Chapter 108: I'm Going to Catch Mammon and Make Him Shoot One Hundred Sets!!
Wallace. Hoenn Champion. Self-described devotee of grace and dignity. The one and only trainer publicly recognized as the pinnacle of elegance in competitive Coordinating.
This man had apparently — gone off the deep end.
Well. Not exactly. He had simply sacrificed himself for art.
The Hoenn League regional forum had not seen this kind of traffic in a very long time.
The cause was simple: a kind-hearted anonymous contributor had posted a thread and a short video, and the content had spread with the speed and thoroughness of a wildfire in dry season. By the time anyone thought to do anything about it, it had already covered the entire region.
Wallace's face had gone the color of old ash. His hands were shaking slightly as he opened the thread.
The title read: SHOCKING: What Has This Top Coordinator and Hoenn League Champion Done?
Not an accident, that title. Every person who saw it would click it. It was designed for exactly that.
"Relax, Wallace. You were defeated — that happens." Steven, still not quite understanding the specific nature of the crisis, patted his shoulder. "Losing to a senior Team Rocket executive isn't a reflection on your character."
"That's right, Champion!" Sidney's voice was steady and reassuring. "Even if this gets out, it doesn't change Team Rocket's crimes. We're fighting for justice here — hold your head up."
Wallace wanted to cry. Did they think that was what he was worried about?
If all that had happened was losing a battle, he'd be embarrassed for an afternoon, maybe a day. He'd feel he'd let the League down. But he'd recover. His mental fortitude was not that fragile.
The problem was that he opened the thread.
The first image loaded.
A young woman, shy and luminous, looking at the camera with perfectly calibrated bashfulness. Sitting beside her, a Politoed who appeared to have recently had its face comprehensively rearranged — grinning gamely regardless.
Ethereal. Pure. Breathtaking.
Silence.
The conference room stopped functioning.
Sidney, veteran of decades of professional battles, experienced a brief processing error.
Steven looked at the image. Looked at Wallace. Looked at the image. Looked at Wallace.
The green-haired woman — that was actually Wallace?
He repeated this process approximately five or six times, his expression developing an increasingly unusual quality. Then he inhaled.
"Hssss."
The former Champion understood, at last, what Wallace had meant by humiliated.
Those absolute monsters. They had forced his best friend to do this.
What kind of criminal organization was this? Was there any justice left in the world?
Wallace said nothing. He kept scrolling.
Steven immediately leaned over to look, which he told himself was out of concern for what his friend had been through, and in no way for any other reason.
JK uniform. Lolita dress. Floaty white sundress. Black stockings and shorts.
Every photo carefully shot. Every frame beautiful. Each a distinct style, each undeniably a work of art.
And then, at the very end, a video.
Wallace had lost the will to resist. He pressed play.
♪ Wipe the glass~ wipe the glass~ ♪
The background music started up, and the figure on screen — black stockings, shorts, hand on hip — did a slow hip sway.
Steven's eyes had stopped blinking.
...That's very—
That's quite—
Wallace closed the app.
He scrolled to the comments. Ten thousand upvotes. His heart went cold.
The conference room remained in a state of profound quiet.
Sidney's brain had not fully rebooted. Phoebe had tactfully turned away and was studying the wall with focused interest. Glacia had gone pink, then sat with an expression of someone who had suffered an unexpected revelation.
She looks better than me, Glacia thought, with genuine grief. He looks better than me.
"Everyone—"
Wallace's entire body had taken on a grayish quality. His shoulders were somewhere near his ears.
"I may no longer have the face to exist in this world."
"Now, now, Champion — it's just some artistic photography, really." Officer Jenny chose her words with surgical care. Her job was to say things that would not destroy what remained of his composure.
"That's—" Steven cleared his throat with some effort and deployed his most supportive expression. "That's right, Wallace! You have to be strong! And look — cross-dressing is more common than you'd think, there's a wide variety of people out there, I'm sure the public will be—"
He's really looking at the photos again while saying this, Wallace noticed.
"Do I still have a right to exist?" Wallace said, to nobody.
"Yes! Absolutely yes! And honestly, you—" You look incredible. "—you handled a difficult situation with real character! Consider it a unique life experience! Not everyone gets to—"
"We should probably deal with the post," Glacia said, quietly.
