Kantonian, his words smooth and charismatic. “And of course, my father, Giorgio Sampo, contributed heavily to the rebuilding of the organisation in recent years. I hope that my own contributions will be half as grand, but it seems a tall order indeed – I can only rely on my elders to guide me along the right path.”
He bowed, and the duo clapped. “Ah, what a filial young man!” said James.
“I’m certainly rooting for him – and it isn’t just because of his Pokémon, either!” continued Jessie.
“Meow.”
A twitch went through the muscle of Hoshi’s brow. His Pokémon… Is it really that good? He’s been finishing his matches before me, so I haven’t actually seen it yet. Curiosity and a touch of envy bit at him, just deep enough to hurt.
“And finally,” Jessie announced, “Our youngest new recruit, Nerine Bay Rose!”
“Tell us, how does it feel to have made it to the third round? Any secret tips to share with the audience?”
The teenager shuffled, her face gaining a touch of red at the attention. “...I got lucky, I guess.” Her voice was small, saved from the description of mumble only by the clarity with which she spoke. “Fought an oddish and a paras… it was a good couple matchups.” Her head seemed to be doing its level best to disappear between her top and cap, sinking low while rocking forward to hide her face.
“Oh, don’t be so modest!” Jessie admonished. “My first Pokémon was an ekans, you know; I can tell you’re familiar with them, to command the little noodle so well!”
“A bit of precocious training, perhaps?” James cut in.
Her face coloured further. Ha, I guess I’m not the only one who thinks he looks like a K-pop star. “Uh, just a little? I’ve always really liked the vibe of poison type Pokémon…”
“Ah, a lady after our own hearts! Team Rocket loves poison types, don’t we?” The sharp-featured Rocket turned to his partner.
“Of course!” They posed, pointing to each other. “Like your weezing!”
“Or your dustox!”
“Or your victreebel!”
“Oh, and who could forget little jellicent!”
“Meow!”
James paused, his head tilting the still-lounging cat’s way. “Is it not?”
“Meow,” the persian firmly stated, shaking its head.
“…Well, be that as it may, we still love poison types!”
Jessie spun back to the teenaged girl. “So you’ll fit right in!” The two turned back to the audience. “So there you have it!”
“Three bright young stars, and I’m not just saying that for the pun!” Scattered chuckles, and Hoshi felt the urge to strangle the stupidly attractive Executive. Ha, ha, very funny. Never heard that one in my life.
He continued, “Give a round of applause for our trio of prodigies…”
“And then those of you still in it should step up for another round, this one of Pokémon battling! We don’t have all day you know!”
Hoshi stepped down off the stage, nerves continuing to tingle with aftershocks of the mild stage fright he had experienced. Okay, third round. Gotta get my head back in the game – do I open with Rattata or Zubat?
A deep part of him still wanted to eke out a win with his rattata alone, just to prove he could, but that part was dumb as fuck, so he squashed it. Opening with Rattata worked out fine for the second match, but it’s probably not the winning move. Unless they send our an electric Pokémon, Zubat is probably the better option.
The problem with that was that they were in Vermilion City; every other opponent was a magnemite or voltorb. He had even seen a single pikachu, the much rarer rodent taking a loss to an Executive’s geodude. Speaking of geodude, if I run into a rock type I’m pretty much fucked. Normal and bug are my only attacking options, and Leech Life puts my bat into melee – basically unusable. His fists clenched. Fuck, I’m psyching myself out when I should be psyching up.
He had made it two rounds already, so why was he freaking out? I’m at least as good as anybody here. I just need to treat this like training with Surge. The thought calmed him, and he managed to unclench his fists – only to repeat the action, this time in determination.
His gaze went over the crowd. I’ll use this time to scout out the competition. If I see any ice or electric types, start with Rattata. Rock… probably go for Supersonic with Zubat. Battles were already starting, a grunt with his spearow facing off against a sharp-suited woman’s seel, Nerine’s ekans slithering in a zig-zag pattern to avoid clumps of sparkling ice crystals thrown out by- holy fuck that’s an ice type sandshrew!
Hoshi boggled for a moment. Arcus, those things are rare as fuck. Like a lot of Alolan Pokémon, the island-specific variant of the otherwise common Pokémon were close to extinction by normal standards, wild specimens existing on only a single mountain on the tiny chain of islands. Glad I haven’t fought something like that so far. Steel and ice… Once again, he resolved that his next Pokémon would be a ground type.
“Hey,” came a feminine voice from behind. “You Hoshi? Your opponent’s waiting.”
He turned, seeing an older woman in the standard black uniform sans gloves. So? You’re meant to be guiding me; it isn’t like I know what my opponent looks like. “Sorry. Which way?”
