Snippet #2700441

He sat concealed in the dark, his back to the door and his face to the wall, as he sat behind a huge desk crafted from the finest metals and glass money could buy (which was situated in an office underneath the Rocket Game Corner). The room was quaint, walls plastered with old Team Rocket memorabilia and rhetoric. Shelves lined the walls with books as far as the eye could see; stories and legends of faraway lands and Pokémon. Myths of ancient artifacts and other bedtime stories that Team Rocket among others had chased throughout the years. Even those stories that led to some truths didn’t end well for the lot of them, and because of this, he knew it was time for a new approach. He’d bided his time in Alola and struck fear in the hearts of everyone that crossed paths with him. Thus far, he came across as nothing more than a whisper, a boogeyman with no face. Some even questioned if he existed at all. But not a crime went unnoticed in Alola without his say so, and there was little he wouldn’t get involved with for a profit. He had no morals, no code, and little honor. Whatever it took to win and come out on top. This visit to Kanto was no different. Business, nothing more. It was time for a smooth transition of power so that a new generation could rise up from the ashes and reclaim old glories. Failure was no longer on the menu.

As the door swung open, the shadowy figure in the doorway would soon realize the lights didn’t work, and as she crept ever closer to the desk, an ominous voice followed her footsteps. “You’ve been sloppy, Monica.” She tensed, and reached for her belt to produce a Poké Ball. The only sound that followed was the hammer being pulled back on the gun the seated gentleman had in his hand as he turned around, resting the firearm on the table as he stared up from the shadows with nothing more visible than a maniacal Cheshire grin. There was rustling behind the woman before a Weavile appeared, disarming the woman of her Pokémon before skittering out of the room. The woman’s eyes were locked on the weapon, her teeth gritted and fingers clenched. “Oh, this? Don’t worry. I didn’t come to shoot you. If I had, you’d already be dead.”

Setting the weapon in front of him on the table, he stood, still masked by the shadows and appearing as nothing more than a silhouette. He had pierced daggers for the woman however, his eyes settling on her sternly. “There was a time when Team Rocket spread fear. When children went to bed hoping they didn’t cross us. We kept things quiet and under control, but you’ve let things get out of hand Monica.” He paused and tapped his fingers across the surface of the table as if perplexed about what to do next. “Y-You have no right! This is my office God dammit! I’ll be the one who decides the direction of Team Rocket, not you Mister-…” Before she could finish, a person emerged from behind her, their fingers cupping her mouth. “What have I told you about saying my name out loud? Tsk tsk. I really wanted us to be friends Monica. You think because you’re in charge, you play by a different set of rules? Well, you’re WRONG!” Slamming his fists into the glass table in front of him, it shattered against his skin, shards hitting the ground in one loud noisy commotion. The man was severely angered as he came around the edge of the desk. There still wasn’t much to be seen, outside of the fact he wore all black, and his ginger locks covered most of his face.

His fingertips graced the woman’s cheek, and she tried to pull away from him but the figure behind her kept her steady. “Consider this your notice. You're fired!” The figure behind her pulled away, disappearing about as quickly as he or she appeared. The woman finally uttered the words she’d been itching to say. “Mister S!” No sooner than she uttered those words, a large creature appeared behind her with nothing more than a massive set of jaws and claws that lifted her up. Bones cracked as the creature snapped her in two, practically folding her in half as the creature swallowed her whole. Blood splattered across the walls and even went as far as to paint the gentleman, now referred to as Mr. S, on the face. He smiled as he slid his fingertips over the crimson liquid, smearing it as he looked around. “And they said I was crazy…”

“They could be right…”