"I... what?" Howard looked up from his desk as Shred made himself (literally) at home. "Why?"

The archaeologist's desk was, as always, stacked with papers. A large map took up a part of the wall near his Relicanth aquarium, and it had several dozen pins poking out of various parts of Hoenn. Routes were drawn between them. A Relicanth lazily blinked at Shred, before swimming away.

"Why are we chasing aliens?" Howard stopped and corrected himself. "You. Why are you chasing aliens? If this is about the Lunatone conspiracy theory, they proved that was a hoax last week."

If anything, Howard was surprised by Shred actively being proactive for once. He rarely had a reason whenever he asked Howard to do anything. Aliens were his best excuse yet. That didn't mean it was a good excuse, but it piqued Howard's interest. After a glance at Shred, Howard sighed and put down his stack of papers and gestured at him.

"Explain."

---

Shred Zeppelin

"C'mooooooooon! THE aliens." You reply, grabbing an archaeological magazine from the coffee table and flicking through it as you speak. "You know the aliens I'm talking about. The ones that were in the swamp caves? With the spaceship, and the bear, and the weird purple organs? The ones that mysteriously disappeared after we left?"

Hm. Not many articles about dinosaurs in this one, are there? That's a shame. You were really hoping you could catch up on some cool and fun Tyrantrum facts while you were here. Alas, it seems like you're stuck with "The Twin History of Tentacool and Toedscool" instead. What a shame.

"We can't let those aliens run free, especially not with that weird parasite they've got. It'll definitely become a problem for us down the line, right? Like, what happens if one of those chains end up on somebody important, like an Underboss or something? It'll fuck everything up, that's what'll happen. So you give me a million bucks, I use that money to find them, we go wipe them out, and bish bash bosh, that's one less problem we've got to worry about."

Or at least, that's the elevator pitch version of the plan. Obviously, it's far from being perfect, but you'll have plenty of time to work out the kinks when you've got a million bucks to back you up.

"You can budget that for me, right?"

---

howard slayte

"Oh." Howard blinked once and rubbed his temples. "Those aliens."

It was hard to forget the battle that they had all had with the Megalopolans in the caverns below Route 119. The investigation team had trudged through blood, mud, and iron to figure out what happened to those missing people. They had ended up dead, and Howard had ended up with a nifty bear. Fun times, especially since Howard got to write his paper on the Bloodmoon Beast.

Shred had ended up making a crackpot video, but Howard had purged the memories of it from his mind.

"You're right. The Megalopolans are an issue, which is something I've been telling the rest of high command for months now. They don't give a shit!" If something wasn't directly threatening Team Rocket's agenda, Walsh and his crew of sycophants ignored it. The struggles of wartime. "That magenta chain isn't good for us, man."

Shuffling through some papers, Howard inspected a ledger. He let out a large sigh as he inspected the numbers. Kyogre was tearing a hole through Rocket's wallet. A million PD? Fuuuuck.

"Can't do a million." Howard leaned back in his seat. "I'll give you... a thousand."

A pittance.

---

Shred Zeppelin

"A thousand?!"

Your shock is punctuated by the magazine slipping from your hands and slapping against the floor. You take a moment to do the mental maths: One million bucks divided by one thousand, that's... Fucking hell, a thousandth? He's offering you a thousandth of what you've asked for? You do a little more. A thousand bucks, which'll probably end up divided between you and Lulu, presumably in a fifty-fifty split, and that's five hundred each, which means... Arceus wept, that's just tragic.

"C'mon! That won't even pay my mortgage for the month, let alone find any aliens!" You complain, throwing your hands up and your head back. You're just going to have to put the screws to him a little. Can't get juice from a lemon without squeezing it, right? "You've gotta give me more than that. Hell, just give me a hundred thousand. That's a tenth of what I was asking for! Surely, you can spare that much for a Rocket Beast on an important mission?"

You lean forward, giving him an expectant look. You've already had to cede way more ground than you'd like, but considering the disparity between your request and his offer, then it's unfortunately necessary. But, hey, you're meeting him in the middle, aren't you? Now all he needs to do is meet you there, too.

