Nuzlocke: The Gold Standard Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Team Rocket’s Last Gleaming


Going Underground - All that Glistens is not Silver - One Rant Leads to Another - Bagging Rights on the Criminal Underground - The Olympic Sport of Confusion as Colin Ruins Lee's Day - The Mystery of the Acquisition of Sneasels - Some Thoughts - Insecurity System - How to Tease a Rocket Grunt - Mike Attempts to be Inconspicuous - Gratefulness for Celestial Bodies - Here's my Card - The Discovery of People, and the Final Removal of a Skirt - The Greatest Motivation - The Final Showdown - Mike Takes a Nap - So Long, and Thanks for All the XP - A Future in Radio


There had been a terrifying moment where Mike had considered the idea of the Underground being full of people sheltering from Team Rocket as he hurried over there with the access card, if which case not only would he be unable to get through but also be in full view for everyone to see him in his... disguise. Leaving via the window hadn't given him a chance to get changed, and he was still dressed like a member of Team Rocket. However, to his surprise and great relief, there wasn't even a Ghost in sight when he arrived. The Underground station had been totally cleared by Team Rocket, presumably so they could go between places and move stuff around without all the people getting in the way, and he had free and unrestrained access. The door he was looking for was tucked away down a corner, brandishing a sign saying 'STAFF ONLY' and a card-swipe entrance in case people didn't get the first message. He swiped the keycard and to his moderate surprise the red light on the door actually did turn green. The Executive had said he'd enjoy watching him fail. Were there cameras on him right now? Well, in that case he'd better make it a good show.

He successfully made it to the bottom of the stairs before the least welcome voice in the world called out 'Hey! You! You there!'

Mike stopped dead. No. Oh no. Not him. Of all places, of all people, there was no way it could be-

Of course it was Silver.

'Ha! Thanks for opening that door for me! I just snuck past before anyone arrived. However you got that keycard, maybe you're not entirely as useless as you look!' The boy with the primary-coloured hair came down the stairs in twos and before Mike could react sprinted forward, getting in front of Mike and blocking his access to the corridor beyond. 'What's the matter, hm?' Silver sneered at him, a dark look in his eye. 'Weren't ready to see me now? Because I've been ready to see you for a long time!' He was growling slightly and his fingers were already lighting on a Poke Ball in his belt.

Mike wanted to sigh disparagingly, but he couldn't bring himself over a bubbling sense of aggravation. 'Silver, I- Silver! Team Rocket are here - as in here, in this city - and you're holding me up over a grudge match? Seriously? I mean, I don't mind battles, but now?! Do you just not realise what's happening? The criminal underworld may triumph because you're going waste all our time here trying to solve our little personal feud! The city is in danger! Don't you even care?!' For reasons he didn't understand, shouting at Silver was strangely relaxing, as if he was unwinding a long-held screw. 'I can't believe I'm the one demanding common sense here!' He stormed forward and attempted to push past his rival, but Silver just blocked him with an arm and pushed him away. 'Silver!'

'Don't have time for me, huh? Who's the jerkish one now? Do I not matter to you? Do you not care about whether I beat you or not?'

'Not as much as saving the region from an evil mastermind!'

'And that's why I'm here!' Suddenly it was Silver's eyes that were blazing, fury steaming from his voice as he tried to burn through Mike's skull with a glare. Mike couldn't help but step back in sudden fearfulness. 'Team Rocket is mine to defeat, you hear? The claim on that organisation belongs to me!' Silver continued to rage. 'I'm the one who's earned the right to this victory! I'm the one who deserves to triumph! Everything I've been through! That's why I'm here, to defeat them! You just happened to be in the way! What do you think gives you the right to put a stop to Team Rocket, huh? Have you earned it?! I will not have you hanging around, messing things up while I tear down this scum once and for all! You haven't earned this battle chance!'

The outburst caught Mike by surprise. 'I, uh, you...'

'You've got nothing to say, huh?' Silver drew a Poke Ball, growling audibly as he raised it. 'Alright then. Since you love battling so much, let's battle over this. The winner gets to stop Team Rocket. If I lose, it just means that I can enjoy the thought of them being too weak to beat a loser like you. I won't lose, though. Those other times were just... flukes! Your luck can't hold out forever!'

In all the sudden tirade and the confusion of being showered in Silver's wrath, Mike just about managed to retain enough sense to say 'You'd think that if you got lucky three times in a row then maybe there'd be more to it than that.'

'Argh! Shut up! Golbat!' Silver tossed the Ball out into the space between them and his Flying type appeared. 'Let's wrap this up, right here in this stairwell! I don't care! Just do something, Mike!'

'Alright then, fine. I will do! Solenoid, come on out. We need Thundershocks.'

'You-'

'-shall get them.' The electric bolt shocked the Golbat, causing major damage to its wings when it came back up with a new, furious expression on its face. It swung outwards, throwing itself at Solenoid to buffet it with its wing-span, slamming into it with a thump. However, the Steel-type barely flinched and shot another bolt of lightning, which brought the Golbat to the floor.

'Give up, Silver. This is a waste of time.'

'I don't take advice from men that wear skirts, you creep! Always knew you were a strange one! Get out there, Quilava!'

Mike sighed. Of course. He was still wearing the Team Rocket official skirt. And now Silver had seen him wearing it. Solenoid owed him one now, big time.

