Smith, report to Boss's Office. Immediately.
The short text message John had received mid-breakfast was still flashing on his pager, John hastily clipping on his belt while simultaneously finishing off a chicken and cheese toasted sandwich. At least he thought, and hoped, that it was chicken. He'd taken a wrong turn on the way back that had cost him a few minutes, but as he rounded the corner to the office reception area he was sure that he had still made good time.
'Wonder what the Boss wants?' he thought with suspected-chicken and cheese in his gob. Entering the small lobby, the empty desk normally staffed by one of the boss's receptionists, he glanced around before peeking over the desk and brushing the crumbs of bread off his uniform shirt. 'This early in the morning, too.'
Seeing a panel with a speaker and a few buttons, he squinted at the labels before pressing down the one that read 'Boss'. There was an audio crackle, John making sure that he had swallowed everything before speaking.
"Boss, it's Smith." He considered his next words for a moment. "No one's at the desk, but I'm in the lobby."
He took his finger off the button, a moment passing before the speaker crackled again.
"Enter."
The double doors to the office clicked before swinging inwards automatically. John raised an eye at how the voice certainly didn't belong to Giovanni, but he headed into the office regardless. His doubt was confirmed, and his mood slightly soured, when he stepped in to find not the boss but rather Joben waiting for him beside the large desk instead.
The personal assistant, dressed in the same black suit that John had first met him in, examined him for a moment through rectangular spectacles and with a flat expression.
"Smith," Joben greeted without a trace of warmth, the doors closing behind John as he moved to stand ten feet away from the much shorter Asian man. "You seem to be… less red than before."
It seemed to be a perfectly acceptable observation normally, but John still couldn't bring himself to like the haughty fellow. Still, Yari's explanation of the Team Rocket uniforms was still fresh in his mind. 'Suits are at the top.' No one else was around either, so any potential jokes would likely be wasted anyway.
"Thank you for noticing," John instead replied steadily, clasping his hands behind his back with his shoulders squared. "Doctor Yari is doing a fine job, so there's no complaints from me." It couldn't hurt to give the good ol' doc some credit, but what did slightly hurt was the final word he tacked on to the answer with a nod. "Sir."
Knowing who, when, and how much to arse-kiss was a difficult skill to learn, but John had run the office gauntlet for a few years before uni. If the tiny show of respect, admittedly forced, had any effect of Joben's opinion then the assistant neglected to show it as his neutral expression did not change.
"I have summoned you for a reason, Smith. You've been selected for an assignment."
John blinked at that and managed to get most of his surprise under control. An assignment? Did that mean just a job or something bigger? He hadn't exactly put on a good showing the previous day with battling, and he still hadn't been assigned a pokemon for better or worse. What use could he be on a job considering he hadn't even left the base since arrival?
"It's nothing exciting, Team Rocket just requires the pickup and return of a package." Joben picked up a cream-coloured folder from the desk beside him, his brief explanation both causing relief to wash over John while also crushing the small part of his mind that was holding out for a chance at an exciting heist or something similar. "It is to be stressed that the safe and timely return of this package to base is still of the upmost importance however." The folder was held out while Joben looked at him bluntly, John taking the cue and walking over to take hold of it in a gloved hand.
Conscious of the way Joben's nose wrinkled ever so slightly, John even managed to find the politeness to take a few steps back before opening the document, revealing a single white page of paper. Only a few paragraphs of text were written on it in black ink, save for the rather amusing letterhead of the large and red Team Rocket logo and name at the top.
"You have until you depart this building to memorise your instructions, as you must dispose of this document in the secure receptacles before leaving. This is because, in the unlikely event of police apprehension, it is critical that your briefing papers do not fall into unauthorised hands. This rule is the same for all future missions."
John nodded, glancing once more to the incriminating letterhead. He just couldn't help it, just one wouldn't hurt.
"I understand sir. Can't have them link anything back to the organisation, it could blow our cover." He gave Joben a glance, right in his weird orange eyes. "Should I change before heading out? Maybe a new shirt and hat?"
The assistant's eye twitched. A slight movement, but it still brought John a tiny amount of joy when he noticed it.
"You are to follow the instructions to the letter," continued Joben without any further change in expression. "A uniform change is not included nor is it authorised." A pause. "Understand, Smith?"
"Hundi percent." An eye raise prompted a redo of the confirmation. "I mean yes, understood."
"Splendid. You are to be the courier of the item, a secure briefcase. You will be assigned to a driver for this mission, a fellow grunt. They have already been briefed on their role in the operation." Joben cleared his throat. "Your usual pair of… co-workers are unfortunately busy with other tasks. You will find in your briefing that you should remember to keep conversation about personal information extremely limited."
John internally winced, hoping that the trip wasn't going to be too long then. While he was keen to get out and have a closer look at the new world he was in, to see what else was different to home and how accurate his children's books were, a silent road trip was never a fun one in his experience.
He noticed that Joben was waiting for something, and then realised that he had failed to state his understanding. He nodded with a hope it would suffice, Joben thankfully seeming to be satisfied with it.
"Your driver will be waiting for you in the main garage, by the time you reach it your van should be ready to depart. They are still a grunt, but they have finished basic training and have completed a few jobs similar to this already. I am to advise you to listen to their orders as long as they are withing the bounds of your instructions. The garage is on the ground floor of this tower, exit one of the main elevators and follow the signs on the walls. Head to bay eight, it should be simple enough to find…" Joben's mouth twitched. "Even for you, Smith. Don't get lost." The twitch gave way to a thin smile. "Questions?"
'Yeah, ever been bottled you smug prick?'
Reason triumphed that day instead.
"Yes, actually. Is a van the usual method we use for important transport? I would have thought…" He remembered reading about some of the frankly ridiculous examples of technology in a few of his books, specifically the machines that were claimed to be able to transport matter and living creatures across whole regions of the world. Of course they seemed to be solely dedicated to transporting pokemon, as was typical. "I just thought that Team Rocket seemed well-off enough that we'd use aircraft or something else for rapid transport."
Orange eyes regarded him for a few moments, Joben adjusting his glasses with a hand, but eventually it seemed that the boss's assistant judged the query to be a reasonable one to answer.
"We actually have a few alternatives to traditional road transport, though not many can be operated by basic grunts." Joben nodded towards him, as if he was an example. "A number of helicopters and other rotary aircraft, fixed-wing planes, blimps, trained flying-type pokemon, and some more classified means. However, there is some attention in regard to our recent acquisition of the item you'll be carrying, and a low profile is ideal."
A van made sense now. "Sure, I get it. A hot item, the people we stole it from want it back a lot. Flying in on a chopper with a massive team logo on it isn't exactly subtle." He glanced back down to his instructions, specifically to the letterhead. "Please tell me the van at least doesn't have our logo on it."
A scoff. "You can find out for yourself. Ground floor garage. Read your briefing and remember it word for word. Dispose of it properly before you leave. Dismissed."
Joben seemingly didn't even need to hit a button, the office doors swinging back open. Figuring that he wasn't going to get anywhere else by refusing the command, John just gave the assistant a nod before leaving with a steady pace.
"Well," he muttered to himself with a small smile at the guesses of what was to come while he passed the desk and headed to the main base elevators. "That was actually almost pleasant. Progress."
The van parked in bay eight was, thankfully, not sporting a gigantic Team Rocket logo. It was just a standard windowless van, with a single cab at the front with two seats and the rear half hidden behind sliding side doors. It was painted cream white and seemed spotless enough to gleam, a contrast to the surrounding garage bay that was just dull grey metal walls with a scattering of tools sitting on a bench in the corner. There was ample room to move around the vehicle, likely to aid with loading and unloading. The front of the van was facing a segmented wall, some form of roller door that led outside.
John rounded the right side with an amused scoff, eying the van with a shake of his head.