---

howard slayte

"Wait," Howard's voice was incredulous as he leaned forward. "You have a mortgage now? You took out a mortgage?"

Arceus above, that was a disaster. Shred was a wastrel. There was no job in Hoenn that Shred could work that would allow him to afford a house in this economy. What sort of credit score did the Rocket Beast even have? Shred Zeppelin had to be shitting gold in order to afford anything of note!

Or he was pulling at Howard's weak, human heart? What a heartless manipulator!

"Do I look like I'm made of money, man?" Howard threw up his hands. "Kyogre is sinking all of the smuggling ships I have! Do you know how much money I've lost this month alone? Why, I've lost count!"

The archaeologist stood up and paced behind his desk. A large map of Hoenn was rolled out on the wall, and several pins were placed on several cities. Lines and arrows represented supply lines and smuggling routes, all converging on the beating heart known as Sootopolis. The city was a heart that pumped vice all throughout Hoenn. Rocket was making quite the hefty sum.

"I'll give it to you." Howard exhaled as he remembered Shred running to his death. His eye softened slightly. "If," he held up a finger, "You can tell me what you'll use the money on."

---

Shred Zeppelin

You watch Howard as he thinks. What about? You don't know. You've known each other for quite some time, but you've rarely been on the same wavelength. If you were to guess, you'd imagine he was crunching the numbers right now, trying to see if there's room in the budget for this expense. Then again, that's just a guess, isn't it? You don't really know. All you can do is sit here in silence until he gives you his answer...

...Wait what did he mean by "You have a mortgage?", actually? And why was he so surprised? What is he implying? Hang on, was that a jab at--

NEVERMIND! Forget about all that! It doesn't matter, because he's going to give you the money! And all you've got to do is to tell him... What you're going to do with it... Hm.

The look of glee on your face is short-lived. You, uh, hadn't really got that far yet. And honestly, why would you? You're not one for window shopping, you don't think about spending money that you don't have. Sure, you've got ideas about how you'd spend that money, but nothing concrete! Not to mention that half of that money would end up going to Lulu Flint , and you have NO IDEA how she'd spend that.

Oh ARCEUS, Lulu. Do you tell him? It's certainly a tempting notion, but a risky one. It feels like you're standing on the crossroads between two vastly different timelines, branching out from this decision. What would happened if you told Howard that this little project of yours has the backing of Lulu? In one universe, he acknowledges that you've got better minds than your own involved, acquiesces to your demands, and gives you the money without any further interrogation. In the other, he immediately assumes this is some ploy to get in her pants, retracts the offer, and reprimands you for even trying. Can you take that chance?

No. You can't. Shit, there's no easy way out of this, is there? You'll just have to convince him. Alright, time to lock in, Shred Zeppelin. He's wise to your usual tricks, so laying on the charm won't work. You'll just have to think fast, and talk faster.

"Alright, step one? Buy grunts." You begin, only to pause. "Am I allowed to do that? Buy grunts? Or, would 'recruit' be the better word... Actually, do I even have to pay for that? Can I just get grunts?"

---

howard slayte

"Shred, I love you." The confession is lost in a stare that could freeze Regice. This was the glare that Howard got when the Burger Kingler was out of Aerodactyl toys that came with a kids meal. This was the glare that Howard gave the wall when a higher up told him to do something he didn't like. This was the glare that came out when Howard talked about the employers that didn't hire him before he joined Rocket.

It was a glare that pierced submarines and ripped skies asunder.

"But you're an idiot. Let me ask you this:" Howard's tone was as dry as a desert. "Did we get anything extra after the snail incident? Or the Route 119 incident? Or that time that you changed the lightbulbs in Walsh's office?"

"Grunts don't get anything! They're grunts! Paying them extra defeats the point!" He slammed his finger into the desk, each finger tap a hammer blow. "They're free!"

