The afternoon sun at the Vermilion docks was relentless, baking the asphalt until the air shimmered with heat. I sat on a weather-beaten crate, swinging my legs and nursing a lukewarm soda, looking for all the world like just another fifteen-year-old traveler waiting for a ferry. My tactical gear was buried at the bottom of my pack, replaced by a simple hoodie and jeans.
The peace didn't last. The air suddenly grew heavy—a localized spike in atmospheric pressure that usually preceded a disaster or the arrival of someone who could cause one.
Two silhouettes approached through the golden afternoon haze. One moved with the rigid, caped authority of a high-fantasy king—Lance, the Dragon Master. Beside him, Lorelei walked with a graceful, freezing elegance that seemed to chill the humid harbor air. Behind them, their "bodyguards" loomed: a Dragonite whose scales shimmered like burnished gold, and a Dewgong that looked like a sculpted block of sentient arctic ice.
[Data Scan: Dragonite]
Classification: Dragon/Flying
Rank: Pseudo-Legendary
Level: 80
Aura: Draconic Majesty (Passive intimidation effect)
[Data Scan: Dewgong]
Classification: Water/Ice
Rank: Champion
Level: 73
Note: Internal body temperature measured at -20°C.
I stared, my mouth slightly agape. I had seen high-level data, but seeing a Level 80 Pseudo-Legendary in the flesh was like standing next to a live nuclear reactor. The sheer density of the energy radiating from them made my own Pokéballs rattle on my belt.
Lance didn't even wait to get close before he started. "I see you haven't learned a single thing since Mt. Moon, Recruit. Still diving headfirst into the mouth of the Arbok."
I chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. "Sorry, boss. Occupational hazard?" I looked up at him, trying to channel 'innocent teenager' while my brain frantically replayed our last meeting. "By the way... about that last time... I didn't actually mean you looked sixty. You clearly look, eighteen. Very youthful. Very adult-to-be."
Lance actually *was* eighteen, a fact that made my previous "mid-life crisis" comment a stinging wound to his pride.
"Save it," Lance snapped, though a faint flush of embarrassment crept up his neck.
Beside him, Lorelei made a sound like a muffled kettle. She was pressing a hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking. The entire Elite Four had clearly been briefed on the "Old Man Lance" incident, and she was visibly enjoying his misery.
"The intelligence, Recruit," Lance commanded, his voice tight.
I handed over the digital recorder. Lance popped in a set of high-fidelity earbuds and listened. As the slurred voice of the Rocket grunt detailed Proton's plan for the S.S. Anne, Lance's expression shifted from embarrassed teenager to the Champion of Kanto. Lorelei took the second earbud. As the recording played—the drunken grunts, the mention of Proton, the S.S. Anne heist—the air around us actually began to crystallize. Lorelei's Dewgong let out a low, mournful lowing sound, and a thin layer of frost spread across the wooden dock.
"Proton," Lorelei whispered, her violet eyes turning into chips of ice. She turned to me, her smile now warm but sharp. "Excellent work, Regina. Sneaky, efficient, and thorough. We need eyes inside that ship—trainers who can blend into the party but strike when the 'R' shows its face."
She looked at Lance. "I want her on the team."
"Absolutely not," Lance barked. "She's too green. She just evolved her first starter two days ago. Putting her in the path of a Rocket Executive is reckless."
"She won't be on the front line, Lance," Lorelei countered, her voice smooth as a glacier. "She'll be our utility ghost. We know how she can move when she wants to be invisible. She'll be my responsibility."
Lance let out a long, suffering sigh, looking at his Dragonite for support. The dragon just blinked its large, kind eyes and let out a soft "Roo?" as if to say, Don't look at me, man, she's scary.
"We will discuss this with Headquarters," Lance muttered.
Before they left, Lorelei turned back to me, a playful, dangerous curve to her lips. "By the way, Regina... since you were so observant with Lance's age... how old do you think *I* am?"
I froze. This was a minefield. I looked at her, then at the Level 73 Dewgong that could probably freeze the entire harbor in three seconds. I gave my most fawning, 'I-value-my-life' smile. "Of course, Miss Lorelei is in her absolute prime. Sweet sixteen, surely."
Lorelei let out a delighted, musical laugh. "I like her, Lance. We're keeping her."
Lance just rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Sweet sixteen? She's a twenty-year-old hag who spends more on hairspray than I do on Dragonite feed."
The temperature dropped forty degrees instantly. Lorelei turned her head 180 degrees like a horror movie protagonist, her eyes glowing with a murderous, sub-zero light.
"What was that, Dragon Boy?"
Lance, the Champion of Kanto, the Master of Dragons, went deathly quiet. He didn't say a word as he climbed onto his Dragonite. Even a Level 80 Pseudo-Legendary knows better than to argue with a woman who controls absolute zero.
---
### The Mission Briefing
Two days later, my G-Pro terminal hissed with an encrypted Level 5 transmission. The mission parameters were set. I was one of ten undercover trainers assigned to the S.S. Anne. My rank: **Utility/Evacuation**.
It was the "safest" rank, but in a Team Rocket raid, 'safe' was a relative term. My instructions were specific:
1. **Slots 1 & 2:** Standard "Tourist" Pokémon to blend in with the rich heirs.
2. **Slots 3-6:** The "Strike Team" reserved exclusively for the Rocket engagement.
I sat in my hotel room, my team spread out on the bed. I needed a lineup that balanced the "Innocent Traveler" aesthetic with "High-Density Violence."
"Okay, guys, listen up," I said, looking at the squad. "We're going to the biggest party of the year. But we're not there for the cake."
**The Bait (Blending In):**
* **Nidoran (M) & Nidoran (F):** The "Cute Couple" strategy. They were common, recognizable, and looked like the kind of Pokémon a fifteen-year-old girl would have for companionship rather than combat. They would be my social shields.
**The Strike Force (Mission Critical):**
* **Nugget (Combusken):** My primary brawler. With her recent evolution and Sky Uppercut, she was my answer to the Rocket Raticates and Koffings.
* **Fearow:** High-altitude reconnaissance and hit-and-run aerial support.
* **Butterfree:** Status-effect utility. In a crowded ship, Sleep Powder and Stun Spore were more effective than raw damage for controlling panicking crowds.
* **Glaceon:** My trump card. With Lorelei as my commanding officer, I needed an Ice-type that could create barriers. If the ship's hull was breached, Glaceon's Ice Beam would be the only thing keeping us afloat.