"Feels like it should have 'free lollies' on the side or something."
The spoken observation prompted something to move on the other side, a head with a black hat popping up from behind the left wheel. John looked at the other grunt, the man looking to be pretty young and with spikey black hair peeking out from his cap. Probably about late-teens to early-twenties, although considering the way most people he'd met in this new world appeared to be more youthful and beautiful as standard he could be in his thirties for all John knew.
"Oh hey, the new guy. I thought you didn't get to go on missions?"
The grunt's wide green eyes glinted with recognition and he smiled at John who couldn't immediately place him in turn. He hadn't spoken to many grunts at length save for Max and Viv, and the guy was unusually happy to see him. It took a second, John noting the fair skin and pierced right ear, before it feel clicked into place like the snapping of a finger.
"Yeah, I thought so too, but orders are orders." John waited for the grunt to stand up fully, his co-worker holding a tyre pressure checker in his grey gloved hand. "You're one of the guys from the gym right? Did you end up planning your sesh with the others?"
A laugh, the grunt placing the pressure gauge on the tool bench before walking around to stand next to him. He wasn't the largest guy, a skinny build and eye-height with John's chest even with boots on, but John wasn't exactly the baseline for normal in many aspects.
"No it didn't end up happing, too much work for those other bums." He extended a gloved hand. "Name's Carlos, guess I'm your driver for this one."
"John," glove met glove, John's hand encompassing Carlos's own. "Looks like it, I'm the bagman." They broke the shake, Carlos nodding with his eyes lingering on John's uniformed arm. It was a nice boost to the ego, although many would probably label it unneeded, and the feeling of pride wasn't dulled by the fact that he'd gained more muscle in the past fortnight than the previous three years primarily due to unnatural circumstances.
"You'll have to show me your routine, I've been working on it for a month now. Not much luck." Carlos's own arm was flexed, a small amount of muscle visible. "After the mission maybe," he gestured at the van with a hand, "because I've finished the checks and we're good to go."
"Righto, and sure, we can talk about gym stuff after." John tried to peer into the van through the heavy tinted windows, vaguely making out the shape of the steering wheel on the side he was currently on. Pulling back from the window, he gestured with a nod towards the door before heading around the front to the left side of the van. "Start her up, don't want to have them catch us dragging our heels."
The doors were unlocked, and he stepped into the van to slide into the plain brown seat. The vehicle groaned in protest, briefly tilting to the left before settling back into a centre position abet closer to the ground. A spikey and round purple figurine in the corner on top of the dashboard was the sole decoration, jiggling like a bobblehead at the movement as it looked over the cabin with evil red eyes and a wide grin.
Carlos let out a low whistle as he climbed into the driver's seat, a hand readjusting his cap while he closed the door. Already expecting what was to come, John busied himself with trying to get his seatbelt secured around his gut.
"Good thing these are built strong enough to haul the big pokemon ay, no offense though."
John brushed it off with a wave. "Yeah, I know. I get that a lot." He finally heard the click he was after, and he shifted in his seat. "What are we looking at, travel timewise?"
"Wasn't it in your briefing?"
"Nah, basically I'm to grab the package and hold onto it until we get back to base. Nothing else save for 'don't get captured'."
It was true, his briefing had been sparse with information and was solely focused on the transport of the secretive package. The document had been disposed down a labelled wall chute before entering the garage as ordered, so he couldn't double-check it even if he doubted his own memory. Carlos accepted the explanation with a snort of amusement, the van starting with a turn of the key.
"That's normal for Team Rocket, higher-ups love their separate briefings. We're both on the same mission, and all I've been told is to drive to the location and back. You're the only one to hold the item, unless the cops or whatever nab you and not me." Carlos pressed a button somewhere next to the steering wheel, a loud beep ringing out from the garage bay before the door started to slowly raise up into the ceiling. "We're heading to Saffron through the Russet Tunnel and bypassing Cerulean, so a few hours each way if we're lucky with traffic." His finger flicked the pokemon bobble head with the door almost all the way up. "Gotta be wary of police blockades though, but I know some backroads if needed."
John turned to him with one eye raised. "Done this a lot then?"
"A few times, I've done a couple of these sorts of jobs already. Saffron used to be my old stomping grounds when I was a street punk a year ago, so I know the area well."
John nodded but didn't ask anymore questions, the van starting to move out of the bay and into the early morning sunlight. Saffron made sense, from what he'd read it was the capitol city of the country he was in. Well, they were called 'regions' instead of countries according to the books, John still not sure if they were more like states or separate nations in their own rights. Saffron was home to a bunch of big corporations and banks in addition to being the largest city in Kanto, so it was probably full of targets.
Pulling out onto a small, paved road connected to a large central circle with multiple other roads leading to what John assumed was more garage bays, the van moved with a brisk pace. There seemed to be no other traffic that morning, the roller door behind them closing as soon as they had left. Dusty canyon walls seemed to rise up almost to the sky all around, John turning in his seat to look at the base for the first time in daylight.
Impressive didn't really do the Rocket HQ justice, the shiny purplish-grey metal structures dominating the otherwise desolate landscape. The main building and the connected tower oozed 'sci-fi villain' vibes, helped by the various dishes and antenna dotted around and on top of each structure. Of course it also wouldn't be a Team Rocket base without the multiple logos painted on each building, the large and bright red R announcing to everyone in the surrounding area that the infamous criminal organisation had a presence hard to miss.
"How have we not been busted yet?" John wondered out loud, a set of cameras mounted on a lamppost next to the road visibly moving to track the van as it sped past.
Shrugging while driving, turning onto what seemed to be a main double-lane road, Carlos answered. "Don't know, guess we're just good at hiding what we do." He noticed the stare sent his way, and he titled his head at John. "What? Sure sometimes we get caught, the bad grunts at least, but this canyon is hidden pretty well so we've never actually had cops rock up." Attention was returned to the road, a tall metal fence with large gate coming up. "The old HQ got blown up or something before I joined, but everyone I spoke to about it who was there said that it wasn't the cops."
'Blown up or something'. John wasn't surprised to hear it if the old base had been constructed with a similar aesthetic to the current one. He was pretty sure that the seppos back home had absolutely demolished Waco and Ruby Ridge, and those guys weren't nearly as overtly dangerous as Team Rocket seemed to be. Sure they had sawn the barrels off a few shotguns an inch shorter than allowed, but they hadn't been operating labs with portal generators of questionable quality. Hell, in his own country committing crime while operating out of a massive complex like this one would probably earn you a very short and violent visit from a Tactical Assault Group at the very least.
The van slowed as it arrived at the large gate, and true to form the solid metal barrier also had a large Team Rocket logo on the grey face. Beside it was a sizable guardhouse, the windows of the squat building heavily tinted while multiple banks of cameras and powered-down spotlights turned to focus on the vehicle. John guessed that the large rotating dish on the top of the guardhouse was some sort of radar or sensor, the sharp angle it was at seemingly chosen so it could aim at anything above the ridge of the surrounding canyon. A flicker of light caught his eye and looking at the surrounding fence and gate he could see that some sort of energy or electricity was surging through it.
Carlos brought the van to a halt, reaching down to a radio handset connected by a short wire to the dash. "Van twelve," he stated after checking a few dials on the dash. "Mission ID six, eight, ekans." He let go of the button, John watching the procedure with interest.
"Confirmed."
The reply was all that crackled back over the radio, the gate before them starting to lower into the ground with the deep rumble of underground machinery. Carlos returned the handset to the holder and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while they waited for the barrier to lower.
"From here, we've got a few miles of dirt road out of the canyon, so it's going to be a little bumpy. Most of the pokemon around here are just common rock and ground types and know to leave Team Rocket alone, we already caught all the good ones." Carlos glanced down to his right side; John able to see the first red half of a pokeball thanks to the height difference. "I've got a rattata with me though, if anyone does try their luck."
