Advent of an Executive

Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokémon franchise or any related characters. Yes, that does make me cry myself to sleep more nights than are likely healthy.

It was dark, and he could barely see two feet ahead of him. His heart was pounding away in his ears, his breath coming in short gasps—it felt like he had been running for hours, and he wouldn't have been surprised in the least if that had been truly the case. They did so love to force him to his limits; in return, he loved to destroy every preconceived notion any of them had ever built of him, keep them on their toes. If they insisted on forcing him into such mundane exercises, he would force them to rethink their entire game when he broke it beyond all recognition. To be honest, he didn't know what they got out of any of this. They called them tests, trials, exams, they said they were trying to measure his ability to think critically, his physical prowess. They said this job wasn't for everyone, and they had to be sure. He knew he was at the top of his class, he knew that they knew he could dominate any of his peers at any given contest by a landslide. What he didn't understand was why they wouldn't just fucking acknowledge the fact, already, why he had to keep doing this stupid shit. All it proved was that he could out-think even his superiors without so much as double-take.

He'd run this particular maze, before. It wasn't large by any means, but it was tedious, and filled with puzzles that required completion before he could proceed. It seemed to be a favorite of theirs, as he found himself within the maze's depths at least once every few weeks. He'd already learned the path out years ago, and the only thing they changed were the number and locations of the puzzles. (They also claimed to change their difficulty, but he had yet to be impressed.) In fact, the only interesting thing they seemed to have done this time was have him run the maze in the dark, and while at first it had been mildly disorientating, his vision had quickly adjusted; nothing was different. Just backwards. They had made a huge, terrible mistake. The first puzzle had been simple, a game that required him to fill in the rest of the pattern but only displayed in nonsensical symbols. The first time they had given him that puzzle, it had taken him a little under five minutes to complete. The second time, three. This time, he was bored with the game, and so he wrenched the panel on the front of the machine off with his pocket knife (the one instrument they were allowed to bring with them) and knelt, straining his eyes in the dark to make sense of the wires within. It was a predictably short time before he was busy slicing and crossing the wires, mismatching colors in a way that could only seem random but was entirely natural, and not long after, the door wooshed open to allow him passage.

Without waiting, he charged straight ahead. First a right, then two lefts. A wall. To any of his peers, a dead end. To himself, a little secret that he discovered several weeks back, when he had entered with no eyes on him. There were plenty of these all over the maze, mostly because they had to change the layout somehow, and partially because it made it easier to attend to any wounded within its confines; some of the puzzles they had to face were a bit on the dangerous side. Some of their peers were a bit on the dangerous side. Their pocket knives weren't to be used as tools; they were for defense. The trick panels were really a convenience, in that sense. Placing his hand just so at the edge, he worked his fingers over it until he felt a groove, and then with a grunt, lifted the wall by a fraction of an inch, just enough to wedge the toe of his boot underneath. From there, it was simple: the panel just rotated in either direction, and though it was supposed to be magnetically locked, he managed to turn it long enough to slip right through the narrow gap. Sometimes there were benefits to being a beanpole.

Smirking to himself, he let go and watched for a moment as the panel swung back into place and clicked into position. That was half of the maze skipped. Bounding leaps led him away from his shortcut and back towards the exit, stopping along the way for only two more puzzles; one, basically The Last Crusade, had him stepping across a series of letters that he had to determine from what was literally just a Vigenère cipher, which he not only cracked in less time than it took him to read the funnies, but also then used to write a rather disparaging message about the proctor's mother, before dancing his way across as though he were a prince at an elegant ball; the second was little more than a game of Simon Says, but with geometric shapes flashing on buttons in a gradually increasing pattern that he managed to break by pushing the wrong buttons in the right sequence, forcing a backdoor override that opened the door without him spending longer than two minutes at its face. Then it was a final left and a straight through the intersection, and one last puzzle- he had to hack the card swipe on the door, having had to skip the portion of the maze in which he would receive his passage out. That one was a little more tricky, as it was difficult to see the wires inside with the light shining in from the glass door out, but after nearly five minutes of solid work, the lock clicked open, and he stepped out of the darkness and back into the light.

"Next time," he said as he reentered the briefing room, "maybe you should blind-fold me." His proctor looked less than enthused.

"Lambda," he said in a tone that seemed patient, but dripped with irritation, "what did I tell you about tampering with the equipment?" The boy, Lambda, shrugged one shoulder in what he hoped was some semblance of caring, because he really, really didn't.