That snapped Wallace back.
The post. It was spreading. Hoenn was one thing. But the internet did not respect regional borders.
"Jenny! Delete it! Delete the entire thread! Remove it! Now!"
"I can try, but—" The Jenny hesitated. The Champion's authority could be invoked, but whether the timing—
"This is the most important request of my entire life. Please."
"...Alright."
She pulled out her phone and began working through her admin credentials.
"THAT ABSOLUTE— THAT WRETCHED— MAMMON!!"
Wallace had finally, comprehensively snapped.
He was going to find that man. He was going to catch him. And when he did, he was going to make Mammon sit down for one hundred photo sets — one hundred — until neither of them could see straight—
Meanwhile, back at the villa in Lavaridge.
The comment section was performing exactly as expected.
Is this actually Wallace?? This IS Wallace!! Is this fan service for us??
Who is this photographer 'Mammon'?? Where can I hire him??
Wallace my beloved Champion I want to lick your feet—
(To the above: he's a MAN you absolute—)
I can't live anymore, I'm less pretty than a man, but if it's Champion Wallace I'll accept him as my sister from this day forward—
Is this a new hobby for the Hoenn Champion?? Glamour shoots?? Honestly? Not complaining—
That waist movement, good lord— CHAMPION WALLACE WE LOVE YOU YO—
Mammon scrolled with quiet satisfaction.
Minor title adjustment, and the thread had taken off faster than even he'd predicted. One person tells ten, ten tell a hundred—
Sensei, you don't need to thank me. An artist of your caliber going unrecognized internationally would be a genuine injustice.
A popup appeared on his screen.
This post has been flagged for removal. Access restricted.
"Admin powers." He made a dismissive sound. "A bit late, though."
The thread was gone, but the screenshots had already propagated across seventeen different repost accounts. Mammon was confident the next phase would begin within the hour.
And the account — if one got banned, ten thousand more existed. Yo.
"Lord Mammon, personnel deployment is complete." Gladion's report.
"Good. Keep everyone on standby tonight. We move tomorrow."
One more day passed.
The following morning, Mammon set out with his group toward Fallarbor Town.
Fallarbor Town. The city where history sleeps.
A thousand years ago, a massive meteorite had struck the ocean, and Fallarbor had been built on the resulting crater. The town carried that weight in its stones — old, quiet, the air thick with volcanic dust from Mt. Chimney nearby.
"Lord Mammon!"
Domino was waiting when they arrived, and immediately went for the hug.
"Good to see you. You've worked hard, Domino."
Mammon returned it without hesitation, giving her an approving smile.
Domino pressed her face against his chest and took a long, satisfied breath.
...Lord Mammon's scent.
Caitlin looked away and found something else to focus on.
"You've confirmed Team Aqua's location?"
Before leaving Alola, Mammon had sent Domino ahead to Hoenn. As a senior field operative, her undercover capabilities were genuinely exceptional — disguise, impersonation, infiltration. She'd found an opening and slipped into Team Aqua's ranks by replacing one of their elite members.
"Yes." Domino's expression shifted to serious. "Archie and two admins are currently inside the Seafloor Cavern."
"We move now, we can cut them off."
"The Seafloor Cavern." Mammon's eyebrow went up. The name landed with a familiar weight.
"That's right. Archie's ambition has always been to expand the ocean — and for that, he's been searching for the legendary Pokémon."
"Kyogre." Kagura said it simply. She knew exactly what Domino was pointing at.
It was also, for that matter, why she'd joined Team Magma in the first place — to use both organizations to trigger the awakenings of Kyogre and Groudon, the ancient legendaries whose reappearance was tied to her Clan's prophecy.
"You think—" Mammon tapped his jaw.
"Based on everything Team Aqua has found — that cavern is almost certainly where Kyogre has been sleeping." Domino's voice was quiet.
"Archie and his team are trying to confirm it."
"They're rushing it." Mammon's smile was brief and amused. "They don't even have the Blue Orb yet."
He thought for a moment.
"Fine. Let's go see what's in that cave."
He grinned properly.
Take down Team Aqua's leadership in one clean operation, and potentially walk out with a legendary ocean Pokémon sleeping since the ancient era—
Two birds. One cave.
☆☆☆
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