The pokemon species mentioned reminded John of the earlier battle he'd had against Maxwell, and he shifted in his seat while declining to comment about his own lack of pokemon.
'How does a rat even fight a rock anyway?' he silently thought to himself as the gate finished lowering completely into the ground with a thud. He recalled a picture of one of the rock pokemon from one of the starter books, which was just a rock with a pair of stone arms. 'Can't bite a rock, you'd just break your teeth. If you don't break them biting it, then it'll probably just do it for you anyway when it slugs you one in the jaw.'
Carlos didn't seem to share the thoughts though, the driver happily smiling to himself as he accelerated out from the grounds of the base and over the lowered gate. Paved road turned to smoothed dirt with a little bump now and then when they went over a rock, but John was used to driving on unsealed roads so it wasn't a bother.
From the sounds of it they still had a bit to go in the canyon, but John was keen to see what was out there when they reached the main road. The flight to the base at night made it seem like Kanto was a land of heavy forests and large fields, which matched up with information in the books, and he was eager to confirm it with his own eyes. Gleaming cities, small towns described as rustic, great lakes and rivers, a total population the size of a small European country, not to mention the legion of strange sapient creatures that shared it with people just as alien to him as they were. A chance at adventure many back home would dream of, even if he was only on it because his boss wanted him to help steal something.
"Hey," Carlos broke his thoughts with the query. "Mind if I turn on the radio?"
"Go for it," John answered while starting out his window, also interested in hearing what the foreign world considered good entertainment aside from pokemon battles. Focusing outside, he stared at a large boulder by the side of the road, swearing that it shook with movement when they passed.
A click was immediately followed by noise, Carlos fiddling with the radio dial in order to find the station he was seeking.
"…words that many think highlight the continuing tenson that lingers between the Indigo League and Unova despite a decade of-"
"So a sunny day is due in Vermilion with a low chance of rain in the evening time."
"-alling Champion Lance out on the perceived lack of attention paid to raising crime levels, highlighted by last night's mysterious theft of Silph Co. property-"
"A free premier ball, that's right! Absolutely free with every purchase of-"
"And now back to the top one hundred hits here on Radio Ninety-Nine, continuing on with number thirteen currently on the charts, Pokemon World!"
An unexpected chill ran down John's spine, and he tore his attention away from the outside window to look at Carlos. He was met with a grin, his fellow grunt already slapping the top of the steering wheel in time with the opening beats.
"Oh yeah," cheered Carlos as the lyrics of the song started. "This one is a banger, can't believe it's only number thirteen!"
John's small smile, an attempt at maintaining the friendly atmosphere despite the ever-growing pit in his stomach as the song lyrics repeatedly reminded him that he was indeed in a pokemon world, struggled to stay as it was while the song continued. The urge to turn off the radio or set it back to the news so he could learn more about the world was strong, but his adherence to the unspoken rules of road trips was stronger. Rule number three: the driver controls all audio in their car, no one else.
"Po-ke-mon." The other grunt was oblivious to John's growing distress one hand on the wheel while the other was moving as if he was dropping a rap track. "Uh! Uh!"
'A few hours each way, if we're lucky with traffic.'
Carlos's previous words regarding the trip time reverberated in John's mind, fighting for attention with the repeated lyrics about being the number one master. Turning back to the window John tried to focus on the rocky landscape they were speeding through, making the attempt to distract himself from the radio by searching for any pokemon he could spot.
'Going to be a fun first job. Why couldn't I be stuck with Max or Vivian instead? They're probably having a blast.'
Maxwell could only sigh and hold back tears as he returned a singed and weeping Ratterick to his ball, his pokemon having fought hard but there was only so much he could do when facing a well-trained pokemon like a lab-raised charmander. The monster in question was standing proudly in the middle of the grassy field with his forearms crossed in front of his chest, a young teenaged trainer standing behind him with vibrant orange hair and matching overalls. Flanking the boy was a slightly older and fatter kid in simple shorts and a tee, his head as bald as the wooper grinning next to him, and a short girl in a white sundress and wide-brimmed hat who clutched a gloom in her arms.
He returned to the group of five grunts behind him, Vivian shaking her head without a word said, and turned around to reface the trainer trio while the pack of rockruff the group of Rockets had stolen cowered in the cages behind them.
"Give it up you crooks!" the middle trainer demanded, his charmander nodding in agreement. "You can't beat us, so give the rockruff back and we'll let you go!"
"Yeah!" The fatter teenager patted his wooper on the head. "Jiggles already beat two of you, are rattatas and zubats the best you've got?"
The grunts all looked at Vivian at that, Max wincing at the toothy grin his partner sported. She plucked Weave's pokeball from her belt and tossed it up and down in the air.
"They're just kids," he quietly whispered to her, but Viv only laughed with a hand on her hip.
"Brats should know not to stick their noses into other people's business," she taunted, the trainers narrowing their eyes at her. Stepping forwards, Vivian expanded the pokeball in her hand with a click of the button. "Looks like I'm going to have to teach you all a lesson… a painful one!"
With that she tossed the ball in between her and the teens, Weave materialising in a bright white glow.
"Weave!" she announced, looking at the challengers before her and giving them a fanged grin. "Weavile, vile-eav!" She flexed her claws and interlocked them, making a show of sharpening them against each other with an ominous scraping sound. Both the girl and the fat boy grimaced and took a step back at the sight, the middle trainer holding strong. However, both he and the charmander looked far less confident than before.
"Weave," continued Vivian, the weavile cocking her ear in response without looking away from her prey. "These twerps and their runts think that they're better than Team Rocket just because they beat a bunch of zubats and rattata! Show them how a real 'mon fights, starting with that charmander." Vivian's mouth twitched. "He burned Ratterick like a typical fire-type bully, don't go easy on him."
Maxwell was of course depressed that he'd lost against the teenagers, and the way Ratterick had started to cry when he'd caught a particular nasty burn from an Ember hurt even more, but Viv's words and the way Weave scowled at the news brought a little happiness back to his heart. Even if Weave was likely about to absolutely brutalise the culprit in return.
At least, that had been the plan.
Both opposing sides turned when there was a rumbling from the nearby forest, and a young girl with a female rattata perched on her blond head burst out from the foliage with heavy panting. Her blue dress and yellow jacket were covered with leaves and twigs, but she paid her dishevelled state no mind as she stood up and pointed a finger straight at the group of grunts.
"There!" she cried in her high-pitched child voice. "They're the ones who kidnapped your rockruff friends!"
"What the…" Maxwell muttered with a frown as many pairs of orange eyes peered out from the forest leaves. Then his own eyes widened, hooting and hollering ringing out in the previously quiet field as a pack of mankey leapt out from the trees to glare at the grunts and the cages behind them. There must have been close to twenty of the angry things, but worse was the pair of primeape that hopped up and down in the grass while angrily snorting through their wide noses.
The trio of trainers and their pokemon cheered at the sight of their very angry reinforcements, Weave looking back to Vivian and Maxwell with her smirk wiped off her face. The other grunts were already backing away as if they could hide behind the cages, the rockruff held within all waging their tails and barking at the sudden tactical shift.
"Ah, fighting types," Vivian groaned with a hand sliding down her face. "Of course, they have to be mankey as well."
She turned to meet Max's defeated look, even as the mankey and primeapes declared their charge with shrieks of rage.
"Well hopefully John-John is having a better day than us Max, because ours is straight up fucked."
"I'm poke-poke-poke-poke-poke-proud of you my hokey-pokey, okie-dokie, not-too-soaky-"
A slam of the van door thankfully silenced the radio playing in the cabin, even if it was a temporary relief. Carlos closed his own door with a gentler touch than John, a whistle still on the grunt's lips while he bobbed his head to the tune. There was no comment from the larger of the grunts, John silently staring into the dense forest of trees before them while plotting through gritted teeth.
