"Mr. Fox."


Action was all around them. Forces mobilized, equipment moved around the space, and the air reeked of oil and sweat. But war did not wait for the weather, and the weather would not show them mercy. He pulled at his button-up collar and turned to his boss. It'd been a while since they last talked.

And even now, it would be hard to broach any subject. They were on a mission. Project Tower required them to be ready for the tribulations that lie ahead. For Grigori, it was a lot more official than the last time. Sure, Kanto had been well organized. Had to be, to take over an entire region. But this held quite a different air about it.

More tense. Official. All for one or two measly cities. Or whatever their goals were.

"I propose the Armory, Mr. Fox," he said. "While I may be well versed in various arms, I think it is important for you to be as well. Wars are fought with man alongside Pokemon."

"And your armor is a well-placed strike away from being little more than paper mache."

---

howard slayte

Weapons

"Grigori."

The voice came from a skeleton draped in human skin with a distant expression. A blue eye was embedded deep in a socket that saw little yet remembered much. It was a gaze that stared into three months of Galar and a war in Dewford that had turned much of the town into ice and snow.

Beyond that, Registeel had blasted the admin with enough Dynergy to shorten his lifespan by years.

"I need to lean on you." The whisper continued. "Forgive me."

He hardly weighed a thing as the duo stumbled towards the armory. As Grigori spoke of 'Admin Fox's' armor, Howard laughed lightly, breathily, with barely a breath left in his lungs.

"It seems less and less useful every day. Registeel melted it into slag. It's undergoing repair."

He said that much, recently.

---

Grigori Sokolov
WEAPONS

“Then by all means,” Grigori clutched the shell of an archeologist close to his side as they hobbled into the armory. As soon as they entered, the faint aroma of gunpowder invaded his nostrils. Gunshots echoed out faintly from a nearby shooting range, as well as the clang of blades.

But in the condition he was in… could Howard even lift a knife? Likely not. If not physically, then certainly not mentally. Dewford weighed heavy in his mind– he knew the look from the mirror.

“Is that so?” Grigori pushed them toward the distant pops. “If it’s any consolation, I do not foresee a threat like that being present in the upcoming war– if we’re lucky.”

Something as big as the Registeel sat with them in the stuffy, well stocked room. A sudden tension filled the space, and Grigori looked dead ahead. Howard was in view, but not the focus. His own gaze pierced the walls, the island, all the way back to Mauville City. He could still remember the night he learned, word for word.

Suddenly, they stopped. Then shimmied off the main path, into the nearest aisle.

“She told me, Mr. Fox.”

“What do we do?”

---

howard slayte

She told me.

She told me.

SHE TOLD ME.

Distant screams filled Howard's mind, alongside the battle between himself and June's group. It had been going well until June had flipped the chess board by seizing something beyond her control. They could not stop her now without shifting the paradigm once again.

"What can we do? She's beyond us, now. She and I were in a race that neither of us knew existed, and she beat me to it." He had no issues with admitting his defeat to Grigori. The older man had seen Howard through his worst failures and greatest successes. "She was smart in her approach."

A rattling breath followed as he hobbled alongside Grigori. At his belt, a certain Pokeball rattled with rage.

"Control the flow of information. Make sure that Team Rocket doesn't learn about her little secret." Howard shrugged and coughed into his fist. "If anyone gets too close..."

He shrugged.

"Remind them of their place."

---

Grigori Sokolov

Grigori had seen the remnants of her notes. Strategies. For once, he and the admin saw perfectly eye to eye. June had planned out the capture rather well, even down to the utilization of Trick Room. It turned the tables perfectly, sounded like. All she needed was the perfect opportunity to strike.

And a lifetime’s worth of luck on her side. For that, there was no countermeasure. No way to be faster. Even worse, entirely unpredictable. The grunt had expected her to fail.

Not this. Never this.

“No one will ask me questions, unless they suspect you,” Grigori commented. Three people even knew of his connection to June proper, more than just a woman he talked to on occasion. All of them admins or greater. They’d question Howard first, and he’d fold beneath either of them.

“And she does not seem interested in the League, either. Had a meeting with freya morningstar and turned her down. Finally, she is not the type to draw unwanted attention. There will not be a need to remind people of their place, so to speak.”

“But…” he trailed off. The answer was obvious, but it needed the physical weight behind it. “I worry, Mr. Fox. In my bones. Something outside either of our controls will happen.”

“What do we do if they learn?” His voice crept to a whisper, and his eyes shot to either side of their aisle. A contingency for the worst case scenario, when their backs were to the wall and the barrels pointed their way.

---

howard slayte

"They will come to me." It was a measured response, simple and practical in its reasoning. It was clear that Howard had spent much time deliberating on the approach to June's great victory. "They'll ask for a reward in exchange for such information. Much of Rocket will see her new asset and think of me. It and Regice are similar enough."

It. Never Regieleki, never Eleki, never the infinite vessel of electrical energy that could supercharge the region for a thousand years. However the ancients of Hoenn had designed such a battery, the technique was lost. Perhaps it could not be replicated.