Lee the Quilava looked up hopefully as soon as he came out of the Poke Ball, already getting into his stride to make the most of his chance before he could be shushed down again like usual. 'Kate! Kate, please! Even if we're fighting, I want to say that I don't want to harm you, and that I think you look beautiful today, and that if we had the chance I'd love it if we could go somewhere else and get to know you, Kate, and that we could really be something special as a couple if you'd just listen to me! Please, I can't, oh, I just want you to know if nothing else that you're so special to me, and I wish that we could be-'

'Aw, thanks. I'm very touched, I'm sure.'

Lee balked at the sight of the Umbreon opposite him, barely even registering that it was crouching down into a pounce position. 'I... I thought Kate would be... This isn't what I planned at all...'

Colin the Umbreon smiled evilly. 'Sorry, Kate's gonna be preening her feathers for this battle. Now I've met you, I can kind of see where she's coming from now when she talks about you the way she does.'

Lee looked like he was about to cry. 'I... This doesn't make sense... I thought that... Ohh, this is so unfair...'

'Don't go telling me it doesn't make sense, flaming boy. Although you're gonna get a great idea of what non-sensical...ness actually looks like.' Colin raised his head and fired soundlessly, and the great flashing, glowing, twirling shot travelled out of his mouth and flew straight over at Lee, enveloping his world in lights and colour and sound with no coherent overlap or world reference point. He turned, trying to find his Umberon opponent, only to see five of them sat next to each other taunting him. He'd never been so Confused in his life. His trainer's orders came to him, but they sounded like they were shouted in a different room, possibly one filled with water.

Colin was still grinning. 'Confuse Ray is way too entertaining to just be an attack,' he said as in desperation Lee belched out a plume of smoke and desperately hoped that his trainer had asked for Smokescreen to be used as an actual move. 'It should be, like, a sport of some kind.'

'Don't give them ideas. Use Shadow Ball already!'

Colin shot a Shadow Ball into the centre of the miniature smokecloud and there came a squeal from the helpless Quilava as he tumbled out, landing in a heap on the outskirts of his own smokescreen. Lee managed to regain enough sense and shook his head to desperately try to clear it. The three targets narrowed down to one and he took a deep breath, before firing all he had at it. He really didn't want to disappoint his master, not when he needed a win this badly. However, the Umbreon simply took the brunt of the attack on its back and let the flames wash over it, waiting it out before turning suddenly and pouncing forward at Lee and Biting down on his side. Lee yelped with pain and attempted to loose another Smokescreen to try and obscure Colin's close-up view, but this had the opposite effect to the intended. Instead if backing off, Colin erred away from taking a risk on finding Lee again and just bit down harder on the same area. The pain was overwhelming. Lee passed out, and his last thought before he did so was that he didn't get a chance to say hello to Kate, or for her to know he was here. What a waste.

Silver threw out another Poke Ball that produced a Magnemite, recalling his starter with a scowl. Mike almost burst out laughing. 'Aww, Silver! Just because my team beats yours doesn't mean you have to copy it, you know! You could have gone for something more distinctive, something with a bit more "you" in it! Don't let me plan your team for you in the future, ok?'

'Not funny, genius.' Silver lowered his gaze to the floor. 'Also, my name's not Silver and you know it.'

'What? No, it... Oh, yeah...' It felt like so long ago when Mike had first read his rival's trainer card back in Cherrygrove City - it hadn't even been more than a few weeks or maybe months in reality. With that name, a name so bad he'd given it not at all, not even to the police. 'Yeah, well it beats your actual name, right? Clyde, show us what you've got.' What Clyde had got turned out to be Fire Punch that actually lifted the Magmar off the ground as flames burnt around his fist, punching the Magnemite straight into the wall where it smacked into the tiling, fell down and hit the floor where it lay making slight "ping" noises - partly as the metal began cooling and partly as its structural damage took its toll on it. Clyde simply shook his fist out. 'Disappointing. You should give your all.'

Silver's Haunter wasted no time in appearing and at once began to Curse Colin, who was still on the battlefield after Lee and Clyde were withdrawn. The Ghost type grinned maliciously and frighteningly, spreading its hands wide as it prepared to lay down its curse upon the foolish mortal. Weak little fleshy beings. True, it had had to cut some of its own strength for it to be at its fullest power, but nonetheless the Umbreon would regret the day that it-

The Haunter was cut off mid-word as Colin suddenly leapt at it as it gestured its arms wide, making it powerless to do anything but interrupt the arcane chant with 'Oh, bugger-' before Colin playfully Bit down on it like he was fetching a stick. The Ghost was so weakened already and so surprised that by the time Colin had stopped exaggeratedly shaking it about and dropped it on the floor, with a sarcastic 'I've had my walkies, you have yours now!' it didn't have the strength to get off the ground. As for the Sneasel, looking highly demoralised, it managed one teeth-wobbling Screech before Clyde uppercut it in the torso and punched it away with a Fire Punch, the Ice type losing consciousness before it even hit the ground. 'A triumph, for refined skill over brutish strength!' the Magmar declared with pride as his opponent fell. 'We are reprieved, ladies and gentlemen! Splendid work all round.'

'Hey Silver,' Mike began to say as he opened his mouth and looked up from his team to his rival, 'where'd you get the Sneasel from anyway? The road to Mt. Silver is blocked again for some arbitrary reason, so where did you find the...'

