A meowth, a mankey, and a spearow stared back at Hoshi as he scrutinised them, the Pokémon standing with a level of discomfort seemingly equal to their trainers. Realistically they were probably just reacting to the stronger Pokémon around his grunts, but it was gratifying nonetheless.
Well, that’s not bad. Arguably better than what we got, Jormungandr excepted. “Not bad. Any of you done any training before? Trips into the woods with grandpa and the family growlithe, Little Cups, anything like that?”
His eyes went back up to the three newborn Rockets, just in time to receive a trio of shakes. Damn, did we look that unsure during the tournament? I swear we didn’t, and it was less than a quarter of a year ago…
“Well, this’ll be your first time then. Listen up…” Hoshi began to pace, aping his uncle’s drill sergeant shtick. “These are baby Pokémon; they’ll be battlers pretty soon, but right now they’ll need short, simple instructions. We’re going to be going out into the proper wilderness, halfway to Fuchsia, so you’ll need to know what these three can do.”
From his pocket came his Mini-Dex. “Luckily, Team Rocket’s got some of that covered. This little baby can tell you your ‘mon’s moves, plus its condition and some other stuff that isn’t as important.” He softly tossed the thing underhanded, lobbing it to the grunt who seemed least likely to fumble – the middle boy, a clean-shaven sporty-looking type with buoyant, spiked-forward brown hair sticking out from below his puffy cap.
“Return your Pokémon, stick it in the front lens, check the moves with the buttons, then pass it around.” Kind of a pain that we don’t have three extras to just give them, but that’s life. Also a pain was the lack of fake licenses; they’d have to be extra careful not to bump into any rangers or whoever, who’d think to check their credentials on the road.
As the three did as they were told, Hoshi gestured with his chin to Casca and Ryan. They were the most personable of his grunts, so it would be them doing the actual training lesson. The two went forward as he sat, and Hoshi let out a breath as subtly as he could. Wow, that’s actually kind of stressful…
Pretty fun, though. I can see why the instructors do it all the time. With the rookies’ focus drawn away, he took the opportunity to examine them without seeming creepy or too intimidating.
It was pretty easy to match names to faces, with that one kid – bah, why am I saying kid? They’ve gotta be closer to twenty than anything, all of them – having introduced himself. Tor Yuriyama was the one he’d tossed the Mini-Dex to, and he was pretty obviously the leader-figure of the group. He’d been the only one to speak up on the way down, and as the trio received instruction he was the one who took it the most seriously, asking questions without being a dumbass about it.
As for the other two… The woman, almost certainly Lilian Sukashi unless both her and the third grunt’s parents had weird ideas about gendered names, was a tall, slim woman with dark red hair. She was a lot more hesitant than Tor, and Hoshi mentally labeled her as the Puce of the group. Then there was Mojo Concolor, who didn’t have a clear analogue; he was also on the taller side, but stood with a slouch, and there was a certain scruffiness to his face that made him seem older than the other two. He probably isn’t actually older; it's just the shape of his eyes and the stubble. He’s got a cynical-drunk-uncle kinda face.
Reminds me of an old dog, somehow. Not a lot of bite, stays out of the way, but knows a trick or two. Maybe he would end up being the Nerine, quiet but competent, though the very basic questions he was asking didn’t inspire confidence.
Over a few minutes the grunts got their Pokémon to dodge in the correct directions, do a move or two, and block a very subdued Rapid Spin from Candy. “Alright,” Hoshi said, standing up as the brief lesson concluded. “The rest will have to be on the road.” The rest of the senior Rockets came in from the sides, their expressions ranging from amused to stony. Glad they didn’t butt in. I was half-expecting Bart to undercut me, but maybe he isn’t as much of an asshole as my first impression of him implied.
“On the road?” Mojo, the grunt who looked older and street-wiser, asked. “Right now? Man, it’s October. I’m wearing a damn felt suit.” He scratched the stubble covering his jaw, expression bored with a hint of sour – but his eyes were aware, calm and sharp and sparkling.
Hoshi smiled. “Good segue, thanks for that. Obviously, we aren’t going out in our uniforms – or at least, not just the uniforms. Puce?”
