Archer was a man who had made many, many mistakes in his life. Sometimes he was unsure if joining Team Rocket was his biggest accomplishment, or biggest mistake. His early years with the organisation had been fraught with errors, one after the other some days. He had left a trail of them in Kanto, which had led to the fall of the Silph occupation, and, in turn, caused Giovanni's disappearance. Regardless of all these mistakes, most of which kept him up at night, there were small indications that the ramifications for this mistake were going to be the worst of all. He woke to a familiar scent, one of soil, tin, and sweat. If there was ever a time to choose his next move carefully, this was it. He lay still on the couch, eyes still closed, unable to decide when to open them. He wondered what time it was, where the others were, how long Proton had been straddling him, waiting for this moment. He had no idea if he was bleeding, if the Executive had seen his assignment as a waste of time.

'Open your fucking eyes, I know you're awake,' Proton hissed. Archer, not in a position to fight back, granted the request.

'Executive,' Archer said in greeting.

'Shut up, I've got your fucking report.'

'I want it in writing.'

'Fuck you,' he spat, fingers twitching. Archer had no idea where the knives were or what direction they were going to come from. 'There's fuck all in Ilex, fuck all in Azalea. There's fucking nothing in that fucking cave.'

'So, your report is going to say 'fuck all'? Nothing else?'

'Shut the fuck up!' It had been a bad idea to say it, Archer realised, but he hadn't expected Proton to backhand him across the face.

'What do you want?'

'I've got an idea, and it's a fucking good one,' Proton started. 'You're going to listen to it, and then you're going to agree that it's a fucking great idea. And after that, we'll see.'

'Fine. Your idea, Executive?'

'Well, Boss, outside Azalea there's this well,' he paused to lean forward, reaching over to collect one of his knives from the couch arm. 'And this well, this fucking well, is infested with Slowpoke.'

'Your idea?'

'Quiet,' Proton glowered at him, letting the knife at Archer's throat do most of the talking. 'Basic operation. Takeover, steal, profit. Find another location for the profit.'

'Profit how?' Archer certainly was intrigued by the idea. He tried to ignore the blade scraping along his neck.

'Slowpoketails.'

'What?'

'Each one costs a small fortune to buy on the black market. We drop the price, sell thousands.'

'An interesting idea. I need to sleep on it.'

'No you don – who else is awake?' Proton snarled, the blade digging in when he heard a door open. 'Don't even fucking think about it.' He moved quickly then, standing up to jump over the back of the couch; Archer didn't even hear his feet hit the ground. His hand shifted to his neck; no blood. His face, however, was a different story. He tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the bleeding.

The idea was no doubt a good one, and he was almost willing to grant permission to begin the operation tomorrow. He sat up, swinging his feet to the floor – he looked down when he heard something rustle. A bag. Not the kit Proton had left with, that was discarded across the room. It was just a bag, a regular black garbage bag. He reached for it, fingers fumbling with the knot; he needed to know what was inside, and soon. Then, suddenly, a screech, loud and familiar.

###

By the time Petrel reacted to the noise, Silver was already trapped firmly against the wall by the neck. Proton had him just off the ground, forcing him to stand on his toes.

'What did you hear?'

'I just had to go to the bathroom!'

'What did you fucking hear?!'

'Nothing!'

'Tell me!'

'Nothing!'

'Stop lying!' Silver gasped between panicked breaths as Proton held one of his knives – one of those knives – against his cheek. Proton pushed up, so his toes were barely skimming the floor. 'What about now?'

'Nothing! Just,' he coughed, 'just Petrel snoring! Let me go!'

'You're lying!'

'I'm not!'

Proton's ears pricked when he heard footsteps. When he saw who it was, he grinned. Petrel stood five feet to his left, hesitant to move any closer. Ariana was to his right, closer, but frozen in place. Archer was nowhere in sight. He ignored them, returning his attention to the hysterical child.

'Stop it, or you know where this goes,' he threatened, the knife digging in a little. Silver stopped struggling, his small hands gripping Proton's wrist to hold himself up. He nodded, slightly, as best he could. He coughed again, tears dripping to the floor.

'I… I'm not lying,' he hiccoughed, 'I don't lie to you, I promise. Not since then! Never since then!'

'Good. Scram back to bed like a good little boy,' Proton spat. His grip loosened and Silver fled. Petrel made the first move while Proton was occupied waiting for the bedroom door to slam, lunging forward and grasping his wrist tightly; the knife clattered to the floor as fingers dug deep into the tendons of Proton's forearm.

'The fuck are you doing?' Proton snapped as Petrel twisted his arm behind his back, leading him through to the kitchen.

'Sit down and shut up,' he threw the youngest Executive into one of the chairs. For the first time that night, Proton complied.

