Heyyy so I've decided that I'm going to aim for monthly updates. It's easiest with my current schedule, without super long breaks between chapters. I'd love to do some oneshots for the upcoming holidays, but unfortunately I'm not as far along into this as I'd like for that just yet. That being said, I still plan on posting in November! Hope you guys like this one.
Cyrus walked downstairs only to find Giovanni, Maxie, and Archie all sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him. The kitchen table was where they did business. Usually, Cyrus was informed of such business. Today was a surprise, and not only because Archie was awake before noon. Whatever this meeting was, it had to be important.
A rare moment of emotion escaped him. He'd forgotten what 90% of emotions were like thanks to years of repressing them, though they were slowly coming back to him unbridled as of late much to his dismay. Excitement. That was what this was. He hadn't experienced it in a long time. Annoyance and disdain were usually his go-tos. Recently, in a moment of supreme weakness, he'd felt true despair, another that had eluded him for so long, when the competitor he was rooting for was kicked off Poke Ink. He'd fallen off the couch to his knees sobbing, inconsolable. Ever since Maxie got his tattoo, they'd all been really into it thanks to Archie hiding the TV remote whenever it was on so they couldn't change the channel.
Cyrus had felt a divine connection with that Honchkrow. It should've won, no question. Any Pokémon that could stab its client in the eye with a tattoo needle then keep going while said client was writhing on the ground in unbearable agony deserved to be applauded. Why it had been booted off mystified him. The tattoo hadn't turned out particularly bad either considering the difficult circumstances, not compared to that ghastly one the Gastly had produced. It had evolved into a Haunter as soon as the clock started, giving it extra points for showmanship and the unexpected new bonus of hands to do its work, but Cyrus was unimpressed. Its client had passed out at the sight of it, giving Haunter the easiest canvas to work with and the thing still ended up botched. Honchkrow was at a disadvantage- it had wings- and it had still outperformed at least half the other contestants. The client had even given it a thumbs-up when the producers visited him in the hospital later where he sported a fashionable eye patch.
If only Giovanni still had his contacts. He could have those idiot judges dealt with. Many believed him dead and wouldn't take too kindly to seeing him in the flesh after he didn't show up at the radio tower takeover by his executives, even though everyone knew Giovanni couldn't possibly be deceased, because he would've had the most high-class, lavish, and dignified funeral ever if he was and everyone would've known about it. The world cried, "But why else wouldn't he have shown up?" Probably because he knew the incompetence level of his own subordinates, Cyrus thought. Now that they'd been brutally wasted by yet another ten-year old (there seemed to be no shortage of those), they were far from ideal for sending on missions. Archer was too unreliable to send out in his current fragile state. Ariana was trying to keep things from falling apart more than they had. Petrel was either surrounded by Koffing or disguised as one of the others, with no in-between. Proton would undoubtedly leave a bloodbath in his wake, though personally Cyrus wouldn't mind. He could've used a madman on his team like that. Instead, he got...
Well it didn't matter what Cyrus's former admins were. It was all behind him now. He ignored Jupiter's voicemails, Mars's emails, and Saturn's carrier pigeons. Charon hadn't bothered to reach out. Probably too busy in that secret tunnel under the apartment he used as a laboratory.
The joke was on him. All Cyrus had to do was report that little violation to the landlord and all four of them would be out on the streets.
Cyrus frowned. No, he couldn't do that. Not yet. Not while he relied on them to send meager offerings he could give to Giovanni for "rent." Besides, Saturn would never survive. He was far too delicate. The others would eat him alive, quite possibly literally if they were starving and desperate. He supposed the four of them had once been helpful. Cyrus would be generous and let them keep the disaster they called their home, this time.
As far as he was concerned, for that they owed him even more.
Cyrus took his unfortunate seat between Archie and Maxie. Something had to be done about the setup. Maybe that was what this was about. Another unwelcome flicker of excitement ran through him. Cyrus cringed.
