Following his brief foray into Mega Evolution, Hoshi’s days took on something of a formula. Training the slime-tier grunts, personal training and spending time with Casca and the gang, occasionally doing psychic shit with Kiribo – and just like that, the first third of November passed by.

  The atmosphere of the hidden base became increasingly frantic, the scientists disappearing for whole days at a time only to return and crash in the dorms, and the executives were even more absent. Only the grunts, agents, and enforcers had anything resembling free time, and even that was in short supply as Jessie and James continued to pile on more and more demands.

  There was a part of Hoshi that exulted in it; he almost felt like he was in boot camp, though basically everything was focused on Pokémon without the physical conditioning a real soldier would go through. Or the weapon drills. But maybe… he thought sluggishly as a breakfast of fast food – brought in by the latest wave of returning-from-who-knows-where scientists – gradually made its way from paper wrappers to table to stomach. Maybe I could have Casca lend me that gun, just to practice? But no, actual gunshots would probably get the blues to come around, and finding bullets would be hell, and…

  He shook the stupid thought off. Urgh, I’m actually starting to wish I could sleep in a little. This pace is brutal. He hadn’t trained this hard since… actually, he didn’t think he’d ever put this many sheer hours into Pokémon training, not even when preparing to face Lieutenant Surge as cover for Puce and- and Nerine. Still hurts to think the name. Fucking traitors, the whole League… But we’ll put them in their place.

  Semi-consciously, Hoshi’s hand dipped to pat his pocket. The small Key Stone was hard under his palm, solid and real in a way the flowing days no longer were without the sun to put time into context. That solidity woke him up, and as he kept eating the enforcer found a smile bending his lips. Not a happy one, but an expression of mingling satisfaction and anticipation – one he'd found settling into place with increasing ease in the past days. We're actually doing it.

  The burgers weren't high cuisine, but Hoshi was hungry – in more ways than one. “Think we’ll be moving out soon?” he sent out to the group. “The Nationals’ve already started.”

  Casca only grunted back, handling the long hours worse than her early-bird of a boyfriend, and Kenny didn’t even acknowledge the question – but Ryan and Black were sufficiently awake to pick up the conversation. “It will have to be soon,” the former said, primly dabbing his lips with an honest-to-Arcus handkerchief. “I’ve been speaking to some executives, and they believe the instructors are banking on Clair’s most powerful team members retaining some lingering injuries from the Moltres.”

  “It’s unlikely,” Black followed up. “But not impossible. Champion-level Pokémon are hard to keep in perfect condition, and this year especially was a bad one with how active the Generals have been… but she’s also the Champion, so she’s gonna have access to the best medicine available. Rare fruits, those stupidly gigantic healing machines they built during the war, all that.”

  “Hm,” Hoshi grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. A long shot. Actually, that’s probably too generous. Clair had fought General Fire a full month ago and then some; most Pokémon would heal without medical attention during that time, let alone a well-cared-for team. So if I was the instructors, I’d scrap that plan…

  But I’m definitely not them, hah. So we’ll see.

  They continued to eat, Hoshi and the two fresh Senior Grunts chatting lazily as they prepared mentally for the coming day’s work – only to be interrupted by another familiar face.

  “Hey!” called a ragged voice from the room's exit, and several people turned – Hoshi included – to see Mimi, Casca's fellow aspiring agent, all but hanging off the doorway. “Guys!” she continued. “Cliff just came in up top!”

  “Puce!” Arc, I'd all but written you off for dead. “Took you long enough. You get lost on the way?”

  He’d only meant it as light ribbing, but as the worn-looking woman frowned Hoshi realised that his words were probably in bad taste – Puce Gracile had a history with getting lost, after all.

  But then, faux pas or not, she was enveloping him – and Ryan and Casca – in an oversized hug. “I am never,” the woman said, and for a moment he was surprised all over again by how soft and young her voice was. A chest this barrel-shaped shouldn't be able to sound like that. “Ever, ever, ever stepping foot on a boat ever again.”

  A final squeeze, and then they were released. “No hug fer me?” Kenny teased, only to voice his immediate regret with a bellow as he was picked up and subjected to a crushing of his own.

  “You really are back,” Casca said, and at that Puce’s frown cleared.

  “I am.”

  The story wasn't very long in content, though the actual time it took to tell ended up ballooning well into when everyone should have been working. But fuck that – this is essentially a miracle. Part of that was Puce’s poor speaking form, not helped by the gathering crowd, but mostly it was the interjections.

