{Meanwhile, in the Team Rocket air base}
Matori had been trying to fix the situation Carr left her in. She looked like she had aged five years, even though she had only recently turned twenty.
Matori had not slept. Not figuratively. Not poetically. Literally. Zero hours. Seven days. About two hundred cups of coffee. Four breakdowns (three silent, one audible). And a stack of paperwork tall enough to block out the sun.
At the moment, she sat at a meeting table aboard the airship, surrounded by a mountain of holographic spreadsheets. Her eye twitched at random intervals.
Executives Proton, Petrel, and Archer quietly reviewed their own reports, though Proton and Petrel whispered back and forth about the situation they were in.
Petrel whispered, "She's gonna combust."
Proton whispered back, "She's too tired to combust. She'll just… evaporate."
Archer sat away from the two goofballs, sipping a coffee. He overheard them but didn't look up from his document. "Carr did this. Remember that."
And over in a corner, Carr was tied up with a gag in his mouth. Yeah, after they got here, he went out saying he was going to do something to help, but immediately upon returning, Matori instructed some grunts to tie him up and drop him in a corner.
Carr sat on the floor, tied to a support beam, mouth gagged, eyes wide and terrified. Every time Matori's gaze vaguely drifted in his direction, he made a tiny muffled sound like a dying Bidoof.
Matori rubbed her temples, muttering darkly under her breath, "Why… why do I have to fix everything… why does no one… know what a 'budget cap' is…?"
Her voice was soft, but the tone carried the same weight as an execution order.
Proton subtly scooted his chair farther away from her.
Petrel, equally terrified, whispered, "What exactly did Carr do?"
Archer didn't even blink. "He filed a supply order."
"That's it?" Petrel whispered. "How bad could it be—"
"It was," Archer said, still monotone, "for four thousand metric tons of rubber ducks."
Proton violently choked on his water.
Petrel's brain visibly stopped working.
Archer continued, "He said it was for 'grunt morale.'"
Petrel and Proton both slowly turned toward the tied-up Carr, whose muffled pleading noises intensified.
Across the room, Jessie, James, and Meowth watched the chaos unfold like it was free entertainment.
Jessie whispered, as she petted a Wurmple she had caught and found cute on their way over here, "Is this what it feels like…? When the incompetence… isn't ours?"
James placed a sentimental hand on his chest. "It feels… beautiful."
Meowth wiped a fake tear. "I could get used to dis."
It was strange… not being the ones who caused most of the headaches, especially for Matori, because Matori hates them. Or at least Jessie, for being incompetent. But apparently, there is always someone more incompetent than them.
As for other grunts and Admins who weren't present, they had been sent out to gather information, recruit new members, and find areas to actually start construction on new bases.
But there were still some people in the base waiting for orders. That included the group of Jay, Enid, Helena, and Domino, along with Sayako since she was an Admin, and D, who was in the corner, staying quiet, almost like he was waiting for something.
As for Pokémon, no, they haven't been stealing Pokémon. In fact, stealing Pokémon is something most Team Rocket agents generally don't go out of their way to do.
I mean, yeah, they could steal Pokémon, but it's usually not worth it. Most of the time they're assigned missions, and stealing Pokémon isn't one of them.
You see, for one, the only reason they would steal a Pokémon is to sell it or to use it themselves, and that causes two problems. First, if they want to sell a Pokémon, unless it's already a super-powerful one, it's easier to just catch one in the wild. They get the same amount of money for it.
And the second problem is that when you get a Pokémon by stealing it, even if it is strong, it will never have the same level of bond or trust with whoever uses it as it had with its original trainer. That's why most buyers won't risk it.
And even if you throw all that aside, and ignore the fact that Team Rocket actually has its own breeding facilities to get Pokémon for new grunts or for grunts to purchase with their points, right now, here in Hoenn, they can't even sell the Pokémon.
In Kanto and Johto, Team Rocket had complete control over the black market, they could control what goes in and out and everything. But here, they're outsiders. They don't have control of the black market.
So yeah, that's out of the question. But would it stop Jessie, James, and Meowth from trying to get Pikachu? Probably not. But that's beside the point.
Speaking of them, those three aren't out doing the recruitment missions. Jessie, James, and Meowth may be incompetent at capturing Pokémon, but one thing they're very good at is making money.
So their mission was simple: get money. The best way for them to do that? Open a Game Corner. In Kanto, the Game Corner brought in a lot of income, and since they needed money, making a new one was a fast and easy way.
As for where, Matori didn't care, as long as it wasn't in Mauville City or Mossdeep City, since those places already had well-established Game Corners. They couldn't go band-for-band with existing Game Corners on the tight budget they were on. So it was safer to set up somewhere that didn't already have one.