A plate of bacon and eggs sat eagerly atop each of their placemats. Archie had colored them a few days ago: Kyogre for himself, Mewtwo for Giovanni, Giratina for Cyrus, and an angry face for Maxie. Cyrus stared down at the poorly drawn doodle with loathing. Though he did have to wonder how Archie did such a good job on the background. His rendition of the Distortion World was disturbingly accurate for someone who'd never been there.
Giovanni picked up his champagne glass of apple juice and clanged on it with a fork, calling everyone's attention to him as it shattered on impact, sending shards of glass flying and sticky amber liquid spilling everywhere.
"Good morning," he began in that smooth meeting voice of his.
Cyrus was already bored. He knew exactly how this meeting would go: Giovanni would try to talk about something important, Archie and Maxie would argue, nothing would get done. Standard procedure. Lather, rinse, repeat.
"Cyrus, you've been here a month now. And while we've tried to be as accommodating as possible, it has come to our attention that you simply cannot cook."
Cyrus blinked. He certainly hadn't been expecting that.
But he could cook, he was certain of it. The microwave was practically his best friend, his only friend in this hellhole. Giovanni didn't know what he was talking about.
If there was one thing he was confident about in this move, it was his newfound ability to feed himself. He'd been spoiled by Saturn's gourmet cooking for far too long. Cyrus was proud of himself for learning the intricacies of microwaveable mac and cheese. And he was amazing at guessing exactly how much time it took to heat up popcorn without using the unnecessary popcorn button. Everyone else always burned it. Surely this was some kind of joke.
"Ha, ha," Cyrus laughed robotically.
Giovanni frowned. Clearly, he was laying into this role hard. "As you know, we have a rotating dinner schedule each night, and one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on weekends. You've only been on this list twice."
He didn't understand. Why should he have to cook? The others already seemed to have it down. He'd made breakfast once as requested, frozen breakfast burritos heated in the microwave, and dinner, dinosaur chicken nuggets, also microwaveable. He'd held up his end of the bargain fine.
Cyrus's lack of comprehension evident, Giovanni decided to continue. "I understand you make most of your meals anyway, but we're really trying to make this easier on all of us. Therefore, we need you to cook for the group more."
Cyrus shrugged. Fine. He wasn't happy about it, but if they wanted to try the tortellini he'd recently been experimenting with that was on them. Against his better judgment, he did want to continue his living situation without interruption.
"You're going to have to learn to cook real food."
Now Cyrus was truly baffled. What wasn't real about the food he made? He was stunned into silence. Deep down, he knew there was no arguing this. Giovanni had already made up his mind. Even though they had all been leaders of groups some might consider terrorist organizations, Giovanni was the leader leader in this household. They all deferred to him, mostly because no one else had a grip on finances. Archie had been partial to the bartering system before he moved in.
The words were out and there was no stopping Giovanni. "We've decided that each of us is going to teach you something different to cook until your skill in the kitchen vastly improves. Your first lesson with Maxie this morning. You two are going to make lunch."
Maxie had a dumb hopeful grin plastered on his face. Cyrus stared at him, wishing looks could actually kill. If he found a Jirachi, that could be a worthwhile use of its powers.
After they finished breakfast and Archie cleaned the kitchen, Maxie dragged Cyrus from the sanctuary of his machines in his bedroom. Giovanni was once more locked in the office, probably to get away from them under the usual guise of "job hunting," and Archie was busy watching some mindless television show. Maxie had neatly laid out a spread of ingredients across the kitchen counter.
Cyrus hadn't a clue how they fit together. Yeast, flour, eggs? Sugar? Those couldn't go in a microwave. He supposed they'd be using the oven. Cyrus didn't care much for ovens. He'd been around them his entire life, but there were much better, cooler machines out there. Ovens were for nerds.
Like Maxie.
"We're making malasadas!" Maxie explained far too cheerfully, to the point where Cyrus was beginning to wonder if Giovanni had put him up to it. No one was this chipper. "They're huge in Alola!"
