"It's his biggest error, I confess. Tempest Quinn is far too trusting, it's his biggest weakness." Howard frowned, then his eye softened. "Yet he's the reason I have faith in Team Rocket. He's an animal, rabid and frothing. Yet he trusted me, and so I trust him."

Step. Step. Step. Howard's boots sunk into the snow as he walked off, before turning to Underboss Quinn.

"If I end up like Merlo, and you're the one who strikes me down..." Howard's eye winked shut, and his scarred eye socket twitched. "Lie. Don't tell him it was you. Despite your pride as an archaeologist, put it aside for that man."

After a somber moment, the archaeologist brightened and let out a wry smile. His eye glinted in the cold winter snow. He and Cillian Quinn were the same. It was like looking into a snapshot of an ending that Howard Slayte didn't want to accept. So he wouldn't. He'd ignore this bad end, and bury it. Let someone else dig it up.

That was the purpose of archaeology.

"Or not. Maybe I'll stick around. Team Rocket needs an Admin Fox, don't you agree?"

---

Cillian Quinn

"Don't do it for pride, do it for love. I suppose that's hard, though. You and I? We need to tell the truth. We're historians, after all. A lie told for any reason brings shame upon the field we've committed ourselves to."

Even if Cillian had thrown that field away in favor for Rocket. He had become a weapon, an ironfisted ruler who served. Instead of being the chronicler of history, he was now the glue that held the tapestry of Rocket together. There was a reason Cillian inspired so much terror on the battlefield, with that Shadow Lugia of his.

No, in spite of it. Cillian did not need Lugia to be strong.

"Because history shouldn't be erased. Remiel Calcifet should know that some stains simply never come out. It's my shame, and his as well. He thinks he can just walk away...?"

Howard clenched a fist, and his eye blazed with anger. Why did Remiel get to walk away, and not him? The prince who had been raised for kingship, joining Rocket for some obscene reason that nobody knew? Once he got Zekrom, he decided that he was too good for them?

Unacceptable. Remiel Calcifet shouldn't have been allowed to defect. He got to, and Howard didn't. He was stuck here. Remiel got everything, including his freedom. Howard got the dregs.

"It's a punishment for me and him." Howard looked at Cillian. "You get it?"

---

Cillian Quinn

"If the options are to join up with Rocket or let my dream die, I'll put my uniform on every time." Howard shrugged, annoyed. Cillian didn't have this choice. Rocket had simply broken his body and mind until he had reached this point. Again, they were different. He was not the same as Cillian Quinn.

"It was do this or stock aisles in a Pokemart, watching as my dream turned to ash. Dreams have no end, but I would've found the end of mine."

He decided that he disliked Cillian Quinn for throwing his pride away, but he also chose to like the man. The Underboss had simply shifted one dream in favor of another. That was admirable.

He had been flexible, because the other option was to break.

"Good. I'll do my job. I understand when I've nudged too far. Thank you for the conversation, Underboss Quinn."

A flash of Pokeballs erupted as several Sigilyth flew towards the pit, and began moving crates with psychic power. Howard sighed and checked his watch. A lot of this would be sold, but Howard would pick out a few pieces for his collection.

His pride as a historian, he supposed.

"You're sure you don't want a piece?"

---

Cillian Quinn

"Once." Howard's voice was an echo. "What is 'once' but a moment in history that has already passed? The past can come again, Cillian. When it does..."

The Admin smiled a strange smile, the kind that persisted long after the source of joy had passed.

"You'll make that choice again."

A higher shelf was still a shelf, after all. There was a difference between tossing something into the trash and leaving it just out of reach.

The archaeologist watched as his his Sigilyth stacked the boxes midair with mental power. With a flash, his Claydol appeared before the crates. Everything vanished as it and the Sigilyth Teleported the supplies back to Sootopolis to be sorted, archived, and sold.

"I see. You'll have to show me it sometime, yeah?" Howard didn't display the childish glee he tended to display when faced with archaeological findings or tools. Instead, he just seemed weary. Afraid. Tired. "Let's go back. The rangers should be here in a few minutes, and Crumble should be back right..."

Howard checked his watch. "Now."

Crumble appeared before Cillian and Howard, the Claydol staring at them both. Howard bowed his head and gestured towards the Claydol.

"After you."

---

Cillian Quinn