  Some of the swarming Rockets were sailors, and every single one of them apparently felt the need to chime in and say something about how Puce and Cliff were either surprisingly competent, horribly incompetent, or suicidally ignorant. Several fistfights broke out, and they only intensified as the story continued and a whole new round of comments came about how fucking weird the ocean had been.

  “Wild Pokémon don't mess with ships like that, not in the bay.”

  Puce spread her arms. “Well, it happened. I don't know what you want me to say..?”

  The old-ish, leather-skinned Rocket only shook his head, but another – a blue-haired muscular dockworker type – took up the slack. “You've gotta be exaggerating. One or two tentacruel sure, but a half-dozen every night? It just don't happen; those things eat each other as much as anything.”

  “It has to be the Moltres fucking everything up,” said a third. “Or the freak snowstorm from the Articuno. Everything's out of whack.”

  “It can't be that, that happened after they set out.” “I bet we're gonna get another Storm of the Century!” “Don't be superstitious, not everything is-”

  That last one was immediately shushed by five others, and Hoshi shook his head. How many Rockets here are ex-seamen? I know the docks were basically a gang, but this is silly… He turned to Puce, meaning to lighten the mood – and stopped as he noticed her expression. “Puce?”

  “Uh… It might actually be a legendary Pokémon? Let me keep going…”

  A few minutes later, and an entirely different argument was taking place. “Gotta be the same dude,” Kenny said. “Ice an’ Storm freakin’ out? Some fuck got it in their head to catch ‘em, and they're makin’ it all everybody's problem.”

  His words reflected one side of the consensus – and Hoshi, of course, knew that it was righter than anyone had guessed. For the Articuno, at least; nobody's thought yet that it was actually captured and used on purpose. But is it really the Inner Ministry who was fighting the Zapdos too..? Something about that felt wrong.

  And Ryan was the one to put it into words. “I doubt this is a coordinated effort. If any one group could make a serious play at catching the legends, they would already be influential enough to simply seize power by way of becoming the Champion officially. Certainly we would do such a thing if we could, and Team Rocket has been building strength for quite some time.

  “No, this is every grasping pair of hands reaching out at once – people have sensed the Indigo League’s weakness, and are capitalising on it the same as us.” The blond nodded, self-satisfied, and several others nodded right along. Huh, he's built up more of a posse while I wasn't looking…

  But in the end, did who was trying to catch the Zapdos really matter? “More than their identity, I want to know if they actually did it. You said it got quiet after a while, Puce?”

  Hoshi's question drew lines on the corners of the woman's eyes. “Yes. The sounds of fighting stopped, but… sorry, but I can't say if it happened all at once or not. We were out in the thunderstorm, and…”

  “Arcus,” the enforcer swore. “If some rando shows up at the Nationals with the Zapdos…” And the Ministry with the Articuno. Fuck, at least the Moltres is nice and far away in the islands… The thought felt jinxing in a way, like having it would magically summon General Fire back to his homeland at the worst possible moment to stir an already-overfull pot.

  So he put it to the side and forced Puce to continue her story. The last leg of their journey, an overland trip of the kind he and the rest had made through the woods, went a lot faster – or the retelling did, anyway. “It was pretty bad, but not like the ocean – Cliff’s Pokémon are a lot better on land, mine too, and so things went pretty smooth in comparison…

  “We reached the city a couple days ago actually, but we, uh…”

  She fidgeted, and Casca waved her on. “Come on, girl, don't trip at the finish line.”

  “We decided to… stay in a hotel for a night? And buy new clothes, since ours were all torn up, and get some food, and… Well, it took us some time to-”

  “Wait a sec,” Kenny interrupted. “Were you ‘n Cliff goin’ on dates while we've been trainin’ our asses off? Damnit Puke, this’s why I bust your-”

  Then he was interrupted in turn; Puce burst into girlish laughter, the sound like fairy bells. “Oh, no, no! Not at all! I mean, there was- but no, we aren't together. I'm dating Mister Kiribo anyway-” Wait, what? “-So it’s impossible. Actually, he should be here, right?”

  The quick turn of the conversation provoked yet another round of discussion, and nobody got any work done until well after noon.

  “So,” Cliff began the wrap-up, his stance straight and strong despite the fatigue hiding under his voice. “We have a ship, theoretically. We left it anchored off the coast, and the wildlife will be spooked from the storm, so…”

  “So our plan is salvageable!” James concluded, and Jessie followed with a brilliant smile.

