On Wednesday, October 27th, near the end of the first decade of the new millennium but the beginning of that particular day, a crowd of people exited the nameless wilderness and entered the outskirts of Saffron City’s south-eastern bounds.
More specifically, they came out into a pasture – a pasture containing about fifty miltank. The transition was startlingly abrupt; one minute Hoshi Mutsu was picking his way through a sea of knobby tree roots, trying to focus on moving straight while the broken hand strapped down to his side continually tugged his metaphorical ear, and the next he’d fallen right over a hip-high fence.
“Guh,” he grunted, more out of surprise than anything – at least until his crushed bones registered the fact that they'd been jostled; at that point the breath left his lungs completely, and Hoshi struggled to recapture it as he lay nearly upside-down with his legs still up over the fence's top.
A nearby miltank mooed, Black stuck his head out from the treeline together with his pikachu to one side and Guts the other, Casca nearly tripped over the lot of them, and then for a moment everything was still.
Then Kenny whooped, jumping out into the field with a cry of “Yeah! Look Boss, we made it! Saffron’s right over there!” and Hoshi was once again forced to move.
You know, as much as the news paints this place as barely functional, it doesn't look half bad. No, it didn't at all; Saffron City, which had once been home to the Saffron Imperial Dynasty and was still to this day in contention with Celadon for the title of Kanto’s capital, seemed as neat and orderly on its outskirts as Vermilion was in the richer parts of the Young District. Its streets were wide and paved with clean honey-brown asphalt, obviously having been redone since motor vehicles became popular, and there was also an air of cleanliness to it that Hoshi's home city lacked. Not a smell – the exhaust fumes were appropriately thicker to match the larger number of cars – but something more ephemeral. Almost… spiritual.
Okay, okay, let's not suck the city's dick too hard now. It doesn't have as much litter and the oily undercurrent of the bay’s fishing industry is gone; that's all. Nothing supernatural about that.
But despite the cynicism of his thoughts, the senior grunt couldn't help but feel happy as he inhaled the scent of civilisation. The six days he – they, rather – had spent off-route had been horrible; even putting aside the ordeal of fighting his aunt again, the forest's wild Pokémon had only seemed to grow stronger the closer to the city they'd gotten. With little in the way of medicine it had been… well, suffice to say he was surprised none of their ‘mons had died.
But it's over, he thought to himself as they trudged, tired but triumphant, and the suburbs gradually turned to denser city blocks. It's over. We made it to Saffron with Tanya in tow – the mission is done. We succeeded. Hoshi spotted the bright, distinctively-shaped red roof of a Pokécentre, and for a second the mad, elated idea to just walk in and set his balls on the counter went through his head. Entirely possible they don't even ask to scan my ID until after putting my team through the healing machine – I mean, who'd be dumb enough to actually try it, right?
The stupidity of the thought made him laugh, though the fact he was doing it out loud only registered when his girlfriend bumped him with her shoulder.
“Something funny?” Casca asked, and Hoshi opened his mouth to answer – but was preempted. “Wait, lemme guess; you're thinking ‘Arc, it's finally over’ or something, right?”
He answered by leaning down to give the disguised woman a kiss. Somehow, all through the battles and the intermittent flurries and despite having eaten several times, her lipstick had remained intact. Its sweet flavour – blue raspberry – was intensely artificial as Casca giggled, which set off another laugh from him as the vibration tickled Hoshi's upper lip underneath his false moustache.
“Arc, guys,” Kenny said as he went around the pair. “Get a room.”
But he was smiling as he said it, as was Black as he followed, and the rest of the Rockets as well. The only one who wasn't expressing relief at their return to human-touched land was Junior Executive Tanya Remond, and while Hoshi would have usually called her out – in his head, if nowhere else – for being an icy bitch, at the moment he was willing to give the white-haired older woman a pass.
Just this once – call it even for saving our collective asses however-many times she did these last few days.
They went further into the city, their disguises – or maybe something else, psychic or not it wasn't like he was omniscient – keeping any police attention far away, and as houses and businesses gave way to a more industrial environment some of the shine came off the senior grunt's appreciation of Saffron’s unique charm.
Because at that point, they ran into a textbook example of what it was primarily infamous for: a karate gang.
“Release your Pokémon!” the gi-clad leader exclaimed. “Face me in combat! Winner takes all!”