"And what have I told you dumbasses about shoving me in that stupid maze?" he replied, "Christ, you people didn't even change the puzzles! I'm glad the cipher is randomized each time, because other than that, this is a fucking cake-walk! What happened to this supposing to be a challenge?"

His proctor pursed his lips and scribbled something on his clipboard that Lambda could only imagine- 'shows no regard for superiors, 500% asshole confirmed' was what immediately came to mind-and pointed towards the benches in the back of the room. Lambda sat without any fuss, kicking back and stretching out with his hands folded comfortable behind his head. This was always the worst part of their tests; the waiting afterwards. His peers always took far too long for his tastes, and he couldn't for the life of him understand why they put up with this sort of humiliation. They weren't lab rattata, and to be treated as such disgusted Lambda to a level he couldn't quite explain. The others didn't seem to see it, that way. They began filing in nearly ten minutes later one-by-one, taking their usual seats and laughing and teasing each other over fights, boasting about their times. None of them ever spared Lambda a single glance, or if they did, it was disgruntled, disapproving. Cheater, he could hear them mutter to each other, surely his scores won't be counted. Surely they won't let him continue his training. They said it every time. By now, he had learned to tune them out. They were just jealous, Lambda would tell himself. They were angry they couldn't match his intellect.

The sixth boy to enter found Lambda scowling at the ceiling, and with a dramatic roll of his hazel eyes, took the unoccupied seat next to him, stretching out just the same. "I see you made it out early, again," the boy greeted nonchalantly. Lambda didn't reply. The boy turned his attention to his hand, peeling off his glove to idly inspect his fingernails. "I'd have thought by now you would learn to stop pissing off the proctors. You know they'd fail you if they didn't have to worry about your dad." Still, Lambda remained silent, and the boy sighed heavily before leaning over to poke Lambda in the side. "Hey," he said, "are you mad at me or something?"

"...No," Lambda finally replied, and the boy grinned, wide and dazzling. It was the grin that made every day worth it, to Lambda, the grin he strove to see whenever he could. The boy sitting next to him was smaller than him, with soft skin and auburn hair the likes of which Lambda had never seen, before. Alexander was his name-Alexander Strauss. He had lived across from Lambda for almost as long as he could remember, and was the only friend he ever had. Most of his days were spent in Alex's company, something that was made infinitely simple by the fact that the both of them were in the same age group and shared all of their classes. Rarely would one be seen without the other, and rarely would Lambda even want to be seen without Alex. He was the only one among his peers who wouldn't jeer at him, the only one who could handle his pure, unadulterated genius, and for that, Lambda was always thankful. Friends were hard to come by in Team Rocket, it seemed.

Time passed, and soon the rest of the trainees filed out of the maze and into the waiting room, most, if not all of them, looking rather disgruntled when they found the card swipe at the door once again busted, and plenty of them shot Lambda dirty glares as they took their usual seats and went to chatter aimlessly with their friends. Once all twenty-four seats were finally taken, the proctor turned from his monitors and machinery to address them all, looking just as weary as usual.

"Congratulations," he said in monotone, "you've yet again completed a maze. As most of you are aware, there was yet again tampering with the course." Twenty-three sour gazes turned on Lambda, but he merely ignored them in favor of braiding Alex's hair. "Though the tampering was surprisingly minor, this run, unfortunately, two of the puzzles were outright broken before the majority of you could get to them. For that reason, your scores this trial period are going to be thrown out, entirely."

"Oh my fucking Arceus! Are you serious?!" a girl about halfway down the line snapped. "It was two puzzles! Just two! Don't force us to do this again because Lambda was too cool to do it right!" The trainees around her began murmuring to each other, and Lambda could hear their sounds of agreement. "Just let us have our times and throw his out, I am fucking sick of this maze!"

"Rules are rules," the proctor replied grudgingly, "and the rules are, if Lambda screws it up, you all get fucked. Go on, all of you. Class is over for the day, take a break. I'll try and get maintenance to fix everything by tomorrow so we can finally get this over with." The group groaned in collective, and with much complaining and whining, they began to stand and file out of the room. Lambda couldn't help but smirk as he followed Alex towards the door, bringing up the rear; another successful attempt at ruining the days of every single one of his peers, and he couldn't feel better about himself. It was satisfying to see people squirm. Just as Lambda was about to step out the door, however, a hand clamped vice-like around his bicep, and immediately, he stopped in his tracks. Oh. The proctor didn't exactly look happy with him. "Lambda," the man said, a cold fury behind his words, "get your shit together. If you keep fucking up like this, daddy isn't going to be able to help you." For a good second, Lambda merely frowned, brow furrowed, at the man. Slowly, the smirk made its way back to his face.

