The entrance to Mt. Moon loomed like the mouth of a sleeping giant, the pale rock face bleached bone-white by the moonlight. I adjusted the strap of my bag, feeling the weight of five Pokéballs—and the literal weight of the sixth passenger currently perched on my shoulder.
"Look, Sparky," I said, my voice dripping with a sweetness that felt like a trap even to my own ears. "My name is Regina. We're going to be best friends, okay? You, me, and a whole lot of high-voltage glory."
The Pichu didn't even look at me. He just let out a bored *"Pi..."* and suddenly, the air hummed with ozone.
*BZZZZT!*
I ducked instinctively, a bolt of yellow electricity arcing over my head and charring the leaves of a nearby shrub. My Slum-Survivor reflexes were the only thing saving my hair from becoming a permanent afro.
"Okay, so we're still in the 'Attempted Homicide' phase of our relationship," I muttered, straightening my cap. "Uncooperative, spiteful, and armed with a biological taser. You're perfect."
pokemon ranks: The class of pokemon are:
Normal
pseudo gym
gym
pseudo elite
elite
pseudo champion
champion
pseudo legend
legend
pseudo god
god
I wasn't exaggerating about the stats. In this world, the **Soul-Rank** of a Pokémon was everything. You could train for a decade, but if your Pokémon was born with a **Normal** or **Gym** class core, they would eventually hit a ceiling that no amount of rare candies could break. To move from one class to the next—say, from **Elite** to **Pseudo-Champion**—required a Pokémon to compress its inner energy core, a process that usually took five years of near-death experiences and meditative focus.
Catching an **Elite** in the wild was like winning the lottery while being struck by lightning. And this Pichu? He was a natural Elite. He was a shortcut to greatness wrapped in yellow fur and a bad attitude.
"Come on, work with me here," I sighed, reaching out again.
*ZAP.*
"Hmph!" The Pichu crossed its tiny arms, looking away with a level of sass that I almost respected.
"Right. Plan B." I reached into my pack and pulled out a pair of heavy-duty, industrial-grade rubber gloves. I snapped them on with a satisfying *pop*. "No way out today, Sparky. Today is officially 'Bonding Day.' You're staying on my shoulder until you realize I'm the best thing that ever happened to your miserable, prank-pulling life."
I scooped him up. He let out an indignant shriek and unleashed a full-body discharge. The gloves hummed, the rubber smoking slightly, but I felt nothing. The Pichu pouted, his cheeks sparking weakly in a fit of muffled rage, before finally slumping down.
I hopped on my skateboard, the wheels clattering against the rocky path leading upward. We were halfway to the cave entrance when the air suddenly grew cold. A high-pitched, rhythmic screeching began to echo from the dark maw of the mountain.
*SCREE-SCREE-SCREE!*
A literal black cloud erupted from the cave. A horde of Zubat, hundreds of them, pouring out into the twilight. They weren't just flying; they were panicked.
Sparky, sensing the threat to his new 'throne' on my shoulder, didn't wait for a command. He stood up, his tiny ears twitching, and unleashed a massive **Thunder Shock**. The bolt branched out like a golden tree, arcing from one bat to the next in a chain reaction of high-voltage justice.
Dozens of Zubat tumbled to the ground, fainted instantly. But the effort was too much for the little guy. Sparky's eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward, fainted from his own power output.
"Pichu! Are you okay?" I caught him before he hit the dirt, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He groaned, giving a weak nod before his head lolled back. I retrieved him immediately, his Pokéball clicking shut with a soft chime. "Rest up, you little anarchist. You did good."
I glanced at the carpet of fallen Zubat. Most were **Normal** or **Pseudo-Gym** trash, but then, my HUD flickered. Near the edge of the pile, a Zubat with a particularly sleek, dark coat was struggling to right itself.