“Winner takes all!” echoed the five other men and one woman standing behind him. Unlike the biker gangs Hoshi was more familiar with, this group had nothing in the way of unique distinguishing marks – there were no patches across their backs, and even the leader was just wearing a solid white karate-student gi cinched at the waist by a black belt. They look exactly like those two I met that one time in the battle court… though I doubt these guys are going to give me a salute anytime soon, heh.
It was Kenny who answered the challenge, gung-ho as ever. “Woah, a real wandering dojo!” He laughed, and then in a flash released his hitmonlee. “I'll take you on! Gang fight, old school!”
The lead martial artist grimaced. “Our school is no gang! The way of the fist is wholesome and virtuous!” Of course none of that wholesome virtue stopped him from releasing a machoke that bulged with superlative muscle. “My honour demands that I extract an apology for your unkind accusation – as well as the insult of sending out such a scruffy-looking Pokémon! Prepare to hand over everything you're carrying!”
With that the battle began, and as the two fighting types traded blows and their masters exclaimed orders as though trying to overpower each other's voices, Hoshi found himself…
Actually, now that the adrenaline rush of finally getting out of those hell-woods was over, he was starting to feel kinda crappy – and glancing around, it seemed the rest of the group were much the same. While the fight was theoretically tense – Legs the hitmonlee was indeed still injured from the long, Potionless journey – it was impossible to stay focused. After going off-route, one machoke is just… not enough to intimidate, no matter how well-trained. They were all looking ahead at the opportunity to rest and recover, to sleep in a bed and eat something that wasn't rehydrated or cooked badly over a campfire.
Though again, Tanya was the outlier; she looked merely bored, paying the battle less attention than the dirt under her nails.
Suppose that's what separates a grunt from an executive; we're all about ready to fall down – including Kenny, the loud fucking idiot – while she's just a normal amount of tired. “Okay,” Hoshi said as he stepped closer to the mass of secondary martial artists. “Let's speed this up; I've got somewhere to be.”
But to his surprise, his challenge was abjured. “Not while Karate Boss Goro's fight is ongoing!” the one woman exclaimed, and Hoshi idly questioned whether any of them were capable of speaking at a reasonable volume. “One-on-one combat is a man's romance!”
“Yeah, you see,” the Rocket sent back as his subordinate's hitmonlee landed a triple-kick into the machoke’s face and the muscular lizard took a knee. “I wasn't exactly asking.” Three monsters appeared in his shadow as Guts, Crow, and Venus sensed his intent and released themselves, and the woman looked at them – especially the golbat – sourly. “Either release your Pokémon or run off. I'm not waiting here while Kenny hands you your asses one at a time.”
In an unwelcome mirror for his life as of late, the trip to Warehouse #3 – which against all sense turned out to be the building's actual street address – was a long slog. The group of ten Rockets fought a further three battles against assorted martial artists, and by the time the final one was done their Pokémon were either running on fumes, or had actually lost and been knocked out. Hoshi had been feeling a touch haughty from his seven-on-three win, but after needing to be bailed out of the last encounter by Black’s flunky Ryu of all people, his ego had deflated some.
Not that we aren't strong as fuck now, he consoled himself as they searched through a mess of storage buildings for their actual destination. We are. Bob’s fourth-badge team would have a hard fight on their hands if I fought him now.
It was a testament to how tired he was that the thought of his uncle only drew a dull pang through Hoshi's head, there and gone between breaths. Not quite as tired as that late-night jaunt through Diglett's Cave made me at least, so it isn't as bad as it could be… “Are you sure you're gonna recognise the place?” he asked Tanya, who'd taken point right around when they'd left the more inhabited parts of the city's warehouse district behind – and therefore stopped running into opposition. Wait a sec, was that on purpose? Bitch…
The executive met his grimace with a raised eyebrow. “Do I look lost to you, Grunt?”
“Pretty sure we've gone in at least one circle…” Hoshi muttered back, but either he hadn't been loud enough or Tanya was ignoring the taunt.
“It's less than a block away, be patient.”
At that the senior grunt felt a thread of anger worm its way up from the inside of his splinted wrist and wind all the way to his head – patient? It's been a week since we started, we're probably the last ones to make it – but he decisively cut it off. “If you say so,” Hoshi replied, voice flat. Nope, not getting into a fight a minute away from our destination. That would be dumb. Even if the woman was bluffing, they had to be close.
