Team Rocket was going under, and here was the proof: grunts were doubling up as janitors for no extra pay.

Howard expected this from decrepit Burger Kinglers, Pokemarts, and morally dubious internships. He did not expect it from the mafia that managed to take over an entire city. All the grunts had drawn straws to see who would get this job, and naturally Howard, Shred, and Grigori had been sent on a mission with a 99 percent chance of failure.

Nonetheless, the meeting with the other grunts had been as somber as the secret meeting that happened in the Cave of Origin some months ago. There were tearful farewells, sobbing into shoulders, and even a stray cat that went on a rampage. Granted, it was a Perrserker and not a Treasure of Ruin, but still.

Yes, they were here to make sure that Elisabeth Fiorelli, Underboss Extraordinaire, voted 'most terrible individual to work under' in the Team Rocket Grunt Magazine, was satisfied.

It was like asking for hell to freeze over, or for Zev Harcourt to not kill people.

"Question." Howard said cautiously, as if speaking up against a dictator. He had several questions, actually, but he supposed that asking 'why' was the fastest way to get punted off a cliff. "What's in there? And how are we going to mitigate it with those?"

Howard pointed to a bucket and three mops, with no cleaning solution in sight.

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli Shred Zeppelin Grigori Sokolov

Today just really isn't a good day for you, is it?

First of all, it's a Monday. That's not inherently bad, but it's the day after a weekend, so of course that means you're also hungover. Then, you get shafted by the chore lottery and end up with janitor duty for the day. And, to top it all off, you've been called into some mysterious meeting with the higher-ups that they keep playing coy about. So, to summarise: Your head hurts, you're stuck scrubbing walls and mopping floors, and there's a strong possibility that you're going to be murdered before you see tomorrow. Joy.

Still, it's not all bad. The woman briefing you is pretty easy on the eyes. Apparently, she's someone important within Team Rocket. What was it... Admin? Underboss? Underadmin? Something like that. Whatever she is, just standing in front of her makes Howard act like a death row inmate. Grigori, meanwhile, is as stoic as ever. Personally? You think she's pretty hot, but that's neither here nor there.

"Nope." You simply reply, walking past Elisabeth as you make for the door. After all, what questions would you even need to ask? This is a glorified animal control job, how hard can it really be? Plus, you get to glance at her ass as you walk past, and you figure that's good motivation to keep you going. "No point stalling. After all, this'll be over in no time."

Yeah, you're totally "that guy" right now. You're definitely "him". She's very "impressed". Nevertheless, you keep laying the "cool" on thick. Raising your foot, you plant a boot straight in the middle of the door to the baths, kicking it wide open...

Or at least, that's the plan. Instead, your foot bounces off, the door doesn't budge an inch, and your leg hurts, too. Hm. That's weird. Why the hell is the door stuck? And why the hell did it have to happen while girls were watching?

"...Gregory, open the door, please."

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

Even if this had been by pure coincidence and luck, Grigori felt that something had determined he would be standing in front of one Elisabeth Fiorelli. Arceus, who wanted some karmic revenge? Or perhaps Declan Walsh, to show that he could not attack those above him without consequences. Maybe fate itself felt it necessary for them to meet again.

“Ms. Fiorelli, I only want the truth: did you manipulate conditions in order to ensure I ended up here?” Grigori asked. A question that opened him up for many potential consequences: A slap to the face. Gutting. Torture. Her pet torturing him as she watched with glee. “I must insist that I apologize for my actions during that meeting. I was not in entire control of my actions.”

Emotional manipulation. Likely not intentional, given all that occurred there. One beast went straight to another and tried to gut them, if memory served. Not even Grigori himself could hold anyone accountable or in discontent. Did Elisabeth feel the same?

Speaking of, back to the task at hand. As long as she didn’t kill him where he stood, then there was no question as to his duties. He walked right past Elisabeth, past Shred (the man knew they could all see his obvious, lustful glances, right?), and straight to the door. “Keep your head in check, Mr. Shred.”