**[Data Scan: Wild Zubat]**
* **Class:** Elite
* **Nature:** Jolly (+Speed, -Sp. Atk)
* **Ability:** Infiltrator (Hidden Ability)
"Infiltrator? And Elite?" I didn't hesitate. I flicked a Pokéball with the precision of a professional dealer. It hit the bat's wing, sucked it in, and clicked shut before it even hit the ground. "Welcome to the G-Pro squad, Bat-man. I'm not letting a Jolly Infiltrator slip through my fingers."
But as I tucked the ball away, my brow furrowed. "Strange... Zubat are nocturnal, but they don't migrate out of a cave in a blind panic like that unless someone is messing with the hive."
I gripped my skateboard like a shield and crept toward the entrance. "Nelly, keep the HUD on high-alert. Something's rotten in Mt. Moon."
---
### The Moon Shadow Operation
The interior of the cave was illuminated by artificial floodlights—a direct violation of environmental protection laws. I ducked behind a massive stalagmite, peering into a wide cavern that had been turned into a makeshift logistics hub.
It was Team Rocket. But it wasn't the bumbling trio I'd seen in Viridian. These grunts were organized, moving crates of fossils and captured Pokémon with military precision. And standing at the center of the chaos were two figures I recognized from the G-Pro "Most Wanted" archives.
Cassidy and Butch.
**[Main Mission: Defeat Team Rocket]**
**[Reward: Class Enhancer x2, 20,000 pts]**
My pulse spiked. 20,000 points? That was enough to upgrade my entire kit. And two Class Enhancers? I could push Eevee or Spearow into the **Pseudo-Champion** tier alongside Nugget.
I pulled out my smartphone, recording a steady stream of the operation. Fossils were being crushed into dust, and rare Clefairy were being shoved into cramped, electrified cages. I hit the emergency upload to Officer Jenny's secure server.
"This is G-Recruit Regina," I whispered into the mic. "I'm inside Mt. Moon, Sector 4. I have visual confirmation of a large-scale smuggling operation led by A-Rank operatives Cassidy and Butch. Sending coordinates now. I'm initiating containment."
I didn't wait for a reply. I knew the G-Pro backup would take time, and those Clefairy didn't have time.
"Sakura, go," I breathed, releasing the pink Butterfree. "Use **Sleep Powder**, wide dispersal. Keep it quiet."
Sakura drifted through the shadows like a ghost. A fine, glittering pink dust began to settle over the grunts. One by one, they slumped over their crates, snoring before they could even reach for their belts. I moved in behind her, systematically collecting their Pokéballs and ziptieing their hands.
We were making incredible progress. We'd cleared three substations when we reached the primary holding area. Cassidy and Butch were standing over a large cage filled with crying Pokémon.
"We're going to make a fortune on these fossils, Butch," Cassidy laughed, her voice sharp and grating. "The Boss will finally give us the promotion we deserve."
"Yeah," Butch grunted, adjusting his black vest. "As long as no one—"
*Clack.*
My skateboard hit a loose stone. Both of them spun around instantly.
"Oh look what we have here," Cassidy sneered, her eyes narrowing as she spotted me. "A brat who doesn't know how to keep her nose out of others' business."
"Let's teach her a lesson for messing with Team Rocket," Butch growled. "Go, Hitmontop!"
"Go, Raticate!" Cassidy yelled.
The two Pokémon emerged with a roar. The Raticate was a snarling beast with yellowed fangs, and the Hitmontop was already spinning like a top, its kicks cracking the stone floor.
"Sakura, **Sleep Powder**!"
"Not this time, brat!" Butch yelled. "**Rapid Spin**, blow it away!"
The Hitmontop's rotation created a localized gale, scattering the powder before it could settle.
"Spearow! Nugget! Let's go!" I shouted, releasing my heavy hitters.
The battle was a chaotic symphony of violence. My Spearow—now a **Pseudo-Elite** with a chip on his shoulder—clashed with the Hitmontop in mid-air.
"**Steel Wing**!"
