Petrel had forgotten how long he'd been holding himself up in Giovanni's office, but he knew the costume he'd put together was getting incredibly stuffy. He hadn't told anybody that he was going to imitate the boss while he was here – Ariana would probably beat the crap out of him if she had a clue – so it was a secret between Petrel and the Murkrow. The Pokemon idly pecked at the floor tiles.

He shot a quick look at the mirror across the room, plastering a solemn glare on his face in an attempt to mirror his boss. It worked way too well for him, and almost giggling, he jolted back in his chair, hands to his face.

I'm dead-on! He thought, overjoyed. That kid's gonna pee his pants in terror when he sees 'Giovanni'!

Petrel was more than a little enamoured with Giovanni, an infatuation that had started back in his days as a Rocket Grunt…although he was extremely reluctant to admit it. His Koffings probably knew, after he threw them that secret drunken slumber party.

Forcing back bitter memories of sobbing into a confused Raticate, Petrel became focused on the file tower across the room. His mind swam with the possibilities of what Giovanni could be hiding inside it. Secret internal memos! Candid sexy photos! Dirt on the other Executives! Petrel started to get up…

Someone was unlocking the door. Panicking, he resumed sitting, assuming a graceful-looking position with one leg over the other and his hands folded on his knee. The suspect came in; he was a young boy – certainly no older than twelve – with messy black hair stuffed under a cap, backpack in tow, and an Umbreon following obediently. The boy took a few steps into the room before freezing up in shock upon seeing the black-clothed form across the room.

It's working! Petrel exclaimed in his head, resisting the urge to smirk, knowing it would break character. The boy continued walking until he stood face to face with Petrel, silent, his face affixed with a bold stare.

Petrel laughed, his voice strained to be deep and throaty. "We've been waiting for you. So you are Ethan…"

"Who are you?" The kid asked indignantly. Petrel felt a pang of disgust; how dare he think he could talk to Giovanni this way!

"Me?" His brow furrowed. "You don't know who I am? It is me, Giovanni. The majestic Giovanni himself!" He broke out in the most villainous laughter he could produce at that moment.

"Really? 'Cause, like…" Worried, the kid looked down at his Pokemon companion, then back to Petrel. "You don't sound like him at all."

The comment hit Petrel like a wave of bullets. He blinked a few times, visibly wounded, before managing to say, "…Huh? I don't sound anything like Giovanni?"

"Yeah, and I know he doesn't have purple hair." The kid pointed at his own chin. "Or, like, whatever that is on you."

My goatee! No!

"I don't even look like Giovanni?" Petrel would have normally found it stupid to be fighting with a kid, but his ego had been damaged too much for him to bear. "How come? I've worked so hard to mimic him!"

"I don't want to sound rude, but you really need to work harder."

Furious, Petrel whipped off the jacket and hat, coming to stand before the kid. "I am a Team Rocket Executive!"

The kid looked a little more menaced now, although maybe a little confused.

"You must be trying to sneak into the radio-transmitter room. Well, that's not going to happen." Petrel slipped his hands into his pockets, smug. "That room is protected with a special password. The password is 'Hail Giovanni'."

This was what happened when Petrel was allowed to choose passwords for anything.

"Surprised to hear it from me? Knowing the password won't help you, though. The door won't open unless I say the password. It only reacts to my voice."

"I see," the kid said sharply, reaching for the Pokeballs on his belt. "Looks like I'm going to have to get a little 'help' from you!"

Dang, he's good, Petrel thought as he reached for his Zubat's Pokeball.

•••••

Defeat wasn't anything new to Petrel, but this time, the sensation of it almost seemed to sting his whole body. Losing to a little kid, of all people? If his boss ever found out…

"I…I couldn't do a thing…Giovanni, please forgive me…" Petrel felt his shoulders drop, words leaving him like air from a dying balloon. He hurriedly handed over the 880 as per his listed reward.

"Is there anything you can tell me before you take me up to the radio-transmitter room?" The kid crossed his arms. He was getting a little too cocky for Petrel to stand, but the man nodded calmly anyways.

"Since disbanding Team Rocket three years ago, our Giovanni has been missing. But we're certain he's been waiting for the right time for our revival…"

There had been rumours that he was in hiding permanently, which Petrel refused to believe in. He'd even found himself punching out a few of the grunts who speculated that Giovanni was dead. He was better than that!

Petrel found himself laughing a bit. "Losing to you won't change the fact that you are unable to get in the radio-transmitter room! You need my voice to unlock it!"

And with that, Petrel turned and rushed out of the room, laughing over his shoulder. While distracted he wound up unfortunately colliding abruptly with the wall. He skittered back and steered himself out of the office; the faster he got into his quarters, the less of a chance the kid had of messing with him again.

Don't take it so harsh, he told himself. You got beat up, but you made a clean getaway, just like Giovanni would have wanted! That kid can't do anything without your voice!

That was when the thought hit him, almost as hard as the wall.

I forgot the Murkrow.