“Hey Sunshine.”

  It took her a moment of groggy not-quite-thought to recognise the speech as speech, recognise the person sitting across from her as a person, and then draw a connection between those two things – and when she did, Casca could only groan.

  “Hnnn.”

  Hoshi, the absolute dick, chuckled at her pain. “Ha. Didn't sleep great? It's been a while since I saw you this out of it – the last few months you’ve been almost functional even before the clock hit noon.”

  The jibe did its job and a smile tugged at her face – though of course she still sent him a middle finger to go with it. “Yeah, I'm kind of blah this morning.” Mostly because I got up in the middle of the night to scrub myself a second time. Damn mushrooms… “But you seem pretty good. Ready to catch that worm, early bird?”

  “You know it.”

  She and her man sat in comfortable silence as she ate, and by the time her plate was empty Casca was more awake – awake enough to catch a worm of her own, at least. “Hey Hoshi, are you really alright? You seem frustrated about something.”

  He waved her off with a grunt. “Oh, I was just looking for Kiribo. Didn't find him though.”

  Oof. Yeah, based on what he learned the other day… But of course she couldn't say that aloud, given the number of people that might be listening. “You know, I don't think I saw him last night either. Wanna sleuth around?”

  “Nah,” Hoshi replied, stealing a sip of her orange juice. “Not enough time. I need to get that pack of idiots trained up.”

  “But that's not ‘till the afternoon, right?” Meaning you have something else planned.

  He caught her knowing look, and flashed a grin. “Damnit, this was supposed to be a surprise.” Then, with something a little too limp to be called a flourish, he drew something from his pocket – and evidently she wasn't nearly as awake as she'd thought, because it took Casca a solid second-and-a-half to recognise the Water Stone.

  “Hoshi- where did you get that?” she all but yelled. Those things are stupidly expensive – and we're in a gang hideout! There's no way you had anything worth trading for that, even all my jewellery together wouldn't be enough!

  The shrug paired with his reply was light and airy. “Mokusen. He said it was payment in advance for increasing our number of able hands. So, you wanna use it now?”

  “Use it-”

  Bring it in, girl. She bit her tongue and with a second’s effort got a handle on her volume. “You're giving it to me? Just like that?”

  “Yeah. Unless you know somebody else who has a ‘mon that needs one?” The look Hoshi was sending her way told Casca that he thought his train of thought was a lot more obvious than it was. “It's not like I can use the thing.”

  Okay, yes, but you could trade it for something stupidly valuable. There had to be at least one executive in this disgusting basement that would write a six-figure cheque in exchange for the chance to evolve one of their Pokémon. “You're sure?”

  “Casca, I know I said I was gonna act on the assumption that we'd win, but there's a limit to that. Before anything else, we've got to actually win – and that means prioritising power. At least when it's easy to grab and completely obviously the right move.” He slid the stone over, and her hand covered it with a possessiveness that surprised her. “Evolve Candy,” Hoshi continued. “I'd rather have a starmie at my back when shit goes down than any amount of Pokédollars.”

  And so that was how, five minutes later, Casca Kichi found herself surrounded by her boyfriend, their coworkers-slash-friends, and a good number of other Rockets. “You know,” Ryan said from his place at the front of the crowd, “I've never actually seen a stone evolution. Water Stones in particular have been quite a bit rarer since the disaster up north, haven't they?”

  Hoshi grunted negatively, unable to resist the chance to spout weird niche trivia. “A bit. Most of the actual mining is – and always has been – done further west. But that whole thing put a dent in it, yeah.” Her man rubbed his cast. “But enough about that – you ready?”

  That was for her, and Casca nodded. The magic rock in her hand wasn't entirely smooth, but neither did it have the straight edges of a cut gemstone – comparing it to the sapphires adorning her body, it was rough and much heavier, to a level that couldn't be explained by the size difference alone. The Water Stone was dense, and its bubble-strewn depths swirled with a soft glow almost identical to the shine in her own staryu’s round red core.

  Speaking of Candy, she made her opinion known as Casca hesitated. “Huh-huh!” she exclaimed, the sound appearing despite the staryu’s lack of mouth.