His voice tailed off at the sight of his rival, knelt down in front of his Sneasel, looking at the floor like it had wronged him. '...Why?' Mike heard him whisper furiously, his face mercifully hidden by the enormous red hair. 'Why? All this time... Everything that happened... I deserve to win. I should have won.' His head snapped up at Mike. 'Why didn't I win?!' he roared furiously.

Mike thought for a minute. 'Um, I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I learned early on that you can't win just because you want to. It's about the effort you've invested in them as a team.'

'I put so much effort into them! I trained them up to the strongest levels! I examined and balanced their movesets so they all did something useful! I worked on them so hard!' What surprised Mike was that there were no tears on Silver's face as he glared at him. Just radiant, furious injustice. 'I should have won that!'

'Should you?' Playing entirely by ear, but at the same time knowing exactly what had to be said the whole time, Mike shook his head. 'You said you've worked on them very hard. But you haven't worked with them at all. Look, I'm no mystic sensei. I don't know what it is that makes your team stronger. Maybe Pokemon just put more effort in when they're fighting for something or believe that this fight will actually achieve something useful. But your team don't actually care about you at all. They just fight because... I don't know, fighting's what they do. But they don't care about the fight, or the guy they're fighting for, so why should they try? If you haven't bothered spending time with your team and making them feel welcome and strong, they're not going to bother supporting you when the time comes for it. You've got to actually care about your team too.'

Silver held Mike's gaze for a while, then turned away in frustration. 'I... But that's not what it's about...' There was a long and deep sigh. 'Lance beat me. You beat me. Both of you have made a big deal about trusting and caring about your Pokemon. Both of you care about your Pokemon. And both of you beat me. Maybe... maybe that's not a coincidence.' He folded his arms and huffed. 'I... Ugh... I gotta go and think about things. Maybe I missed something. I always thought they'd win because I told them too... I... Mm. Hmm. Ah, dammit. I gotta go.'

Mike didn't say a word. There was nothing he could say that would help anything. He didn't even speak as Silver picked up his Sneasel, dangling it by one arm before pausing and re-adjusting to cradle it like a baby, and brushed straight out and past him towards the sunlight outside somewhere. The rival paused on the steps for a second, worked his lips for a second  as if working unfamiliar words through them, and managed to say 'Mike?'

'Yeah?'

'If you don't beat Team Rocket now, I will never, ever forgive you.' With that the red-headed delinquent was gone.

Mike stared up the stairwell he'd left through and didn't know what to think. On the one hand, his rival was still as incorrigible as ever. On the other hand, maybe he was starting to learn something about caring for his team and looking after them. On the other other hand, there was no telling how much of this message had actually gone into his head and taken root. The next time they met (Mike had long since stopped doubting that would happen), he could be just as bad as before. He may have just considered what they'd said and decided it was wrong. He didn't know. It could go either way.

On the other hand, the city was in trouble and the Director needed rescuing.

Silver would deal with himself later. Mike turned, and came to face the depths of Team Rocket's new underground hideout. Hehad to worry about this now. And the first thing to worry about was the security system. A complex set of switches and barriers, set to trigger on the activation of the respective switches, arranged in a formation to directly trap anyone who set them off in the wrong order. A fiendish puzzle designed to keep out any who didn't know the correct system and method of opening it, which he could spend hours fumbling through desperately and getting mobbed, trapped and punished by Team Rocket members for getting the sequence wrong.

Or...

The Grunt on the other side of the purple barrier looked up at the sound of thumping on the shutter door. 'Anyone over there?' he heard a voice from the other side of the gate call.

The grunt frowned and stood up, looking at the gate with surprise and slight confusion. 'I've been up top for so long I forgot the shutter sequence. Lemme through, will ya?' the voice on the other side called out.

'One sec.' The grunt thumped the switch and the purple door scrolled upwards slowly. As he looked up to check the arrival he smiled at first at the sight of the skirt and short boots outfit he saw - even if they couldn't 'get up to anything' down here, it'd been him and an all-lads unit down in this dungeon for the last ten hours, and some lady company wouldn't go amiss to brighten team spirits. He then took in a body shape and build that failed to match what his brain had expected from what it had seen, and left him feeling strangely put-down and confused at once in a way he didn't understand. Still, not the kind of thing you asked about. Whoever they were as they become fully visible on the far side of the door they clearly part of Team Rocket, that much was clear. 'Alright then, in you come.'

'Thanks,' Mike said as he stepped through the doorway, not bothering any sort of female impersonation. If they're confused then that's fine by him, but if they realise he's faking a full-blown thing then he's had it. 'I took a brief shift in the Radio Tower. Have you heard 'bout the problem up there?'

The grunt folded his arms. 'Nobody tells me nothing these days.'

'There's some punk kid causing a disturbance. Making a big scene, beat up a load of squaddies just earlier. Didn't you know about this? Cause maybe we should, I dunno move the Direc-'

'Whoa, what? I never knew that! But good thin' you told us, cause we know now!' The grunt laughed as cheerily as he could manage and slapped Mikeon the back. 'Heh, you're a useful one. Now we can get ready for 'im. If he tries comin' down here, he'll find that we put out twice as many guys as up top. An' they'll all have orders to beat him whatever it costs. Let's see him try his luck on that! Good thing you came down now!'

'Er... Yeah... Great thing...' Well done Mike, you colossal moron. 'I... gotta go. I need to be in the middle of the underground in ten minutes.'