He tried to open the door with all his strength. This felt unnecessarily hard. Did they weld the door shut? Maybe a stray, rabid Magcargo had found its way inside and melted the steel into itself. That or a Heatran. Muscles strained, his face grew redder and redder by the second. After a few seconds, he took a short break.

“One… two…” Grigori muttered to himself. At the mental count of three, he put a sudden burst of strength behind his force. Only then did the door finally relent and open for the three grunts.

But the sight of it nearly gave him a heart attack. “For the love of…”

Why was the snail in there?

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli howard slayte Shred Zeppelin

Wo-chien? The snail had a fucking name?

Of course it did. It was a Pokemon that Team Rocket grunts whispered about while drinking their breakfasts from blenders or while out on missions. Elisabeth Fiorelli and her legendary snail. Howard thought it was a metaphor, or an innuendo, or simply a jab at how slow she was at doling out their paychecks.

Howard squeezed his eye shut as he was pushed into the bathroom with his colleagues, mop in hand. He had only brought one Pokemon with him—Donald D. Dollars—but he didn't need it, right? Donald was just here to help balance his checkbooks. Howard didn't see what the issue was, given he had only spent about 40,000 PD on a Unovan mummy, but whatever. He still had enough to eat boiled cabbages.

"There's not gonna be a snail." Howard whispered fervently. "There'll just be a Muk. It'll be fine."

Snail-like hissing filled the room. That was just a leaky faucet.

"I'm gonna open my eyes... no snail."

The hissing got louder. Man, Howard felt the inhuman urge to throttle Shred. Why didn't he have to pay any student debt? Why were his shades so cool?

"No snail..." Howard opened his eyes.

Shit, there it was.

In a perfectly rational situation, Howard would've wanted to study its tablets. They were an ancient artifact, and if he was more confident, he would've studied them or stashed them in his apartment somewhere. Now, those feelings were forgotten in exchange for a mixture of revulsion and terror.

Forget the snail. How were they gonna clean this up with a mop?

The snail hissed again, and Howard bolted. Elisabeth slammed the door shut and locked the door. Howard screamed at the door as Elisabeth went to ruin some poor grunt's life.

That wouldn't stop Howard from throwing a fit.

"HELP US!!! I DON'T WANNA DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Howard slammed on the door. Shit. Which grunt had the janitorial keys this week? Fuck. Fuck. Wait, wasn't it Kouji Matsubara ? Howard whipped out his phone and rapidly punched in a phone number. After it rang and clicked, Howard began texting.

---

TO BLENDER GUY:

KOUJI HELP

KOUJI HELP

MOTHERFUCKER I KNOW IT'S YOUR WORKOUT DAY

COME TO THE BATHS AND UNLOCK IT WITH THE KEY

why

SNAIL

EVIL SNAIL

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

don't got it, sorry. On your own.

---

Breathing heavily, Howard stuffed his phone in his pocket. He looked at the snail. He threw his mop at it.

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli Shred Zeppelin Grigori Sokolov

As you step into the baths, you're faced with a sight more akin to the sewers of Spikemunth than anywhere people would go to relax. There's filth EVERYWHERE: Muck on the floors, sludge on the walls, and ooze on the ceilings. You sniff the air, and are attacked by what can only be described as the stench of guttering. Y'know, like stale rainwater and rotting leaves and bird shit, that sort of thing? All in all, it's a fairly wretched assault on your senses, and coming from you? That's saying something.

And in the middle of it all is the culprit behind this act of vandalism - A snail. Apparently, it's name is Wo-Chien? That's a pretty weird name for a snail, but hey, your Gholdengo is called Chester C. Coins, so who are you to judge?

You look at the snail, and the snail looks back at you. All of a sudden, you're reminded of that time three weeks again when Howard borrowed your pocket knife. Why hadn't he returned it yet? How long could he possibly need your pocket knife for? If he really needs it for so long, couldn't he just buy his own pocket knife? No, he probably doesn't even need it, does he? He's probably just too lazy to return it to you, the bastard! You look away from Wo-Chien and over to Howard, ready to chide the man for his failures, but as soon as you take your eyes off the snail, you falter. Hm. Well, he's currently busy crying and pleading and begging for his life, so this probably isn't a good time. The knife can wait.