  Hah. You really do know what this is, don't you? I wonder what it feels like… Is it like smelling something delicious? A hunger? Casca herself was feeling something like hunger – she'd always planned on evolving her Pokémon eventually, but having it be right in front of her…

  Let's not overthink it. “I'm ready. I just touch her with it..?”

  A random scientist answered. “Press the stone to its body until it adheres. It shouldn't take more than a second; if it doesn't stick right away, that's a sign your staryu isn't ready.”

  “It will still happen,” Ryan took over, “But her ability to learn new moves will be lessened or cut off entirely. Not that I think that will happen, but better to say it than not.”

  Hoshi only nodded without words, and she drew in a breath. “Alright, here it goes..!”

  Candy raised her arms and gave an exultant cry as Casca pressed the stone to her crest just above the glistening red gem – and there was no ambiguity at all; almost before the evolution stone made contact Candy shone with bright light. The familiar crystal warble filled the air along with a bevy of more human sounds from the surrounding Rockets, and as the stone was absorbed and Casca stepped back the changes began.

  Hunching over, the transforming staryu gave them all a good view as she began to expand – and more importantly, as her arms began to split. It started at the tips and moved in, the back half of Candy's limbs peeling away until they were only connected by a tiny nodule of flesh. Then that too detached, and the mid-evolution starfish was separated into two distinct pieces – for a moment. Then the back of the soft-looking core, which had been revealed by the split, rippled and elongated like a hand reaching out, and as it made contact the severed back half was rejoined.

  All ten limbs suddenly flexed and thickened, and as the glow dissipated and Candy ceased hunching her trainer could see that the front of the ‘mon’s core had changed as well; where before it had been round and smooth, as a starmie Candy boasted a dazzling brilliant-cut octagonal gem. She stood three feet tall, half-again more than a minute ago, and her colouration had gone from a vibrant orange-brown to a muted blue-green – something that was better suited to blending into deep water rather than the sandy sea floor.

  “Huh-ya!” she cried, voice grown to match her new stature, and cheers sounded out in reply.

  “Cool Pokémon!” “Yeah!” “League won't know what hit ‘em!”

  Casca glanced Hoshi's way, and saw him with his arms crossed. A smile stretched his face, and when he noticed her attention her man gave her another nod. Her own curved-to-the-point-of-pain lips couldn't quite manage to smile harder, but the sentiment was there.

  Right back at ya, stud.

  Kiribo Kimigawa did not consider himself to be an overly complicated person. While the interplay of his warrior's spirit and the more practical demands of his profession were of course as complex as any dance, be that on the field of battle or within a ballroom, his motivations had always been – and continued to be – straightforward.

  “It's simply not possible! Not possible!”

  He desired to find within himself a mirror to the samurai of old, to those men and women who had tamed Kanto’s heartland with nought but blade, armour, and skill. To reach the pinnacle of his abilities.

  [Is it not? I don't recall him ever expressing any philosophical attachment to this parade of fools – unlike you, the doctor is goal-oriented.]

  No, Kiribo Kimigawa was not a complicated man – and, until recently, he would have said the same of his great uncle Kim. “But- but the subterfuge! Perhaps my uncle would lie to others, but I refuse to believe he would lie to me!” Punctuating the exclamation was a flare of psychic power, and Kiribo spun and pointed.

  But his telekinetic strike was sadly off-centre; his partner's Substitute did not so much as attempt to dodge, and yet the pinpoint attack went past its head. The psychic construct only blinked slowly as the wall behind it gained a new faultline, and Kiribo, frustrated, wound up and sent out another one. With a crack the puppet popped, dissipating into sparkles as the Psychic Hunter panted. [Hm. Your aim is terrible today,] his partner commented, and Kiribo grit his teeth.

  While a large part of him wished to retaliate with harsh words – of course I'm off my game you incorrigible monster, my uncle is being accused of espionage! – the more lucid bits recognised such a response as childish. So he simply huffed and allowed the exhaustion of overtraining to drain the emotion from his heart.

  “…Well, it's to be expected. Do you really think my dear uncle is… what they accuse him to be?” The subtle language was far from necessary – they were in a sealed Barrier bubble, after all – but even without listeners he simply shied away from stating it outright.

  The alakazam shrugged. [Hm. Does it matter?]