The grunt guided him to the other edge of the vast room, and Hoshi snuck a peek at a third match as he went. A labcoat-wearing scientist type was all but pulling his hair out as his floating metallic disk – the first Pokémon today that Hoshi couldn’t identify – was slapped around by the hooves of a ponyta, an aura of flame issuing from the much larger horse’s coat to lend heat to its attacks.
Fire type. Probably no ranged attacks – Zubat should be able to handle it.
Loping strides ate up the distance swiftly and soon enough Hoshi was standing across from his second Executive opponent of the day – a woman in a black suit and long straight skirt, her equally long hair bone-white despite being into her early forties at most, according to her face.
“Finally.” Her voice was deep, surprisingly so, and Hoshi received an even larger surprise as she lifted a pure white, opalescent ball – a Pearl Ball, rather than the strange Rocket Balls Hoshi had been seeing up to this point. Does this mean she’s a legit trainer? That she’s using a Pokémon she caught herself? He had no idea, but he was wary.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Sorry for the wait. Let’s get this battle started, alright?”
She sneered, and something in Hoshi’s chest calmed – it was a lot easier to fight someone who was looking down on him. “I should hope so. Referee, start us! I have other meetings today!”
The referee – who seemed reasonably sour to be talked down to by someone her own age – flared her nostrils, but obeyed. “This is a standard battle. A winner is chosen when one side has no Pokémon fit to battle, and lethal damage counts as an automatic loss for both sides.” She raised her hand. “On three. One, two-”
Hoshi expanded his zubat’s ball, preparing to throw. Right on my side of the field, to give it time to climb. “-Three!” Her hand came down, and both combatants threw their Pokéballs.
“Zubat, fly up!” he ordered, peering across the field. Come on, give me another bug type.
His opponent’s Pokémon revealed itself in a flash of red, and he smiled. Krabby! Yes, this should be easy! The short, red-and-tan crab was well-known for its extreme attacking power and solid defense… but also, Hoshi happened to know that the thing wouldn’t have a decent ranged attack. Zubat should be able to dodge a few Bubbles, and that super-strength will work against it once it’s confused! “Dip down and use Supersonic!”
The woman’s sneer continued. “Dodge,” she ordered, seemingly unconcerned.
The crab scuttled sideways, avoiding the main blast of sound, but Hoshi grinned. There’s no way that thing can jump. “Keep it up! Stay right above it!”
His bat moved in erratic circles above the zig-zagging water type, dancing tantalisingly, just out of reach of its clacking claws.
But again, the Executive seemed unworried. “Scald,” she ordered, and Hoshi’s smile dropped.
“Fuck!” That isn’t- she must have shelled out for a move disk! Instead of a froth of slow-moving bubbles – the only ranged attack a krabby should have – the Pokémon attacked with a spray of pressurised, boiling liquid.
Dodge or attack? There was no time to pick, he was already yelling-! “Dive!”
The zubat dipped, still screeching, and the steaming stream doused one of its wings. His Pokémon’s cries took on a different tone as its attack was cut off in favour of expressing its pain. “Get under it! Leech Life!”
“Vicegrip,” came the disinterested order from the Executive, and Hoshi’s teeth grit as his vision reddened.
The foot-long bat made a valiant effort, but the krabby snatched it before it could roll under the crab’s armoured belly. A single squeeze, and it was over.
“Zubat is unable to battle!” the referee announced, as though it wasn’t plainly obvious as the crab dropped his unconscious ‘mon. “Grunt Hoshi, withdraw your Pokémon!”
He knew his face had frozen into an ugly rictus snarl, but it was beyond his ability to feign anything else. “Fucking fuck fuck.” Didn’t manage to confuse it. Fucking rich-ass cheating- fuck! “Return.”
Zubat disappeared, merging with the red laser, and he immediately put the ball into storage mode, freezing it in stasis until it could be healed – then he withdrew Rattata’s ball, pausing to consider his options. The red receded a touch as he forced away the suicidal urge to go out and stomp the stupid crab with his steel-toed boots.
Can I still win this? If it was completely hopeless, he was better off not risking his Pokémon’s health. Quick attack might let me get a few hits in, but it’s armoured up. Hoshi was pretty familiar with coastal Pokémon, and he had seen foraging krabby outright ignore the questing pecks of even evolved birds.
His snarl became a grim line. The referee looked over. “Grunt? Are you going to send out your next Pokémon?”
He lowered Rattata’s ball to his side. “I…” But then he saw it: the slightest tremble, the krabby’s claws wavering as it adjusted its feet. “Sorry, just thinking. Go, Rattata!” Thanks, Zubat. Looks like we might just get to the fourth round! “Circle around and use Tail Whip!”
The white-haired Executive sniffed. “Crush it.”