'It's only four minutes away from here. You got time-'

'I like the walk.' With that Mike brushed past the Grunt briskly, raising his head in distaste to make his point. Just act confident. Don't slip up - literally, in these shoes...

The Grunt frowned to himself, and called after the lady. 'If ya get time off, I know where'll be nice for you to go! Don't worry about it, I'm a nice guy!'

He probably wouldn't want to, anyway. There was something about that body type in that outfit that made him very uncomfortable. But it never hurt to make offers.

Well, Mike had bypassed one barrier safely and without wasting time - a good thing too, because inside he knew he'd have been there for hours otherwise still pulling levers desperately. Now, though, he got the feeling the useless disguise might actually just save his life down here. As he walked among the goons and crooks filling the underground corridors, at least most of which were Team Rocket, he knew that he could be in real trouble down here. There were criminals everywhere - and swarming him in these corridors would be like catching Magikarp out of a pond (which was easier than even extreme enthusiasts said shooting in barrels was, although Mike never understood why you'd do that. Waste of a good barrel). And they looked mean. These were people who had been pent up in the same dull grey corridors for hours on end while everyone else got on with the attack above them, so if something happened to get in their way they would not mess around. They didn't look like they were in the mood for games as Mike slipped awkwardly but unidentifiably between them. And down here, there were no witnesses.

It was primarily this thought, although it was accompanied by a number of others on guitar and drums, that kept Mike's head down as he wandered meekly through, vaguely following the signs on the underground walls on cheery golden-coloured noticeboards that Team Rocket hadn't had the ability or just inclination to strip away yet. It mostly seemed to be storage - pallets and pallets and rows and rows of boxes and barrels clogging up the halls more than the people did. Where there any offices? They'd surely be keeping the Director in an office, right?

In fact it took a long time of random walking to come across two grunts stood together, their backs to something behind a barrel. Mike stepped up to them and said he needed to get past and their time on duty was over for now, anyway, so they may as well take their leave while they could and get a few drinks. They believed him, too. It seemed like Team Rocket's briefing for their 'muscle employees' carried the stipulation of 'Must be able to tie own shoelaces' and job description of 'If you meet someone who doesn't agree with you, hit them', but little more - not that he was complaining.

He rounded a barrel of some sort and all at once suddenly came face to face with the Radio Tower Director, who on first inspection looked like a tailored suit being left mid-decoration with various veils being attached. He edged forward. On a second look it turned out there was a person inside, bound hand and foot and sat with a slump against a wall. This was a surprise. They weren't keeping the Director in an office after all - they were keeping him in a dead-end.

Mike cleared his throat. 'Um, hello?'

'Mmph!' The Director's head snapped up at once and looked up at Mike desperately. Mike made a quick shushing motion. 'I'm here to rescue you, see? Don't be too loud, or every grunt in the city will be on us. Please?'

'Mmph!'

'I'm going to guess that's a yes.' Carefully, Mike reached down and pulled the gag out of the Director's mouth. The Director took a deep, thankful breath, then looked up at Mike's eyes and said 'Thank the stars! I was starting to think you'd never come. Good thing an upstanding young chap like you has made it down here to give them a bally good showing-to, I say!'

It took all of Mike's willpower not to stuff the gag back into his mouth again. Somewhere in the back of his mind a guilty thought was saying Oh, no. That Executive actually did have his act down right.

'Yes, yes sir, I'm here to rescue you. I have- Look, I hate to interrupt you when you're speaking, but we really don't have a lot of time here. How long have you been down here?'

'I'd say, oh, about a good few hours... maybe a day or two. Time quite loses its meaning down here. Are the Elite Four coming to sort that nefarious criminals out and put them in their places?'

'They, er, sent me on ahead. Look, I-'

'Are you sure? I'm a pretty open-minded chap myself, I'd say,' the Director wittered on as Mike cringed inside, addressing the situation as casually as if he was discussing the issue over tea in his office and generally giving the impression that he didn't care what was said so long as he was the one saying it, 'but I'm not sure the Elites would chose a representative of such strange tastes. That is, I say, one who would come to rescue me in such an... unusual attire.'

'I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Well... You do know you are wearing a skirt, right?'

'Yeah, I know. It's hard to miss. I'm undercover.' And getting sick of this.

'Ah! What a clever manoeuvre! You show much promise! I am sure that all the world will know of your talents before too lo-'

'_{Oh for goodness' sake.} Can you shut up, sir?'

The Director blinked. 'Beg pardon?'

'I said can you tell me anything important about the Radio Tower, sir? Like, say, how to discretely access the very top floor?'

'No problems. There's a shutter on the third floor to stop being people bunking off to the top floor to smoke or look at the view or whatever is it they get up to when they should be producing finest quality journalism and entertainment programs. It can be opened with a card key, like this one here,' the Director said before he thought (as usual), and awkwardly twitched his shoulder upwards, his hands writhing tied behind his back.

Mike sighed and reached over to his suit pockets. 'This one?'

'That's the ticket!'

Please be quiet...' Mike extracted a small gold swipe card, and pocketed it. 'Thanks for the help, sir.'

'Ah! Er... What are you going to do with that?'

'Don't worry, I'll... give it to the Elite Four when they arrive so they can have a good look around. It's nothing to be afraid of at all, why'd you ask?'

'I didn't... But I trust your judgements, I suppose. Strapping young lad like you, can keep his head in the game. Apropos of nothing, why would they need to search the Tower?'