'I'll take care of this,' Ariana said sweetly, 'you go help Archer.'

'You sure?' Petrel asked, eyeing Proton. He looked ready to boil him alive.

'Of course,' Ariana smiled, and in that smile Petrel saw the next ten minutes unfold. Proton didn't stand a chance. He nodded, and left the room. She circled him, coming to a stop behind the chair. 'You're absolutely filthy.'

'The Boss sent me to the field for a week. What do you expect?' Proton folded his arms across his chest, taking the defensive.

'Is that blood?'

'Probably.'

'From what?'

'It's probably mine.'

'For each lie you to tell me in the next ten minutes,' she continued, her voice as sweet as ever. 'I'm going to break one of your fingers. And if I run out of fingers, I'll switch to ribs. Are we clear?'

'Yeah.'

'What,' she moved closer now, her mouth right by his ear, 'was going through your mind when you even considered laying a finger on him?'

'I dunno. Maybe I'm just that crazy.' A grin.

'And that justifies you in torturing my son?'

'No, ma'am.' This time, he sounded bored.

'What was he talking about?'

'I don't know.' A smirk, not that Ariana saw it. With one hand perched on the back of the chair, she leaned forward and took Proton's right hand. She took a moment to examine his nails, torn and chewed down so far that no dirt could stay trapped underneath them. Her own fingers, complete with carefully maintained crimson talons, wrapped around his middle finger. She pulled back sharply, then twisted for good measure. Proton flinched, but remained silent.

'Try again.'

'Maybe I said something to him once. Threatened him a bit. Would've taught him a lesson.'

'Wrong answer, honey.' Ring finger. Snap, twist.

'What do you want to hear then? I used him to help me dissect Pokémon in the bathroom?' He laughed when Ariana cracked his little finger. 'Threatened him a bit. Told him I'd hurt him if he told. I never laid a finger on him.'

'Until tonight. Why?'

'Because I'm tired.'

'What?' Ariana's fingers found Proton's pointer and positioned themselves.

'Everything is grating every fucking nerve in my fucking body. Everything. I almost slit Archer's throat because he had the audacity to be asleep when I got back. Didn't even have the decency to stay awake.'

'What?'

'He wanted a report. I had a fucking report, and an idea, and he wasn't fucking awake to listen.' Ariana's grip loosened at those words, leading Proton's hand to rest on the table.

'Don't move,' she sighed.

After watching the entire ordeal from around the corner, Silver returned to his room silently, unnoticed.

###

Petrel fumbled with his lighter, clicking it over and over before it lit his cigarette. He'd failed. They all had. All he could think about was what could have happened had things gone differently. He sat down on the couch next to Archer, leaning back into the corner. He was exhausted.

'Petrel?'

'What?'

'Wake up.'

'I'm awake,' he mumbled, the cigarette not leaving his lips.

'Look at this.'

'At what?'

'Just look.' Petrel wasn't in the mood for Archer's orders, but he sat forward, on the edge of the couch, staring.

'What's in the bag?'

'You tell me.' He took the top of the bag from Archer, and glanced inside. 'How much?'

'About fifteen million. Maybe more.'

'This is Proton's idea. What do you think?'

'Slowpoketails?' Profitable, very profitable. Need to find a market for them. Harvest is slow, the tails take a couple of days to grow back so you're getting maybe three a week. It's a lot of money with even that, but it's not worth the time and effort.'

'Slowpoke Well.'

'What about it?'

'Take it over, harvest on site, move the tails to sell. That's his idea.'

'Fuck,' Petrel swore under his breath.

'What?'

'The guy's a fucking genius. I hate saying it, Archer, but he is.'

'I was saying the same thing to Ariana the other day. What do you think?'

'It's three in the morning. Just tell me what you want me to do.'

'Sell them. I'll clean them, but you sell. Whatever disguise you like so long as it isn't one you've used before.'

'Yeah, okay,' Petrel agreed. He noticed that his cigarette was almost burnt down; he held it out to Archer. 'Take this, I'm going to bed.' Archer took the cigarette and gave a nod. He didn't stand up until Petrel was in the other room. He took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled as he moved into the kitchen. He pulled out one of the other chairs and sat down opposite Proton, then dropped the butt into the ash tray.

'Well, what did she do to you?'

'Fuck off,' Proton hissed. Ariana was tending to his hand, binding his fingers together. Ring to pinky, middle to pointer. She was almost done, and was putting a final layer of bandages around all four fingers to hold them in place.

'Hold still or I'll set them crooked.'

'I am.'

'You're not.'

'There,' Ariana said, returning Proton's hand to the table. She pushed her own chair out and stood up to collect some ice from the freezer.

'Thanks,' Proton muttered, his comment almost inaudible.