For now.

"Fucking hell, man, get a grip!" You shout at Howard, watching him fruitlessly toss his mop towards the beast with little effect. "What's wrong with you? It's just a snail! Are you really so afraid of this... What even is it, actually? Paldean Magcargo?"

You glance back at Wo-chien. You don't know what it actually is, but you do know that it looks pretty cool. And, thinking about it, they did say that you just had to mitigate the damage, right? Well, you know of one way to stop a rampaging wild Pokemon. Idly, your hand shifts down to your Pokeballs, lingering on an empty one for a moment, before sliding over to those containing your team.

"Alright, look, how are we doing this?" You ask aloud, looking over to your peers. You're talking to the both of them, but really, you're addressing Grigori, because you're getting the sense that Howard will be too busy shitting himself to actually help. "We just need to to stop it from causing any more damage, right? And the best way to do that is to knock it out, yeah? So let's just send out our heaviest hitters, and hit it heavily. Does that sound like a plan?"

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

Well, it seemed that Elisabeth lied just as naturally as she breathed: the thing was hers, damn it. Why couldn’t she figure it out herself? Not like these baths were open to anyone but the highest of the high here. This would be the first, and likely last, time Grigori even entered.

Lest they made him a janitor proper.

Fortunately for Grigori, though, the grudges that came to the surface did not muddy his emotions much. He’d felt these before. He would not let them win out again. It did mean he was more annoyed with Shred easier. The man called him the wrong name on purpose, right? Had to.

But that did not make the place clean. Nor placate the snail, which hissed at the small group without discrimination. “This is the Pokémon under the control of one Elisabeth Fiorelli, Mr. Shred. The one who just left. And locked the door. Not sure what it is, but it’s a one of a kind, to say the least.”

The plan proposed by Shred seemed fine enough. He didn’t know how well their overseer would take the fainting of her Pokémon, but it felt almost necessary. Grigori nodded along, “For once, I can’t find anything to disagree with. Might as well give it a shot and see what happens.”

But which of his team did he send to tangle with the Ruinous Beast? Probably best to get Scizor on the job. It’d at least know what they were dealing with, if only a little. So, he sent out the red insect with a flash of light. It looked to its trainer, annoyed at the silly circumstances but otherwise ready to act.

“If you two can distract it, create an opening, Scizor here can put a dent in its shell,” he said. Scizor took that as a sign to get ready for a quick and simple fight: it started to do a little pre-victory jig. The clash of swords and metal echoed in the small room as it did a Swords Dance.

“What do you two have in terms of Pokémon?”

---

howard slayte Shred Zeppelin Elisabeth Fiorelli

"HELP!!! LET ME OUTTTTTTT!" Howard banged at the door helplessly, before finally giving up. He let out a groan and turned to Grigori and Shred, who was eyeing him suspiciously. Hey, didn't Shred owe him twenty dollars for that UBEReats a few months ago?

That fucker still hadn't paid him back!

What about Grigori? He made, like, 900 more PD than Howard did! That wasn't particularly fair! He had a bike, but he was perfectly willing to carpool with Howard on the way to jobs. Howard's eye twitched, before turning to the snail.

Immediately, the feeling ceased. Howard's eye narrowed.

"Arceus above... It all makes sense!" Howard pointed at the snail. "The snail is the reason our boss is a total piece of shit! Just look at i-"

Howard let out a yelp as he dodged away from Shred and the incoming Burning Jealousy. Reaching for his belt, Howard threw out Shirley. The Aerodactyl let out a roar as it snarled at Wo-chien. This thing may have been historically relevant, but it also wanted to kill them.

"That's all I've got, man. I didn't think we'd be fighting a god!" Howard whined as he looked at Grigori. Luckily, Howard was never much help in a fight, so nobody expected much from him anyway. The fact that he had sent out an Aerodactyl against Wo-chien proved that anyone else in Rocket would've been infinitely more useful.

Oh well.

That didn't matter, though. They may have been three grunts that made less money than Elisabeth did. She might not know their names. Or care. Or have a shred of kindness in her cold, snail-filled heart. Today, three ordinary men would fell a god.