I'm pretty sure that's not how "apropos of nothing" works, thought Mike. 'Well, since you've been in all this mess down here, it only makes sense Team Rocket is also after your business,' said Mike.

The Director's face became a picture of shocked horror, albeit one drawn by a rather expressionist artist who believed that intelligent reactions should not force a compromise on the curliness of the moustache. 'Good lord! That would be a disaster waiting to happen!  With control of the Radio Tower, Team Rocket would be sure to leave out details like news and shipping forecasts!'

'That's hardly a-'

'No, imagine it! Imagine the crashes off Cianwood! Imagine whole areas being stranded without any form of reliable news, effectively cut off from society! Oh, and they could send out a signal to control every Pokemon in the region and them evolve when they like and do whatever they tell them. That could be a problem as well,' he added like an afterthought.

He looked back up at at Mike again, and smiled. 'Good thing that hasn't happened yet, eh?'

'Er... Yeah...' Mike didn't have the heart to say it. 'We need to get into action then, since they won't wait for us before they try and secure everything to make it safer. I'll just take the key and go then, shall I?' Please?

'By all means! I wish you the speediest and heartiest of-'

'Sorry, can't let them realise we've talked.' Pushing the gag into the Director's mouth with perhaps a little too much force, Mike re-addressed the suit so he looked as desperate as before, without the reassurance he needed of Mike having been present. The last thing he needed was a guard wising up suddenly. Standing back up again, he brushed down the black outfit he was wearing and looked down at the Director. 'I'm sure you understand. If they knew, we'd be in trouble. But don't worry, I'll take care of this for you.' He tipped the regulation Team Rocket hat and smiled. 'I'll deal with this, Mister President.'

Heh. Well, Director actually, but it was close enough. He'd always wanted an excuse to say that.

'Mmph!' The Director stared up at with shock, concern, awe and encouragement at once, which was an achievement in and of itself. 'Mmphhh mmph, mmph!'

'My thoughts exactly. All you have to do now is stay here and be calm, please?' If you can manage that, he added privately. 'Good luck, and hopefully I'll have some too.'

He left the Director there. He felt bad, really, but technically he was safer there than coming with him. Also, if he never had to deal with the kind of voice that can say 'Daring do!' and mean it again then so much the better for him.

Now to find the fastest staircase out of this dump.

He found one. With a polite nod to the grunts standing (although 'slouching' was a more accurate term) on guard at the bottom he climbed the stairs and thumped the door release switch, taking a deep breath. The air wasn't particularly fragrant down here but it was definitely improving. The shutter rumbled up to reveal... some sort of warehouse. Another one. Not like Team Rocket's one, which was more like a mass grave of unwanted supplies than any sort of coherent storage unit, this one was neat and orderly with things stacked in marked boxes. And... oddly familiar. Huh.

Mike suddenly realised he might be in public again, and wasn't really dressed like a hero. Infiltration was over - there was only really one place to go, and they knew who he was there. He quickly pulled off the black Team Rocket cap, tossing it casually down the stairs, and reached for the R-emblazened shirt. Hmm... No wait, it was ok. He slipped off his rucksack and opened it up. Yes, he still had his red jacket in there, under the fishing rods, the collapsable bicycle and the watering can. That was a relief. He tore off the shirt and threw it away, zipping up his jacket in its place. Phew. Damn thing barely fitted him anyway.

What is this place, he wondered as he wandered through the aisles of supply crates. It was neat, and organised, and seemed to cover every kind of supply a person might reasonably want to purchase. His fingers brushed along the top of a crate as he walked. I know it, I swear...

He rounded a corner at the end of an aisle of products, and came face-to-face with two men in fluorescent high-visibility jackets that denoted industrial work, two Machokes with a crate clasped under each arm and a man in a bright Goldenrod Department Store uniform with a clipboard and a pointer. They had been moving crates, but they froze as soon as the kid came round the corner. Mike froze too in surprise, and from the looks on everyone's faces it was hard to tell who was the most surprised.

So there are people down here!, Mike was thinking joyously, even though his legs wouldn't move. That's it! Of course he knew this place! When he came to the Department Store for the first time, he'd pressed every button in the lift and had ended up in the basement where a bunch of men and Fighting-types moving boxes had told him to buzz off (or something approximating to that)! This was somewhere he knew after all! Thank goodness! He just hadn't expected there to be anyone else down here.

The workmen were surprised for reasons for reasons that were both similar and very much different at the same time.

There was a long, drawn-out silence, ended by the fact that Mike had the better reaction times. 'Uh... hey there!' he said with almost manic cheerfulness. 'Is this the Goldenrod Department Store underground warehouse?'

'Uh, yeah,' the manager in the store uniform said dumbly as he stared at him. He was confused. The Machokes were confused as well, although that was because a lot of things confuse them. Strange people arriving out of nowhere confused them.  So did the word 'architecture', and most numbers over forty.

'Great! Great.' Don't think about it, just make it look like you're the only one here who knows what's going on. They'll get behind you then and do all the rest for you. 'So, that means there's a lift to get out, right?'

'Uh, yeah.' The workman pointed off towards a wall without turning his head.

Mike flashed a smile desperately. 'Good! Good! Well then, I guess I'll be taking my leave then. Thanks for the advice!'

'Yeah. No... no problem.'

There was a silence you could spread on toast.

'Um...'

'Yes?'

'...Um, you do know you're wearing a skirt, righ-'

'It's been one of those kind of days,' Mike snapped irritably, before turned and storming away from them towards the wall.