The large woman reached back and hefted an equally-large canvas bag into view, lifting it one-handed. “We’ve got good hiking coats for everyone,” she said. “Everybody line up…” He could feel her suppressing the urge to um or uh. “Tallest to shortest, I think would be the best way to do it. So, Enforcer Cliff first.”
Hoshi sent her a ghost of a nod. Good work. Keep up the competent facade, at least until we’re a few days in and they’ve gotten used to taking orders.
Cliff received his large coat without speaking, smoothly putting it on over his uniform – which looked like the evolved form of Hoshi’s own Senior Grunt uniform, skintight black fabric with white lines and what he was sure were armoured sections at the shoulders, chest, groin, and shins. The most aberrant part was actually the footwear; where every uniform he’d seen up to that point had tall boots, while Cliff was wearing runners. High-quality runners, though. And thick enough that they might be armoured, too.
Hoshi went next, and then the other grunts in the appropriate order. The bulky, warm hiking gear fit over his clothes just fine, thick brown-and-orange leather and dark grey wool covering the black felt. The coat sported numerous pockets and loops where ropes – or whatever else – could be attached, and the weight was reassuring; the thing felt durable, like he could take a Poison Sting point-blank and be fine.
Not that I’ll be trying that.
Having the uniform on at all out in public was going to make his teeth itch with paranoia, but Cliff had insisted.
Next came the rest of the supplies, handed out by Kenny. Everyone got a knife and compass, and were then split into pairs; one got their tent, the other food and other heavy shit. Hoshi and Casca were of course together, then Ryan with Kenny and Puce with Nerine.
Two of the rookies were in a relationship, so that made the rest of it conveniently easy; Mimi insisted on bunking with Bart – who rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest – so that just left Cliff with Mojo.
The twelve Rockets got their packs packed up, their Pokémon returned, and were out the door before the clock struck three.
Everything’s gone smoothly so far, Hoshi thought as they passed through the gate, looking like nothing more than a group of university students taking a trip for the holidays. Hopefully I’m not tempting fate, but… Whatever bullshit is about to happen, I think we’ll be able to handle it.
There’s a full dozen of us, after all.
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They were, obviously, not wearing their Rocket caps out in the open. Those were safely tucked into the depths of their giant camping bags; instead, they had soft leather hats. Their various footwear had been similarly swapped out for hiking boots.
And even without all that, Hoshi was sure there wouldn’t have been any problems making it through Route 11 to the guardhouse that separated it from the real wilderness.
No, the problems only started to happen afterwards, as that final structure faded into the distance.
“Eep!” Lilian squeaked as a goldeen flew past her face. “Mankey, Leer!”
The pig-nosed ape screeched and pounded its chest, and the numerous orange-and-white fish leaping over the bridge… slowed, maybe, cowed just the slightest bit. The red-headed woman’s lips curled down. “Darn it.”
“Just walk through!” Hoshi called back. “They won’t hit you on purpose!” Unless the weird weather is inducing a second breeding cycle… but nah, me and Ryan made it through fine. “Nerine, show her!”
The teenage grunt walking near the back of the group looked up, and once again her condition made him wince. She didn’t look dead on her feet like that morning, but she definitely wasn’t anywhere near peak performance. She scowled, but a second later began shouldering through the tight confines of Seaking’s Crossing.
Hoshi grit his teeth as she calmly walked across the narrow stretch of land, Tomato the ekans wrapped around her neck like a massive scarf; despite just reassuring the other girl, a tiny part of him couldn’t help but anticipate one of the riled-up goldeen aiming its finger-length horn towards her pallid face.
But it didn’t happen. The fish avoided the slow-moving obstacle as they hopped over the thin spit of land separating the two stretches of brackish, half-sea water, and Nerine arrived safely on the large not-quite-an-island marking the middle of Route 12. “This is a lot worse than it should be this time of year,” she remarked as she turned back to watch Lilian take tentative steps, the young woman’s tongue clenched firmly in her teeth.
“Yes,” Ryan replied, “I imagine the heat convinced them it was still summer for far too long, and now they’re frantic to make it north for the winter.”
