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There’s a cold sensation when Boreas’ beak gently touches his cheek and Mars realises then that this may just be the stoic Braviary’s way of comforting him. Psychic type pokémon have always been particularly attuned with emotions, especially that of those close to them. What Eris and Reiner can’t even suspect, Boreas knows well.
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”The numbness may be because it’s a mark left behind by Mesprit.” The hand that isn’t holding Eris reaches to wrap under the Braviary’s neck, fingers digging through soft feathers. It is comforting. ”Mesprit deals with feelings, remember? Like how you used to feel when trying to speak of it?”
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Back when the Lake Guardians had their minds in their hold.
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Back when their memories were messed with all for the sake of a puzzle that kept them from being able to prepare better for Necrozma’s return.
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Mars respects the Guardians, but he also resents them.
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”I think it may be a good thing, though.” He gives her an honest smile, reassuring.



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”Absolutely not.”
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Up ahead, there’s a Jynx standing in the middle of the path. Mars wants nothing to do with it, but Xanthos whimpers when hearing the command. So do the Dreepy in the dragon’s horns. It’s three against one.
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Mars sighs.
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”Fine, but if it knows ICE moves, don’t whine.”
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Thankfully, this particular Jynx does not, and it’s soon enough that it’s dealt with and he’s able to continue his jog. What will be their next interruption?



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Once the stream comes into sight, so do the dozens of little Mudkip that dwell in it, and with a short whistling sound, Mars gives a simple command right there and then: charge.
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The Braviary of dark plumage circles overhead, and for a moment, Mars wonders if he won’t obey. The Mudkip start to run away.
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He does swoop down just in time to grab one, but it becomes obvious he had made his trainer wait on purpose.
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”You can be such an asshole sometimes.” Mars sighs, yet it’s a smirk that tugs at his lips when throwing a Safari Ball at the Mudkip.


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”Nerd.” Inevitably, Mars teases Cillian Quinn when he gives them a salute, offering his friend the brightest and most perfect grin before Hoenn’s Most Wanted disappears down one of the ancient corridors.
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”He’s right, though. We should split up.”
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The ruins are – as Gavin had so aptly put it – not small and they bring to mind thoughts of the underground labyrinths and tombs in some of his favourite epics. A thought that, when paired with the air of mystery that surrounds them, makes Mars giddy with excitement. Yes, he’s kind of a nerd too.
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His golden gaze wanders over ancient stone, only to then fall upon Tempest Quinn and then BARNABY FINCH. From a Luxury Ball, an Unown-X is released.
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”I’ll check out the mosaics with Xero here. Unown fucking love that kind of stuff. Always stick to them and so on. Yell if you need help.”
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He winks at Barnaby, and with that said and done, Mars makes his way to the nearest mosaic with his Unown-X at his heels… literally. XEROGRAPHY, as the Unown-X had been named (‘Xero’ for short), follows its usual habit of floating closer to the ground until standing on its bottom limbs and then mimicking Mars’ stride. It’s surprisingly good at it, honestly.
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”Ha! Maybe we should play beer pong sometime.”
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He hasn’t done things like those in years. Who would ever expect the CEO of an international bank to care for things like those? Much less one of Team Rocket’s fearsome underbosses, and much less two of them. In many ways, he and Gavin are like two sides of the same coin. It’s part of why they have grown so close.
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”Damn, you know what… We totally should.” The world is ending, so why not? There are many thoughts concerning the meteoroid that threatens to end the region that upset Mars to no end, so maybe, for once, he should just say ’Fuck it.’ and do the kind of things he has always stopped himself from doing because they’re not the most efficient and effective. The kind of things he has always admired about the stupid heist movies he also judges so very harshly. ”Avoiding laser security, lowering yourself into a room without touching the ground, crawling through vents… All that shit sounds fun as hell.”
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He laughs, and when Gavin reveals items of his own bucket list, he laughs even louder. Until he remembers that Tempest Quinn is still sleeping. Sorry, Temp.
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As if to make up for it, his response comes in an a whisper that in his drunkenness also isn’t all that quiet:
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”You’re such a nerd.” He teases harmlessly and with a smirk. It reminds him of when bryan delarosa had said the same about him. ”I bet playing detective would be fun, though. You’d be great at it.”