Even if that god was a relatively minor one sitting in a pool inside of a luxury bathroom.

"Ice Fang!" Shirley let out a roar as she flew towards the snail.

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli Shred Zeppelin Grigori Sokolov

"FUCK!"

You throw yourself out of the way of the gout of searing flame, tumbling across the tiled floor and sliding until you hit the wall. It's a hard landing, sure, but it's way better than getting burnt black by fire. Damned piece of shit... If he thinks he can get away with this, then he's got another thing coming! You're going to crush that thing's shell beneath your goddamned boot! Enraged, you blindly snatch one of the Pokeballs from your belt, and proceed to toss it out towards the snail.

"KILL THAT MOTHERFUCKER!"

And emerging from that flash of red was a creature out of time. Talons clacked against ceramic tiles as feathers rustled in quiet contemplation. A pair of red eyes peered out from under a sedge hat of plumage, looking towards Wo-Chien. A predator, staring at prey. The question is, which was which?

"It seems that you are my enemy today." The Hisuian Decidueye declared, outstretching a winged arm. "Make your peace and say your prayers, creature of evil, for today is the day you fall."

With that confident declaration, the owl sprinted forth, leaping up above the Aerodactyl and diving down to deliver a Brave Bird to the body of the Wo-chien.

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli howard slayte Grigori Sokolov

Grigori, too, dodged to the side. Not out of fear of being hit by the hot flames, but because he didn’t want Shred to run into him instead. They’d fall to the ground and be easy prey to that thing’s powers. At that point, it’d be Howard alone that would have to clean the room, and the grunt knew that man’s definition of ‘neat and organized’.

It rivaled Wo-chiens.

Scizor rapidly changed positions as well, entirely out of fear. One lick of flame, and it’d be a complete goner. It waited a few moments for the other two Pokémon to charge ahead before it followed in pursuit, hopeful that the enemy would completely ignore it.

“I’m not sure it’s a God, but I’m sure we can take it out,” Grigori reassured Howard. However, he did spare a glance back at where its attack had landed. A massive black mark added to the wall, its smell almost as horrid as the bath themselves. “We don’t have a choice.”

While he stood back and waited to see how he and the other two would need to respond, the Scizor perched off to the side, claws clicking quietly while its two ‘companions’ attacked. If it couldn’t land a blow on that stupid ice cat in the cave, it’d sure as shit succeed this time around.

“Get ready to eat shit and die, you troglodyte!”

A buzz filled the room. Small wings flapped with all their might, and the Scizor rushed forward. This time, dangerous fangs in the form of a Bug Bite threatened to +2 252+ Atk Technician Scizor Bug Bite vs. 252 HP / 252+ Def Tablets of Ruin Wo-Chien: 700-828 (187.1 - 221.3%) -- guaranteed OHKO.

---

Shred Zeppelin howard slayte Elisabeth Fiorelli

The god of grudges could rage all it wished, that didn't change the fact that it was channeling the power of the damned from inside a pool that Walsh himself had probably pissed in.

Sure, the Super Pals Team of Howard, Shred, and Grigori was as solid as steel. Nothing could break their bond, besides stealing money from one another, shooting a friend's daughter out of the sky, or getting arrested by the Top Champion. Besides that, their teamwork and comradery had gotten them through dozens of trials. They had fought a god of lightning made manifest in Ultra Plant, after all.

The bonds between their Pokémon, though? A different story. That bond was as strong as the chains keeping the snail and its three colleagues locked up in the Border.

Much like that seal, the bonds between these Pokémon were easily broken. Thus, they were.

Immediately, Shirley's eyes widened and her pupils dilated. With a snarl, the ice crystals in her mouth grew in size as she prepared to strike at her target. It just so happened that the target had changed. Snail was off the menu, but Scizor would suffice.

Weaving through strikes, Shirley tore at Grigori's Scizor, encasing the insect in a prison of ice. The Scizor was frozen.

"Shirley, what the FUCK?" Howard screamed as Ruination affected his Pokémon. "Girl, compose yourself!"

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli Shred Zeppelin Grigori Sokolov