Spearow's wings took on a lethal, metallic sheen. He dived like a kamikaze pilot, clashing against the Hitmontop's spinning legs. Sparks flew. The sound of metal on bone echoed through the cavern. Spearow was faster, fueled by spite, but the Hitmontop was a tank.
Meanwhile, Nugget was locked in a deadly dance with the Raticate.
"Nugget, **Flame Charge**! Don't let it get a grip!"
My Torchic was a blur of crimson fire. She circled the Raticate, her **Pseudo-Champion** speed making her nearly invisible. But Cassidy was a professional.
"Raticate, **Super Fang**! Wait for the opening!"
The Raticate took a hit to the shoulder, ignited fur smelling like a dumpster fire, but it didn't flinch. It lunged, its massive incisors glowing with white energy. It caught Nugget's wing.
"Chic!" Nugget let out a pained shriek.
"Nugget! Use **Magma Burst**!"
The Torchic unleashed a concentrated, semi-liquid stream of fire at point-blank range. The heat was so intense it singed my own eyebrows from ten feet away. The Raticate shrieked, releasing its grip and tumbling backward, its fur blackened and smoking.
"Finish it! Sakura, **Hypnosis** on the trainers!"
While the Pokémon were distracted, Sakura's eyes glowed with a deep, undulating blue. Cassidy and Butch, caught off guard by the tactical shift, stared directly into the spiral. Their eyes glazed over, and they slumped to the ground, unconscious.
With the trainers out, the Raticate and Hitmontop lost their tactical edge. Spearow delivered a final, crushing **Steel Wing** to the Hitmontop's head, and Nugget finished the Raticate with a high-speed **Quick Attack**.
I stood there, panting, my team exhausted but victorious. "We... we did it," I whispered, wiping sweat and soot from my face. "Nelly, tell me that was the boss fight."
---
### The Executive's Chill
"A valiant effort for a mere recruit."
The voice didn't come from the grunts. It didn't come from the radio. It was cold, melodic, and held the weight of a thousand frozen graves.
The clicking of high heels echoed against the cave floor, rhythmic and predatory. From the shadows of the rear tunnel, a woman stepped into the light. She wore a high-collared Team Rocket uniform, her long, silver-lilac hair cascading down her back. Her eyes were sharp, aristocratic, and completely devoid of mercy.
Ariana. The Executive.
Beside her walked a Pokémon that made my HUD scream in warning. A Vileplume, its massive red petals pulsing with a toxic, sickly glow. It didn't look like a flower; it looked like an altar to a dark god.
**[Data Scan: Ariana's Vileplume]**
* **Class:** Pseudo-Champion
* **Level:** 68
* **Nature:** Modest
* **Aura:** Corrosive Spore Hazard
My heart didn't just drop; it plummeted into the abyss. Level 68? My highest was Nugget at Level 18. This wasn't a battle. This was a culling.
"You've caused quite a disruption, kid," Ariana said, her voice smooth as silk. "Cassidy and Butch are clumsy, but they serve a purpose. You, however... you are a variable I cannot allow to continue."
She didn't reach for a Pokéball. She didn't need to. The Vileplume stepped forward, its petals shivering. A faint, purple mist began to bleed from its center, and the air in the cavern became suddenly, terrifyingly difficult to breathe.
"Vileplume," Ariana whispered, her eyes locking onto mine. "**Solar Beam**."
The flower's center began to glow with a blinding, white-hot intensity, drawing power from the high-wattage floodlights above.
I looked at my exhausted Torchic, my bruised Spearow, and my drained Butterfree. I was a semester IV student with a skateboard and a dream, and I was currently staring down the barrel of a Level 68 Executive-class execution.
"Oh shit," I whispered, my hand trembling as I reached for Sparky's ball. "I am so incredibly fucked."
The light from the Vileplume's bloom filled the cavern, turning the world to a blinding, lethal white.
**[To Be Continued...]**