  “Yes! Despite the delays, this is still doable!” Her expression was a little too wide, actually – Meowth could smell the caffeine coming out in her sweat, but until that moment he hadn't thought to question the exact amount. “Magnificent work, Enforcer Moon!”

  “Thank you, sirs. Will we be moving out soon?” The large man had a gleam in his eye – the same one that the other two humans had.

  “Very soon, very soon.”

  “We need to have the reinforcements from Mahogany in place first – after all, while it's useless to plan for failure…”

  “Expecting everything to go right would just be silly,” James finished. “Now, why don't you get a little-”

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  “Meow.”

  Jessie and James stilled, looking first to him, then each other. “Darn it,” the latter started again.

  “How do we keep forgetting that?”

  A beat, and then twin sighs; the how was more than evident. “Meow.”

  “Yes, good catch. Stay a moment, Enforcer; we have something for you and your tyranitar.”

  Time continued to move forward, unstoppable by man or Pokémon, and it wasn't long before another significant event occurred – though admittedly it was much less eventful than Puce’s return.

  “Yeah!” bellowed a growling voice across the length of the room, and Hoshi was jerked up from his post-training fugue.

  Huh? “What's up, Kenny?” It's almost light's out, how are you still exercising?

  The how would remain an enduring mystery, given that the juicer had been off his ‘meds’ for most of a month without shrivelling up, but the what was revealed almost immediately. “Look’it this, Boss! Savage evolved!”

  That woke him all the way up, and soon Hoshi was on his feet and trotting over. Already? he thought, before swiftly reconsidering. Or maybe I should say finally. Teaching a Pokémon a move via pure training could be tricky; he himself hadn’t even tried it, despite knowing that raticate could theoretically pick up both water and electric attacks from Casca’s ‘mons or Rivet – but on the other hand, the former wrestler had been putting basically every hour of the day into it. He’d been so tunnel-visioned, Bubbles the sandshrew hadn’t evolved despite being even closer than Champion had been when they’d finally gotten out of those damn woods.

  Well, whether it counts as fast or slow, it’s done now. Hoshi made it to the edge of the room without incident, and got his first look at the fruit of Kenny’s efforts – and his broken fist. “So this is lickilicky, huh?” Kind of underwhelming, honestly…

  Savage hadn’t made any extreme transition, like some Pokémon did; he’d gained a head of extra height, and doubled in width, but he was still the same bubblegum-pink salamander. Damn, that’s a fat monster. He'd also developed a slightly more defined neck, but again there wasn't much of a visible difference. Definitely more of a mankey-to-primeape evolution than gible-to-gabite.

  “Yeah!” Kenny replied, enthusiastic enough for the both of them – only to immediately deflate. Again, metaphorically; he must be getting steroids from somewhere, or his acne wouldn’t be nearly this bad. “I was hopin’ he'd look cooler, but whatever. You wanna have a go at ‘im?”

  No, not really; I just spent ten hours explaining to that useless fuck Grey that his new graveler, machoke, and nidorino won't evolve just from training. But this was a significant moment for the man, so Hoshi's free time was, until his patience ran out at least, secondary. “Sure. One-on-one?”

  “Sounds good, Boss!”

  And so it went. Hoshi's hand hovered over his Pokéballs, still a touch awkward all stuffed over on the left side of his belt, and pondered over who to select as he stared Kenny and his lickilicky down. Junior’s starting to fall behind, but I'm also worried about Rivet. And Champ needs more experience in trainer battles…

  A shake of his head put the dithering aside, and he selected the final, hardest-to-reach ball. “Junior, look alive!”

  With a toss and a flash the electabuzz appeared, no longer quite so undersized but still below the norm. He inhaled, no doubt to let out a croak of displeasure at being forced to battle – only to freeze as he took in Savage’s new and inordinately round appearance. That's right, even Kenny's starting to turn into a real-ass trainer; his Pokémon aren't gonna just be punching bags for long. You gonna step up, Jackson, or what?

  The silent urging was obeyed, and Jackson Jr.’s stance solidified in some ephemeral way – just in time for their opponent to lose patience. “Let's show ‘em what you've learned, Savage!” Kenny cried, pumping his fist and punching. “Wait for a sec, then react with Rollout!”

  Hoshi's reply was instantaneous. “Thunder Wave!” As if I'd let you get it off- wait, why wait before..?