And also my Pokémon are wrecked. So, double dumb.
And so he kept his mouth shut as they continued, trailing after Tanya and her two bodyguards Mondo and Wendy with Casca moving listlessly at his side. In the end, Hoshi was glad he'd held his tongue; they had, indeed, been only a block away.
I can't believe Warehouse #3 is the actual, for-real address. I take back every good thing I said about this city; it's stupid and the way it does addresses is stupid and the streets are clogged up with stupid lumps of poison-spewing metal. Blah.
The thought wasn't serious in the least, but as he and Mondo heaved open a large cargo door Hoshi sobered. Finally I can get some damn sleep – but first, I'm going to find out what the heck it is we were sent all this way for. It better have been worth the trip, or I'm gonna have yet another reason to kick Dabi’s ass. A shove, tired muscles protesting the movement, and for a moment Hoshi wondered why he'd stepped forward to open this thing when everyone else has twice as many arms to work with – then the thought died as he pointed his eyes inside to see..!
That the interior of the warehouse was less exciting than what he'd been building up for himself. In his head, Dabi and Doc Hypno had turned the place into some strange amalgamation of their labs back in the academy; cleanly marked-off areas containing training Pokémon being observed by frowning researchers on one side and a chaotic mass of mad scientists cartwheeling – potentially literally – around the other, both halves full of mysterious machines.
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But the reality was painfully anticlimactic: the cavernous building was almost entirely empty, with only a few scattered pieces of wooden furniture. The only thing keeping the senior grunt from thinking they'd gotten the wrong place was the fact that there were Rockets present – Rocket Scientists, to be specific.
Two of them, both female, seated at a pair of flimsy-looking desks and wearing the standard white labcoat that was the uniform for their rank – though besides those points of commonality they couldn't have been more different. The taller – kind of really tall, actually – lighter-skinned woman noticed their entrance first, standing from her desk almost before Hoshi had stepped through the threshold. “Finally,” she said just loudly enough to make it across the dingy expanse, and the emphasis placed on the word confirmed all of his fears.
So we are late… Damn it.
The other woman – who was of merely above-average height, tanned, and wearing some of the thickest glasses he'd ever seen – contrasted the first’s diligence by not even raising her head as the grunts, senior grunts, and executive slid the door shut and gathered near the centre of the building. She was only roused from whatever it was she was reading when Miss Tall, Skinny, and Buzzcut snapped her fingers in the lax woman’s face.
“Junior Executive Tanya Remond,” Tanya introduced as the first scientist attempted to get the second up and alert. “I was told that there would be some sort of resupply occurring here. I am hoping that it is more than you.” For once the executive's ire was directed at someone other than him, and Hoshi basked for a moment in the novelty of it.
Then he got his game face on. “What she said. Professors Mokusen and Kimigawa should be here, right? The instructors said they would be.” If we dragged ourselves through an army's worth of wild Pokémon just for you to say ‘Whoops, sorry, you just missed them,’ I'm gonna-
His tired thought was interrupted by first one woman and then the other. “Of course ma'am. I'll just need to see proof of-”
“Sure. They're in the basement.”
The more alert scientist turned a tight look of displeasure on the other, increasingly familiar one as the latter took one hand off her book to tap at something below her desk. Not part of the desk: a Pokégear, or some sort of remote. “There you go,” she said, still not looking at any of them – and as her partner opened her mouth there came the slight sound of footsteps on metal.
“Neek!” the short-haired scientist admonished. “We can't just take them at their word! What if they're Sabrina's Gym trainers?”
“Then the professors will take care of them,” the other – Neek, apparently, though it might’ve been Nike heard through tired ears – replied.
“They're-”
As a trapdoor – a surprisingly low-tech trapdoor at that – opened up in a dark corner and another scientist stuck their head up, the first woman cut herself off in exasperation before beginning again. “Fine, I suppose it doesn't matter. But if they are fakers, you're taking all the blame!”
“Hello?” the new Rocket broke in. This one was male, sported a black bowl-cut not entirely unlike Hypno’s, and was wearing a confused expression that paired poorly with his labcoat. “You called in..?”