'Personal plan: Get in the boss's good books. Acquire power. Destroy all radio stations. Hang the music producers.'
It was a work in progress, Carlos stepping out in front of the van to stand beside him. He seemed oblivious, the driver twisting around in a quick stretch and looking around.
"This should be the place if I remember the briefing correctly, look for some statues of grass pokemon. Locals used to worship nature spirits ages ago."
John decided that it was not time to question Carlos on his musical choices and instead did as suggested. Not that he knew what many grass pokemon looked like, but he reasoned that man-made statues would stand out. Sweeping the forest in front of his with his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder back towards the dirt road they had turned down a few minutes ago. No one seemed to have followed them from the main road, the van having passed a sizable number of cars and trucks travelling on the highway. It was only midday as well, and he wondered what the traffic would look like during the evening commute.
"There!" His co-worker's call drew his attention back to the task, Carlos pointing at something just in the trees ahead. "Come on John."
John followed the smaller grunt, Carlos brushing away a branch to reveal a stone statue almost as large as he was. The pokemon on it was just a ball with legs and a face, leafy hair sprouting from the top.
"Oddish, and there's a bellsprout." The second statue of a spindly plant with what looked like a gumnut for a head was familiar to John, having stuck in his mind thanks to the similarity to gumtrees. "That means our contact should be here."
John peered through the foliage, the dense forest canopy filtering out most of the midday sun before it reached the ground and making it fairly gloomy as a result. Pokemon cries echoed out from within, the breeze rustling leaves on branches and carrying a floral scent mixed with moist dirt. The pair of them hadn't crossed the natural boundary between forest and grassy field, each next to the statues on the very edge, and neither seemed particularly eager to go in. John felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he felt like they were being watched, his eyes darting to a large and hefty stick nearby that could do in a pinch if things went sideways.
"Are we supposed to use a passphrase?"
Carlos shook his head at the question, his mouth opening to answer but he was cut off before he could.
"None needed, grunts."
John jumped and his hand twitched towards the beforementioned stick when a man jumped down from a high tree branch just next to Carlos, a shiny silver briefcase in his hand. Carlos for his part seemed to shit himself when the stranger appeared, the smaller grunt almost falling backwards in surprise. Two other humans, a chubby man with short brown hair and a stunner of a women with curly silver locks then made themselves known by advancing out from the bushes further within the forest, matching grins on their faces. Their white uniforms with black boots and gloves caused John to pause his lunge for his makeshift weapon before it began, the large red R in on their chests leaving no doubt as to their allegiance.
All three pretty much had the same uniform on, a triangular spilt in the bottom of the white tops showing the black undershirts they all wore, except that the female member had a skirt that showed a generous amount of midriff instead of pants. Not that you would find John complaining about that, she was just as attractive as the few women he'd seen around the Rocket base during his short employment already. This was the first time he'd seen one who wasn't a fellow grunt or nurse though, and he recalled that the white uniforms meant that these guys were considered to be actual agents. Not the best Team Rocket had, but a certain step up from the usual foot soldier.
Speaking of foot soldiers, further bushes rustled and John saw a number of grunts in the back, although only their leaders moved towards the tree line.
"We were told to look for the pink grunt with a weight problem," the agent who'd jumped down from the tree explained, ignoring the wide-eyed Carlos who he passed on his way to stand before John. The initial smirk the man had softened though when he gave John a quick look over with warm amber eyes, black hair framing a chiselled face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine rather than a criminal. "Though I admit you're slightly less fat than I imagined, thankfully. I'd hate for the Team's beauty standards to slip." He flipped his carefully styled hair and smiled down his angular nose at John, the other two agents sharing a laugh at their colleague's observation.
'Is everyone in Team Rocket a failed fashion model?' John thought to himself as he glanced over the three agents, taking note that even Carlos wouldn't have any trouble scoring. He could think of a few ways to respond to the verbal jab, but he reminded himself that he had a job to do and that the agents were higher ranked in the Team than he was. Besides, it was hardly the worst he'd heard before.
"Saves carrying around ID on jobs," John instead replied with a nod of his head, the agent he was talking to raising an eye. "That way if I'm not in uniform, you can still tell I'm a Rocket without the massive R's giving it away."
His answer earned a scoff from the agent, but the man smiled regardless. "I hope you're not slandering the uniform, Grunt. They may not be subtle, especially when you're trying to pull off a quiet infiltration, but they're quite fetching." A glance was thrown to the other two, before the three agents performed various poses to show off their forms. "Team Rocket!" they all said in unison while making vague R shapes with their hands and arms, their grunt followers repeating the phrase with fists in the air.
John couldn't help but softly shake his head at the display, the agent with the case noticing. Rather than reacting with anger however, he only smiled wider.
"Ah, don't be so sour, you'll be straight into the Team Rocket spirit soon enough." A pointed glance to John's belt. "You're obviously a newbie, you don't even have a pokemon yet, so I'll let it slide this time. A word of advice though, the Boss likes it when the Team conforms to his vision, so you better not forget to join in on the Team Rocket cheer whenever he's around."
A smile was brought to John's face at the reminder of his meetings with the no-nonsense leader. "I'm aware, Boss is a big fan of cheers. Really brings out his jolly side."
This time it was the agent's turn to shake his head, tutting as he did so. "The ignorance of rookies." Still his grin remained, and he turned to look at the female agent when she cleared her throat. She gestured to this side, the male agent focusing on the case he held. "Right, the job." He turned back to John and held the case out for him to take. "Remember the objective, do not let go of this case until you've given it to the Boss or his admins back at base." John accepted it with a nod, the agent continuing with his hand falling back down to his side. "Took a lot of effort for us to get that thing, and Silph Co. is furious right now so be careful heading back."
The briefcase was light in John's hand, although it was wider than normal with a solid shell of metal on the outside. He nodded at the agent, remembering his orders well.
"Understood, I'll take good care of her." He paused, glancing back at the van. "What about you fellas?"
All three agents shared mischievous smirks, the one speaking to John chuckling darkly. "Oh, we're still stuck in Saffron for a while to run some clean up and diversions. The cops are clueless enough already so they'll probably not be an issue, but Silph's been boosting their security teams up lately with foreigners. Some tough guys among them, but they're not really the type to play nice with others." The agent brought his gloved fingers up to his lips in a chef's kiss. "A little bit of chaos into the mix courtesy of Team Rocket, and… walah! Cops and Silph mercs will be bickering and falling over each other in no time, stopping the investigation cold."
The short laugh that followed was accompanied by the rubbing of his gloved hands, the agent shaking his head before giving John a look and glancing at Carlos. "Now you grunts need to leave and bring that case back to the Boss, you've done enough standing around ogling the real talent of Team Rocket." One last smirk. "Get some successes under your belt and they might let you retake the training exam again, so you're not just playing postman all the time." The smug man nodded at John with his smile wide. "You especially Pinky, you're going to need a lot of successes with a belt that large. Maybe an exercise regime as well."
John quietly scoffed at the remark but let it go without a mean reply, the agent's tone not completely malicious even if the other two hid laughter behind their hands. Besides, John hadn't missed how the man had three blue pokeballs with red ridges holstered on his hip instead of the usual one or two red and white ones, and he was willing to bet that they weren't all rattata in there. He wasn't trusted to carry even one of Team Rocket's beginner pokemon yet, and the agent wasn't exactly wrong either.
"Already working on it," he said with smile of his own, before looking at Carlos and gesturing with his head towards the van. "Come on Carlos, you heard him. A few more deliveries and they'll let us play in the forest with the other grown-ups."