"Are you going to be the one to explain to Boss that the kid of one of his star trainers got kicked out of training for being too damn smart?" he replied. The proctor didn't reply, and Lambda resisted the urge to laugh out loud. "I thought so," he continued, "you people better find something better than a fucking maze if you want me to play by the rules. Now let go of me before I go cry pedophile." The proctor's jaw clenched and his grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he grudgingly released him, and with a mock-salute, Lambda strode purposefully out of the room and down the hall to catch up with Alex. Boring, he thought as he joked and laughed with his friend, boring, boring, boring. Life was so boring, and if all Team Rocket had to offer him was class and tests, honestly, he would probably have more fun breaking out and keeping on the run from the organization and Interpol, both. Thankfully, that wasn't all Team Rocket had to offer him; after all, Team Rocket had Alex, and Lambda was certain he would never find a friend as good as him anywhere else. The auburn-haired boy was certainly one of a kind.

"Let's eat outside, today," Alex was saying as he led Lambda through the halls and towards the elevator, the usual energetic bounce to his step, "I was up late cramming ciphers last night, so Mom packed my lunch. I have an extra pack of gushers!" Lambda didn't say much, as was his way, but nodded agreeably; usually when Mrs. Strauss packed extra gushers, that meant extra of everything. She was a kind woman, quick to pamper and slow to anger, and what was more, she was a high-ranking field agent, the same as Mr. Strauss, putting Alex more or less in the same boat as Lambda, with his father. All three were revered in their small base as quintessential Rockets. To be honest, it was a lot to try and live up to, most days. Alex continued to chatter as they rode the elevator down to the ground floor, and as usual, Lambda quietly gave his own input from time to time during the short pauses the auburn boy took to breathe. Soon enough they were out on the grounds, heading towards their usual spot by the wall, just under a large, shady tree and next to a rather large pond.

"You were slow, today," Lambda said as Alex dove into his lunchbag and passed him a sandwich, "you came in sixth. You're usually in right behind me."

"You usually cheat," Alex pointed out, "I would be in first if you would stop avoiding the whole stupid maze."

"Either way, you never come out below the top three. You're smart. And fast." Awkwardly, Lambda sat and unwrapped his sandwich, taking a bite out of it to have something to do. Alex never answered him. They ate in silence, leaning back against the tree and watching Rockets bustle back and forth between buildings. The base was small; maybe a couple hundred people total, enough to run the facilities and work the land without arousing suspicion.

The base itself had been built as part of an experiment to see if it was a viable option for Team Rocket to become self-sustaining, and so the grounds consisted of far more than the four buildings and the wall that surrounded them; in fact, their property included a lot of the farmland on the outskirts of town, and many of the Rockets who lived on-base were mere laborers that tended to crops and livestock. Lambda wasn't sure if it was worth a damn, but at the very least, their food was organic-no corners were cut, there. Of course, being an experimental base, sometimes things would develop that no one would ever expect. Years ago, that had been the advent of the best-and smallest- espionage department in Team Rocket history. Spies, assassins, and spec ops alike seemed to be in high demand, and the agents who were best at the trade had all inevitably ended up here, where the highest concentration of Rocket-born grunts lived. Of course, it just so happened that a lot of second-generation Rockets (that was, those born to Rocket parents) were highly gifted and highly ruthless, something the Espionage department prized above all else. A program was developed specifically for these second-generation Rockets, and it was both immensely difficult to get in and pass. If Lambda had heard correctly, only about four to six trainees graduated to work full-time in the Espionage department every few years. The rest either ended up in a different job or... well... died. Competition was fierce, after all.

Lambda was determined to be one of the few that made it, right alongside Alex. That wouldn't happen if Alex refused to tell him when things were going wrong.

"What slowed you down?" he pressed once more, and Alex scowled, pointedly turning his gaze towards the pond. "Was it one of the others?" A moment longer, and finally his friend stopped trying to ignore him.