  “It matters to me!” Uncle Kim is the one who made me aware as to my psychic abilities – and he was responsible for your existence as well! Such a confluence can be nothing other than fate, that we near-brothers would meet and join hands before even knowing of our shared blood! “Do you not care at all?”

  [I am… not completely detached.] A wave of his spoon set up another Substitute. [But Team Rocket has always been a means to an end, for both of us. Is it so surprising that Doctor Kimigawa is the same?]

  Kiribo paused and took a breath. His heart was beating forcefully, the sound of it heavy in his ears like a raging river – and it wasn't just emotion; he'd overtaxed his mind along with his body, and both of them were telling him to stop. But if I do, if I stop… how could I possibly overcome myself?

  They’d been buried in frost only a single instant after the Articuno had appeared. The defeat was shameful, though more in the swiftness of the battle’s end than the resolution itself; losing to the theoretically-immortal incarnation of snowstorms had been basically inevitable given how off-guard its appearance had taken them… But still, he should have done better! My sword failed to so much as brush a feather. The next time we face it, I must be prepared!

  The mark of a true warrior was his heart! Determination and grit! And so, despite the mounting headache and the protestations of his muscles, Kiribo leapt to the side. Telekinetic force made a thin film under his feet, and the rough decayed floor became as frictionless as ice. His sword left its sheath, and Abratwo, wordlessly responding to his intent, bid the puppet to raise its spoons and block for real.

  “HA! Psycho Cutter!”

  My girlfriend is testing the waters with her newly evolved starmie, Kenny is furiously training Savage’s muscles, Ryan is smugly nonchalant about his new rank… and I'm here. I know I'm in the doghouse, but this seems a little unfair… hah.

  Like the world's ever cared about that.

  Once more Hoshi was frowning across from a line of six Rocket Grunts, and to his displeasure they didn't look any better the second time. The five men and one woman stood with a particular stance, one that communicated only the barest capacity for outside authority – in a word, they were punks. I'd say punk kids, but I'm pretty sure every one of them is older than me. The enforcer wasn't exactly the icon of obedience himself, as aptly demonstrated by getting shackled with this job in the first place, but even if he were holding them up against, say, Mimi and Bart, the gulf was still wide.

  The only real differences were that he was running on a full tank, and that the day's observer was a lesser Rocket Scientist rather than Dabi. The woman was familiar; it was the one who'd let them into the basement in the first place. Nike, I think her name is? Wait, no, it was Neek… Maybe?

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I guess it doesn't matter, she's not paying any more attention than when she was on guard duty.

  Anyway… might as well get it started. “Afternoon, Grunts. First off, I saw a few of you battling this morning – so good job on that front.” The praise was met with sneers, some overt and others hidden, but he pressed on undeterred. “Now in any sensible world I'd work with you for a few days just getting you used to your Pokémon, but given that we live in this world there isn't time to do things slow and steady. So what we're going to do is move right on to double battles, then tomorrow we'll do triples, and we go from there. Anybody here done a double battle?”

  To his surprise there were three raised hands: Jenkins, Jubei, and Spearmint. “Huh, more than expected. Alright, Jenkins, you're with Spear. Jubei, pair up with Tyson. That leaves Grey and Kaede.” Convenient that there were two with only one Pokémon originally. They should be reasonably matched in skill, so that's less work for me. “Pair up and start battling; try to avoid knockouts and rotate your teams after every fight, win or lose. No healing machine, so we can't go all-out.”

  Grumbles – but his show yesterday must've been good for something, because that was all. With a series of flashes twelve monsters were released, and Hoshi felt a contradictory mix of relief and frustration as things kicked off.

  Frustration, because despite following orders they were still fucking terrible. I've seen any number of shitty trainers go in for their first badge – heck, for the second too. But these guys take the fucking cake.

  Kaede is allergic to her own gloom, Jenkins and Jubei alternate between yelling and just tuning out, Tyson and Grey just plain don't know what they're doing… The only one who came anywhere close to basic competence was Spear, and even he was still worse than Kenny’d been after, like, the first week. It was almost impressive in a way – the sheer bloody-minded stubbornness necessary for some of them, at least, to have evolved their Pokémon. They're like the opposite of me and Ryan and… and Nerine. A lot of real-world experience, but no talent or theoretical knowledge.