“Tanya Remond,” the woman herself snapped. “Junior Executive. Creator above, this really is a Jessie and James endeavor…”
Down a staircase composed of rotting wood held together with sheet metal, through a cramped passage lit by battery-powered camp lights, and then…
It took a minute for Hoshi to understand what he was looking at, but then an errant detail slid into place and suddenly everything fit together. That's a flower tub. This is a repurposed drug lab. Heavily repurposed; the equipment for growing and harvesting oddish had been taken apart and put to the task of feeding a single exeggutor, the tree-like Pokémon nesting in the centre of a complicated array of fertilizer distributors, water lines, and sunlamps. The chemistry stuff had also been assembled into something, though exactly what that something was stayed mysterious even as Hoshi catalogued its component parts in his head. Not even the slightest idea what that could be, he thought as he stared at the collection of glass and plastic tubes. Something like what Hypno’s old lab had, for processing muk juice? It almost looked arcane, like the work of a magical alchemist who'd finally discovered how to transform lead into gold.
Then Casca gently bid him to move forward, and the spell was broken; Hoshi stopped blocking the narrow entrance, and the rest of the Rockets came through one at a time. Only when everyone was present did he go back to examining the basement, which was lit by a larger version of the same camp lights that had been in the tunnel. This place didn't get built by us – in fact, it's probably over a century old. Back from when the city was the explicit capital, maybe…
“So this’s it?” Kenny commented. “I don't see either ‘a the professors. What gives?”
The Rocket who'd led them down grunted, then gestured with the bulky flashlight in his hand. “Those two…” he said, wincing as he trailed off. “Professors Mokusen and Kimigawa are indisposed. I'll take you to Arlo, he'll be able to explain the situation in full. If you'll follow me, Executive?”
Indisposed? Something about the way that had been worded hit his ear strangely, and Hoshi's eyes narrowed. “Were they injured fighting Will and Sabrina? I imagine that was a tough one.”
Again, the unnamed scientist winced. “Um, well… Yes, that's the most straightforward way to look at it. You're… Hoshi Mutsu, yes? Senior Grunt?”
Hoshi was surprised. “You recognize me?” My face is a different fucking shape – how the fuck?
“Senior Executive Kidd told us to expect you before he left,” came the answer, compounding his surprise. “He actually left a note- sorry, can we talk later? I need to get Executive Remond briefed. Please, you rest of you-” Another gesture. “-Can find amenities in the dorm room – well, we call it the dorm room, but- anyway, it's over there.” Okay, what's up?
This guy has as bad a poker face as Dirk did back when I worked at TauroBurger; something's definitely going on here. Hoshi opened his mouth-
But was pre-empted by his girlfriend. “Amenities sound great right about now,” she groaned, the very picture of fatigue – but the colours dancing in his third eye told a different story. Casca was just as curious-slash-suspicious as him, and as their eyes met for a split-second she confirmed it by sliding Hoshi a wink. “That door over there?”
The scientist radiated relief from under the edges of his professional mask. “Yeah, that one.”
As he went from rebuilt drug lab to probably-not-rebuilt collective bedroom, Hoshi found that the day’s surprises were far from over. Though that had nothing to do with changing rooms; the ‘dorm’ was just about exactly what he would've been expecting if he'd had the spare brainpower to speculate – no, what was surprising were the occupants.
“Hm? Now who's all- Mutsu!” Ryan greeted as he rose from a one-piece, aluminum-and-fabric bed. “Thank Arcus you made it, we were getting worried.”
“Ryan,” Hoshi replied. “You-” Wait… “You look different?” And that's two people who've recognized me through the disguise. I guess I had my eyebrows plucked for fucking nothing.
The blond – whose hair was now straight, though it retained its platinum colour unlike his superior’s new, plain brown look – blinked. “Well, who else has such a textured face as you, hm?” he said wryly, and Hoshi realised at least some of that last thought had been aloud. “And yes, it seems we've all found some use for Agent Chispan’s lessons.” Some of Ryan's smile evaporated as he paused briefly before continuing. “Honestly, I probably wouldn't have recognized you if we weren't waiting days for your arrival. What took you? And any news on Miss Gracile?”
Puce? “She's not here yet?” If it were just her I'd make a morbid joke about her getting lost, but… But she'd been with Cliff, who'd proven himself dependable and then some over the course of their journey to Fuchsia and back. Is anyone else..?
Rather than voice the question aloud, Hoshi simply looked past Ryan and scanned the room. Off-duty scientists, a few grunts – oh, is that Sierra over there? Speak of the Dexus. I suppose if anyone could evade capture, it would be a Rocket Agent.