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A soft laugh escapes him when watching Gavin use his Sylveon as an improvised pillow, a smile remaining upon his lips. He swirls what little gin remains, a passing thought coming to mind of how they probably shouldn’t have drank this much. He sure wouldn’t have with most people. This too is a symbol of trust.
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”Fuck, same. I think the last time I got wasted was at a frat party. I was amazing at doing keg stands.”
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That also manages to get a laugh out of him, cherishing the memory. Sometimes that life feels as if it had belonged to someone else, but then he remembers all the moments he kept hidden from those he considered his friends – the things his family had him do back then.
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”My bucket list? Hmm…” He takes a moment to really consider it, because while there are things Mars most definitely wants to do before he dies, things that really matter to him, that’s not really what this is about. Sometimes it’s better to think about things that would bring fleeting happiness.
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”Okay, don’t laugh. This is kind of stupid, but… Base Jumping. Like, I’ve gone skydiving and all, but you know how in those dumb heist movies they do things like parachute off buildings to escape? Totally unnecessary since teleporting and what not is much more effect, but it looks cool as hell. Always wanted to try that. From much higher, though.” He chuckles, trying not to be too loud. "You?"

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The list of people who are as if regular characters in Cillian Quinn darkest thoughts is not a short one, but Mars doesn’t expect it to be. He listens carefully to every name, acknowledging them, and he knows that for each there’s undeniable reasons. This is more than just about Team Rocket. This is personal.
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There’s a pang of anger at the realisation that all these are people who have hurt his friend in one way or another. There’s also a question: Would he want to kill Walsh too?
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It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought of how to deal with the Rocket boss if there were ever a need for it. His cautious nature pushes him to think things like these about most people who he sees as potential threats. Kill him, though? Walsh has never wronged Mars, but they’re also not close in any way. It may be the only path to take if they ever were to become enemies.
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His glass is just so slightly raised, his gaze meeting that of his friend.
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”Not a bad list. If you ever need a hand…you know.”
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”You know you can count on me.”
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Just like he can count on Gavin.
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A short silence follows. A silence used to finish another drink and a silence during which he stares at the rings he had set down on the table. His golden wedding band, marked by Roman numerals, and the signet ring of the Marzán family. The only two things from his past life that he always carries on his person. The only two that he couldn’t let go of. He’s so preoccupied with thinking of this that Gavin’s admission surprises him.
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Even in drunken stupor, the words melt something in Mars’ heart, and he remembers that Gavin is right. That even though there’s no one he loves or trusts among those with whom he shares his blood, there are those who he has come to truly think of as family. Ironically, it’s Azelf’s words that then come to mind:
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Maybe, in the end, this was what Azelf had meant.
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”Ha. You’re getting all soppy on me.” He teases, and in a gesture that would be unlikely if they were both sober, an arm is wrapped around Gavin’s shoulders. Not suddenly. ”Same goes to you, though. Really. I’d be proud to call you my brother.”
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There’s a chuckle at the mention of questions, and when going to refill his glass and realising that there’s barely any gin left in the bottle, that same chuckle persists.
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”Don’t think so? Ask anything you want, though. Open book. Even if it’s something stupid.” He grins.