---


The lift bing-bonged merrily as it arrived at the top floor of the Radio Tower, the gold card key still in the swipe panel, and for the first time that day Mike was genuinely nervous. Of course, he'd had a sort of low-level background fear that came from being in a criminal hideout during the peak of their operation, but the actual fighting with the grunts or even the other Executives that had tried to stop him before and now on the way to the lift hadn't really troubled him that much. He'd just sort if believed that he'd never lost to them before, so it wouldn't happen now. Even the lady Executive downstairs that had been there in the Mahogany hideout too hadn't frightened him - after all, he'd beaten her once already. But now, he realised, this was probably going to be it. The final battle. He was about to attempt to take down an entire criminal organisation. No-one since Red three years ago had even dared to do such a thing. All the nerves he hadn't faced all day had come to collectively assault him now, at the end.

Well, it was a bit too late to turn back now. He was here, his Pokemon were here. Nothing else he could do. It is a great motivator when a man knows that he doesn't have any other choice anyway.

He forced his legs into action by sheer will and stepped out of the lift into what he hadn't been expecting. The top floor was almost solely comprised of a large, circular room with windows all the way around the walls. For a second it was almost like being back in Olivine Lighthouse again. Only now instead of a sick Ampharos and attractive Gym leader, here there was just a man in a black jacket stood with his back to him.

'Ah,' he heard the man say calmly. 'Do come in. I've been expecting you.'

He turned, and in that instant of discovering his true identity Mike was astonished. That is to say, there was no big reveal. He'd created a thousand situations in his head about who he might meet as he'd ridden the lift up to the top floor, and they had all been wrong. The leader of Team Rocket wasn't secretly Professor Elm, or Silver, or even Whitney or anything. It was... some guy. He had green hair. Mike almost felt let down amid his distress. Where was the poetic justice in that? Where was the narrative justice in that? Certain things are almost expected of a final showdown!

If he concentrated slightly, he thought in that moment that he could hear the ghostly voice of Harry the Sudowoodo in the back of his mind, laughing sarcastically. But he ignored it.

'I'm glad you made it, in a way,' the Executive said with a cold smile as he folded his arms at the sight of the boy. His voice was tinged with a distinct Kanto accent. 'You can be a demonstration that Team Rocket is alive and powerful to this very day. You know, in many ways you impress me, boy. Most others would have turned and fled long ago. Is it stupidity, I wonder? Or are you fearless, too much so to consider when you should be backing out? Are you scared, boy?'

I'm here because I've kind of got to be, Mike thought. I'm here because I've never lost a man to your Team yet, so I have no reason to stop. But am I scared? Yes. Very much so. This could go horribly, horribly wrong. But he refused to let any of it show, no matter how scrutinising the Executive's glare was. He could be scared, sure, just don't let it show. Then, even you don't have to deal with it. He said nothing, just held the Executive's gaze steadily.

'...Hm. Very interesting.' The Executive broke off first, but only to sweep his hair out of the way. 'This Tower is the last stage of our plan. If we take the Radio Tower, Giovanni will hear our calls to him, and will know that we are worth returning to. Not the shabby underground squad that failed so often before. He'll know we are a serious, committed organisation, and will return and lead us to rightful glory. Although you may not be around to see that.'

A thought struck straight across Mike's brow, and naughtily said: A message to Giovanni? Is that all? The Director had a greater plan for them to use this tower for than they do themselves! Mike had that thought quietly strangled - he needed every reason to take this guy seriously, or he could make major mistakes that might not be repairable.

'Then I've got bad news for you,' he brought himself together enough to say. 'The police will hear your message. The League will hear your message. But Giovanni? He's gone. He's not coming back. You've done a good job,' he added quickly, in the hope that it might ward off any sudden movements the guy might make, 'but he's not coming back. I don't think he wants to.' More words came to him. 'After all, if he's refused to return after so long, maybe it's because he doesn't want to come back? Maybe he's given the whole thing up?'

There was second's silence that fell like a bomb.

'How- How dare you?!' The Executive was turning a bright, furious red, alnost visible steam frothing out of his ears. 'How dare you?! You, a small boy? You dare lecture me?! You know nothing! He's coming back! Giovanni is listening, and Giovanni is coming back! He will return, and he will lead us to victory! We will once again be the greatest criminal movement the world has or shall ever see! It will be our perfect world!' His eyes flared viciously. 'And you shall not be a part of that!'

Horrible visions of the man coming at him for person-to-person combat suddenly flashed over Mike's vision, with an inescapable end verdict to them. He drew a Poke Ball at random, in a desperate hope he might reply in turn.

'Hah! If that's the way you choose to make your exit, that is fine by me!' The Executive drew a Poke Ball of his own. 'I just want you to know, I actually trained these. Most of our squaddies just steal their team members, but I put some work into my own. And now they're going to destroy you. Houndour! Go!'

Mike stared down at the black-and-red dog before him and thought rapidly. 'Nikki! You're the best one for this job. Help me!'

'I am here! What's up, everybo...' The Lapras' attention faded as she saw the room they were in, with the wide glass windows over which you could see the entire city in the waning Sun. 'Woah... So we're in the sky now...'

'Not quite. Tell you later, we-'

The Houndour suddenly barked and without command leapt at the surprised Lapras, its jaws wide and its tongue slathering as it leapt for the vulnerable, tender part of her neck.

'Nikki! Surf, now!'

