The neon lights of the Celadon Game Corner flickered with a rhythmic, hypnotic pulse, casting long, garish shadows of pink and turquoise across the faces of the desperate and the hopeful. The air inside was thick—a stagnant cocktail of cheap ozone from the machines, the metallic tang of coins, and the faint, sweet scent of incense drifting from the back rooms. It was a cathedral of greed, and under the floorboards, the heart of an empire beat in secret.
I walked in, my Golbat—Kite—tucked away in his Pokéball, and my boots feeling heavy. I wasn't just here to gamble; I was here to scout. According to the data I'd internalized from my previous life, the Rocket Hideout was anchored right behind a poster in this very room. But in real world, you don't just walk up and press a switch. You blend in.
I approached the counter and bought a modest pouch of coins. The weight was satisfying. I sat down at a machine near the back, one that offered a clear line of sight to the poster of the "Great Dragon," and started to play.
*Clink. Whirr. Thud.*
In my past life, playing *Fire Red*, my luck was legendary for its trashiness. I was the girl who could spend ten thousand coins and end up with a single Potion. But today, as the reels spun, something shifted.
*Cherry. Cherry. 7.* A small payout. I fed it back in.
*7. 7. 7.*
The machine didn't just beep; it wailed. A siren of victory that drew the eyes of every slumped gambler in the row. A cascade of gold-colored coins flooded the tray, clattering with a sound that felt like thunder in the quiet corner.
I just stared. My jaw didn't just drop; it hit the floor. This was the first time—in two lifetimes—that I had actually won a jackpot.
"God," I whispered, my hands trembling as I scooped the winnings into a bucket. My shock wasn't a tactical mask; it was raw, genuine disbelief.
I hauled the heavy bucket to the prize clerk, a man whose eyes were as glazed as a Slowpoke's. He looked at me, then at the bucket, then back at me.
"Ma'am, you were just here an hour ago," he droned, his voice flat.
The clerk leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he scanned my face for the telltale twitch of a card-counter or a digital cheater. But he didn't find a cold-blooded hacker. He found a girl who looked like she'd just seen a Ghost-type for the first time.
"First time winning, huh?" he asked, his posture relaxing into a smirk.
I nodded vigorously, unable to find my words. My shock was too authentic to be faked. Even the Rocket sentries hidden in the security room would have seen my reaction and dismissed any suspicion of foul play. You can't simulate that specific level of 'dumbfounded luck.'
"Alright, alright, calm down. What's your pleasure?" He tapped the digital display on the counter. "Since you hit the mega-pot, you have the Tier-1 list.Pick your poison. We've got TMs, held items, or the live stock."
I scrolled. Unlike the games, Dratini wasn't sitting there like a common prize; Dragons were too rare, too protected by the League to be sold in a gambling den. But the list was still impressive. Eevee, Scyther, Porygon... and then, I saw it.
**[Prize Entry: Horsea]**
**Cost:** 2500 Coins
**Note:** Specimen retrieved from the Whirl Islands current
To the average trainer, Horsea was a "cute" Water-type found in the Seafoam Islands. A glass-cannon that was too fragile for the heavy-hitters of the Indigo League. But they didn't have the data I had. They didn't know about the Seadra evolution that required a Dragon Scale. They didn't know about the final, catastrophic form.
Kingdra.
The Water/Dragon type. A Pokémon with only one weakness—Dragon—until the Fairy-type was eventually discovered was an Apex predator. In a world where 90% of Dragons were Pseudo-Legendaries like Dragonite, having a Kingdra was like owning a tactical nuclear submarine in a pond of rowboats.
"I'll take the Horsea," I said, my voice steadying.
The clerk raised an eyebrow. "Really? Not the Scyther? The Horsea is... well, it's a specialty pick. Not much use in a high-tier circuit battle right now."
"I like the aesthetic," I lied smoothly. I'd have to write the research papers on its evolution eventually—another massive paycheck from the League—but for now, I wanted to see what the Rockets considered 'prize grade.'
The Arrival of the Earth-King
The air in the room didn't just change; it solidified.
The frantic noise of the slot machines seemed to dim as a presence entered the building that demanded total atmospheric submission. I turned slowly, my G-Pro "Threat Assessment" HUD flashing a violent, pulsating red.