So Jessie, James, and Meowth were huddled over a holographic map of Hoenn like three criminals planning a heist.
James traced his finger around the map, humming thoughtfully. "Well, Mauville is off-limits… Mossdeep too… Littleroot is too small… Fallarbor is ash… Lavaridge is a tourist town, so prices will be terrible…"
Meowth snapped his claws. "What about Slateport? Big crowds, big money!"
Jessie bonked him lightly with a rolled-up flyer. "Slateport is crawling with police and trainers. Do you want to get arrested on day one? Because I'm not going to jail before I win at least one ribbon someday."
James blinked. "You're still trying to be a Coordinator, Jessie."
Jessie huffed, "A girl can have dreams, James!"
"I mean, I never said you couldn't. Why didn't you ask? We can always make a pit stop," James suggested. He knew full well what it was like to have your dreams crushed, so if he could help Jessie pursue hers, he would.
Jessie pointed at him. "Maybe later, but first let's focus on this."
As they left quickly to go deal with that, and to avoid getting yelled at by Matori, Sird walked in through the door they had just exited. She was holding a tablet and glanced at Carr in the corner, clearly amused.
Matori didn't even look up from her holographic spreadsheets as she muttered, "If you untie him, I will jettison both of you out the cargo bay door."
Sird raised a brow, but her smirk widened. "Ah. One of those weeks."
Petrel was trying, and failing, to hold back a wheeze. "One of those weeks? Oh brother…"
Sird stepped closer to Matori, heels clicking sharply on the metal floor. "You look… older."
Matori's left eye twitched. "Say that again and I will age you to match."
Sird simply chuckled. She placed her tablet on the table and tapped it. A new screen expanded into the air: live-feed windows, progress reports, recruitment memos, and scouting results from Hoenn.
"I bring updates," she said. "Some good, some… less so."
Matori straightened with the reflex of someone whose soul was held together by tape and venom. "Well? Start with the good."
Sird swiped her hand. A map projected over the table, glowing with several highlighted zones.
"Recruitment is going well. Much better than expected. Roughly eighty new candidates show potential. And three Admin candidates as well, if you're willing to review them."
Matori blinked. Once. Twice.
"Eighty…? How did you manage eighty? We barely have infrastructure. I barely have money. We don't even have guaranteed grunt housing—"
Sird replied smoothly, "It seems Hoenn is… dissatisfied with existing criminal organizations. Aqua and Magma are too ideology-driven. We, on the other hand, are offering paychecks, stability, and not dying in an active volcano." She said it casually, though she wasn't telling the whole truth, but no one could tell from her tone.
Proton muttered, "Sounds appealing."
Petrel sighed dreamily. "Imagine, people who want to join because we aren't deranged."
Proton leaned back in his chair. "I mean, dude, when you really think about it, there's Team Rocket, our main thing is getting money and stuff, and then compare that to those two, who are idiots at best and terrorists at worst."
"Yeah, that is a very good point," Petrel said, rubbing his purple beard.
"Trust me," Sird said lightly, "compared to the local competition, we look positively sane."
Petrel snorted. "That's a terrifying sentence."
Proton rubbed his eyes. "Hoenn must be desperate."
Carr made a muffled "mhhffhh—!" from his corner.
Everyone ignored him.
Matori exhaled slowly, rubbing her forehead with trembling fingers. For a moment, she looked like a glitching hologram that might fall apart if someone breathed too loudly.
"Fine… good. Good news is… good," she muttered. "Now what's the bad?"
Sird didn't hesitate.
"Magma and Aqua have noticed us."
Proton and Petrel immediately swore under their breaths.
Archer's jaw tightened.
Matori's hands froze over the projection controls.
Sird continued, tapping the tablet. Several new windows appeared, footage of strange Pokémon battles in the distance, blurry scouts reporting movement, intercepted radio chatter.
"They don't know where we are," Sird clarified. "Not yet. But they know someone new is in Hoenn with resources and direction."
Petrel crossed his arms. "And they're paranoid."
"Extremely," Sird agreed. "Both sides think the other is behind the sightings. For now… that keeps us safe. But it will not last."
As Matori sat back in her chair rubbing her eyes, D finally said something. He'd been in the room the whole time; he just hadn't spoken, and no one wanted to be rude enough to call him out.
"Well… why don't we use that to our advantage?" D said, his voice so soft people almost didn't hear him.
Eyes turned toward him, surprised he'd spoken at all. Some grunts had even been betting that he couldn't talk anymore, but it looked like they lost that bet. D simply sat up straighter and placed his hands on the table.