“You know the migrant paths of goldeen?” Hoshi asked, watching the other two rookie grunts cross as Casca and Puce goaded them forward. Tor was, surprisingly, the most nervous of the three; Mojo had to basically push him forward step-by-step. The athletic boy’s spearow circled tightly overhead, obviously considering trying to pluck one of the leaping Pokémon from the air.
They’re just goldeen man, come on. What, you scared of fish?
“I’ve been reading up on the local Pokémon,” Ryan answered. “At first I’d assumed that I would be transferred back to Mister Archer’s jurisdiction shortly, since the instructors seem to… not care for me.” He smiled without mirth. “But since that hasn’t happened, I should probably stop gallivanting back and forth between here and my home. It may not be the proper season, but it looks like I’ll have to acquire a beach house.”
Hoshi snorted. “Well, that’ll make dragging you to team shit easier at least.”
“Quite.”
The trio reunited on their side of the Crossing, and then the rest of Hoshi’s grunts took the precarious journey as well. Casca walked without a hint of fear – she must have been plenty familiar with goldeen, since Cerulean was where they liked to nest for the winter – and Puce did shockingly well, crossing with Potato the koffing held securely in her arms.
But then the good luck finally ran out. Kenny grit his teeth, wavering for long seconds as he eyed the twenty-metre walkway teeming with jumping fish. Then his expression settled. He stepped forward – and Hoshi’s heart sank as he realised the ex-wrestler was trying to sprint for it. “Slow it down, man!” he called, but it was too late.
A goldeen, unable to account for the suddenness of a roided-up human striding into its path, impacted Kenny’s shoulder. He started to go down, and was only saved by his sandshrew clinging to his ankle – if Bubbles hadn’t been able to get his claws into his trainer’s pant leg, Kenny would have gone over the fence and right into the drink.
Cliff started forward, shouldering Bart aside, but the downed grunt called out. “No worries! ‘S not even bleeding – jus’ need to get back on my feet. Thanks, Bubbles.”
He walked the rest of the way properly, his sandshrew sending Poison Stings out towards any fish that got close – which all missed horribly, but Hoshi supposed it was the thought that counted.
But once he and Bubbles were on the other side, Hoshi could see Kenny had been lying.
“Need a bandage?” Not a lot of blood, but it definitely got through the gear.
I was hoping we’d at least get to the campsite before taking an injury, but I guess that was naive. There’s a reason people still die out here, every now and then…
“Need..?” Kenny looked down, seeming to notice the hole in his thick leather coat for the first time. “Oh. Naw, ‘s just a scratch. Don’t feel shit.”
“Good thing it only hit you with Peck,” Casca noted, and Kenny’s eyes turned back to the land bridge.
“Yeah. Horn Attack’d probably fuck a guy up pretty bad… Oh hey, Pompadour’s changin’ his Pokémon.”
Hoshi followed his subordinate’s stare, and found it was true. The man’s electabuzz went back in its ball, and a different ‘mon was released – something Hoshi didn’t recognise.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
What materialised looked like nothing more than a golden-brown half-oval with two beady black eyes, but then it lifted itself to reveal four much brighter legs – simple things, just articulated claws coming to a point – and a black underbelly sporting two large, round, red eyes. Are the ones on top decoys? Or maybe it just has four. Some sort of bug type – or maybe water? It looks kind of like a crab, and kind of like a beetle…
“Kabuto!” Ryan exclaimed, and Hoshi again grit his teeth. Damn it, I’ve got to start hitting the books more. It’s embarrassing when my underling knows more about a Pokémon than I do…
He swallowed the emotion for the moment, instead opening his mouth to simply ask about it. “Kabuto?” Actually, I think I’ve heard the name… “Aren’t those extinct?”
“Not entirely; I believe Pewter has a very small population. But I doubt that is where he acquired it, they don’t- ooh!”
The tiny beetle-crab – trilobite? No, those had segments like a cockroach, he was pretty sure – skittered into the water, and the moment it was submerged it rocketed forward, blasting goldeen out of the way as it went. The school began jumping harder, riled up, but when the kabuto repeated the manoeuvre they were pushed around again. Then a third time, and the angry fish backed off. Bart slipped past Cliff to cross the Crossing with his hands in his pockets, chin angled up and black-painted lips in an admittedly flattering pout.