The agent shook his head and rolled his eyes, but still seemed in a good mood while he walked back into the forest with a farewell. "Good luck rookies, don't get caught."
John and Carlos returned to the van with the other Team Rocket members already having disappeared from view in the foliage. Despite not being able to see them, John could have sworn that he had heard a few giggles and amused snorts when he boarded the van and caused it to shake again. Carlos joined him in the cabin, thankfully turning the radio down so they could talk and quieting yet another song focusing on just how great pokemon were.
"Wow," the fellow grunt started while still staring at the forest. John, placing the silver metal case in his lap but still holding the handle, noticed how Carlos's hands shook on the steering wheel. "That was awesome!"
Furrowing his eyes, John tilted his head slightly to the side. "What was? It was just some casual banter; dude wasn't that bad really. I was expecting an agent to be a bit more of an arrogant prick."
It seemed to be a reasonable guess considering Team Rocket's line of work, the higher you go the smugger and cruel they get. Much like a corporate business really, which Giovanni appeared to run the organisation as, you rarely find nice people at the top. Competitive environments and all that. John liked his boss despite the issues between them, but he was sure that Giovanni had to have more than a few skeletons in his closet. Or at the bottom of the ocean with cement shoes on, given the mobster vibe he gave off.
Then again he had been interacting with the same two grunts for most of his employment, and while Max was a softy Vivian more than made up for it. Maybe she had set an extreme baseline of what he was expecting in Team Rocket, or it could be that he was used to casual jokes and conversations back home that would probably be considered aggressive and cruel by these peoples' standards.
"Not that," Carlos answered, still staring out the windshield while he started the van up. "Though you got really lucky with that guy, I've seen agents sic their poison types on grunts that tic them off." He shook his head. "No, I mean we just met with three agents. Three!"
"Is that unusual?" The van was reversed in the grass, turned so that they refaced the road they'd come down. "They're just a rank above, aren't there others higher up?"
"Sure they're just B rank, just," replied Carlos with a look to the rear-view mirror, the van leaving the forest behind. "I've only ever seen one at a time back in base though, apart from one day back when I first graduated the training academy I saw a pair heading to the boss's office. Their meowth was able to talk though, so that was a bit more interesting." Another shake of his head. "Nah, three B-rank agents on one mission is rare, John. They also said that Sylph were the target, so whatever is in the case is probably worth a mint."
The case in his lap was somewhat heavier now, and John tightened his grip on the handle.
"Probably is, I dunno. We better get it back to the Boss double-quick then, so we don't get the hit squads sent after us."
"Pretty certain we don't have hit squads." There was a pause, Carlos glancing at John while he drove. "Ah, I mean I don't think we do. You're talking about agents with all fighting types right? Most of them use poison and dark types."
John blinked. 'Jesus, and I thought this guy used to be a criminal even before he joined Team Rocket. Surely they've got gangs, bikies, and mafias here that don't just use pokemon like everyone else seems to?' An idea popped up. 'Or maybe I'm just using the wrong word, not tacking on enough 'poke' sounds.' Either way, an explanation was in order.
"No Carlos, I mean guys the Boss sends out to off people. Fixers, hit men, employed murderers, death squads, you know..." He struggled to think of what to say next. "We've at least got bikie gangs right? Keep a few on the payroll and pay them in drugs or whatever to break shins and kneecaps?"
His attempt to explain was met by Carlos frowning at him. "Dude, that's messed up. No way, worst I've heard is one grunt who was stripped naked and dumped in the ocean after being fired for stealing pokemon from the Team and selling them on the black market, but they dropped him close enough to the shore that he was able to swim to land. Don't know what he was expecting, we control most of the black market in Indigo so it was easy to figure out."
Another glance to John, the main road coming up around a corner. "And you've got a weird idea of what biker gangs get up to, they mostly just cruise the routes and battle trainers for gambling and drinking money."
"Fine, I take it we don't then." John conceded the point with a shrug. "Still, I'd rather not get fired less than a month in and tossed in the sea, so let's get back to HQ anyway."
"My plan exactly, fellow grunt. How about we stop talking about morbid stuff, and put on some more music to make the trip fun?" The van turned onto the paved grey road that formed the main highway for cars in the area, John briefly closing his eyes but remembering the rules of the road trip as Carlos turned the volume of the radio back up.
John didn't say anything else as they speed along the highway, fewer cars travelling away from Saffron than towards it. Upbeat pop music filled the cabin, promising everyone that your love for pokemon could solve all of life's poke-problems, and instead he tried to resume his task of spotting and remembering the local pokemon in the fields they passed.
If it wasn't for the way Carlos bobbed his head to the tunes and seemed to genuinely enjoy the grating lyrics, John would have guessed that it was some kind of horrifying hazing ritual thrust upon Rocket rookies.
A few uneventful hours passed on the road, the traffic thinning out once they passed a few small towns along the way. Despite the massive areas of grassland and forests all begging to be exploited, human settlements seemed few and far between. Pokemon were a different story, John wishing that he had thought to bring his identification cards and maybe a book or two along.
He'd spotted bull-like tauros and pink cow-looking pokemon in fenced off paddocks, guessing that the creatures were similar to cattle. Various birds fluttered about or perched on trees by the road, John not really able to recall their names save for one: pidgy. Apparently they were about as common as rattata and speaking of the little rodents he'd caught sight of a few flashes of purple and cream in the grass. Large butterfly pokemon dipped down into flowering fields, butterfree if he remembered the name right, and they had caused him to wonder if this world had spider creatures and if so just how large they could get.
Not that John wasn't used to large spiders, and they generally weren't total pricks unlike centipedes, but he could go without meeting an angry huntsman that could breath fire or do something equally as dangerous.
It did raise another question in his mind however, the van passing what looked to be a herd of horses that were on fire galloping away at the rear of a field.
'Where are the flies? It's hot enough out for them.' He never thought he'd miss the annoying insects but thinking about it he'd also not seen any references in his learning to them or to any other common bugs like ants or mozzies. He had also read that pokemon weren't shy about eating each other, and in some cases the larger and more aggressive ones were said to fancy a human snack or two. 'So what happens to all the corpses of stuff that dies and isn't eaten? Surely there's got to be some tiny bugs that work like flies and ants do. Maybe I've just missed them so far.'
Another field with a fence and a large house far in the distance contained more of the tauros and pink-cow pokemon, the bovine creatures happily munching on grass or lying under the shade of the occasional tree. Turning in his seat to watch them pass into the distance, John remembered the meat-heavy dishes he'd been eating as part of his mandated diet plan.
Were the bull pokemon sapient, and were they what he'd been eating? The rattatas he'd interacted with seemed intelligent, Ratterick had even hopped onto the bench to watch him read the day prior, and he had observed the way Weave had interacted with other pokemon using gestures that were too human-like to ignore. What about fish, surely fish here weren't sapient as well?
'Then again, what does it really matter if they are?' Thought John after a minute spent pondering the questions. 'They eat each other all the time apparently, and Viv seems to think that Weave really likes hunting other pokemon for food. Who knows, maybe the 'humans' here are some kind of pokemon as well, and it's normal.' A glance away from the window and down to his uniform shirt. 'I can hardly moralise considering I joined a criminal group within a few hours, granted.'
Like pokemon battling it may be a topic that he would have to accept as being normal for where he was. Having every animal suddenly turn sapient enough to understand how to count to five upon command would certainly throw the understanding of the world back home into disarray.
'Maybe another of case of 'When in Rome do as the Romans do', I guess. I can put the existential crisis off for another time.'
The van he was travelling in slowed and turned to the left, John looking up and away from his thoughts to see that the new and smaller road they were on did not lead to Rome but instead to what seemed to be a small service station on the side of the highway. Glancing over Carlos he noticed that the van's fuel gauge was still over half, and he raised an eye.