'Where's Petrel? We've got business to discuss.'

'Went to bed,' Archer answered. She glared at him, waiting for a better response. 'Can we all just go to bed and deal with this in the morning?'

'Fine,' she agreed, her lips tight. Her eyes fell to Proton. 'You'll want to keep the ice on for twenty minutes. You're sleeping on the couch.'

###

She woke the next morning to find Silver curled up in the top corner of his bed, blankets pulled high, and Houndoom wrapped around behind him. She tried reaching over to move the sheets back from his face but the fire Pokémon snarled and snapped at her fingers. With a sigh, she stepped out of the room, the boy left to wake in his own time. The kitchen was already full by the time she arrived to take her place in the final chair.

'What happened to your hand, sweetie? It looks painful.'

'Fuck off, bitch,' Proton glowered at her from across the table. Petrel, to his left, ignored their exchange and focused on blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. They were more like ovals today, or else fell apart early. He was too distracted. Ariana watched as Archer sorted through the papers spread all over the table, unsure of their contents.

'Right,' Archer said without looking up, 'we've got a lot to do in the next twenty four hours. Proton, your idea. Go.'

'Take over Slowpoke Well, hack their tails off, sell them at reduced cost. We'll sell thousands if they're only ten grand a piece. Simple.'

'Well, we've already got fifteen. I cleaned them up this morning and they're ready to sell. That's a hundred and fifty grand by tonight if we sell them all. Petrel, that's you. Start with the Underground Tunnel, you get people through there that are loaded. You know how to spot them better than anyone. Be ready to leave in forty minutes.'

'Sir,' Petrel nodded. It was almost, almost, like the old days when Archer gave orders so specific. They had a mission, after all, and if this small step went right, then everything else would just fall into place. As long as he was in disguise, Petrel felt at ease out in the open. Today was going to be a good day, he could feel it. At the very least, it could only be better than the previous one.

'Proton, I'm sending you back to Azalea for the day.'

'Why?'

'I want a population count. We need to know how sustainable this is, how many we can sell every three days. I don't need a maximum, just a minimum. Leave as soon as you can.'

'Fine,' Proton rolled his eyes, but the tapping of his fingers on the tabletop gave away more than he thought. He was excited, anxious to begin. It was his plan, his idea. They were listening to him and he loved every second of it. He could already imagine the congratulations he would get when their leader returned.

'Ariana, you're here. You know what to do.' She nodded.

'I'll be with Petrel, just in case,' Archer continued. He finally looked up from his papers. 'Since you can only carry three at a time, you'll be back and forth. I'll tail you to make sure no one else is. Is everyone clear on their orders?' It was a pointless question. This was something they could have pulled off in their sleep; Giovanni didn't promote anyone unable to keep up with his demands and the Executives had proven their worth time and time again. Petrel was the first to stand, then Proton. Ariana rose next, and paused to kiss the top of Archer's head.

'Good luck.'

'You'll need it more.'

Had the previous day been any different, she would have laughed. Instead, she forced a smile and followed after Petrel; it had been a while since he'd needed such heavy disguise, he would probably need some help with the makeup. Archer, always one to pick up on the smallest of sounds, turned his head to find Silver standing halfway between the door and the fridge.

'Don't talk to me.'

'Excuse me?'

'I just want breakfast.'

'Help yourself.'

'I said don't talk to me.' Silver gave a scowl, one that would have made Giovanni proud. He grabbed the milk and took a pack of cookies from cupboard, along with a bowl of leftover rice and chicken from two days earlier. He started back towards his room, but stopped and moved a little closer to the table. 'I want a favour.'

'Can I talk to you?'

'…just for now.' Silver agreed. He tried to brush his hair back from his face, but his hands were full. He put the milk on the table long enough to fix it.

'Well, what do you want?'

'Houndoom.'

'Okay,' Archer agreed. 'He can stay here today.'

'And tomorrow. Until I say.'

'What if I need him?'

'Only if it's important Team Rocket stuff.' Silver said. 'And don't tell anyone I talked to you, because I'm not talking to them. Or you, after right now.'

'Okay,' Archer said again; it was easy to give in to the boy's wishes now, while he wasn't asking for much. Silver broke into a run when he heard footsteps from the other direction, disappearing from the room just before Ariana returned. 'I think you've got a problem.'

'Hmm?' She sat down opposite him. 'What kind of problem?'

'One with your hair, his father's tenacity, and an attitude that's only going to get worse when the hormones kick in.'

'What's he done now?'

'He's not talking to us, any of us actually, and he's keeping Houndoom until he says I can have him back.'

'He's going to need a few days to get over what happened last night,' Ariana suggested, although Archer was sure she hadn't even convinced herself with that one.