  Hoshi took a moment to eye their supervisor, but whatever the woman's name was it was clear she was paying vastly more attention to her book than the straightforward brawls unfolding around her. Sigh. Wish I could get a job like that, just veg out for a few hours…

  But no, the second day was only slightly less onerous than the first. Hoshi hadn't needed to get physical, but he'd been on the edge of it several times – mostly, again, with Jenkins.

  But it was over. “Okay guys, pack it in. Tomorrow we'll start a little later; I've got my own shit to do and your Pokémon need a longer rest. Be sure to leave them out of stasis!” That last comment earned him a middle finger from Spearmint, but the gesture rolled off the enforcer’s back without sticking. “Love you too, now fuck off.”

  They departed, and Hoshi let his shoulders lower into a slight slump. Arc, this is almost as bad as when I tried to get the gang to help me fix the city. But as the casual thought percolated the memory of Ryan very nearly castrating himself with a jackhammer brought him back up, and a touch of energy returned. Yeah, that's right – that was worse than this. I survived that, and fighting Janine and Auntie Tsuyu twice, and that horrible week-long battle that was going off-route. This is peanuts.

  With his mood somewhat buoyed Hoshi himself began to leave – but it seemed that the day really wanted to mirror its predecessor, because the scientist stopped him. “Oh hey,” she called after his back. “You're done?”

  “…Yeah?”

  “Okay, go see Hypno. We finally got a little pocket Transfer System running, so you should swap any Silph balls you've got for Rocket Balls.” She turned a page, and he blinked.

  Does that..? “Does that matter?” I know they're supposed to be even better than an Ultra Ball, but that doesn't really affect anything after the ‘mon is caught… right?

  But apparently he was wrong, because the woman made a negative sound. “Oh, no, it does. Standard Pokéballs can be deactivated with certain radio frequencies, and there'll probably be someone with a suppressor around the place when we go for it.”

  “But Rocket Balls are immune?”

  “Yup. They still show up on radiation scanners though, so don't try to smuggle them anywhere.” She nodded sagely, and Hoshi waited for a beat to see if the halfway-non-sequitur was going anywhere – but apparently Neek/Nike/Nicky/Whatever was done.

  “Uh… alright then.”

  Despite the trepidation he was feeling about going into the Sabrina Containment Zone yet again, Hoshi walked with a measure of confidence – after all, this time he was prepared. “Isn't that right, Guts?”

  His raticate let loose a loud squeak as she bounded alongside him, nose twitching. Unlike his own motions, which still contained a hint of wariness, hers were entirely without fear. Of course – ghosts and normal types have trouble sensing each other. Guts isn't feeling the chill at all… this ancient complex probably just reads as an oddly-spacious warren. The sight of his Pokémon acting so carefree calmed Hoshi in turn, and his eyes returned forwards.

  Soon they'd arrived at Hypno’s office, and despite the chill having gotten stronger he only hesitated a moment before knocking. “Doc? You in?”

  For a moment there was only silence – and then the door was opened by something startling. Hoshi had been halfway expecting Kimmy, but it wasn't her; it was a different Pokémon.

  It wasn't quite humanoid, but there was an invocation of bipedality in the monster's shape; the rubbery finned bottom of it rested against the ground like sharp shoes standing heel-to-heel, a smooth cone of a body arcing up into a flared edge that looked like a collar, two long tentacles emerging from the ‘shoulders’ to act as arms. And between them, a beaked head topped by shorter tentacles.

  Hoshi blinked at the squid, which was only slightly shorter than him, taking in its vibrant purple-blue-pink colouration, yellow abdominal markings, and the strange allure of its squinted eyes – until a low squeak from below broke his attention away from the golden discs standing out from their surrounding black sclera. I know this Pokémon. Not the name, but I think… yeah, this is one of James’s.

  “Hey. Is Hypno..?” Arc it looks creepy. I don't like tentacruel, but this thing is an entirely different level of freaky… And it wasn't showing up in his third eye, which meant it was dark type.

  The enforcer's question remained unanswered for a long moment, but then he got a second, lesser surprise as the aforementioned Rocket Executive's voice broke through the squid’s back. “Oh, is there someone here? Malamar, let them in already!”