"Why are we stopping, fuel?"
Not that he had any reason to doubt his colleague, but John tightened his grip on the suitcase handle anyway. The previous conversation about the estimated worth of their transported item caused him to be a little cautious, and he spared a quick glance around the service station to confirm that it was mostly empty save for a single ute parked around the side. A few red fuel pumps and a small brick store were all that it was, a large sign with fuel prices and the promise of hot food and beverages stuck on the top facing the road.
"Coffee time," Carlos yawned with a hand over his mouth. "I need a little pick me up, and this place is quiet enough."
John blinked at his fellow grunt, the van pulling up next to the pumps. "Mate, I don't think that's a good idea." A nod towards the case he held. "You can have a coffee after the job is done."
"Nah, I want one now." Carlos seemed set on his desire for coffee, turning off the van and pocketing the keys. He smirked at John. "Don't tell me you're worried, I've done this before. Besides, I thought you were a guy who seemed like he was fine with bending the rules a little." He opened the door and started to slide out of his seat.
"Yeah, a laugh here and there maybe, but we've got explicit instructions to return this case asap."
"Relax, we will." With a wave of his hand Carlos brushed him off. "Without coffee though I can't promise I won't fall asleep at the wheel, crash the van, and then we'll never make the delivery. Feel free to sit here and think about that, I need my go juice. Trust me, we'll be out of here real quick in a few minutes." A wink and the door was slammed shut, Carlos starting to walk to the service station store with his hands in his pockets and a whistle on his lips.
"Fucking caffeine addicts are the same everywhere," John cursed to himself, before he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. More specifically, the large and bright red R that dominated the front of his uniform hat.
"Shit." He tried to roll down the window as fast as he could, the stiff handle fighting him all the way, to try and catch Carlos before he disappeared through the shop doors. "Oi! You're still wearing your uniform you bloody idiot!"
Carlos was already inside however, the clear glass door shutting behind him. John reached for his own door handle while releasing his seatbelt, however he stopped halfway. It was already too late to stop Carlos from causing a panic, and what was he going to do when he got inside anyway, drag him out by the scruff of his neck? The other grunt did have the keys on him as well which was a problem, John couldn't even drive away without him if he wanted to.
'Maybe I should just sit and wait for a bit see what happens.' His eyes flashed to the metal case in his lap, still snug and secure. 'One grunt could escape notice, and he's fairly normal looking without the uniform.' His own pink face was reflected in the silver case, reminding John that he didn't exactly have a look that would be forgotten when describing him to the police. 'I'm probably worrying for nothing. Calm down John, Carlos is an adult and he's done this before. He's a professional.'
So instead he opted to just sit and fidget in his seat, waiting for the driver's return. At least with the engine off the radio wasn't playing, and a cool breeze was blowing past with the scent of fresh grass. Resting his arm out of the open window, John flicked the dash with a finger and waited.
Movement from the back of the store caught his eye, and he sat up when a bipedal creature walked out from the building and headed for the van. A bright red hat sat atop what looked to be a skull, with the creature's tan body, cream-coloured underbelly, and thick tail making it look a dinosaur. A small dinosaur at that, John guessing that it wasn't much more than a metre tall. A bone almost as tall as it was held in a stubby hand like a club, although the pokemon did not seem to be aggressive in its approach.
It circled around to the pump next to the van, John poking his head out around the tinted glass and through the open window to look at it.
"Uh, hello?"
"Marowak." The pokemon, John fairly certain that it was a 'marowak' given how they all were named after their speech, spoke in a deep voice while it pointed to the pump with the bone. Taking a few moments to look it over and then noticing the service station logo matched the one on the marowak's hat, he met the brown-eyed stare with his own eyes.
"Oh, fuel?" A nod from the creature. "Nah, thanks. I think we're just here for coffee." John frowned and peered around to the doors leading into the shop. "Although if you're going back inside, do me a favour and give the guy dressed in black a whack with that club of yours, get him to hurry up."
The creature's shoulders bounced with a chuckle, but it shook its head at him before turning and heading back to the store. "Marow-row row-wak."
"Yeah, fair," John conceded while he watched the pokemon return to the rear of the building, disappearing around the corner. "Probably against company policy or something."
More minutes passed with no Carlos in sight, John starting to drum his fingers on door. He was busying himself with engaging in a staring contest with the purple pokemon bobblehead on the dash, having sworn that the wide red eyes had glinted, before a loud thump sounded out from the direction of the store. Whipping his head around, he saw the large display window at the front shake from some kind of impact, the glass too darkened for him to see through properly. What he could see was the slight white glow that shone out through the gaps in the doors, one of them blowing open briefly from some kind of force.
Sighing, John went for the door handle and stepped out of the van, the vehicle sagging to the side when he did. Looking down at the metal briefcase still held in his gloved hand he briefly considered leaving it in the van in case something serious was going down, but then again his orders had been specific. Do not let go of the case.
"Shit," he muttered, sparing one last look into the cabin before shaking his head and shutting the door. "Better to take it with me just in case, there might be thieves around."
Adjusting his Team Rocket hat with his free hand John walked towards the service station store, his black boots tapping on the asphalt as he closed on the doors leading into the building. There were no more thumps or other sounds, the area having fallen suspiciously silent. Clutching the suitcase and hoping he wouldn't have to use it as a makeshift bludgeon, John pushed open one of the doors and stepped inside.
The scene that greeted him was concerning. A few rows of shelves were in the centre of the small store, bright packages of various food and other items mostly lined up neatly save for one corner where some items had been knocked to the floor. Lying in the middle of the pile of fallen goods was a male rattata if John remembered the colour differences between the sexes correctly, the creature out cold with an almost comically swollen lump on the top of its head. What he assumed was the pokeball for it was nearby, lying forgotten on the cream floor tiles.
Two men in red aprons and matching caps, the younger of the pair's apron holding a number of tools, stood by the counter. Both were on the larger side and shared the same blue eyes and short-cut hair, but the older gent was grey in the hair and sporting an impressively thick moustache compared to the clean-shaven and brown-haired younger man. Both turned their heads to look at him at the same time in surprise, and the elder outright scowled at John while holding a corded phone in his hand.
It only took a moment to figure out why. Carlos, one hand holding a few packets of chips with the other grasping a crumpled takeaway coffee cup, was squirming underneath the dinosaur pokemon that John had seen earlier. Hot coffee dripped off the pokemon's skull helmet while the creature used the bone club to pin Carlos face down on the tiles, straddling the grunt's back with its eyes narrowed. More fallen packets were scattered around them, a pool of coffee spreading out slowly.
"Oh great, another one," the old man grumbled with a deep voice. "Marowak."
The pokemon turned its attention away from Carlos, the man grunting underneath it, to glare at John with fire in its previously friendly eyes. The bone club was raised slightly, allowing Carlos to lift his head and splutter out through a coffee-covered face. Not really willing to get a club to the head on Carlos's behalf, John raised his free hand in the air.
"Hey, I'm not going to cause trouble." Taking a risk and tearing his eyes away from the threatening creature, he met the glare of the old shopkeeper with steady face. "Easy, I'm just as confused as you are. What happened?"
The young man glanced to Carlos and made to speak, but the old-timer got in first with his glare intensifying.
"Confused? I'm not confused, I'm livid!" The hand not holding the phone raised to point a stubby finger at the downed grunt, the tips of the man's moustache quivering with each word. "He's a thief! My son makes him a coffee, we both ignore the stupid getup, I smile at him when I hand him the cup…" The pointing finger chopped in the air with every accusation. "He then grabs what he can off the shelves and tries to run! Larry jumps the counter to stop him, he throws a pokeball at my son and threatens to have his rattata bite him!" The pointing stopped, but the old man made a shaking fist instead. "Marowak thankfully came back in and clubbed the rat, but then gets coffee thrown on her for the trouble!"
