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Sootopolis is struggling. All of Hoenn is, to an extent. However, still recovering from Necrozma’s attack, with supplies running low, and receiving no support from the rest of the region, hard times have really come to the city hidden within the ancient crater.
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If the League won't work with them, then the criminals who call Sootopolis their own will do what they do best: they will take.
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There is one problem, though. That problem is people’s sheer incompetence.
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He had given them simple instructions concerning stealing cargo that might be of use to the city, but apparently the lesser among his underlings can’t even do that without getting themselves in enough trouble to contact him begging for his assistance. Perhaps it’s fate that he had been nearby, working at the Black Market, or he would have left them to their own devices.
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It still doesn’t stop the underboss from sighing when witnessing the scene through the eyes of the Unown-A sent to scout ahead, and when he appears at Slateport harbour, he does so with no illusions and clad in a mask of red.
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A Clawitser and an unusual Samurott are sent to the grunts’ aid, swimming swiftly. And, it's through a MEGA LAUNCHER that DRAGON PULSES are shot with the intent of breaking the Dragapult’s neat formation. While CEASELESS EDGE does the same.
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Standing on a container, the masked man watches, and when the unblinking eye of a hidden Unown-Y reveals to him the identity of the one commanding the dragons, it’s for a second that he pauses.
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Fucking Angelo. What the fuck is he doing here of all places?


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I can see you too, fucker.
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Or, well, the Unown can. In the cover of the night, scattered and hidden among containers and crates, the three he had brought with him keep a watchful eye. It’s the Unown-Y that calls to him, and Mars embraces the telepathic connection in order to see what the symbol sees from atop of a streetlight. Unown-Y. Yellow. Yellow as the familiar markings of the ever so peculiar Dragapult now attacking him.
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Et tu, X-Ray?
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One second he’s straight in the path of the DRAGON DARTS, the next he disappears from sight. He had only teleported beneath, to a hidden spot beneath one of the larger crates, but it grants him enough time to avoid the attack and consider the next step to take.
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Out in the water, the Clawitzer and Samurott continue their chase, watched by an Unown-A that follows their movement closely. Their attacks had been stopped, yet they are relentless, and aimed from behind towards the dragons, the cold of an ICE BEAM cuts through the air seconds later. A DARK PULSE follows, disturbing the waters.
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It’s only then that the masked man releases another pokémon. Leaving it to stand alone out in the open.
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A Metagross.
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Ironically, the same Metagross he had sent to stand by Kyogre’s side when Necrozma had attacked Sootopolis, but this is not something that even crosses his mind at this moment.
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A FLASH CANNON shines bright, aimed for the equally bright target that is the Illumina Dragapult.
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Mars sighs, pushing pass the slight pang of guilt that comes when attacking the sibling of his own cherished dragon.


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The Unown keep a close eye on Angelo, and through their eyes, Mars himself watches the pilot’s movements. Decisions are quickly made, considering what to do next. He could leave, for it would be easier not to engage, but it’s definitely too late for that and he can’t just leave the pokémon he had released behind. They’re valuable assets.
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He could, however, trick him just like how he had tricked Melody Miro into thinking he’s a member of the Dark Triad.
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Behind his dark mask, a smirk tugs at Mars’ lips for a second there, just as the beam of light shot by the Metagross is avoided by the Illumina Dragapult. That’s fine. It’s probably better for them, anyway. And, slow and heavy as it be, the Iron Leg Pokémon is quick to make calculations, soon utilising its MAGNET RISE to lift itself in the air and avoid the spectral dragon’s attack.
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Meanwhile, behind his mask, its trainer quirks a brow at the sight of angelo vestri. He has to resist the temptation to ask if it isn't past his bedtime. Alas, this is not the time for such banter.
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”You do?”
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He disappears, leaving only an Unown-D behind. Much like how his Samurrott disappears underwater in order to avoid the Dragapult’s attacks. The Clawitzer makes use of its large claw as if a shield, attempting to endure and protecting himself with his thick shell before releasing DARK PULSE after DARK PULSE. From underwater, a HYDRO PUMP is shot towards the dragons.
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And right then, as if by act of perfect combination, in sync as one, the Unown use their HIDDEN POWER against their opponents. Unown-D goes for Angelo, yet it doesn’t aim to cause the pilot too much harm. ’Give him a scare’, Mars had told it. Unown-A goes for the Dragapult formation, this time caring little to be kind. And, finally, the Unown-Y aims for X-Ray, as much as Mars would rather not have his own Dragapult’s sibling involved in this fight.
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While all these attacks occur, the masked man reappears metres away, hidden by towering containers.


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What is this, hide-and-seek? He had come here with the intention of checking what kind of stupid situation his underlings had gotten themselves into, perhaps even of giving them a hand, but what he had encountered had lead to a change of plans. angelo vestri has a penchant for getting on people’s nerves, that much would be obvious to anyone, but this penchant of his one day may get him killed.
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Perhaps Mars should teach him a lesson, then. Deal with him. But, that would mean going all out, and the Rocket Underboss doesn’t underestimate him enough not to know that Angelo wouldn’t make that easy for him. He is no simple pilot, and in the end, a fight like that here and now is not worth it.
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The PSYCHIC attack does catch him by surprise, though. Had that been Latias? Or, had it been something else? If his TELEPORTATION abilities were like those of a pokémon, that would be it. But, they’re not. He’s able to break free from the hold before hitting the containers, and by the time Angelo starts asking his questions, he’s actually standing metres behind the pilot, on the back of his Metagross.
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Targeted attacks? Meteor Falls? Slateport City? It all sounds vaguely familiar, like things he’s heard before, but ultimately, too unimportant for Mars to even give it all much thought.
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Just as before, the voice produced by the mask has a metallic ring to it, unnatural and distorted:
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”Doesn’t everyone wear masks?”
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Ah, it’s so boring to be this cryptic.
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The Unown-D and Unown-Y silently approach, as if called to his side. They flank him, but behind the dark mask, his gaze remains fixed on Angelo.
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”Even you, angelo vestri.”
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The Unown-A had heard the call too, but in its case, it means diving down into the waters below, with the Samurott and Clawitzer, it disappears into the ocean, hidden by the depths that shield them from the explosions caused by the pilot’s dragons.
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”I’m not the person you’re looking for.”
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And with that said, it’s with a powerful HYPER BEAM aimed directly at Angelo himself that the man, his Metagross, and the Unown disappear too. It's not like Mars expects him to die so easily, of course.



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He has always been a man of many masks, and angelo vestri has come to know a handful. That of the altruistic banker who cares for Hoenn and its people, that of the rich businessman who occasionally gets involved in one or two questionables ventures off the books, that of the collector, of the man who obsesses over riddles and mysteries, and now, that of the criminal with strange abilities.
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None of these are who Mars really is and perhaps Angelo will never get to know the real him. Perhaps no one else ever will. Not anymore.
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That does not matter.
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Today, the mask had been literal, physical, tangible, and one he soon removes once within the safety of one of the buildings operated by Team Rocket near Slateport Harbour. A place most people don’t know of. Completely hidden.
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He sighs, his Metagross being nowhere to be seen, having been returned to its pokéball before even teleporting. All there is is an Unown-Y, one that stares at Mars with the same impassiveness he has come to expect.



It makes him think of Xanthos. It makes him think of X-Ray.
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One day perhaps he will face Angelo properly, get the kind of fight he expects from someone for whom he has a certain unspoken respect, but on this night, all Mars plans to do is to deal with his apparently-useless underling and then regroup with the rest of his pokémon.
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”Come on, Yellow.” He sighs, vanishing into thin air once more.


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