Standing near the entrance, flanked by two men in expensive, tailored suits, was a man who looked more like a Prime Minister than a Gym Leader. His suit was a charcoal silk that cost more than a Celadon mansion. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes—cold, calculating, and infinitely deep—swept over the room like a radar.
Giovanni. The Viridian Gym Leader. The Ground-Type Dominion. And the secret Sovereign of Team Rocket.
My heart hammered against my ribs. What is he doing here? This facility was legally registered under a false name, a shell company meant to shield the Viridian Gym from the "gambling den" stigma. Giovanni rarely visited his front-line operations.
He turned his gaze toward the prize counter, and his eyes locked onto mine. A small, chillingly polite smile touched his lips. He walked toward me, his gait steady and authoritative.
"Miss Regina," he said, his voice a rich, baritone velvet.
I didn't fumble. I didn't reach for a Pokéball. I stood my ground, applying the "Silent Operator" protocol. To the world, I was a rising G-Pro researcher. To him, I was a nuisance who had been present during the failures at Mt. Moon and the S.S. Anne.
But as I recalled from my internal briefing, Giovanni didn't officially know I was the informant. Geographically, Mt. Moon was under the jurisdiction of Pewter and Cerulean; the S.S. Anne was Vermilion's problem. As the Viridian Leader, he was "officially" outside the loop of those specific tactical failures.
I reached out and shook his hand. His grip was like iron wrapped in silk.
"Leader Giovanni," I said, my voice steady. "Long time no see. I'm a big fan of your Indigo League archives—especially your Ground-type dominion battle against the Johto challengers back in your youth. You proved that 'immovable' doesn't mean 'slow.'"
Giovanni's eyes flickered with a genuine spark of interest. It was the "Politician Smile," but there was a layer of respect beneath it.
"You have a keen eye for history, Miss Regina. Rare for someone of your generation," he said. "I have heard tales of the 'Emerald Siren' from Leader Erika. And I heard of the famous new researcher who happened to be present when Team Rocket's missions were... intercepted."
He leaned in slightly, the scent of expensive tobacco and cedarwood clinging to him. "I had to meet such a talent. To see if the rumors of your 'Protagonist Luck' were true."
I smiled back, mirroring his poise. "Nothing compared to your legend, sir. A trainer who rose through the Kanto circuit with no sponsorships, no family backing, and still managed to dominate the 'Silver-Spoon' elites of the era. Your eye for potential is legendary. I've heard that even in your youth, no Pokémon in your party was less than Pseudo-Champion potential."
Giovanni laughed—a short, dry sound. "Flattery is a common currency in Celadon, but you speak with the conviction of a researcher. It is a refreshing change."
The clerk approached, holding a high-tech transport container. "Your Horsea, ma'am."
I expected a sickly, low-potential "gift" Pokémon. But as the clerk handed me the Pokéball, I tapped my terminal for a silent scan.
[Data Scan: Horsea]
Gender: Female
Potential: Pseudo-Elite (Rank: A+)
Nature: Modest (+Sp.Atk, -Atk)
Ability: Swift Swim
Note: Exceptionally high internal pressure capacity.
I blinked. Pseudo-Elite? I was expecting a "Gift Pokémon" to be a genetic dud—a Pseudo-Gym at best. But this? This was a high-tier specimen.
Is this a bribe? I wondered. Or a distraction? Keep the G-Pro girl happy with a shiny toy so she doesn't notice the secret elevator behind the poster?
"A fine choice," Giovanni remarked, looking at the ball. "Though I always took you for someone who preferred the... toxic elegance of the Nidoran line. But Horsea if used correctly can yield good results. Swift Swim. A sign, perhaps? The rain can be a powerful ally for those with the patience to master it."Though Horsea is often overlooked for more... aggressive types. Perhaps you see something the rest of the world has missed?"
"I believe in hidden depths, Leader Giovanni," I replied. "Much like the ocean itself."
The Trio's Interruption
The moment of high-stakes tension was shattered by the sound of the front doors slamming open.
"PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!"
"AND MAKE IT DOUBLE!"
I felt a massive headache beginning to form. Jessie, James, and Meowth tumbled into the Gaming Corner, looking like they had just crawled out of a sewer (which, knowing them, they probably had).
"We've followed the twerp to her den of iniquity!" Jessie shouted, pointing a dramatic finger at me. "Give us your winnings, Regina! Our budget is—"
James's jaw dropped. He saw the charcoal-grey suit. He saw the man standing next to me.
