Maybe, in a different life, Grigori could’ve been a mover. The work was hard but rewarding, and it offered some cathartic peace to the rhythmic movement. Slowly but surely, a home was constructed from a mismatch of appliances, books, and personal belongings.

And several dozen ancient funeral urns.

“It is no problem, Mr. Slayte,” the grunt, well, grunted as he lugged the television to the stand. It sure beat the massive boxes he had in his early twenties, but they still packed a surprising amount of weight. Thus, it hit the wood a little harder than desired. But the legs didn’t snap in half, so he pressed his lips and wiped his brow.

“If the water is connected, then some of that would do well,” he walked over to the kitchen. “Good for the body, when doing physical activities.”

It wasn’t hard to procure one shiny clean glass and fill it to the brim with water himself. For the sake of it, he grabbed a second one and filled it as well. He returned to Howard and offered him the second one while he sipped from his own.

“So, you desired a change of pace as well?” Grigori motioned to the luscious yellow sand, “Or, perhaps, you wanted to feel like you live on the job.”

---

howard slayte

"Water? Got it." He hadn't connected the water himself, but he had faith that Navy would've set everything up for him prior to moving in. If Howard was going to do treason, it was best to get a few benefits from it. Sure, both Howard and Navy would hang when this was over, but that required Howard to fuck up and make a mistake.

The chances of him doing that were slim to none. He was not as foolish as a few of his colleagues.

With a nod of thanks, Howard accepted the Aerodactyl mug that he had plundered from the National Museum of Natural History. If he was going to make pennies on the Pokedollar, he was going to take merch home.

Dewford's water was cool and good.

"The change of pace is nice. Dewford's a nice place when it's not turning into a smoking crater." Last year, the League and Rocket had fought over the Ultra Deep Sea. A few months later, they had squabbled over an island north of Dewford in search of a great treasure that now unceremoniously sat in Howard's freezer.

Regice.

"Being frank, I had to move. My landlord's been trying to get me out on the street for years. This was a long time coming." Howard frowned as he looked out over the golden sand. "There are other reasons here as well."

He blinked slowly.

"Who are you loyal to?"

---

Grigori Sokolov

Grigori did not want to relive the pain that was Dewford. Thus, he didn’t offer any commentary or insight. Howard was an expert in history, and Grigori a master of all the wrongs he did. They likely shared a similar experience and thoughts, if only from different perspectives. A conversation for the sake of it.

But loyalty? That could be an entire area of study for Philosophy. One he desired to give input on, but lacked the academic credit to ever hope of it.

Not that it would stop him. “A good question. It would depend on who is asking.”

He set his glass on the counter and turned around to the sand. What beautiful sand. What a beautiful view. It matched the colors of League perfectly, and likely the faction of the ‘sheriff’.

“While my answer might change, they will all be the truth. I hold loyalties to many a people, and many a belief. For Mr. Fox, him and his own loyalty to Rocket. For Mr. Slayte, him and his academic ventures. For Mr. Howard…” He stopped. Frowned. Right, his original answer no longer worked. All because of him. Would today be the day they opened that chest, buried underneath the corpse of the name?

“Him and his desire to do the right thing, no matter how hard or impossible it may seem,” he said. “So, sir, may I ask which face you wish to put on today?”

He may not have the book smarts of his boss, but he made up for it in street smarts. People smarts. And that let him, occasionally, read Howard like an open book.

---

howard slayte

Grigori's question seemed to amuse Howard.

"Your question, my life." Howard's eye stared off into the distance, as if envisioning something. Masks upon masks, lies upon lies. A different one hid his intentions every type he met with another living person. A different mask for the admins, a different mask for the grunts, a different mask for civilians.

Howard didn't even know who he was anymore. Fox. Slayte. Howard. They were all facets of the individual who observed and chronicled epochs eternal. An observer of eons did not need to be mortal. They did not even need to be human.

Yet Howard was. He bore the shame of being Admin Fox, he could bear this shame as well.

"I don't know. I don't even check what mask it is before I wear it anymore." The admin's smile was dry yet sad, a shade of the man who had joined Rocket a year prior. The weight of responsibility caused a man to change. Cravens could become heroes under the right circumstances. "But..."

His throat itched. He needed a smoke, yet he tamped down the desire.

"I'm asking you to help me save the world from a god." The admin's eye flicked. "And myself from Rocket. I fear my back will be pressed against the wall soon. There are people who will see me moving to Dewford as suspicious."

---

Grigori Sokolov

‘Our lives’ sat on the tip of Grigori’s tongue, but he kept it hidden behind his lips. It was quite different to be nice to the admins and beasts when you were not among them, as opposed to be on the same rank. Fake formalities, but on an entirely different level. He didn’t have to work with them every day of his life.

Howard was bound to them like the keystone to his empty socket.

“For a god, I’m afraid I can do little more than whatever you order, Mr. Slayte,” he said. A deity? Well, well beyond his jurisdiction. Of a person, of a grunt, or even a friend. But he’d try. “Those are not an enemy I am familiar with.”