The crab smoothly turned to follow his rattata’s movements, and Hoshi prayed to Arcus. Come on. I know what I saw; Zubat’s Supersonic got it as it dove! Come on! Stumble, you front-heavy fuck!
And for once, Hoshi’s prayers were answered; the crab misjudged a step in its addled state, overextending and dipping to the side. The swinging, open claw grazed his rattata’s back, removing a stripe of fur, but the darting rat smashed its tail into its opponent’s face as it ducked past. The crab slipped, clutching its face with its other claw, and Hoshi found himself grinning savagely.
“Tackle from behind! Don’t let it stand up!”
“Prince, protect yourself with Bubble.”
Rattata struck the crab in the back and it reeled, but before Hoshi’s Pokémon could attack again a thick mass of large bubbles frothed up around its opponents body-encompassing mouth, spreading across its slick surface in an instant to create a sort of armour.
“Rattata, stop!”
But while it had been growing quite used to Hoshi’s orders over the last two battles, the rat was still untrained; it’s attempt to pull back was uncertain, and it struck a number of bubbles – which detonated with a series of sharp pops, more akin to firecrackers than anything else. Rattata recoiled, and the Executive smirked.
“Vicegrip,” she ordered.
“Stay behind it!” Fuck, what do I do? The bubbles weren’t actually very strong, but he didn’t think his young Pokémon would willingly attack something explosive. “Tail Whip! Aim for the legs!”
His rat whipped its opponent over and over, but though the krabby stumbled, it seemed to have shaken off the confusion – the crab outmanoeuvred the lavender rodent, managing to pivot enough to snatch it in a claw. Hoshi withdrew his Pokémon before it could be crushed, once again scowling.
“Rocket Grunt Hoshi concedes! The match’s winner is Junior Executive Tanya!”
The Rocket withdrew her Pokémon, cooing at the ball for a moment in motherly affection, before turning and walking towards the healing station without further acknowledging either Hoshi or the referee.
I hope that ‘junior’ in your title haunts you for your entire fucking life, you whore.
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Hoshi stepped away from the healing machine, still sporting a scowl. He knew, he knew that he was going to get knocked out, but the loss still stung. If it hadn’t known a fucking disk move-!
He huffed. Pointless. He’d already lost – there was nothing worth being mad about. At least now I get to actually watch some matches, see what Ryan’s super-secret Pokémon is.
He headed towards the ongoing matches.
…But still, he couldn’t put the anger behind him. Fucking childish shit. He’d thought he hadn’t had any illusions about his chances of winning, but it seemed a part of him was a dumb kid who thought they were a special little boy, who would be able to beat money and experience and better Pokémon! Wow! But it turns out I’m just some guy! Who would have fucking thought that a fresh trainer couldn’t beat hardened criminals twice his age! Isn’t that fucking weird?!
His self-loathing continued to build until some internal dam broke, his vision blanking out for a second. A moment passed, he breathed, and he kept walking, empty, the anger washed away to leave nothing but some lingering puddles of annoyance.
“Fucking take the loss like a man,” he mumbled to himself, and settled into a seat to watch the last moments of round three.
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Nerine won her match, the teenager’s ekans scoring an easy win against a grunt’s balloon-like jigglypuff. The little thing could only weakly beat its fists against the young-but-still-larger snake as the latter choked it out with Wrap and Poison Sting.
Then the intermission, where the Executive duo acted – or maybe were, he didn’t know them well enough to guess – astonished that two rookies had made it to the fourth round.
And then, finally, Hoshi rose from his seat to stalk his fellow grunt. I want to know what that Pokémon is that you seemed so proud of.
He followed behind Ryan, thankful that the man’s features made him stand out from the crowd – and then someone put a hand on his shoulder. Oh for fuck's sake. What now?
“Suit, there you are!” Moony greeted. “Me ‘n Puke were wondering where you got off to!”
Oh, fucking amazing. “Hey. I was about to watch Ryan’s match.”
Seemingly immune to Hoshi’s flat tone, the acne-riddled man continued. “Us too! Puke’s following him around ‘cause she’s got a crush, and so’m I, ‘cause why not?”
Puke- Puce made a face. “Don’t make up weird rumours, Moony. He is,” a pause, “Way too young for me!”
Hoshi blinked. “Is he really a kid?” I’d have sworn he was just a bit younger than me, but maybe his weird face threw me off?
Moony elbowed the woman. “Naw, Puke’s just bein’ weird. He’s like eighteen or something.”
…Well, a couple years off isn’t that bad. “Hm. Anyway, looks like his referee found him, so let’s walk and talk.”