  The now-named Pokémon continued to stare Hoshi's way for a beat, then slither-stepped back. Even its locomotion was unsettling; while the fins looked like feet, they had no real ability to function as such. Its movement was closer to that of a snake, slithering one way then the other to generate traction, and despite having no problems as all with ekans or arbok Hoshi had the urge to cringe. Feels like it should be leaving a slime trail…

  But with another person nearby his confidence redoubled, and he stepped through the door with Guts on his heel. The strange space wasn't any less off-putting – in fact Hoshi thought there might be a few more dolls than before – and Sabrina was present, sitting in a corner. But his attention was quickly redirected from the possessed Gym Leader to James and the Doc.

  “Hello sir. I was instructed to come here and get my entire team into Rocket Balls?”

  The blue-haired executive turned away from Hypno, revealing the latter's vacant expression. Is he..? He looks hypnotised. “Enforcer Mutsu!” James exclaimed, and Hoshi's eyes reluctantly switched targets. “I'm glad you arrived – could you give me a hand with the good Doctor here? I have to get him into a sitting position, but it's just so hard with only one pair of hands…” He rubbed the back of his head, though whether the awkward gesture was real or a bit the enforcer couldn't say.

  “Uh… sure,” Hoshi answered, returning his raticate; she'd been eyeing Sabrina with open hostility, and though he privately agreed this wasn't the time to see if Crunch was enough to short out the most powerful human psychic’s powers. She looks like she's in a trance too – let's not give her any reason to wake up. Together he and James got the definitely hypnotised Hypno onto the ground, an action that did nothing to dispel the creepy air. Up close he could see that Hypno wasn't quite as blank-faced as Hoshi’d first assumed, but rather wearing a very subtle version of his customary leer. By the time it was done he felt like his hands were greasy, though of course it was only his imagination.

  “Whew! There we go!”

  “May we ask why we just did that, sir?”

  James shot him a smile. “Well you see, with all the capering around the Doctor's actually been developing some foot-related issues…” The executive tousled the older man's bowl-cut like he was an uncommonly hideous child, to which Hypno gave a slow blink. “Usually we would rely on our minions to take care of themselves, but the good Doctor isn't quite compos mentis at the moment. Easier to give him a little break at the same time Kimmy and Malamar do their business keeping him on-track.”

  Hoshi's eyes wandered Sabrina's way for a fraction of a second. “And that… works?”

  “Oh my, yes.” Not helping the atmosphere at all was the fact that James was alone – or maybe it was the other way around; the slight bad vibe brought by only seeing one of the instructors being multiplied by the strange air. “A hypno and malamar working together can do almost anything. For a few days, at least – the mind has a way of straightening itself out. And that's a good thing for us, Enforcer; if our opponents could do permanent work, this entire venture would be impossible.” The senior Rocket’s voice had aligned itself with everything else in becoming just slightly off. Usually he spoke with a standard central accent, the one most foreigners would hear when they thought Kanto. But there was a tinge of something underneath, closer to the way a lot of the higher-class executives spoke, and it was making Hoshi's brain itch. He… Why is he telling me this?

  …Because he isn't comfortable either, came the answer breeching from just under the surface. He's talking for the sake of talking. “I suppose it is,” the enforcer replied. “A good thing the Ministry can't do that I mean. So, the Rocket Balls..?”

  James snapped his fingers. “Of course, of course! Right this way, I'm more than capable of getting you sorted out while Malamar takes care of business…”

  Hoshi was glad to leave the intensely unsettling room, and its remaining occupants, behind – for a moment.

  Then he got a look at the monstrosity Rocket had stuffed into what was probably at one point a ventilation shaft, and the emotion died. Arcus damnit, why eyes? Why slap fucking eyes on it?! The machine resembled some sort of ancient squid, like an omanyte of steel and distressingly organic-looking plastic. The ‘shell’ was a spiralling metal case that sat on a base of leg-like stands, while the conveyer-fed opening on the bottom front stood in well enough for a head. It wasn't a one-to-one comparison – the clear plastic tubes Hoshi's brain couldn't help but compare to the malamar’s translucent lower half were coming off the back rather than arranged like the ancient mouthparts an actual mollusc – but it was impossible to label the resemblance a coincidence.