Okay, I’ve got to concede; that’s a little cool. Still don’t like you, though.
The man once again swapped his Pokémon – the water bug was probably glacial on land – and nine of the ten Rockets looked on as Mimi went next with her vulpix.
Ryan, of course, was pestering Bart about his Pokémon. Hoshi elbowed him and mouthed ‘At camp,’ causing the blond to shut his mouth with a scowl.
Mimi crossed without incident, and then Cliff did the same. Much like Bart, the goldeen didn’t jump at him at all – probably because of the fully-evolved poliwrath strutting in his shadow. The Pokémon, like its master, was tall and broad; nearly five feet tall, a full foot above average.
Cliff gave him a wordless nod as he joined the group, and once again Hoshi was thankful that the dark-skinned man was letting him give the orders. He seems pretty chill – and hasn’t tried to give any long speeches, either. Think I’ll get along with this guy.
They took a moment to reorient. Nerine forced Kenny to take his upper clothes off so she could bandage his shoulder, and everyone took drinks from their canteens and bites of various food bars.
Then the group turned, collectively eyeing the skeletal scaffolding that made up basically the entirety of Route 12.
“Yknow,” Kenny said, squinting in consideration, “I’m maybe not feeling this whole rickety docks goin’ out into the ocean thing. Maybe we just go back a bit, cut through the trees?”
Hoshi shook his head, joined by several of the others. “Nope. Did you even look at the forest while we were coming here? It’s basically solid wood.”
“The woods east of Vermilion are impassible,” Cliff reiterated. “Too dense, too many Pokémon. If we didn’t have the recruits then maybe we could cut through in about the same time, but this whole thing is for them.” He stepped forward, his Pokémon – a roughly human-sized tadpole that Hoshi, for whatever reason, felt was unsuited to the man – walking slightly in front.
Hoshi started after, but then paused and gestured Bart and Mimi through. Try and keep the weaker members in the middle; that might be one of the simpler lessons the instructors taught, but that just means it should be easier to remember. He’d let things slip a little while on the safest section of trail, but from now on he’d be paying more attention.
The newbies went next, and he nodded reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’s sturdier than it looks.”
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Route 12 was, at one point, a major staging area for Kanto’s navy – and civilian shipping too, during the war. Lavender looked like it was on the water when you saw it on a map, but it was actually land-locked; that whole section of the coast was a sheer cliff, a lop-sided mountain whose highest point dropped directly into the ocean.
Which meant that there weren’t any actual settlements between Cerulean, Vermilion, and Fuchsia – which was a serious problem when one was trying to move supplies through contested waters. Those large, uninhabited stretches of coast became easy pickings for not only Johto’s navy, but also Kanto’s dwindling-but-not-dead-yet pirate population.
And so… Route 12, a massive docking area that could serve as a lay-over between cities, and a bubble of safety from roving predators.
Hoshi was sure it was majestic during its time, before a massive push from Johto had demolished the thing, and the end of the war had put any reason to rebuild in a shallow grave. Now it was only a precarious path for trainers looking to train while going down to Fuchsia, full of wild Pokémon and gruff, antisocial fishermen.
Not that those are necessarily bad things, mind. “Crow, Astonish-Supersonic.”
His zubat swooped down, letting out a distinctly startling chirp at the wild horsea, the juvenile sea dragon choking on a mouthful – snoutful? – of wild blue fire. I am beyond fucking pissed – I run into a horsea that knows Dragon Breath, and I completely forgot to buy a single damn ball. Motherfucker.
It would be more accurate to say that he’d deliberately decided against buying balls – to avoid the temptation of overextending himself with a fourth untrained team member – but at the moment accuracy could go for a long swim in the fucking ocean.
His lips formed a snarling grin as Crow’s chirp led into a long, high-pitched roar that forced the horsea underwater to escape, its movements uncoordinated. “Good girl. Guts, use Swift.”
Actually, he wasn’t all that mad. The lost opportunity was made up for by the current situation: his three young Pokémon working together to beat something that would, if it survived long enough, turn into a legitimate dragon one day. Guts sent a tiny constellation of stars out, five or six – they were too fast to count properly – points of dazzling light emerging from her mouth to plow right into the water, barely slowing as they went from air to crystal-clear liquid.