Cyrus's nose scrunched. "The doughnut things?" He wondered how exactly the sugary treats would make for a good "lunch."
To his credit, Maxie was not the worst teacher Cyrus had ever had the displeasure to work under. He went over things clearly, watched as Cyrus mixed the ingredients. Everything seemed to be going well.
Until Archie's Pokeathlon team lost the ball roll round.
Apparently, simple sports television was not as mindless as Cyrus had been led to believe.
Archie bellowed furiously, startling Maxie. He dropped the measuring cup full of sugar, then stumbled back into the counter, bumping into the flour. The flour spilled everywhere, enveloping them in a white cloud. Unable to see, Cyrus elbowed the mixing bowl, sending raw egg and batter into the mix, covering them with goo. Maxie howled in outrage, clawing the egg out of his eyes, then rushed Archie, who'd lost interest in his sports team and was now thoroughly enjoying the chaos in the kitchen. Maxie tackled him in the stomach, sending both men crashing to the ground. As usual, Archie turned the tables almost instantly, using the coffee table to pin Maxie's scrawny frame to the ground. He struggled to no avail against the wooden legs.
Cyrus was left standing there, looking paler than usual covered in powdery flour with what remained of their sad unfinished malasada batter. The oven hadn't even had time to fully preheat. He made a swift exit toward the stairs. There was no way he was going to be the one to clean up that mess. He had enough cleaning himself to do. The raw egg would do wonders for his hair, but sooner or later he did need to wash it out. Sooner seemed better.
Giovanni came out to witness the commotion, shaking his head and wondering how his life had come to this.
Two days later, Cyrus found himself in the kitchen with Archie this time around. The previous disaster had not been enough to dissuade Giovanni from accomplishing their loftier-than-anticipated end goal.
Archie's grin was bigger and dumber than Maxie's had been. Cyrus remained apathetic. All that lay on the counter was a can of soup.
"Maxie hates soup!" Archie's enthusiasm was soul-sucking. Cyrus yawned. He'd heard this rant before.
"But wait," Cyrus found himself saying. "Can't you just microwave soup?"
"Oh," Archie looked the saddest Cyrus had ever seen him, with one corner of his mouth pulled down. The half-frown disappeared almost instantly, leaving Cyrus wondering if he'd hallucinated it in his desire to finally witness Archie in a miserable, pitiful state. "That's okay, man! We'll make something even better!" Archie opened the window and tossed the can outside, nearly hitting the neighbor's Purugly. It snarled viciously, but Archie was unfazed.
Cyrus regretted ever opening his mouth.
Archie opened the cabinets, tearing through them. "We'll make grilled cheese!"
Cyrus squinted.
It sounded familiar, maybe Saturn had whipped it up before? Cyrus couldn't figure out how one could possibly grill cheese. It would melt and then stick everywhere. Nothing about the concept was even remotely pleasant, let alone the idea of eating it. He shouldn't have been surprised Archie had suggested the messiest meal known to man.
Then again, Maxie hadn't done much better.
Speaking of, Maxie was currently in the room he shared with Archie, a Team Magma sticker in his hand. Now that Archie was occupied, Maxie planned to stick it somewhere on his side where he wouldn't notice, but Maxie would know it was there. He smiled. Everyone would know it was there. He'd send out messages to all his contacts about it. The underside of Archie's Sharpedo lamp seemed like a good place to start.
Back in the kitchen, Cyrus watched fascinated as Archie expertly lathered two pieces of bread with mayonnaise and stuck a piece of cheese and a tomato between them before tossing the sandwich into a pan.
It was so simple, yet so brilliant! Cyrus couldn't believe it. Maybe for all his idiocy, there was a shred of intelligence somewhere left in Archie.
Seeing the sandwich reminded Cyrus of exactly where he'd heard of it: his grandparents would sometimes make them for him. He wondered what they were doing these days. Probably still telling his life's story to any randos who happened to walk in the house.
A loud hiss broke through the sizzling of the frying pan as a blue-and-white blur flew through the open window, taking Archie to the ground.