"Team Magma blames Team Aqua," he began slowly, "and Team Aqua blames Team Magma. That means neither is looking at us as a threat. I say we change that, but not in the way you think."
He spoke in measured pieces, as if fitting ideas together one brick at a time.
Matori blinked at him. "And your point?"
D tapped one finger lightly against his arm, thinking, not fidgeting. "When two groups are paranoid," he said, "they don't see clearly. They see what they want to see. Magma expects Aqua. Aqua expects Magma. So… let them keep seeing that."
Archer lowered his coffee cup. "Explain."
Even Carr, gagged, stopped whimpering.
D slowly stood, posture straight and oddly formal. His voice remained that same soft monotone.
"If they think the other side is getting more aggressive… they'll react. They'll panic. They'll fortify. They'll make mistakes." He paused. "And they'll never suspect a third party, not if we move carefully."
Sird watched him closely, saying nothing but taking quiet notes.
D continued, "We feed their assumptions. Little things. A stolen supply crate replaced with the wrong insignia. A tampered radio transmission. A flare shot from the wrong territory. Nothing blatant. Nothing that points to us."
Petrel raised a brow. "You're talking about… poking the Beedrill nest?"
D nodded once. "Exactly. But gently. Enough that they fight harder. Not enough that they stop fighting to find the real enemy."
Matori squinted. "And what does that get us?"
D's tone didn't change. He spoke the next part like he was reading a weather report.
"War burns resources. Reduces manpower. Weakens leadership. Makes people desperate. Desperate people… look for alternatives. They can be recruited. Bought. Or removed entirely."
"And if things go really well, we offer both sides our 'assistance' then we just pretend to fight each other while letting them think we're destroying the other."
Proton muttered, "Okay, that's…uh…new coming from you."
"So what… we become mercenaries?" Petrel asked, resting his chin on his hand.
"No," D said. "We're opportunists." The softness in his voice somehow made it more chilling.
"Two factions tearing each other apart for ideals. Us watching from the sidelines with no stakes. No risks."
Domino whispered to Jay, "When did he get so… businesslike?"
Jay whispered back, "When most of his face got burned off, probably."
D looked over the holographic map with calm detachment.
"Supply shortages. Patrol fatigue. Leadership errors. We can forecast them. And every time one side slips… we nudge the other to 'take advantage.' Just enough to keep them even. Just enough to keep them fighting."
He stepped closer to the central table, shadows from the hologram flickering across the mask he wore.
Then, with the smallest tilt of his head, he added:
"Meanwhile, we take their abandoned territories. Their leftover resources. Their recruits. Their information. All while they think the other side is responsible."
He paused, long enough for the room to hold its breath.
Then, with a tone disturbingly mild for the words coming out of his mouth: "Team Aqua? Team Magma? Who cares? We just sit by… and whatever side we think is losing, we join in and help that side. We keep the conflict going. It's great."
"That's… not a bad idea," Archer mumbled, rubbing his chin.
"Yes. Considering our lack of resources, it might be the safest one too," Matori agreed, although she felt a little saddened seeing D speak with that new ruthlessness in his tone.
Meanwhile Jay, Enid, Helena, Domino, and Sayako looked at D. They wanted to say something, anything. After all, they were supposed to be friends. Before, he sometimes joked or played along with them, but now he felt cold. It was still him, but at the same time he had changed.
They still hadn't gotten the chance to apologize. Anytime they looked at him they couldn't bring themselves to do it, like if they didn't say it, it made everything feel less real.
Then suddenly the door swung open with a loud bang. Jay nearly fell out of his chair. Enid flinched. Helena's hand instinctively went to her Poké Ball. Domino instinctively reached for one of her black tulips, extending it into staff mode.
Sayako hissed, "Seriously?! Don't open doors like that when half the room is traumatized!"
A panting Rocket grunt stumbled in, looking like he had sprinted across the entire airship.
"ADMINS—!! BAD—BAD NEWS!! Or…? Good news? Uh, depends…"
Matori didn't bother looking up. "If it isn't a bomb threat, leave the room."
The grunt shook his head violently. "No, no, it's…it's the recruit applications! You know how Sird said eighty people showed interest??"
Jay blinked. "Uh… yeah?"
The grunt squeaked, voice cracking like a Zubat hitting sonar puberty.
"THERE'S MORE."
"How many more?" Matori asked flatly.
"A-A-ANOTHER HUNDRED AND FIFTY JUST SIGNED UP!"
The silence that followed was… horrific.
Petrel's pupils dilated. "Hundred and what—"
Proton dropped his pen.
Archer briefly forgot how to swallow coffee.
Even Carr made a strangled "MMMHHHHHHHHH???" noise through the gag.
