Chapter 147: Encirclement
Seated on the bus, Giovanni watched the scenery blur past the window. He held the Meowth mask that had accompanied him through several missions, turning it over in his hands.
"Perhaps," he murmured to himself, "I need more than just myself. I need an identity that walks in the dark." He gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "A masked man. In our world, who isn't?"
The bus from Saffron could only go as far as Pewter City. The largest, most untamed stretch of Viridian Forest lay between there and his home, making it impassable for vehicles.
Giovanni disembarked before the bus reached its final destination, skirting the city's edge and heading directly for the forest path.
After a few steps, he released Rhyhorn. The creature was pleased; Pewter City was a land of abundant, mineral-rich rock. He swung onto its back and spurred it forward.
"Do not rush," Giovanni said, patting the eager Pokémon. "Later, I will acquire a few mines. You will be able to eat as much as you wish then." Unlike the empty promises of most corporate bosses from his past life, Giovanni's were ironclad.
If not for his tight schedule and the increasing danger, he would have lingered in Pewter, capturing more Rock and Ground-types— but he could no longer afford such leisure.
He looked forward, his eyes glinting, a cold light blooming within them.
Six men in black darted from the treeline. The leader grinned, a predator's smile. "Well now, kid. That's a fine-looking Rhyhorn. I've taken a liking to it. Hand it over."
As he spoke, the six men surrounded Giovanni, cutting off all escape routes.
Pokémon thieves? It was almost laughable. The scenario felt strangely familiar—a squad of six, with one leader. Team Rocket— but these were not Archer's grunts.
A standard squad had one Senior-level trainer leading a team of intermediates. By his senses, four of these men were at the Senior level, at the rank of Chief.
Captain Price would not have access to such assets. Within the entire organization, only one executive both wanted him dead and possessed the means to command such a force: Petrel.
And if this were a simple robbery, their gazes would be fixed on Rhyhorn, on the Poké Balls at his waist. Instead, their eyes were locked on him. Their malice was a palpable, suffocating wave.
"If your intention is to kill me, then do it," Giovanni said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Why bother with talking? Still, no Gym-Leader-level assassins. It seems Executive Petrel's power is more limited than he would like to admit."
The leader's face twisted in rage at the mention of Petrel's name, but he quickly composed himself. "You're looking for death! Enough nonsense. If you will not hand over your Pokémon, do not blame us for what comes next!"
Giovanni sneered. He glanced around at his assailants, then shouted a single command. "Sandstorm!"
The Rhyhorn beneath him roared, unleashing a blinding tempest of swirling sand and razor-sharp grit— but before the storm could fully form, a disdainful shout cut through the gale.
"Pathetic tricks! Blastoise, Rain Dance!"
A Blastoise roared, and a massive, dark cloud formed above the sandstorm. A torrential downpour erupted, suppressing the sand and turning the field to mud. But it was too late. Giovanni was no longer where he had been.
He now stood surrounded by his own forces: Beedrill, Persian, Machoke, Nidorino, two Rhyhorn, and two Kingler. Their power had already been boosted to its absolute peak.
Buzz!
Beedrill's aura was a condensed storm of fury. It became a golden blur, its stingers gleaming as it vanished from its spot.
Persian's tail flicked, and a shower of golden, five-pointed stars shot through the rain.
Machoke's muscles bulged, its arms swelling as it unleashed a flurry of Mega Punches.
Nidorino charged like a wild boar, its toxic spines bristling.
The two Rhyhorn stomped, and massive rocks materialized from thin air, launching themselves at the enemy. The two Kingler raised their massive pincers, firing torrents of pressurized water.
Giovanni's own killing intent boiled over. "Kill them all."
Clang! Clang!
Flashes of white light erupted as dozens of Senior-level Pokémon materialized, encircling them. The six assassins roared in unison. "Kill!"
In an instant, the world devolved into chaos. Sand, rock, and water flew everywhere. Trees splintered and fell. The scent of fresh blood, thick and metallic, filled the air, only to be washed away by the relentless rain.
Whoosh!
Above the fray, a robust Pidgeot descended, a sturdy, middle-aged man held in its talons. When the man saw the carnage below—the broken bodies, the blood-soaked mud—his pupils constricted.
Most importantly, he saw the boy. Drenched, covered in wounds, yet still commanding his Pokémon with cold, ruthless efficiency. He even took part of the battle himself with a severed head, its features locked in a rictus of terror, held loosely in one hand.
His Pokémon, exhausted but unyielding, fought like gods of slaughter.
In just a few months, the boy's power had grown exponentially. It was as if he had become a completely different person— but even so, against such overwhelming numbers, he would eventually fall.
"Pidgeot, go!" the man commanded. "Agility, then Brave Bird!"
The Pidgeot became a divine missile, weaving through the remaining enemy Pokémon, wiping them out with a series of devastating strikes.
Giovanni turned to look at the newcomer. His exhausted body could no longer support him. He knelt on one knee, the severed head dropping from his limp fingers.
"We meet again," he rasped, "Captain Matt."