The Focus Energy she’d used at the start of the battle sharpened the attack, turning each shooting star into a tiny horsea-seeking missile. The sea dragon released a cloud of ink, but it was no use; Hoshi felt the half-dozen impacts under the water, and the next second it was surfacing, snout full of an eerie blue flame-
Only to meet a Leer from Venus and another combo-attack from Crow. The mankey’s rancorous gaze was enough to rattle even the vastly stronger Pokémon, and after another battering from Swift the tiny, deceptively strong monster decided it was better off seeking easier prey. It dived away, taking refuge in the steel hull of a mostly-submerged wreck, and…
And Hoshi’s savage grin lost its edge as elation leeched strength from the other emotions swirling in his gut, the fury magically transmuting into joy like copper turned to gold. “Yeah!” he roared, pumping his fist. Venus joined in, snorting and hooting, while Guts stared at the water despondently. Hah, she wants to finish it off. Sorry girl, it’s too smart for that. “Amazing job, girls! That thing had to be close to evolving – so I figure you must be pretty close, too!” Like a lot of dragons – or pseudo-dragons, in this case – horsea evolved quite late into its life; rattata, on the other hand, evolved early – and zubat wasn’t far behind.
I could have a raticate and golbat before the week ends.
The thought was sweet, and it was with a touch of reluctance that he returned Crow and Venus; Hoshi wanted to train them all, all at the same time, but the rational part of his brain knew that it was important to cycle his Pokémon in and out to rest.
They still had the rest of the day’s hike to go, after all.
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The tail end of Route 12 disappeared behind them as the sun inexorably dropped closer to the horizon. Hoshi fought off a few more of the oceanic Pokémon that had reclaimed the smashed port, while the rookies battled a few fishermen for pocket change.
They won as many as they lost, which said a lot more about how seriously the fishermen were taking things than the new Rocket’s skills. They got magikarp and goldeen; Ryan and his bagon got octillery and thick-shelled adult shellder – and, on one occasion, a twenty-foot-long gyarados.
Hoshi patted the man’s shoulder as they transitioned from wooden dock to dirt path. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”
Ryan bristled at the facetious tone. “Oh, come off it. I didn’t see you challenging their strongest Pokémon – at least I made the attempt.”
The back-and-forth continued for a minute, but as they continued further into Route 13 Hoshi became serious again. “Okay,” he called out to the group. “Let’s stop for a minute. A few important things to discuss before we go further.”
Here, unlike the long, twisting passages of Route 12, they could spread their legs and not be forced into a line. The Rockets and their Pokémon gathered into a circular huddle, the various cliques staying mostly together.
Gotta do this before we go into the maze proper…
“What’s the holdup?” Kenny asked. “We’re burnin’ daylight, Boss.”
Ah, another perfect segue. Thanks for that. “Who here knows anything about Route 13?”
Hoshi got a mix of responses; bewildered looks from Kenny and Mimi, a blank stare from Puce and Casca, Bart joined Mojo in looking mostly just bored – but Nerine and Lilian both opened their mouths.
“This is where the ninja from Fuchsia do their training, right?” Lilian spoke first.
“It is,” Nerine confirmed. “But it isn’t the season for that. They’ll be up in Viridian, making sure the Nationals don’t get sabotaged.” The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and half-turned away, but was drawn back into the conversation by another rookie.
“How do you know that?” Tor asked. “I’ve never heard anything about the tournament grounds being guarded by ninja.”
“You’re not supposed to see ninja,” she muttered, just loud enough for Hoshi to mostly understand, before actually answering. “I was recruited in Fuchsia. Had an uncle who used to work in the Pokémon Gym before he retired, and he was pretty… gung-ho about me getting into the family business.”
“Of being a ninja?”
“Of being a… Fuchsia Gym Trainer. So… yeah, kind of a ninja. Not, like, ninjutsu.” Her head lowered in embarrassment. “So I know some stuff that most people don’t. Nothing special or anything…”
Hoshi raised his voice, taking back the spotlight. “Like you said, Tor, it’s the Doksu Clan training grounds. Which means that it’s practically a maze.” He reached up to pet Crow, who was clinging to his shoulder. “Now I was hoping to get to Route 14 before making camp, but in hindsight that was a little too optimistic.” Wanted to completely dodge any chance of running into actual ninja in the middle of the night – Nerine was mostly right, but I doubt they’re leaving the area completely unguarded. “So we’ve got a choice to make: Camp here, or try and push through.”