Finally, slowly, Matori raised her head from the holograms. Her expression was a terrifying combination of disbelief, dread, and the cold recognition of responsibility being shoved back onto her shoulders.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Can you repeat that?"
The grunt gulped. "A hundred and fifty more recruits. We're at about two hundred thirty total interested candidates."
Matori blinked once.
Once again.
Then her eye twitched, a catastrophic, seismic twitch.
"Two hundred…" she whispered.
Her soul left her body. Her life flashed before her eyes. Her future flashed before her eyes. Her next four months of paperwork flashed before her eyes in one long, horrifying spreadsheet.
Sird folded her arms. "It seems Hoenn truly is desperate."
Archer muttered, "Or we are truly the least insane criminal organization in this region."
Jay raised his hand. "Um… so… what do we do with two hundred new people?"
Matori stood.
It was slow.
Mechanical.
Like a robot rebooting after a software crash.
She planted both hands on the table.
"We…" deep breath "…are going to need housing. And training divisions. And meal plans. And supply routing. And payroll. And—"
She rubbed her temple. "We're gonna need to direct some admins to go meet them and put them under their command."
"Well, I guess that's my cue to leave…" D said, getting up slowly. "Don't think I'm the best fit with dealing with new people, considering my face and all," D said, making people almost flinch with how casually he talked about his destroyed face.
"Besides," he continued, "I work better alone. Always have."
And that line hurt more than it should have, and as he turned and walked out of the door no one stopped him.
Matori bit her lip, like she felt she should say something, but there was too much to do. So she sighed as D closed the door, then looked at everyone. "Alright, let's try to make something out of this situation."
—
{Back on Dewford}
The gang was relaxing. It's been a few days since they gave Steven the letter, and after Ash went back to Molly again and came back they've been enjoying the island.
And Ash had started May's training again, and she suffered, but as said before, suffering yields results. Her Wurmple even evolved into a Silcoon, not that that made it much better.
But right now, Ash had given her the rest of the day off, so she was capitalizing by practicing her coordinator moves for when she finally gets to one of the contests.
Sometimes her Pokémon succeeded. Sometimes they just… fell over.
Ash lounged back on a beach chair with some of his other Pokémon out playing, well, except for his Treecko and Torchic, who were actively sparring against each other trying to prove they did more work in the Roxanne fight. They just ignored them.
"Hey, she's actually getting better," Brock said, arms crossed proudly.
Max nodded. "Better, but we're definitely not calling the fire department yet."
Ash smirked. "Told you. Hard work pays off… eventually. Plus, she deserves a break today. She pushed through some rough stuff this week."
"I think you mean she survived your training this week…" Brock said dryly.
"Hey, not my fault I was starting with nothing. Besides, when I trained Liko and the others they turned out fine."
"That actually had a starting point. They weren't… ok well they were rookies, but… you know what I mean. You weren't working with nothing," Brock jabbed Ash's shoulder with his elbow.
"Not my fault she didn't want to train before me. Sounds like a skill issue," Ash shrugged.
"I heard that!" May yelled from her spot as she was trying to get her Ralts and Torchic to sit still so they could practice too.
"Wasn't trying to hide it," Ash shouted back.
Meanwhile Slakoth was sleeping on the edge of a small cliff next to the beach, trying to enjoy a nap, but he couldn't, because Treecko and Torchic kept fighting. He was starting to get a little cranky.
But then, something from the water, something red, spotted the group and wanted to play a prank on them. It started digging through the sand toward its first target, which it assumed to be the easiest: Slakoth.
As it got closer, Slakoth was getting slowly more annoyed that he couldn't have his nap time.
Then from the ground in the center of everyone, something jumped out. A Corphish burst out of the sand and flew toward Slakoth with its claw opened, ready to pinch him. Everyone watched with wide eyes, and Treecko and Torchic stopped their fighting, about to go save their sleepy teammate.
But Slakoth just lazily raised an arm and slapped Corphish midair. The force of the hit sent Corphish flying back and slamming into a tree, cracking it and making it fall over.
As everyone blinked owlishly at what they just saw, Slakoth scratched his belly and turned around to continue his nap.
Ash raised his sunglasses, looking at the Corphish. "Oh no, friend. Thanks, Slakoth," Ash said as he pulled out a Poké Ball and casually tossed it at the Corphish, catching it easily.
"Was that…" Max muttered.
"No, no it wasn't…" Brock finished.
Treecko and Torchic looked at each other.
Treecko: Tree? [Wanna go continue this over there?]
Torchic: Tor… [Sure]
They walked away to resume their sparring, and Ash just kept lying in the sun while everyone else was still trying to process what Slakoth had just done, and worst of all, it didn't even look like he put much effort into it.