It.

"If it goes further than that, remind them of the whitelist. If they still wish to try their hand at her, you know what to do." If anyone broke June, Grigori would break them in turn. Even if he had sworn off much in the name of honor, he could defend his daughter. "I will deal with my colleagues."

It was not a pleasurable notion.

"I worry too." Howard admitted. "Just play the cards you've been cast and observe. Things are moving too quickly to do anything else. As for the League..."

He snorted.

"...sounds like her."

---

Grigori Sokolov

“She does not want to be involved in either side,” Grigori agreed. It was visible from a mile away, how she ignored the clutches of the League and skirted around Rocket alike. Close enough to be offered work, but never close enough to be caught in their web. Even the Rangers failed to sway her further towards their ‘noble’ cause.

“Unfortunately… that will not be possible forever,” Grigori lead them back into the main aisle. If they stayed in there forever, with one person and one half-corpse, they’d get unwanted attention. Especially when they recognized how decrepit Howard looked. He made Shred look somewhat normal.

“As conflicts rise, and our sides mobilize, it will not be long before her position on the fence is ousted,” he pushed open the door to the armory, and then took a sharp right. Past the few grunts who aimed down a range with firearms of various sizes and black sheens, or with meaty blades at their hips. “Whether she wants it or not.”

Grigori nodded silently at the on-standby instructor, and then shoved Howard into the closest seat. Maintenance. Various weapons of various conditions sat on a workbench and awaited much needed attention.

“Mr. Harcourt and Mr. Quinn will forcibly remove her from the white list. Any attempts to deny them will end in death at best. I will be tasked with an attempted recruitment or assassination, whichever they think better,” he took his own seat next to Mr. Fox. They were towards the back, and the air conditioning rained down on them with viciously cold air.

---

howard slayte

"I'll deal with Quinn." At least, he'd try to. Cillian Quinn was a pain in the ass, vindictive, and utterly disgusted in Howard's method. Yet the admin still respected his authority. That had to mean something in this organization of vindictive traitors. "We have an understanding. The other one..."

Dealing with the Devourer was beyond his abilities. He could pull rank on Necrozma's chosen, but little was stopping him from turning on Howard and taking notice of his minute acts against him.

He would not face ■■■ (Zev Harcourt ) in the open. The divine infringement from another world would continue to exist until somebody dragged the God General down.

It would not be him. That was what mattered.

"Do the best you can. Just... keep chipping away at her. If it comes to worse, beat her in a battle and steal the golem. Whitelist her after that." It was annoying. June was affiliated to nobody and that meant she could make an infinite number of moves. It made her hard to predict. "If we have to act, we'll act."

If they were lucky, there would be something left to save.

"You were in Kanto, right?" The admin gestured towards an assault rifle. "Can you fix it?"

---

Grigori Sokolov
FIX

It was more from the motions that he knew how to fix the weapon, rather than any actual knowledge on it. Grigori grabbed the weapon with both hands. Bolts, slides, and everything started to fall apart. Little by little. Soon, the weapon was totally torn apart. The original form was little more than a memory.

How coincidental.

“You can not deal with Mr. Quinn,” Grigori said. His focus went entirely on the little parts, which he critically inspected. There were dozens, but he had the entire day to do it. “And Mr. Harcourt will go to Mr. Quinn, or Ms. Fiorelli, if he thinks it necessary. If he does not pull his new rank on you.”

“We are in wartime, and the general’s will is only succeeded by the King that grants them rank.”

Slowly yet surely, the parts were discarded. Put off to the side when he found them satisfactory. “If you do not trust me, then trust history. It will speak of similar scenarios. The small fish never came out on top. Not here, and especially not Kanto.”

He did not talk about Kanto. Not without reason. This was not one of them.

“Things would be much simpler if June did not refuse help, but you are right. We must use the hand we are dealt…”

“And there is one card we– you, can play,” Grigori held out the part in his hands for Howard to see. One of the inside parts was slightly bent, almost impossible to notice. But it did. Grigori discarded it, and procured a new part.

Then he started to put the gun together. “You are my boss, and may command me as you see fit. I will not act of my own free will, but you can force my hand, so to speak. And it does not involve me taking Regieleki.”

---

howard slayte

Ah, Kanto was a distant memory for senior Rockets. It was fortunate that the admin hadn't been there, because it would've broken into him a thousand pieces.

"Sorry. I forgot your distaste for that place."

The implication of God General made the admin's lip twitch. It was clear that he disapproved, but what was there to be done? When the admin had heard of the Devourer's ascent, his rage had been black, and he had begun to quickly seize in the hospital room before being rushed into recovery.

It had been a dark day, and the days were getting darker still. There was much light for Necrozma to still devour, and nobody was there to oppose its avatar.

"I'm interested." Grigori could make anything sound tempting, his methodology and words inspired confidence. He was also the only person in Team Rocket who cared about June, even more than the admin himself. She would not come to harm.

A friend in a city of foes.

"Explain."

---

Grigori Sokolov