'Yeaaargh!' With a desperate shout a wall of water rose and swept the Fire-type dog away, carried off by the force of the wave within a metre of biting down on Nikki's vulnerable body. The Houndour had only spirals for eyes when it washed up at the Executive's feet.

The Executive scowled. 'Those reports had some truthful basis to them, then. I hate it when that happens. Now!' He threw another Poke Ball forward.

Mike blinked, and rubbed his eyes. 'A... Koffing? Seriously? You, the head of Team Rocket, have a Koffing? You, of all people?'

'What is your issue with that, precisely?!'

'Dude, even the guys downstairs at least have Weezings! By the way, your Koffing's problem with me is that I have a Ground type.'

'Use Sludge, now!' the Executive ordered, but even as the Koffing launched the attack Beryl had Dug down into the floor. There was nothing the Koffing could do, no way it could try and make her miss now. Sure enough, the Graveller burst out of the ground with a blow that knocked the Koffing through the air and straight to the floor itself.

Mike looked up at the Executive. 'You can give in at any point,' he offered genuinely. 'I'm starting to get the feeling the rest of this battle may go a very familiar direction - for me, that is.'

The Executive clutched the Poke Ball in his hand like he was trying to smash it. 'I've been relying on this one the whole time,' he said resolutely. 'Time to see if you can handle my best. Go! Hela!'

The mighty black dog before them appeared and let out a howling roar like the tortured spirits of the underworld, its pointed tail flicking as its rib-like back seemed to glow threateningly in the building lights. Its red belly flared and the Houndoom let loose a bolt of flame from its mouth, maximum intimidation radiating from its being. It hunkered down with a fearsome growl, snarling with its readiness to see what foolish mortal had the nerve to face it in battle.

As it happened, it was a mortal so foolish - or perhaps, just so carefree - that none of it intimidation show meant a thing. An opponent who, for all their many silly beliefs and actions, was so truthfully honest that they found it hard to be fazed by such a show from another. The Houndoom looked up at the tall, blue figure just in front of it, with the elegant form, the grey shell and sparkling blue eyes, and realised with a sense of terror that it was smiling at it. It had never had an opponent do that before.

'I think you need to have a bath, little doggie' said Nikki with only a drop of irony, and launched a crushing Surf at the Houndoom that slammed into it, carried it off its feet and smacked it into the floor. The Fire type managed to raise its head, then flopped on the floor again. Even the Grim Reaper has its weaknesses.

'Alright, great job Nikki!' Mike cheered, patting her on the neck and earning a happy trill in response. 'Come on then, Rocket guy, keep it up! This epic battle's just getting started! Come on!'

The Executive just seemed to stare emptily past him. He looked at Mike, slowly down at his fallen Houndoom, then back up at Mike and his still-strong team member. His eyes wavered, or perhaps twitched. Then, in a terrible slow collapse, he fell to his knees.

'Hela... You... tried...' He lowered his head. 'No, boy. It's over. It's all over.'

'...Wait, what?'

The Executive shook his head. 'That was my last one. I was banking on it. I thought it was my best chance. Now... it's over. There's nothing left.'

'You seriously only carry three Pokemon with you? Even Morty does better than that. So now what for you, then?'

'We... We'll go.' The Executive closed his eyes mournfully as if he was atttending a funeral. 'We'll... all go. It's over. I'll disband Team Rocket. We've failed.'

Mike stalled at this. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Perhaps he didn't think this was actually going to happen. But this wasn't it. 'Wait, wait, slow down. You're just going to go?! As in, just that? Give up?'

'Isn't that what you wanted?' The Executive stood up slowly to his full height, even though his head was still down.

'Yeah, but... not this easy! And why now?'

'Because you've proved your superiority in matched comba-'

'What, because I knocked out your Pokemon? I mean, why now?!' Mike was too far into his stride now to notice the Executive gradually approaching him, his hand in his pocket. 'You're at the top of your success! Giovanni, he gave in because he was backed into a corner, in his last hiding place! He had nowhere left to go, so he disappeared! But you? You're on top of things! You're in the middle of the most successful mission you've ever had! You've got plenty of hiding places to run to! Why are you giving up now, here, of all place-'

The Executive's hand suddenly shot out and his fingers stabbed into the pressure point under Mike's ear mid-sentence, stopping the boy dead as his eyes crossed. The Executive stepped coolly over Mike on his escape as he fell to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor.


---


'...I say, though, do you reckon that he's alright?'

There was a voice some distance away, filtering into the haze like it was wrapped in cotton wool.

'Well, then nothing to fear. Tell your boss I say 'Well done', will you? You chaps can leave us now, I think.'

There was more faraway speech, then a sound that might have been doors opening and closing. Mike groaned painfully.

'Ah! He lives! Thank the lucky stars!' The tone and sound of the voice slowly made it deeper into Mike's rising consciousness, somehow registering as a bad thing. Carefully, he lifted an eyelid.

The Director's beaming moustached face smiled down into his. Mike instinctively snapped his eyes shut again.

'Ahh, no, don't go now m'lad!' There was a strong thump on his shoulders and Mike's eyes flew open now unbidden as he rocked up and coughed furiously. He was still on the damp floor of the Radio Tower spire, the light not yet progressing towards sunset. The Executive was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Nikki.

The Director knelt down and patted Mike on the back as he struggled for breath. 'Aha! Knew a good old thump would get the body back to business again! You, my lad, have been on quite the adventure today, haven't you?'