“Camp here,” Nerine immediately said – at the exact same time that Cliff answered “Push through.”
Oh, for fuck’s-! Well, it had to happen eventually, I guess… “Cliff,” Hoshi said, pointing to the man. “Why do you think that’s better?”
The Rocket Enforcer crossed his arms, his poliwrath imitating him. “This is a survival exercise. Running the gauntlet in the dark is literally what it’s for – what we’re out here for.” Hoshi blinked as Cliff paused. Well shit, I can’t actually think of an argument to that. “It’s also probably the only place we’ll be able to actually do any safe night training – Route 14 is wilderness, while this place is simulated wilderness.”
Nerine winced. “Not that simulated…”
Hoshi nodded at his superior, then turned to the group’s youngest member. “Reasonable, but let’s hear the other side. Nerine?”
She winced further, her shoulders curling in. What the fuck is up with you since the Gym job? Hoshi didn’t ask. Arcus fuck, it’s like Puce stole your confidence.
“…I might run into people I know if we go through,” Nerine eventually said. “I didn’t… I don’t exactly want to explain to people where I’ve been, or who you are.”
Bart smiled, speaking to a member of Hoshi’s group for maybe only the second or third time since they’d set out. “There’s no need to be alarmed, should such a thing occur. Simply tell them the truth: you are a student of Vermilion City’s most prestigious academy, out on a training expedition with some other students. We can even say it was your idea to come here, since you’re familiar with the area.”
“I don’t actually know my way around, I just know what the place is for…” Nerine began, but she trailed off, the silence eventually broken by a huff. “Do whatever you want, I guess.” She stepped away from the circle, loudly digging in her pack for a snack bar.
Hoshi sent Bart the evil eye, and received a raised brow in return. “What?” he asked. “Am I wrong? This is far from a restricted area; being caught by Fuchsia’s black ops isn’t even an issue.”
“Uh,” Mojo interjected. “Not true? Me and my bros don’t have licenses for these ‘mons. Pretty sure ninja can arrest people.”
Cliff spoke next, his tone soft in a way that didn’t match his face. “Kazubara isn’t wrong – the ninja clans tend to have as much respect for the Indigo League’s laws as we do. They won’t bother reporting you, even if they rifle through our wallets while we aren’t looking.”
Tor made to speak, but seemed to reconsider. He grasped his girlfriend’s hand, and was silent as Kenny bitched about having to walk in the dark for a little bit – but Hoshi kept an eye on the man, who seemed deep in thought. Oh? We gonna see a little backbone out of the rookies?
Hoshi wasn’t sure if he actually wanted that – obviously obedience made for better underlings, which these three would be for the foreseeable future, but commanding a Pokémon took some level of assertiveness.
In a way, the two sections of the career were at odds with each other. Like most jobs, I guess. You mouth off to the boss, you’re a shitty worker; you need orders for every little thing, you’re also a shitty worker.
“I want to become stronger,” Tor eventually said, bowling over the teasing Casca was sending Kenny’s way. “I… I still don’t quite know how we ended up here, but I, and my friends, are…” He chewed on his words. The man’s eyes were brown, a darker shade than his fluffy hair, but in the light of the sunset they seemed to glow gold. “Fighting for something more. I want to try doing this.”
Bart gave a sarcastic clap, while Cliff nodded and spoke. “That settles that, then. We’ll go as far as we can, and bunk down sometime around midnight.” Then he eyed Hoshi. “If that’s fine with you.”
“Yeah, works for me. As long as everyone’s on the same page.
Hoshi once again felt relief that the group’s highest ranking Rocket was willing to let him take the lead – yeah, the instructors gave him the job directly, but it was easy to imagine a scenario where Cliff took charge and he was left as a background character in his own ‘special mission.’
“Ah, but before we get going…” Bart said, his expression twisting into a Ryan-like haughty smirk. “I believe you promised me a Pokémon battle, didn’t you?”