“But I am quite familiar with Rocket, Mr. Fox,” he crossed his arms. Hrm. The statement felt in conflict with itself. What suspicions could Rocket hold for such a move? If anything, he figured it’d be the League at the admin’s doorstep in the middle of the night. With them, enough questions to unearth even the slightest of contradictions.

“It would depend entirely on whom you’ve created such an opportunity for, and what said opportunity is,” he stepped forward and turned his back to the glass. “Because there are some things, and some actions, that there is no saving anyone from.”

Treason, for starters. Seldom few members of Rocket were gifted televisions or beach homes from loyal League members. “Please, Mr. Fox, spare no details. What's the situation?”

---

howard slayte

"Eternatus." A single word filled with doom. "Though you might know it by another word."

Grigori had not experienced the dream of Galar, full of nightmares and annihilation. If he had, Howard suspected that the grunt's beliefs would manifest differently. The dream had changed everyone, including the town's sheriff.

"The Ultra Deep Sea."

An entire dimension dedicated to the innards of a god. It was a vast concept to grasp, and a terrifying one to behold. The idea of walking upon the corpse of a divine foe was too much to handle for most. Occasionally, Howard had to remember that it was real, and not some deluded dream.

"I'm here to study it in case it rouses itself. If it awakens, both the Pokémon League and Rocket will need to be prepared." Howard put his hand on his hip and gazed at the gifted television. A poisoned chalice, but researching gods in exchange for luxury appliances was a deal that Howard could stomach, if it didn't mean daggers in the dark.

"At the behest of a member of the Elite Four." Dewford's sheriff and interim Gym Leader, at that. "See the problem?"

Treason.

---

Grigori Sokolov

“So that’s what the Ultra Deep Sea is…” Grigori said. It made sense, in retrospect. Not too many locations had a heart beat. Walls that felt more like tissue than rock. Deposits moist in liquids that felt anything but natural. Hindsight was 20/20, yet he felt stupid for not reaching such a conclusion before this moment.

Ultimately, it was irrelevant to the actual matter at hand: if it ‘woke up’, then the region would see destruction in a way it’d rarely had before. The meteor came to mind, and this surely rivaled it. At least, if it worried Howard this much– how could it not worry him as well?

“But…” his gaze fell to the floor, hopeful he’d find the proper words there. Unfortunately, all he saw was brand-new carpets, perfectly installed wood panels, and a multitude of boxes that held incredibly expensive relics.

Howard’s friend and beneficiary had put him into a rough spot, but it ultimately fell to the archeologist to know when to say no. “This is a problem with very few answers. And none of them kind, Mr. Slayte.”

“As I see it, you have three realistic options: tell the Underbosses and Mr. Walsh you took this offer as an advantage to spy on the League,” his eyes met Howard. The grunt felt a tension unlike any other, and he was back in the office with Mr. Quinn. They both knew that wouldn’t happen, but stranger things had been done by the admin.

“You could also be honest and explain the situation. Hope they view the threat of Eternatus in the exact same lens as you do. What I recommend, but…” he trailed off. They also both knew what would happen if they didn’t. Howard’s face and name would end up on a missing persons report, and that’d be the extent of his legacy. “And the third option– which is the worst one. It may seem appealing, but it will only bring you grief and misery later down the line.”

“Hide this fact, and hope they never find out.” Unfortunately, he had a strange feeling in his gut. That they both knew what’s exactly what he would do. “Highly unlikely.”

Such was the price of treason against Rocket and all her glory.

---

howard slayte

Grigori loved the truth. He would naturally push for being forthright with the high command of Rocket, because he could not believe in a world where people would lie for their own needs. That's why Howard liked him so much. They both valued the truth, but in Rocket, even honest men had to lie.

"We delayed stopping the apocalypse for personal gain, Grigori. Remember Meteno? We stalled the warping of that meteor in order to get a leg up on the League." Rocket's goal had not been the destruction of Hoenn, but they had danced the line on that day.

It had been hard to explain to the conscripts of Rocket that they were potentially dooming the universe. Howard wondered what Isaac Merlo thought of that.

"What's to say Rocket won't let Eternatus stir for their own gain? Grigori, no matter what you think of me, I'm not a butcher. These lives have value." Howard blinked slowly. Information had to be shared, and the League was aware of his quandary. When he asked Naomi Sato for help, she had doggedly pursued the DRK Triad. "There's another way."

Strength. The wisdom of the ancients.

"We prepare with the tools we have, including the tools of those long past. We use my golem." Regice had pushed Eternatus back millennia ago, but that seemed impossible now. "It's low on power, but I have a plan. Grigori."

He clapped the grunt's shoulder. He felt flushed, as if about to take a massive leap. When the words were said, there'd be no going back. A crime done in order to save the world.

"We have to raid Dewford." The admin said solemnly. "Or this will all be for naught."

---

Grigori Sokolov