"There was a trap," Alex said quietly, "I thought I had disarmed it. I did disarm it. It was easy, just flipped a switch on the sensor, but then I actually had to run past it and that asshole Joni..." Joni. Lambda felt the anger begin to bubble up in his chest. Joni was a total dick, and for whatever reason, he seemed to enjoy picking on Alex out of everyone in their class, and though it was tame when they were six or seven, now that they were barely fifteen, it became downright cruel and violent. Lambda hated Joni with nearly every fiber of his being. Joni would not be one of the ones to graduate into the espionage department, of that Lambda would make certain.

"What did he do?" he asked, seething. Alex clenched his teeth and turned back to the pond.

"He reactivated it right before I ran under. Electrified netting. Fifty thousand volts straight into me. I was down for a while." Oh, Lambda was going to murder Joni in his sleep. Still, Alex seemed largely okay, and though Lambda could only imagine the pain his friend must have felt, he seemed to have shaken it off, well enough. There didn't seem to be any pressing cause to worry, and at the moment, that was good enough, for him.

"Damn," he said after swallowing a rather large bite, "that's gotta sting. Next time I'll hang back with you, make sure he doesn't try and pull bullshit like that, again."

"No, no," Alex dismissed the idea with an off-handed wave, "I'll be fine. I'm a big boy, Lambda, I can look after myself." His confidence was something Lambda had always admired. On the other hand, it could have also been glaring stupidity, and that was something he did not admire whatsoever. Regardless of what Alexander wanted, Lambda was going to trail him during the retake. His friend wasn't going to get electrocuted twice in the same maze if he had anything to do with it. Eventually, they finished their lunch, and though Alex invited Lambda to hang around with him in town for a while, Lambda had to unfortunately decline; his father was going to be expecting his results, and if he was late, there was going to be hell to pay. It was there they parted ways, for the day, Alex to catch a ride to Celadon, and Lambda into the housing complex and up to the fourth floor.

It was quiet, when he entered; his little brother was likely still at his training, though his father was sitting on the couch in the den, pouring over tedious amounts of paperwork. Lambda honestly never understood why his father, a personal trainer, had to deal with so much in the way of admin, though his father did assure him it was actually very important work. His father was average of height and stocky of build, with large muscles built from years of training, yet another aspect of his father to try and live up to. Lambda himself was scrawny and already nearly surpassing him in terms of height. Where his father's features were blunt and wide, Lambda's were narrow and sharp. His father's eyes were a hardened brown, while Lambda's were black as the void. In fact, the only feature Lambda found himself sharing with his father was their lavender-colored hair and deep olive skin. Sometimes Lambda didn't mind that he looked so different from his father. Most of the time, he wished so desperately he did.

"Bampás, I'm home," Lambda called out as he removed his shoes by the doorway.

"Welcome back," his father greeted, eyes never leaving his papers, "your proctor called me maybe half an hour ago. Haven't we had this conversation, before?" Ah. Busted. To be honest, Lambda had more or less been expecting this confrontation, but in his mind the belt had been laying on the coffee table before he even got in; considering his father's belt was still securely around his waist and no other belt was in the immediate vicinity, however, Lambda was going to take a bit of a leap, there, and say he was still in the green.

"They put us through the same maze three months in a row," he answered, "I got bored."

"You could have opted out."

"If I opt out, they don't give me my points."

"He didn't give you points today, anyways. There's a time and place for everything, Lambda, but you can't just act outside of a test's parameters." Lambda groaned and slouched over, a look of desperation crossing his features.

"Can't you talk to them for me?" he whined, "nothing I say gets through their dumbass heads. I want a challenge, not a Vigenère cipher." His father finally raised his head, brow furrowed in annoyance as he shot Lambda a warning look.

"What the fuck is that even?" his father deadpanned, and seeing Lambda opening his mouth to answer, quickly cut him off. "No, no, I don't want to know. That's shit you espionage kids have to deal with, not me. Now stand the fuck up straight and keep your mouth shut if all you're going to do is whine."

"Bampás-"

"Don't." A disparaged huff, and Lambda drew himself back up, earning a small nod of approval once he had done so. "Good. Go take out the trash, then you can get back to your studies. I brought you a new textbook, today, I want to see you in chapter five by the end of the week."

"Yes, sir." Obediently, Lambda made his way into the kitchen and set about changing the garbage liner before heading back towards the door with a full bag clenched in his hand.

"Lambda?" his father called just before he could step back out.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'll see what I can do about getting you into a higher test, next month." Slowly, Lambda grinned.

Maybe there was something interesting left for him in Team Rocket, after all.