The Purugly sought vengeance.
Archie screamed and flailed wildly, but he'd left his Pokémon upstairs. Cyrus attempted to save the grilled cheese, but forgot the pan was hot and cried out as he scalded his hands. Pain. At least this emotion wasn't a pleasant one.
Maxie and Giovanni came down to see what could possibly be going wrong now, just as the Purugly's babies, a scattering of Glameow, came dashing through the window as well. How many eggs had that thing laid? There seemed to be no end to the onslaught of Catty Pokémon. They quickly laid waste to the kitchen, scratching everything in sight, but mostly Archie.
The others fought valiantly to save him, only with success when Giovanni sent out his Nidoking, which smashed half the counter to bits, but effectively removed the invading Pokémon from the premises. They yowled in defiance as Cyrus slammed the window shut, locking it tight. Blood seeped from a large scratch that ran down the side of his face from his forehead to his maxilla.
Cyrus found himself once again in the kitchen the next day. He was beginning to hate the room more than he hated the upstairs bathroom with its pink and purple Muk wallpaper.
Giovanni was there, ready to put in one last ditch effort to improve Cyrus's culinary finesse. Both men were covered in Band-Aids from head to toe.
"We are going to make pasta," Giovanni decided. It was safe, and no matter how he looked at it, there was no way it could go wrong. Not when all Cyrus had to do was boil water and toss a ready-made sauce in another pot to heat up.
They got out the supplies. Cyrus filled the pot with water, put it on the stove, and turned it medium heat.
"Perfect," Giovanni praised. If he'd learned anything from being head of a master criminal ring, it was that he needed to make the people beneath him feel important even if they were doing nothing more than eating lunch on their union-mandated break. Cyrus was moody to begin with, and perhaps not Giovanni's first choice for a roommate, but he had to remind himself they needed him to help with rent, despite the fact that housing Cyrus was currently costing more than he was bringing in. Giovanni was overlooking that fact at the moment. It would all pay off in the end.
"Now what?" Cyrus asked in his usual monotone.
"Stay here," Giovanni instructed. "I have to run to the office. If the water starts to boil, put the pasta in." He'd already put aside a set amount for Cyrus to add, micromanaging every little detail so nothing could go wrong. "You can turn the heat down if it boils over."
Cyrus nodded, and busied himself staring vacantly at the stove.
Giovanni glanced over his shoulder as he headed into the office. Cyrus was handling things fine. He just needed a good teacher, which Archie and Maxie clearly weren't. Giovanni reclined in the computer chair, satisfied. He'd be back in the kitchen in less than two minutes. He just needed to respond to Archer's latest email before the executive's abandonment issues got the best of him. Ariana had made it clear that if he left Archer hanging again for more than 24 hours, they were all going to regret it. Giovanni made up some blather about maybe having a mission for him to get Archer's spirits up and sent it along.
Out of nowhere, the fire alarm blared. Giovanni groaned as he stood up. What had those morons done now?
He expected to see Archie or Maxie doing something idiotic per usual. What he didn't expect was Cyrus by the stove, gazing blankly at the pot of water he'd been heating up. A haze had settled over him.
There was no way.
Giovanni ran over to check on him through the dark cloud that was slowly taking over the kitchen. Bubbles poured over the edge of the pot, the bottom of which was completely blackened.
"How did you burn water?" Giovanni wailed.
Cyrus shrugged. This was all Giovanni's idea, from Maxie's malasadas to Archie's grilled cheese to his own ill-fated pasta that was never meant to be. Cyrus refused to be held accountable for any of it, even though none of it would have happened had he a basic understanding of kitchens. He crossed his arms, locking eyes with Giovanni. Let him kick him out. They'd find out exactly what Cyrus had rigged the microwave to do.
Giovanni sighed, the fire alarm chirping nonstop as black smoke billowed from the stovetop. He should've known better.
"I'm just going to teach you how to heat frozen pizza."