  Especially when the centre of the spiral was decorated by a glass eye exactly like the one adorning the concealed ball on his belt.

  It was absurd – so absurd, in fact, that he couldn't help but voice the emotion aloud. “Arc, what is it with the Doc and eyes? Does he absolutely need it to look fucking creepy?”

  “Actually,” James answered, “This design was not created by the good Doctor. Come over here, and let's see those Pokéballs.”

  With increasing reluctance Hoshi obeyed, going around the front of the hulking machine to where a strangely mis-matched console was attached. “Not designed by Hypno?” Don't tell me it's Dabi making these things..?

  “No, no. Place your balls here, in the depression.” Huh, is this an actual Pokécentre kiosk? It looks a lot like the one we put together in Fuchsia – or rather, it looks like a completed version. Again Hoshi obeyed, and as he did the executive continued. “This – and the base design of the Rocket Balls as well – was salvaged from New Island.”

  That brought the younger man up short. “That's where Meowth was, right?”

  James blinked, and Hoshi watched him visibly backtrack along the previous weeks in search of where he'd revealed that. “Yes. Yes, that was where we met Meowth for the first time. I wouldn't have expected that to be the first thing you recalled about the island.”

  Oh, trust me, I haven't forgotten the whole Mewtwo thing either. The sixth and final ball slotted into place. But it is interesting that you needed a moment to remember telling me… You aren't as recovered as you want people to think you are, are you? “That's all of them. What next?”

  The senior executive narrowed his eyes at seeing the slots completely filled, but after a moment he waved it off. “Next, insert the identification card we provided you.”

  I still need to..? “I didn't think we were still using the legit system.” Neek implied we weren't.

  “We are indeed not,” James confirmed as Hoshi slid his licence in. As with the transfer kiosk he'd used before a graphic of a spinning Pokéball filled the screen – though unlike that much more ramshackle machine, this one was accompanied by the deep grinding thunks of the plastic behemoth stirring to wakefulness. “But the kiosk requires an ID, and we have no time to reprogram it from the ground up.” James inhaled a breath to continue, but was then interrupted by the bastard transfer system issuing a magnificently bass roar. Hoshi felt his teeth rattle against each other as his hindbrain flicked his flight-or-flight reflex on, but a breath of his own steadied his feet. Gah, I've been on-edge since I entered. Gotta get a handle on it, or I'll hit the ceiling when Jessie or Meowth inevitably appears over my shoulder…

  Or Sabrina. Or that ultra-creepy Pokémon.

  No fiddling with the controls was necessary; as he watched, trepidatious, six stick-thin – literally, they looked about as durable as twigs – arms came out from the ‘mouth’ of the mysterious machine. The three-fingered metal limbs closed around each Pokéball, lifted it, and deposited it on the conveyor which trundled to life.

  “Bit of a roundabout way to do it, isn't it?” Hoshi spoke over the noise, receiving a pained grin in response.

  “You have no idea. We're lucky Hypno helped build the ancestor of this thing; Mokusen could never have gotten it running alone with everything else on his plate.”

  The horrible grind redoubled, and for a splinter of a second he was forced to entertain the idea that something had gone horribly wrong – that his Pokémon were being mashed to paste or something equally violent. But Hoshi grit his teeth against the stray thought and banished it. They're fine. Everything's worked out so far – even if his personality is hot garbage, trust that the old man knows what he's doing on a mechanical level.

  One final ka-thunk sounded out, and then the conveyor reversed direction. Six Rocket Balls, purple and veined and evil-looking as ever, rolled about as they were disgorged, and the enforcer let out an internal sigh of relief.

  There, see? No issue.

  A few minutes later Hoshi was steadfastly ignoring the comatose Sabrina as he exited Hypno's office, decisively not thinking about the fact that she'd stuck her tongue out at him as he’d passed. Nope. Not thinking about it at all. Definitely not still freaked out by everything, and definitely not thinking about the fact that Danny still has Crow’s original ball.

  His steps echoed softly against the soft wood as he raised one of his new Rocket Balls up to eye-level to meet its inanimate gaze. And definitely not thinking that these eyes look like something I've seen in a dream…