Mike's entire skull ached. He wouldn't have thought it possible before, but it was an unavoidable sensation now. His thoughts were still somewhat fuzzy, but most of his brain had booted back up again by now. He frowned, then undid the action immediately as his forehead creased up and felt like it was taking the skull with it. He squinted instead. 'Uh... How long have been out for?'

'A couple of hours, or so. Long enough for that Executive rotter to make an escape, though, which was what he wanted. If I'd been up here myself I'd have given him quite the hiding, but alas... You're rather lucky, you know. The doctors just left but they said there's no lasting damage. He didn't exactly treat you fondly, but at least you'll be fine with a little TLC from Mother Nature, eh? Just keep your best foot forward,' he continued with a bright, beaming smile.

You aren't the one who fought the criminal underworld and got hit in the head, Mike thought. He pushed himself slowly, but made it to his feet in time. He swayed a few times at first, but then balance came back to him through his discomfort. 'So... Ahh... Is the Rocket guy gone?'

'All of them. Most were arrested, of course, but a lot of those just gave themselves up. Some got away, but from what I hear there won't be any more trouble from them now. Congratulations, Mike. To put it simply, You Won.'

'They're... really gone...'

'Indeed so.'

He'd Won.

Once again, Mike was unsure. He didn't know how to react. He didn't really know what he'd thought he'd feel if this day ever came, but now it had come and he felt... He didn't know. He thought he'd be delighted, or triumphant, or maybe throwing off a snarky one-liner about the Rocket's 'failure to launch'. But now, he just felt relieved. Not even that their criminal empire had fallen, just that... he was never going to have to see them again. He was never going to have to deal with then again. They would no longer be his problem, or his duty to sort out. He just felt like he'd finally won an argument he'd been holding with someone for a long, long time.

Maybe he was just tired.

'Where's Nikki?'

'I have no idea, but you'll be pleased to know that your Lapras is fine. We, ah, took the liberty of checking through your Poke Ball belt until we found the right one, although we accidentally let out a few while we were looking. We got them all back in safe and sound, mind. All is well!' The Director smiled broadly. 'And I have to say, your Fearow was very much close to you. Why, no sooner had we let her out than she flew straight up to your head and perched on it with her wings folded. Keeping an eye over her loyal master, ey, wot?'

Mike immediately put a hand to his hair, feeling for greasy avian poo. He could practically hear Kate's voice from here: Didn't involve me in the big Team Rocket takedown, huh? Well I'm going to prove my point on you then! Huh! It was mercifully not present.

'So, the Radio Tower, and the day, is very much saved. Congratulations!' The Director looked from side to side, despite the fact that the room was totally empty apart from them, and then leaned in. 'In fact, sir, I'd like to give you a very special something. It's the least I can do.'

'Oh, no, you don't have to-'

The Director appeared to believe he did have to, as he continued to reach into his coat pocket. It was beginning to occur to Mike that the Director never actually gave a damn about what other people thought, especially about him, and that this may perhaps have been instrumental in some form to his career success in life. He drew his hand out of his pocket, and opening his grasp gently.

Mike's breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything like it. Or rather, he'd seen many thing like it, but none that ever matched what he saw. The feather on the Director's palm was emblazened with each and every colour of the rainbow, each a rich and simmering shade, the whole feather seeming to glow with radiant inner energy. It looked so unearthly, not just like nothing he'd ever seen but like it didn't belong to anything he'd ever seen. It was as if it had come from another plane entirely.

'This here,' the Director said softly, his normally plummy tone seemingly vanished, 'is my little prided possession. They say it fell from a Legendary Pokemon as it flew. I've had it for many years now, but I think it belongs to someone more worthy. May it bring you as much good fortune as I've had.'

'Sir... I can't take your-'

'Oh, tosh and nonsense.' And at once, it was back to normal. 'I'm not getting any younger, and I've got enough to sustain me for what's left of my time. You've earned it, lad. Keep it. Who knows, maybe you'll meet that Legend yourself one day? I hear the monks up north know about a rainbow-coloured creature.'

Ecruteak City, huh... They did have a lot of legends up there. And Mike really did want to rub it in those monk's faces. He grinned. No. First, there was someone's face he wanted to rub it into even harder.

'Well, thank you sir, I'll... make good use of it.' However that might happen. 'So, I guess... our services here are over? I could do with seeing my mum and telling her I'm alright...' And he needed to go pay tribute to... his fallen friends...

'What? Oh, no!' The Director looked as if someone had suggested adding milk before sugar in the tea-making process, which in certain class circles is nearly punishable by death. He clapped a hand on Mike's shoulder and began to walk him out of the room, more towing him than anything else. 'This triumph will go out to the whole region, m'boy! There's the special news reports, and the interviews, and the guest appearances with The Delightful Samantha (if she's in...) and the staff meetings, and the special broadcasts you'll have to be present on, and all the coverage and features that you've earned a space for, and the...'

Mike fought back at first as the lift doors began to close, but in the end just let himself be carried away in the tide of the Director's promotional planning. Yes, he wanted to spend time with his team, yes he wanted to tell his mother he was ok, yes, he wanted to lie down for a nice long time, like maybe a few years, and rest...

But you didn't get this kind of opportunity every day, did you?

Mike smiled as the lift started to descend towards a passable excuse for normality. Maybe he had a future ahead of him in radio broadcast after all.