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Mars had not asked about Gavin’s upbringing because the hints he had been given had been enough to fill a blank; the obvious fact that they’re here now is proof that neither of them had the decent kind of childhood most people had. It saddens him, in a way. One thing is talking about their own actions and the things done to them during the process that had been their corruption, and another much different is talking about the terrible things done to children who knew no better.
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”I bet you are.”
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Of course he is good at it, because just like Mars, he had mastered the art for the sake of feeling in control again. Understanding it helps, even if it doesn’t take the pain away.
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At the question, he laughs. A dry and quiet sound that lacks any joy. Gin is savoured and Mars meets Gavin’s gaze, amber upon amber.
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”Almost every day.” Admittance comes with a slight smile. Almost every day for years now. Almost every day since he was young. He used to fantasise about it whenever they would hurt him and anger him, and when things turned dark. Sometimes, he still does.
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”I want my grandfather to watch everything he has built crumble before him. I want him to know what it feels like to lose everything that matters to him. Only then will I kill him.”
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He does not speak of his grandmother. Catalina Marzán is someone for whom Mars also has no kind feelings.
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"Anyone you think of killing?"
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He knows some of the answers already. FERNANDO SILPH, for starters.

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”We can trust the League’s plan.” Mars reiterates declan walsh’s own words, almost verbatim.
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”We are relying on this plan.”
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He looks at the crowd. He scans their faces. Unbeknownst to them, he sees them through the eyes of every Unown present. It doesn’t help with the mild headache that has taken hold of his mind, and his mood sours. From a distance, golden eyes fix on BARNABY FINCH.
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”It’s the only plan to deal with the apocalyptic threat to our region.” It’s Barnaby’s own words that he repeats now, his tone levelled yet stern. Mars is proud of him at that moment, even if most people would never be aware of it.
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”We can benefit greatly from it, yes. We can take advantage of it, yes. We should do as much. But, if the public sees Team Rocket interrupting this only plan, what message do you think that sends to the region?” He looks at the crowd, as if expecting an answer. The question is obviously rhetorical. ”That we’re fools. That we’re selfish. That we don’t care about Hoenn’s wellbeing. That we’re so blinded by our immediate needs that we’d let this whole region go to hell for the sake of it."
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"Do you think that’s the kind of leadership they want? Do you think that’s the kind of leadership they’d respect? Do you think they’d be afraid? No.”
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Martín del Mar is a man who has made the public love him, but that is not what he’s telling Team Rocket to do. He wants them to not be foolish, he wants them to be the kind of organisation that can be respected to the point that no one dares oppose them. Ruling by fear is not the problem.
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”They fear us at this moment, yes, but the grand majority of them don’t respect us, and they most certainly never will if we act foolishly. Don’t kid yourselves.” For a second there, his gaze fixes on Elisabeth Fiorelli before returning to the larger group. The Unown-! behind him continues to stare at her. ”If they don't respect us, they will always oppose us. So if we’re going to take Hoenn, we have to do so with true strength. We have to outsmart our opponent at every turn. We can’t act blindly. We can’t attack just for the sake of attacking. Use diplomacy when needed. Attack when needed. Know when to make the right choice.”
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He agrees with Cillian Quinn's own words. An Unown-I approaches and Mars gives it a simple nod before it moves towards the grunt representing PETALBURG. It had been bryan delarosa's choice that convinced him.
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”We’re here to conquer, not to just keep fighting for the sole sake of fighting. Show us that you’re capable of it.”



