"Because my childhood wasn't that special. Dad worked a lot, mom ran the jewelry store for all the rich Devon Corp executives to buy their newest bling at.

Middle class, slightly richer than most in the area. In a world where the average Rocket was some underpaid gangster looking to find a place in the world, the archaeologist was an exception. The pinnacle of Rocket consisted of the affluent, the well-born, and the well-connected.

There were exceptions. There were always exceptions, but Howard had juggled both sides of wealth as he took his seat at Admin Fox.

"It just feels unfair to complain about my life when yours was worse. Especially with you and Gabe getting fucked over by Monroe's policies." Back to square one. Final lap. Hattori's reign over first place was going to come to an end sooner or later. He understood why Cillian hated this fucking frog. "Guess I never felt like it was fair for me to talk about my life when everyone else was miserable."

Both the good sides and the bad.

---

Navy

There is not a single person in Team Rocket who is not defective. Every single one lacks something that allows them to function.

It is their force of will that allows the organization to keep marching forward, in spite of the cracks and the breaks and the shattering limbs that continue to trail behind them as Team Rocket continues to strive towards its ultimate goal of conquest. It is a coalition of broken men and women.

Absinthe is damaged more than most.

Admin Fox's hard gaze melts.

"Yes. I do." It's honesty. The admin is one of the few in Rocket who abhors lies. Historians do not muddle facts. True ones don't, at least. "I didn't see it at first, but that Power Spot stripped the mask away."

Not the physical one, but the identity that hid the person buried deep beneath the waves.

"I failed you. Few react to Dynergy well. It mars you. Scars you. Breaks you. I'm still putting myself back together." He rolled up his left arm, where dozens of red scars snaked up his arm to his shoulder, where he had touched Regice's Wishing Star in a bid to save Dewford from his arrogance. "Should've realized you were already broken."

A deep exhale. He had no idea how Navy did this. How he brought people into the depths to ensure they were ready to face Eternatus when the time had come. Howard had sent Absinthe down there to prepare her for Eternatus, when she hadn't been prepared to face herself.

"I want your work, but I also want to work with someone who doesn't hate themselves. I have too many people like that back in Sootopolis." And whenever he looked in the mirror. He grimaced. "So please..."

"Please tell me what's wrong."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

And a fight he would receive. There was a dozen trainers for every Tangaroa. Fortunately, a Tangaroa was worth a hundred League foot soldiers.

Thus the mercenary laughed. As he did so, trainers fell by the droves. They fell and his Alolan Exeggcutor danced on their bodies. Howard, meanwhile, looked up from his phone with a mix of horror and outrage. The delicate operation was up in smoke, and a battle was on their hands.

Damn. He hated field work that required him to fight. That's why he had brought Tangaroa to begin with.

"Fuckin' muscled brute..." The muscled man reminded Howard of Hitoshi Inoue , Rocket's dog and sword. The issue was that Hitoshi had a sheath. He was a blade with finesse, wherein the Alolan acted as a sledgehammer. Still, he couldn't let the mercenary fall. "Alright, go!"

As a Machoke near the Alolan raised a fist to strike the man down with a Hammer Arm, the admin's Aerodactyl latched onto it and began tearing at it with Psychic Fangs.

It did not take long for the Machoke's movements to become twitches. Eventually, twitches became nothing.

---

Tangaroa Emzar

It's like a switch flips as she enters. For a brief moment, Absinthe is functional. He can sense it in the way she carries herself and from the pristine nature of the domain she calls her own. It reminds the archaeologist of his own home, where fossils and tapestries and ancient things are stacked to the heavens.

It is the place where passion overruns rationality, where the joy in a cultivated craft and satisfaction of one's skills can be praised and lauded.

Yet as he looks around, there is nobody to praise what she's done. Nobody will acknowledge that what Absinthe has done here today is 'good'. She produced toxins for wealth and the sake of creation. This was not a good act. Yet still, there was nobody to laud the skill required to create these concoctions.

Nobody but the Shiinotic in the corner. How the admin hates it.

"Hm." He inspects the boxes and their contents. The labeling is reminiscent of a true scholar, one used to meticulous chronicling. The process is familiar to him. "I have faith in the quantity produced, and in the quality."

When she glanced up, his gaze meets hers. Judging. Suspicious. Concerned.

"But not in the manufacturer."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

When doesn't he owe someone favors? They're change on the dollar for the archaeologist at this point. He owes Shred a few blunts from their last weekend off. He owes Remiel a kick to the shins. He is, unknowingly, about to owe Elisabeth Fiorelli several million PD for the loan he's going to take out in about a month.

He can owe Phoebe for some moon rocks, certainly. Because it's her, he might even pay back that debt. Even if the sassy astronaut got enjoyment from his wrestling with a small Skarmory chick.