“Suit! Feels like it's been years – c’mere!”
“Menard, it- wait, don't you dare- HURK-!”
As his grunts had a heartfelt reunion in the background Hoshi's eyes found Kaz ‘Bart’ Kazubara rather easily on account of the man's ridiculous pompadour, and then Mimi with greater effort; she was sleeping in a corner bed. The rookie trio were also harder to spot, but he was pretty sure the three out-of-uniform people near the centre were them. That's everybody, he thought with tepid relief, except Puce and Cliff.
Hoshi breathed, pushed the worry into a corner, and sat on a nearby bed to watch Kenny noogie Ryan into oblivion as the latter tried to break the ex-wrestler’s headlock. “When you two are done with that, I want to hear what happened to you and the rookies. ‘Cause speaking personally, we’ve had a fucking week.”
About fifteen minutes passed as everybody got re-acquainted – or just plain acquainted, when it came to the new people that had been picked up – and then they settled in to swap stories over grocery store cake and surprisingly decent coffee.
“I got shot again!” Mimi started off with bombast and a slight slur.
“Again?” Casca commented, throwing her hands up and nearly splashing her friend with hot liquid caffeine. “Girl, you need to stop fighting people with guns – that's an order!”
Bart shrugged. “It was rather less serious than that first time; in the arm, rather than the leg.”
Still, Hoshi thought, before deciding to say it aloud. “Still. It's not like you can just shrug that sort of thing off – how you holding up?”
The street-worn blonde smiled as she gave a thumbs-up. “I'm high as balls, guy!” she exclaimed, then dissolved into a giggle fit. That… probably isn't just painkillers. “But don't worry, I'll be good. James was fine when he came in, so so’m I!”
Hoshi's scepticism must have shown on his face, because Ryan rolled his eyes. “Let's not get too judgmental, Mutsu; after all, I happen to have noticed an injury to a certain part of your body. Run into another machamp, did you?”
“A ninja woman,” Black broke in. “Hoshi here knocked her right out with one hit.” And basically disintegrated my fist in the process… Ugh. “That was your aunt, right man?” he sent Hoshi's way before turning back. “Wait, we should tell it from the top, properly-”
“Hey wait a sec!” Mimi interrupted, pointing. “You're that guy – we spent like, a whole day going around lookin’ for you!”
The conversation unfolded in chaotic fashion, the fourteen-strong group of gangsters talking over each other and becoming loud as fuck as that number actually started to balloon; the presence of another of ‘her’ grunts attracted Sierra’s attention, Black drew over a few people he knew, and pretty soon the whole room was listening as the veteran Senior Rocket Grunt and his three lackeys put together a spot of theatre featuring the highlights of the past week.
It was embarrassing, but also gratifying – or at least that was Hoshi's take. Kenny was showboating by showing off his Pokémon, while Casca sat still with a smile that was just a touch wooden. She's thinking about the professors…
And so am I.
It was an unexpected complication marring what would have otherwise been a moment of triumph. We got through. We went off-route, and managed to go from one city to another – as Kenny would say, that's fucking real. That's Ace trainer shit. It should've been galvanizing – no, it was galvanizing; their starters and captured Pokémon had for the most part caught up to the stolen ones in terms of power, and the newer ones had caught up in teamwork. With the possible exception of Champion, who was still an ornery little bastard, Hoshi could now say his team was as coordinated as any he'd seen on television. Bubbles the Sandshrew was on the cusp of evolution, and the previously mentioned dragon wasn't far behind.
It had been hell… but a hell that just might have been worth it. Ryan's been training here for the past few days, but there's no way our experiences could be comparable. If we fought now, I'm confident any of my Pokémon could take out Jormungandr.
Again, the thought should have made him ecstatic – but Hoshi felt only a paranoid apprehension as Black, Ryu, Ken, and Harry performed a kinetic and only slightly exaggerated retelling of that final battle against the Route Ranger and accompanying ninja. We were sent here to connect with Dabi and Hypno, so why isn't that happening?
The question repeated itself over and over in his head, until he felt nearly mad with the overlapping echoes of it – but then Hoshi was distracted by yet another familiar Rocket.
“Grunt Mutsu!” cried the annoyingly upbeat voice of Kiribo Kimigawa, Rocket Hunter. “I never doubted for a moment you would make it! But what's this – your group has certainly attracted a crowd, hasn't it?”