"B-B-B..." James stammered, his face turning a ghostly shade of white.
Meowth was faster. He realized that if these two morons uttered the word "Boss" in front of a G-Pro operative and a room full of civilians, their lives were over. He leaped up, his claws extended, and delivered a double-fury swipes across their faces.
"SHUT YOUR TRAPS, YOU DIRTY MUGGERS!" Meowth shrieked. "WE'RE HERE TO... UH... ROB THE CASINO! YEAH! THAT'S IT!"
I stared at them, completely bored. "Honestly, have Team Rocket still not kicked you three losers out? I mean, really. You attacked a Pokémon Center—a League-protected sanctuary. You failed at Mt. Moon. You failed at Cerulean. With the amount of damage you do to the organization's reputation, I'm surprised you haven't been 'retired' yet."
I looked at Giovanni, who was watching the trio with an expression of icy, detached contemplation. He looked like a man deciding whether to step on a particularly annoying cockroach.
"You know these... people?" Giovanni asked, his voice dangerously smooth.
"They're like a recurring rash, Leader Giovanni," I sighed. "They call themselves 'Elite Agents,' but they're more like professional failures. If I were their boss, I'd have replaced them with a well-trained Rattata months ago."
Jessie snapped, her pride overcoming her fear for a split second. "What do you mean by that, you little brat?!"
I ticked off points on my fingers. "Attacking a Pokémon Center in Viridian—a League-protected neutral zone. Attacking the Cerulean Gym. Constant property damage. If I were their employer, I'd have kicked them out months ago. They don't just fail; they fail with a level of theatricality that makes the entire region look incompetent."
The clerks behind the counter—Rockets in deep cover—all nodded subtly. They had been thinking the same thing for years. These guys were often a liability, and caused them to lose there mission more often than they can count. Because of there incompetency they themselves had to face boss rath several times.
Giovanni's eyes narrowed as he looked at the trio. I could see the gears turning. He was genuinely considering my words. To him, they were a resource drain. To the hidden Rockets in the room, I was voicing the collective frustration of the entire syndicate.
Jessie and James looked at Giovanni. They saw him actually considering my words. The sheer terror in their eyes was palpable. To them, I wasn't bad-mouthing them—I was delivering a death sentence.
James elbowed Jessie, whispering frantically, "She's going to get us fired! She's bad-mouthing us in front of the Boss! We're toast!"
"Security," Giovanni said, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of a mountain.
The Game Corner's bouncers—men with arms the size of tree trunks—stepped forward.
"WE'RE GOING!" Meowth shrieked, grabbing Jessie and James by their collars and dragging them toward the exit. "WE'RE GOING! WE WERE NEVER HERE! BYE!"
They vanished into the Celadon streets like a bad dream.
The Earth-King's Inquiry
Giovanni turned back to me, the annoyance vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "You have a sharp tongue, Regina. And a very observant mind. But you are mistaken about one thing—I did not come here today to play with slot machines."
He stepped closer, his shadow engulfing me. "My true intentions involved your most recent publication. The paper on Ursaluna and the Peat Block evolution in the Crimson Mirelands. You released it only two days ago."
I felt a surge of adrenaline. As the premier Ground-type master of the world, Giovanni would be obsessed with the discovery of a prehistoric, Ground/Ghost-type juggernaut.
"Thinking of a new addition to your team, Leader?" I asked, a playful but respectful smile on my lips. "Ursaluna is the apex of the Ursaring line. Its bulk and 'Guts' ability would complement your Nidoking's offensive pressure perfectly."
I didn't say it out loud, but in my head, I thought: You gave me a Pseudo-Elite Horsea. Consider this information my return gift.
Giovanni's eyes darkened with a professional hunger. "The 'Bloodmoon' variant you mentioned... the ability to hit Ghost-types with Normal moves. That is a tactical revolution. I wish to know the exact atmospheric conditions required for the Peat Block to trigger."
He looked around the noisy Game Corner and frowned. "This environment is... unsuitable for a scientific exchange. There is a quiet café around the corner. The 'Vulpix Veranda.' Would you join me for a coffee, Miss Regina? I believe we have much to discuss regarding the evolution of the Earth."
I looked at the Horsea container in my hand, then at the man who was arguably the most dangerous human in Kanto.
"I'd be honored, Leader Giovanni," I said.