The three rookies followed after the fourth, Hoshi leading the way. What could it be? Something rare and strong… A dratini? Maybe a rare fighting type, like a hitmontop – except no, that wouldn’t be allowed for the tournament, I don’t think. What was the baby form… tyrogue? Or maybe something foreign, like a… His face scrunched in thought. A sandile or something. He was vaguely aware of a dozen different foreign Pokémon that were considered top-tier, but put on the spot his mind was blanking.
“Hey…” a soft voice sounded out from behind. “Sorry for not cheering for your matches. You did really well.”
Hoshi glanced back at the muscular woman. “Oh. Well, thanks.” Having someone cheering for me would have been… weird, so I’m kind of glad you didn’t. “Sad you got knocked out right away. Who’d you lose to?”
“Well…” she trailed off.
“She said she got smashed by a dweeb with a pikachu. Right?” Again, Moody elbowed the larger woman.
“Uh… Yeah, I guess ‘smashed’ is a pretty good word. Koffing only knows Tackle and some poison moves, so it just got hit over and over with lightning.” She sighed. “I’m a bit embarrassed… You made it pretty far, and Ryan and the younger girl are still in… you three seem way more skilled than I am.”
Hoshi grunted. Two pikachu? Maybe they aren't as rare as I thought… I guess it's been a long time since Champion Red, people must have started breeding them by now. “Well, I have some experience. I trained for a bit with Surge before joining.”
“Oh, really? I thought maybe the instructors were making that up.”
Moony broke in. “You’re really his nephew? Man, that’s crazy! Does that mean that Team Rocket has like, gotten into the government and shit?”
Hoshi turned back to shoot the man a look. What the fuck thread of twisted logic are you following? “No, I didn’t tell him I’m in Rocket,” you moron. “His job is literally to beat the piss out of criminals and shit.” Theoretically; that hasn’t really been a thing since before the war, it’s all the Jennys now. “…He’s cool with the old, wartime Rocket, though.”
“Cool,” said Moony, and Hoshi restrained the urge to pop him in his too-wide fucking ignorant face.
Arcus, can the match just start already? Ryan was standing with his arms crossed, waiting for his opponent to arrive, and whoever it was sure seemed to be taking their fucking time.
Thankfully Hoshi was spared from the increasingly awkward conversation; the other two lapsed into silence, and eventually the grunt referee returned – a second, identically-dressed grunt in tow.
“Fucking finally,” Hoshi mumbled.
“Fuckin’ finally!” Moony exclaimed, and Hoshi winced. I don’t sound like that, right? No, that’s impossible, he’s like a giant baby.
The referee’s opening spiel was the same as the ones Hoshi had gotten, and he leaned forward as the two trainers drew their Pokéballs.
“Oh hey, you haven’t seen Ryan’s Pokémon yet have you? It’s pretty cool, I was surprised that-”
“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed, and Puce fell silent.
The referee’s hand came down, Ryan and his opponent – a man with similarly platinum blond hair, actually, though his was long and straight – threw their balls, and both of them yelled out their orders.
“Jormungandr, Fire Fang!”
“Spot, use- is that a fucking dragon?!”
Hoshi’s eyes widened. I was close. Not a dratini, but a… “Bagon,” he stated, taking in the baby dragon’s bipedal stance and ridged, armoured cranium. “Fuck, no wonder he’s gotten this far.”
“Well, it isn’t like it’s entirely the Pokémon, right? You lost to a krabby, and that’s an even stronger Pokémon, so there are a lot of… strong…”
She petered off at Hoshi’s withering look. How the fuck-? You implied you weren't watching! He didn’t tell the woman to shut up a second time, though he did think it. That’s… okay, not the worst point in the world, but that’s a fucking dragon. That’s a Champion-level Pokémon, if he manages to raise it right.
The fight ended within seconds. The bagon got its maw around its opponent – a bulbasaur – and flames erupted around the sides of its mouth. The straight-haired grunt withdrew his Pokémon before it could catch on fire, and rubbed his forehead.
“Fucking- how am I even supposed to fight that?”
He trudged off towards the healing station while Ryan preened, letting his Pokémon jump around excitedly at its win.
…Could I take that Pokémon out with mine? I don’t think bagon learns to breathe fire until after it’s matured a bit, but… Entirely possible that it, too, was sporting a move the species didn’t usually learn.
Moony hollered, waving to the man – Hoshi didn’t think eighteen warranted a young – and Ryan waved back. “Great show, man! Yer gonna win this whole thing, I know it!”
The blond approached. “Thank you. Ah Hoshi, I saw you’d been eliminated – no worries, I’ll be sure to avenge you on my way up.” He smiled, entirely sincere, and Hoshi forced down his reflexive response.
“…Well, I doubt that old lady will make it that far. You’re on the other side of the bracket, after all.” I refuse to believe a fucking krabby can make it to the finals, rich trainer or not.