In that alternate world where Shred told Howard, Howard would've slapped him on the back and nodded thoughtfully. Not only was Lulu smart, but she was pretty hot. He could see it! If you could get past the death stare, and the death threats, and the overworking, and the trauma...

Yeah, maybe Shred's hypothesis about Howard throttling him was valid. This attempt to convince the Admin wasn't going particularly well. Maybe it was best for Shred to shift gears, maybe appea-

"But you've convinced me. I'll write you a check." Howard's tone didn't change. Was he joking? A pen with an Aerodactyl head clicked against the desk as Howard pulled out a checkbook. "A hundred thousand?"

---

Shred Zeppelin

"...Oh."

Yeah, actually, none of those "bonuses" you got were actually legitimate, were they? No, you just swiped a Pokeball from the smuggling rings whenever you felt like you deserved a little treat. And boy, did you deserve a lot of little treats! It's a good thing that nobody ever discovered the true extent of your skimming-off-the-top, or else you'd probably still be mopping bathrooms and changing lightbulbs right now.

That aside, your sales pitch is off to a real rough start. In fact, you've basically just run straight into the first hurdle. You're gonna need a change of plans here. Focus less on the personnel, more on the equipment? Yeah, that makes sense. You'll buy drones and shit. That'll definitely get him back on board.

"Okay, you're right, so--" You begin, only to be interrupted by Howard pulling out his checkbook. He was really giving it to you? For real? On Arceus? Just like that? Huh. Well, no point looking this gift horse in the mouth. So, you mentally shrug, discard all your half-finished thoughts about budgeting, and simply nod. "Yeah, a hundred thousand pokedollars, please."

---

howard slayte

"Alright, sure. What're friends for, if not to sign checks with five or more zeroes? Don't tell Cillian Quinn or Zev Harcourt if you plan on using it for stupid shit." Howard felt the instinctive buzz over the Rocket Beast's name as his mind omitted it from existence. "I don't want to be sharply questioned in a cell."

Tap. Tap. Tap. The Aerodactyl pen tapped against the table like a gavel. It was just a pen he had gotten in grad school. Just a pen. Yet he had dragged it with him from unemployment hell to Rocket Admin. It was a piece of individuality that he kept with him. Rocket could take everything, but not that.

Not the proof of his passion.

"I'm going to tell you why." Howard's handwriting looped, creating five zeroes and a one. The loops spiraled into a signature for Howard Slayte. After a moment, he crossed it out and replaced it with the name Galarian. He was still struggling with that signature.

He wondered if Admin Fox, his predecessor, had this issue. Had he eventually signed paperwork under Fox, instead of Remiel? Would Galarian come as naturally as Howard Slayte, some day?

He hoped not.

"I'm giving you the money because, if you do use Grunts, I want you to be better to them than our bosses were to us." Howard's eye was unblinking. Serious. "We need to be better, and I don't want you to be confined to the bullshit I am as Admin. This check? It's a ticket from me to you, for you to chase this however you want. Just bring back results."

He ripped the check—Shred's ticket to freedom—from his checkbook, stood up, and passed over to the sofa. He held out the check.

"Got it?"

---

Shred Zeppelin

"Got it."

As you take the paycheck from Howard, you take a moment to admire it. For some, this much money would be life-changing. For others, it'd just be a drop in the bucket. For you? This is enough to do what you need to do, and that's what matters. What you'll do it is another story, but that's another story for another day. For now, you fold up the check as neatly as you can, and proceed to tuck it away in your jacket pocket.

"Those aliens are as good as fucked, bud." You assure the admin, pulling yourself up off the couch. What to do next? Lulu said she would contact you, not the other way around. Besides, you, uh, aren't quite ready to see her again. You suppose its best not to worry too much. It'll happen when it happens. Until then, you might as well just keep on holding down the fort. "Until then, I'll keep in touch.".

With that, you nonchalantly stroll out of his office, giving him one last wave as you close the door behind you. All things considered, that went remarkably well. You have no complaints.

Now, time to go cash this check.

---

howard slayte