  But though the strange order was enough to tweak his instincts, the enforcer hesitated to call off the move; paralysis was useful regardless of whatever trick his meathead opponent was planning. And that lack of decisiveness was rewarded as the arc of electrical energy hit home, causing Kenny to curse. “Damnit-! You were suppos’ta attack!”

  As he shouted his Pokémon, now jittery and even less coordinated than usual, waved its arms – and Junior blinked. Oh, I get it. Hoshi didn't even need his powers to guess. “That was Disable, wasn't it?”

  The grunt only bared his teeth, but that was confirmation enough. Hah, still a dumbass. Not that it couldn't have worked – if they'd opened with Charge then Hoshi and has ‘mon would've had a hard time, and Thunder Punch getting blocked would have been crippling – but as always, Kenny was his own biggest obstacle. “You shouldn't have called Rollout! Who'd attack into that?”

  “Shut up! Savage, do it!” And despite looking ridiculous being used by the giant fat swamp monster, it was an admittedly impressive move. The salamander wasn't tall by most standards, but it was large, and that bulk gradually picking up speed as it tipped on its side and began to roll lent the ungainly lickilicky a sort of menace…

  But with its spasming muscles causing it to abort the move every few seconds, the fight was effectively won from the first exchange. Junior had more than enough staying power to pummel through Savage’s innate defences, and while the salamander was definitely stronger than before its evolution its other attacks – the old standby of Lick and another new addition, Slam – were too weak and too ungainly to do much respectively.

  Jackson Jr. took a surprise headbutt, but in return unleashed a flurry of Charge-enhanced Thunder Punches, and that was that. The enemy’s paralytic saliva simply wasn't enough to even things out, and very soon Kenny was pouting at the decisive loss.

  “Damn. Was hopin' fer an after-evo win, like with yer dragon,” he growled, sailor accent thickening with emotion. “Maybe Bubbles’ll have better luck…”

  They ended up having a full seven-on-seven, no-switches marathon, and while Hoshi's motivation waxed and waned throughout he came away pretty happy. Battling for sport feels different than doing it ‘cause it's my job.

  The Sandshrew used Rollout much more effectively than its teammate, and with only a tepid Swift to attack the ground type with Junior had gone down. So Hoshi had sent out Moony, who then KO’d both Bubbles and Legs the hitmonlee in an upset of the type chart. Then she’d been laid out by Kenny's nidoking and its Thrash.

  Hoshi took the next win with Crow, but somehow the tiny, junkyard duskull Kenny'd been gifted had managed to catch up to its peers where Junior had failed. The un-nicknamed ghost was a menace with a bunch of annoying moves, but after Crow was put down by Curse the thing was in turn beaten easily by Guts’s Crunch. That left Hoshi’s subordinate with only a seadra – inexplicably named Paul, of all things – and machoke.

  And despite its status as a literal fish out of water the seadra had put up a damn good fight, leaving Hoshi’s girl damaged – but she'd closed it out, another underdog win that left the final score at seven knockouts for him to the grunt’s three. It was a self-affirming victory; while Hoshi had very obviously been training his ass off, Kenny had been doing the same – and they’d both gone through the same frostbitten hell the previous month.

  Meaning that the difference in strength wasn’t due to a difference in battle experience, but pure trainer ability. “Hmph,” the loser huffed as they shook hands. “Good match. Been a while since we tussled.”

  Hoshi shook his head. “It was only a few days ago – it just feels longer ‘cause the days’ve got fucking long.” That earned a more good-natured snort, and the two went back to their respective breaks.

  Getting… back… was weird.

  For multiple reasons.

  Starting with the most obvious, Puce was… not at home. Maybe that was too obvious, but it was the truth; while her family had only moved to Vermillion five years ago, it already seemed like more of a fixture in her life than Celadon ever had. And Celadon had been more of a home than Lavender – though that wasn't really relevant. What was relevant was that her parents, her clingy, successful, crushingly expectant parents, were not in Saffron.

  Because she'd joined Team Rocket to get a fake Pokémon Training License, and now she was a criminal.

  Which was also a very weird feeling, to be fair, but again that was getting off-topic. Or is it? I mean… It was all very confusing; multiple times over the course of the trip she'd wanted to quit, or turn herself in, Nerine’s face flashing in the corner of her eyes. But now that she was actually here…

  “Hah…” Puce chuckled quietly as she sat on a thin mattress whose frame was viscerally bending under her weight. I still don't know what I want. The triumph of finally having some real friends had been decisively buried by… everything… But what else was there? If she actually turned herself in… They might hang me. I don't think they will, but they might – I pushed a police officer off the top of a truck. After smashing said truck through a guardhouse… after quite possibly strangling a teenage girl to death.