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”Sure. For fun.”
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It’s a nice thought, one he even smiles at if only for a second there, because Mars has always favoured languages and has always liked learning. He sees the use in it, and for a moment, it serves as a distraction from these haunting memories.
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It’s a night full of memories. Far from as terrible as those that are full of dreams, but still marked by past actions that he tries to avoid thinking about on most days. Tonight, it’s all out in the open. He trusts Gavin in a way that he trusts no other; he trusts him to understand him.
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Just like Mars understands the next words spoken to him. Those that sicken him.
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SHATTERED PSYCHE is a tool that should never be used lightly.
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”I think that’s actually one of my biggest fears.” He admits even if that’s not what Gavin had asked of him. ”To lose my memories again.”
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It’s part of why The Cloud had affected him so very deeply; why he had been so resolute to fix things.
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It’s why as much as he respects the Lake Guardians, he also resents them. They had messed with his head. He’ll never forgive them for it.
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”Yeah, but not exactly like that.. They used psychic pokémon a lot on me when I was younger. I hated them more than anything when they first took me to Sinnoh. I was afraid of them, I was angry, and I lashed out more than one, so they fucked with my memories, my feelings, my thoughts, and all that. They were as careful as it gets, but…”
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There’s a missing context clue. The explanation as to why he didn’t spend his whole childhood in Sinnoh. He doesn’t fill in that gap. He’s too caught up thinking of those distant days. He lets the alcohol talk for him.
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”It was hell as a kid.”
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He had been no more than a child. That’s the extent of what he had done to him. They had truly and undoubtedly had an influence over the entity of his life.
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”Have you done it to others?”
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”Have you also broken minds?”


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Most people would expect a negative. Most people would say that only someone sick and twisted would be proud of the kind of things they’ve done. Mars knows better. He’s prideful too, and in all of the horrors to which he had numbed himself, he had also found things to be truly proud of. His skills, his plans, his ability to flawlessly get a job done, and so much more than that.
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So, when Gavin laughs, he does so too – quietly and only for a couple of seconds.
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”That’s a good one. I train most of my pokémon with nonverbal commands for that reason too. Much simpler ones, though.”
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Charge, ranged attack, defend, fall back, heal; that sort of thing. It’s only his most trusted pokémon – the ones he relies on the most – that he has taken the time to train them to respond to the most precise orders he can give.
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When his thoughts return to his friend, he sighs, taking a slow sip from his glass.
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There’s more dark memories there.
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”Only years later… Right after I found out they were behind what happened to my wife and son.” They had tried to trick him about that too. They had tried to make him believe their enemies had been behind it. He had gone after those he thought were involved, and only when things began to make little sense did he start to question his family’s words. Then Kira told him the truth.
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”I kidnapped one of my grandfather’s closest advisors. Tortured him to death. He told me a lot.”
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And then Mars had made it look as if it had been the work of their enemies.
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Pot, meet kettle.
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He had learned it from them, after all.
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”What sort of things did they do to fuck with your head?”
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For the most part, his own family’s methods hadn’t been as direct, especially as he grew older, but the thought of having his head messed with is there all the same.


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Psychological torture is something he knows well. It’s something he has inflicted upon people and that has been inflicted upon him as well. They’re different in this; where Gavin stands against it and would rather avoid it whenever possible, Mars has taken these tools and made them his. He has learned to understand them, first for his own sake and later on for the sake of outsmarting his enemies.
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He does not blame Gavin for his distrust of the kinds of pokémon he himself favours above most. He doesn’t trust them either. Favoured, but not underestimated even for one second.
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”Yeah… A lot of people don’t bother to think how bad it can be when it’s done aggressively. A lot of them also want exactly that, though.”
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Mars has a feeling Calem Pollet is among the latter.
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For the most part, with the exception of those whose fate has already been determined, his methods tend to be subtler. He prefers a full deception of the mind. He prefers not damaging what can still be of use to him. Broken things have never really suited him.
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He notices the miasma, but he says nothing about it at all. By now, he’s used to it.
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”Control.” A single word that holds too much meaning. A single word that fills him with bitterness. Mars hates being controlled. ”That’s what I gather from it, at least. That they wanted to make sure I’d trust them, distrust outsiders, and also to see where my loyalties were. It was fucked. My friend didn’t do anything to deserve that, but at that point they had done so much to control me that I didn’t even question it.”
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They had lied. They had tricked him. They had tortured him.
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The implications are all there.
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He looks at Gavin for a moment before finally speaking up again, holding his gaze:
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”Anything you’re proud of from back then?”
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For some, that much can be harder to admit than the things they regret.


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