"Maro!" The pokemon mentioned agreed with the old-timer with a nod and a glare back down at Carlos. John met his fellow grunt's eyes and ground his teeth while thinking of what to say, Carlos spitting out some floor coffee before trying to talk.
"It's all lies, I was going to come back and pay, I just wanted to put it in the van!" He winced at the cold stare John was giving him. "Joh-"
"Shut it!" John ordered with a jab of his own finger through clenched teeth. "No excuses, Timmy! I thought we talked about this!"
The name was fake, but the venom in his voice was far from fabricated. He had expected something to happen based off the uniform his colleague was wearing in public, not for the moron to try and rob a small service station for a coffee.
Carlos obviously didn't pick up on the reason for the name change, the grunt still trying to wiggle out from underneath the marowak with his face scrunched up in confusion. "Who are you calling Timm-"
"Tim, enough!" John took a threatening step forward, and he nodded at Marowak before Carlos could complain again. "Return him to the floor."
Marowak turned out to be on the same page despite having no need to obey John, a short grunt of an affirmative preceding the shaft of the bone club being placed back on Carlos's head, a small push being all that was needed to return his face to the rapidly cooling coffee pool. John ignored the increased thrashing and the muffled cries of protest, instead turning back towards the shopkeepers.
"Thank you, Marowak. Now…" He nodded at the son, the young man staring at the struggling Carlos with a dazed expression, before taking a step towards the counter and the old man behind it. The grumpy geezer was about almost redder with anger than John was, but he hadn't made any additional moves. John, eyeing the phone handset held in the shopkeeper's grasp, let out a loud breath and held up his palm again.
"Sir, I apologise for what my cousin has done to your son, pokemon, and store." He shook his head sadly. "He's not all there I'm afraid, completely crippled with autism from birth." John was familiar with the disorder, and hoped that the shopkeepers weren't, but it was the first thing that sprung to mind. "It's not an excuse for what he's done, and I'm sorry that I wasn't here to control him properly."
Marowak allowed Carlos to come up briefly for air, a few splutters before the grunt's face was forced back down to the floor. The shop owner's son blinked his eyes and looked to John. "Autism?"
"Type Nine. That's a big nine out of ten on the spectrum scale." John was still seething at Carlos, but it was a great internal struggle to keep from smiling. "It causes him to be antisocial and often violent when he doesn't get what he wants, lowers his impulse control, horrible stuff." He turned around to hide the way his mouth trembled and swept a hand in the air over the shelves. "As you can see, he clearly didn't think this through. He wanted something and just took it, shameful." The anger rekindling in him helped him get his expression back under control, and he refaced the shopkeepers.
"Autism," the old man scoffed, although he did lower the phone he held. "I haven't heard of anything like that before."
"It's a new discovery in human psychology. The field is mostly dominated by pokemon-focused research, so it takes a while to get out there. There's a few autistic people out there, but there's hope for a cure."
The elder snorted through his nose. "Sounds like a bunch of bunkum. An excuse to cause trouble like so many young people do." His eyes narrowed. "Though not many of them are stupid or 'autistic'…" the old man made a quotation mark with his free hand "…enough to try something in my store."
John shrugged and gestured to the marowak sitting on Carlos, her eye shifting to look at his hand as he did so. "Case in point: You'd have to be more than a little retarded to throw coffee on a marowak as impressive as this one and think you could get away with it." He gave Marowak a nod. "Again, I'm very sorry he did so."
The son tilted his head before nodding to his father. "He's got a point, Pops."
"Pah!" Still, despite his protest the man's glare was starting to soften. Then after a moment it hardened again, a finger pointing this time to John. "Oh yeah? What about those freaky costumes you're wearing!" John spared a look down to the red R on his chest. "You're even wearing matching gloves and boots! Very suspicious!"
There were a few seconds of silence, John keeping his smile up. Then, he laughed with a hand over his gut, but made sure to give a sorrowful shake of his head as he did so.
"Well, you're right, they are costumes. Silly aren't they!" He wiped a non-existent tear from his eye, the old man frowning at him. "They're from Timmy's favourite TV show, I forget the name of it. One of those over-the-top action ones with the superheros and such. He really likes the guys who wear this on the show, so his parents had some made for him and any of the family who go on trips with him. Supposed to keep him calm or something."
He leaned over towards the two men, holding his hand to his mouth in a whisper. "The other cousins and I think it's ridiculous, but Tim's parents slip us a little extra to do it. Besides, you've gotta help family." He stood back up straight and looked at Carlos. "Only thing he enjoys more is trains but dressing up as one of those is a bit much even for me."
Marowak lifted her club and let Carlos up again, green eyes meeting John's in a look of utter betrayal. However the grunt was slowly catching on to the plan, and the conflict going on in his mind was visible in his stare even as he managed to mumble out some words.
"I… I like trains."
Scoffing, if only to disguise his strangled laugh, John tutted and waved a finger at him.
"Timmy, if you keep acting out like this the only trains you'll be seeing will be the ones in prison, and you'll be the tracks."
Not forgetting about the rattata, John knelt down next to the fallen 'mon and scooped him up in his free arm. The empty ball was also retrieved, John not game enough to minimise it before stuffing it gingerly into a pocket. Standing back up and turning, he made a show of looking down at the knocked out rattata.
"And to make matters worse, you pulled poor Ratrick Stewart into this to fight your battles for you." John was in full bullshit mode and on a roll, but he knew they needed to get out of the service station as soon as possible. He looked over his shoulder towards the shopkeepers. "How much is the stuff he tried to steal, including the coffee?" The elder of the two raised an eye at him, likely figuring out where this was leading.
It was the younger man who answered first, looking over at the packets near Carlos.
"Uh, it looks like it's about twenty, twenty-five pokedollars."
"And there's the mess," his father reminded, although his stare was still on John. "Marowak needs a clean as well."
"Maro."
John smiled and returned his attention to Carlos; the grunt having been allowed to keep his head held up. The smile remained, but John made sure to lock eyes with his colleague to get his following point across.
"Twenty-five pokedollars." He squatted down, the metal case in his right hand barely off the ground. "Twenty-five pokedollars, plus change. Was it worth it?"
John was torn between his shock that his co-worker was stupid enough to risk their mission over twenty-five bucks worth of servo food, and the amused irritation at the discovery that the local currency was just dollars with, of course, 'poke' tacked onto the front. Granted for all he knew twenty-five here could be worth two-fifty back home, though considering it was just service station food and coffee he doubted it.
"Your wallet. Which pocket?"
"Wha…? No way man, that's-"
"Timmy." John leaned forward on his haunches, thankful that his frequent squat routine also aided in his balance. Getting closer to the prone grunt, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Give me your fucking wallet. Now."
Marowak gave him a displeased look, being the only other party that heard the curse, and John mouthed a quick 'sorry' to her before smiling again. Carlos for his part winced, and another eye-stare from John convinced him to pick the smart option.
"Okay, okay." The grunt had ceased his attempts to escape, and now lay flat and defeated. "Right pocket of my pants. Do you have too though?"
He was ignored, John nodding at Marowak who understood immediately. With one fingerless hand, the spike thumb catching for a moment on Carlos's trousers, she reached into the mentioned pocket and pulled out the wallet. Meanwhile John pulled away the packets of food that Carlos still clutched onto, instead replacing them with the empty pokeball. Putting the rattata down gently next to the grunt, John cleared his throat. The pokemon was returned to the ball with a sigh from Carlos, John standing back up and taking the offered wallet from Marowak.
He took a brief moment to snort with amusement at the blue wallet, one of the small ones secured with Velcro that you'd normally give to a child, and at the sticker of a small pink creature smiling and waving out of the round window of a space rocket that was stuck on the side. With briefcase still in hand he pulled the wallet open, a number of banknotes looking like they were made of a plastic polymer inside with a few coins of different sizes.