  And she didn't want to go to jail, so… So what? Keep doing what got me into this mess in the first place? That doesn't sound like a winning strategy, Puce!

  There was no rebuttal to make, and so for a while she just sat. That numbness she’d felt after the night everything blew up had gone away gradually, disappearing a little and a little and a little bit at a time so subtly she couldn’t actually mark the point it’d left – but now it was starting to creep back in. She was no longer tromping through the woods with an injured man, someone who needed to lean on her for support in a very literal, physical manner – no, she was just sitting, useless, like she’d always really been. Mom and Dad… Would they even want me back at all? Maybe-

  “Young maiden! From the depths of the dark sea, you have risen up to once more grace the shore like a corona of dawn-light – as we all believed you would, of course!”

  The enthusiastic, silly, sincere voice halted her thoughts, and Puce turned to see Kiribo Kimigawa marching through the bustle of the room like it didn’t exist. “Oh. Mister Kimi- uh, Kiribo. Hello.” Her own reply was hesitant, awkward – Puce’s voice sounded fake to her ears, and that made them start to burn as blood rushed up. “Yes, it was- I mean, I’m here now.”

  “Indeed you are!” the chubby man exclaimed, and she stood in an effort to force some blood back down into her lower body. “I should like to hear of your travels and travails – hearing Enforcer Moon speak of it briefly has inflamed my warrior's heart!”

  But the stubborn burn refused to budge. When they'd gone on their first outing – not quite a date, but not not one either – Puce had been amused more than anything, and even when he'd met her parents things had been… not serious. Kiribo's ‘spirited courtship’ had simply been fun. She hadn't had strong feelings for him – not that she'd been stringing him along, or anything, it was just… again, not serious.

  But now, after weeks of not seeing him and barely giving the man a single thought, somehow his presence hit harder. “You talked to Cliff?” she squeaked, half worried and half elated at the thought of some machismo-fueled contest for her affection having taken place. Don't be stupid. This isn't one of Mom’s paperback romances; those things don't happen in real life.

  “Indeed! Our designs for the impotent Indigo League are returning to something approaching an even pace thanks to the two of you. You have the thanks of Team Rocket, my fair maiden!”

  “So we're just going to wait?”

  The voice, youthful despite the touch of poison along its vocal cords causing a certain level of rasp, bid Janine to hide a grimace. “Yes.” Not just the poison – that woman crushed her throat. She might never breathe freely again. “We can't move with the situation being what it is, you know that.”

  Nerine Doksu made no attempt to hide her own emotions, the frown twisting her chewed lips plainly obvious. Below them the arc of the Viridian City Pokémon Stadium curved around like the caldera of a volcano – one much larger and potentially destructive than Cinnabar. “But we know exactly where they are,” she countered. “They're up to something – whatever it was they used to beat Will, they must be making more.”

  The Gym Leader in fact knew exactly what had caused the masked Elite’s defeat, but saying it aloud would be the height of stupidity – and not just because of the slim-but-existent possibility of eavesdroppers. Matriarch Mutsu wasn't entirely wrong; you are… just a little bit compromised, Nerine. So Janine simply shook her head, and employed a shinobi’s most ubiquitous weapon: using one truth to obscure another. “Team Rocket are far from the biggest players on the board, Nerine. If we split up, we'll be defeated in detail.”

  “So we should just let them do whatever they want in Saffron? Extort people for food and supplies, kidnap the Gym Leader, recruit half the-”

  “Sister,” Janine interrupted, and the steel in the word caused the young woman to straighten on instinct. “Don't count Sabrina, or her Gym Trainers, out yet.” Wind blew over the great building's roof as below them the crowds cheered for or against the competitors. It was, in reality, fairly cold – but held against what the temperature had been, it felt warm. “It may look like we're on the back foot, but for all his treason Carl Apollo got one thing right…”

  Under their feet, the Nationals played out. “We're the lords at the moment; we have the castle, so everyone has to come to us from across the field.”

  And so it continued to go; the smaller events passed, then the medium-sized ones, and very soon the Champion Series was set to begin. And while Janine knew that the grand event would be interrupted, a mere backdrop to the real struggle… somehow the magic of the tournament failed to be obscured.

  Seeing the names of the challengers written out in lights made it seem, just for a moment, that it would be fine. And she could only smile to herself for that ember of desperate hope, as she and everyone else prepared for another war.