"I do." He relented and let Steelheart take the biscuit. The small bird let out a shriek of victory and began devouring the baked good. Dozens of pecks reduced the biscuit into delicious rubble. "I've become the proud owner of the most annoying bird in the world since you went up into space."

His accomplishments don't seem as impressive anymore, given he's talking to an astronaut.

"Wait, you actually brought them?" His sullen demeanor changed almost instantly, his eye sparkling with inner light. He gave Phoebe a sheepish, childish grin as he cracked the case open. They...

They were...

They were rocks.

He had never been so happy. The case closed shut with a satisfying click. Howard gave a sigh of gratitude and gave Phoebe a wry grin.

"You didn't have to do this. Thanks. As for me..." He had become a Rocket Admin who had organized the accidental destruction of Dewford, and was now preparing to wage a war that history would remember forever. "...I'm doing pretty good. Got a museum job, finally."

A job somehow more stressful than working for terrorists.

"Not as illustrious as hopping in a rocket and flying through the stars, I'll admit."

---

Phoebe Vega

They sit over a ridge overlooking the Ancient Tomb. Beneath the ridge is a slightly smaller ridge named Tangaroa, which Howard peered past as he inspected their original objective.

"Son of a bitch." Howard's lips pursed as he regarded the group of Pokemon Rangers poking around the ruin. "Of course they're there right now."

After Registeel's appearance in the deep desert, it doesn't surprise the archaeologist that the League decided to infringe upon its domicile in the hope of finding clues on the steel titan's whereabouts. It's a doomed venture, though. The titan has been gone for years since its activation and has not bothered to return home.

They inspect a skeleton. More importantly, they inspect Rocket's main supply of Dynite Ore.

"There's too many for us to deal with." Howard sucked his teeth. "I'm gonna call Sootopolis and get one of the Rocket Beasts down here. They can clean it up."

He flipped out his phone and started dialing.

---

Tangaroa Emzar

Eventually, the waves battering against the mind will deepen the cracks in the ramparts and send them crumbling into the sea below. The mind is a bastion, but eventually it will falter without proper support.

Howard's had been on the verge of collapse for months, now. Absinthe's had been under siege for years. Nobody had bothered to check on her.

Nobody cared.

"Ab-" His voice was muffled by the lab coat thrown at his face. It's laundered, which should be a good thing. Yet the admin suspected that it was the result of the chemist doing anything she possibly can to keep her mind still. Something is amiss. She lies, yet before he can point it out, she disappears into the lab. "Damn woman."

Taking her to that Power Spot had been a mistake. He had erred somewhere within, and he didn't know where.

"The lab doesn't concern me. You concern me. Howard's voice was quiet as he murmured to himself. "What the hell happened?"

He slipped the lab coat on and rushed into lab after her.

---

Absinthe Blackwood

Kyle had been better at games, Kyle had been the League's shining star, and Kyle had stolen the hearts of many a young trainer who wandered the region.

And Kyle Lopez died.

It's a sobering thought, not fit for a game as innocent as this. It was meant to bring joy to kids and bring people closer together, although the conflict within was simulated. What a curious experience.

"I had a couple friends I played this game with, back in Rustboro." Howard admitted as used his Wishing Star. His Varoom turned into a vibrant rainbow of colors, rapidly accelerating towards Hattori. "Back of the jewelry shop had an outlet and an old TV. Brought a lot of people together."

Varoom Kart alone could not keep people together.

"Think he's still better than you?"

---

Navy

"This game is older than the average challenger at your gym, man." Howard sucked air in through his teeth as Hattori sniped him. The frog was an excellent marksfrog, and a Water Shuriken was indistinguishable from a Squirtle Shell. "It's a skill issue."

The archaeologist hissed slightly as Hattori passed him. The only scrap of pride he held was that he could beat Navy. For a warrior, the sheriff wasn't particularly skilled with controllers.

"These things were made for your generation, man. What gives?" Howard's eye narrowed as he rolled a Wishing Star from a mystery box. "I thought that Kyle would've rubbed off on you."

Varoom Kart's plot was a true mystery. Eternatus would wake before they cracked the game's story.

---

Navy

They were all tools for a greater cause. The glory of Rocket was the only thing that the nameless soldiers fought for. For every whisper of home and purpose on their lips, they were lost in the thunderous roars that demanded Rocket's glory.

Adrian would not find anything greater from that message. The only thing that Team Rocket provided was the opportunity to chase a dream that the world prevented him from reaching. The capacity to put one's goal over the well-being of others was what separated Rocket from the League.

"I disagree. Yveltal chose you because you were you, Adrian." Howard put a hand on his hip. Cracks spread around his feet, though he didn't seem to notice. "You brought something to Yveltal that it needed. You gave it something that death needed."

Howard took a step forward.

"Humanity."

He took another step forward. The ground crumbled away and the admin disappeared into the bowels of Area Zero.

---

Adrian Malcolm