He ignored the pictures of various pokemon, humans, and plants on the money, each note coloured the same shade of crisp white with red highlights, and instead looked for numbers. A few fivers, a ten, two twenties… John flicked through them with a thumb, noting with a humph that the symbol they used for their currency was a P with a double strike through in the middle. He paused when he got to a lone fifty, the face of some unknown old guy on it, and wondered yet again why Carlos wouldn't just pay the man twenty-five dollary-doos to avoid all this.
Whipping out the note, he walked over to the shopkeepers and held it out to the father.
"Here, fifty. Half to pay for the stuff he's got, and the other half for the trouble." A quick dart of the eyes to the phone held in the older man's hand. "I'll drag him out of here and we'll be off."
The old shopkeeper raised his free hand to his chin to give it a rub, his eyes going from the money to the grunt on the floor.
"It's a good deal, dad."
"Larry, quiet." The moustache wrinkled, and a snort of air was huffed out. "Hmm…" A few moments passed, the shop owner eyeing John again. "You're not local are you? What is that, a Galarian accent?" A low grumble mixed with a scoff. "Johto?"
"Fiore," John provided, then jerked a thumb towards Carlos. "He's a Kanto boy though."
"Thought you said you were cousins?"
"Yeah, distant cousins." A chuckle from John, ignoring the accusing stare. "Not distant enough unfortunately."
The old timer's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, before he sighed a grumbling sigh and put the phone back on the hook. The money was grabbed from John's hand with a speed that belied his advanced age, yet another problem solved by the promise of a crisp fifty. John could only allow himself a small and subtle breath out in relief before a thumb was pointed at the doors.
"Go on, get on the road. I don't want your autism cousin in here any longer. Marowak, let him go."
The pokemon did as asked, using her bone club like a cane to lift herself off Carlos's back. The grunt scrambled to his feet as soon as he was able, hastily grabbing the packets he had dropped, and John quickly moved over to snag him by the arm before he could go anywhere.
"Come on you, time to go. Your old man is going to hear about this."
John didn't give Carlos time to speak, using his shoulder to push open one of the doors while dragging him out. He gave a final nod to the Marowak watching them before the tinted door closed, and he didn't let go of the other grunt's arm until they were back at the van. Carlos found himself shoved against the driver's side door, a packet of chips with an oddish and some sort of pokemon made out of three hexagonal-shaped bees on the front falling out of his grasp onto the floor.
"You fucking idiot," John cursed at the grunt, sticking a finger in his chest. "Get in the van." He bent down to scoop up the chips with his free hand. "I'm taking these as payment for saving your sorry arse."
"Are-"
"Get in the fucking van Carlos."
His colleague sprang into action with the door being hastily opened while John stepped around to his own side. He chucked his snack acquisition onto the dash in front of him and climbed in, both doors slamming shut and the engine rumbling into life. The metal case that was the goal of their mission was snugly placed in John's lap, the pair not saying anything else until they had left the servo and were back on the main highway.
Carlos went for the radio dial, but John intercepted his gloved hand and gave him a look out of the side of his eyes. "No, no radio. You've lost radio privileges."
A second attempt for the radio was not made.
A few minutes passed in blissful silence, save for the crinkling of the various packets of snacks on the dashboard. John was tempted to go for his and try the new flavour, hopefully not just 'sapient plant' and 'happy bee' as that was all he had to go off, but he wasn't going to be the one to make the first move.
"Umm, sooo…"
John slowly turned his head to look at Carlos when he spoke up, the grunt's hands clenching the steering wheel and his shoulders slumped.
"You're not… going to tell the Boss what happened, right?" The resulting stare caused Carlos to flinch, but he pressed on. "I'd really, really appreciate it if you just kept this little incident between us."
It took John a bit to find the words he was after, rolling his tongue around to moisten his mouth.
"Little incident?" Carlos shrank down into his seat, the calm tone still oozing threat. "Carlos, they were seconds away from calling the cops on you. Because you, despite apparently having done transport jobs 'plenty of times' before, needed to steal some fucking chips and coffee from a servo." His eyes narrowed, probably looking like slits to the wide-eyed grunt. "Twenty-five pokedollars, Carlos."
"That's a lot of money for a grunt!" A touch of anger entered Carlos's voice when he glanced at John. "You gave them double!"
"So what? How much do we get paid for this you reckon?" John patted the top of the briefcase with a gloved hand. "Bet it's going to be more than fifty bucks. Count yourself lucky that the old man was happy enough to just take the first offer, I'd have gladly given up your entire piece of shit wallet to get out of there." He was answered with a grunt and a frown, John sweeping a hand over himself. "Look at us, man! Look at what the fuck we are wearing! If they told the bloody cops 'Oh yeah, it was two dudes in black with gigantic-fucking R's on them', it doesn't leave much doubt as to who did it."
His co-worked grumbled to himself under the lecture, but still had more in him. "So what?" Carlos echoed, "We're Team Rocket, we steal. It's what we do."
"Yeah, we steal," John nodded sharply. "We steal important things of actual value and actually get away with it, not fuck up and throw hot beverages on walking dinosaurs with a bone to pick only to get our shit smacked in by Barney's manlet cousin." He jabbed the air with a finger. "You're lucky that you actually seem touched in the head enough to convince people that something is wrong with you, you dozy cunt."
The amount of vitriol that was coming out of his mouth was starting to surprise John even as he continued to rag on Carlos, his fellow grunt leaning away from him with another wince at the salvo.
"Whoa, okay!" He lifted a hand off the wheel to hold it up between him and John. "I'm sorry I made you so mad."
It only made things worse.
"Mad." John's rage was now more of a simmer, his voice lowering to a whisper but retaining the fire. "I'm more than just mad, Carlos." The 's' was said with a touch of a hiss. "I'm pissed off something fucking fierce. Enough that if the Boss gave me a gun, held the business end to your kneecap, and told me to pull the trigger, I'd probably do it. With a fucking smile."
The words hung in the air for a few moments, the driver of the van going a few shades paler than normal. John, blinking and forcing himself to get his temper under control, turned back in his seat and refaced the windshield.
"This is my first mission for the team," John said after a long pause, his right hand still holding the handle of the case in his lap. "I can't afford to mess it up over stupid shit." Despite the swear, his voice lacked most of the previous venom from the earlier tirade.
There was another pause, both men just sitting in the cab of the van and staring at the nearly empty road they were travelling on. Minutes passed, until the silence was broken by a sigh from Carlos.
"Look, I'm sorry okay? I…" He stopped, likely deciding that tacking on another attempt at an excuse would get him nowhere. "I stuffed up, yeah. And I know that you were saying all of that stuff because I did and you're right to be mad and swearing and all, but…" Carlos ran a hand down his face. "Just please man, don't tell anyone what happened if you don't have too, I'm already on thin ice."
John snorted through his nose and glanced at the grunt; the smaller man slumped in his seat. He mulled his choices over in his mind, before shifting in his spot and adjusting the item case in his lap.
"You're lucky I'm not a snitch," he told the driver, Carlos breathing out in relief. "But…" John held up his left pointer finger. "What I say is now law. No more stops, we go straight back to base and then the office." Another condition popped up. "And no more radio either, I want to be able to hear myself think."
Carlos's reaction was immediate, a weary smile growing on his face while he nodded his head. "Sure, sure." He seemed to perk up a bit, and he turned to John with some hope lighting up in his wide eyes. "Also… are we still cool to hang out in the gym some time?"
"Jesus give me strength…" John lowered his head, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. Then, with a shake of his head and a silent mutter, he returned his gaze to the windshield.
"Maybe, Carlos. Let's see how the rest of this job goes and then I'll think about it."