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Chapter 166: New trouble brewing
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 17:33:27 +0000 UTC
The Moonwood coast was a mess of foam and debris, the air was heavy with the smell of water and the burned flesh of the gyarados.
Navy officials now swarmed the shore, fishing out Gyarados corpses with nets to prevent their kin from sensing death and retaliating.
'Gyarados hate everyone, but they’ve got a soft spot for their own kind,' Gladion thought as he panted with exhaustion Weak as Magikarp, fierce as Gyarados—makes sense they’d stick together.'
He caught the buzz of approaching reporters, their cameras flashing, microphones thrusting forward like a swarm of Beedrill.
“Gym Leader Gladion!” a woman shouted, her voice shrill over the crowd’s cheers. “Why did the Gyarados attack Moonwood?”
Gladion wiped his face with his sleeve, exhaustion weighing his bones, but his expression stayed sharp.
“The navy found a Team Rocket vessel,” he said, his voice rough but clear. “They were poaching Magikarp, trying to force Gyarados evolutions. Some got pissed, evolved en masse, and came for us. We interrogated the lone survivor.”
The reporters scribbled frantically, their questions piling up. “What precautions will you take to stop this happening again?” a man asked. “How’s the town holding up?” another piped in. “Any comment on Team Rocket’s involvement?”
Gladion opened his mouth, but Marshal Torres stepped in, his scar twitching as he glared at the reporters. “Can’t you see the Gym Leader’s tired? He just saved your asses!”
His voice boomed, silencing the crowd. “The Gym leader as well as the navy would issue an official report later. For now, know this: Moonwood Town won’t bow to threats like this. We faced those Gyarados, and we crushed them. Team Rocket’s been a plague in Indigo too long—it’s time the League stops playing soft and hits back hard.” The reporters nodded, scribbling, while trainers cheered, chanting, “Moonwood! Moonwood!”
Gladion had a small smile on his face, 'Torres is a good man.'
Ultron, his Metagross, hovered beside him, its red eyes glowing. “Master, your psychic exertion has exceeded safe limits,” it said telepathically, its voice clipped.
“Future Sight strained your brain. You risk collapse without rest.” Gladion waved a hand, his head throbbing but his resolve firm. “Just a few more minutes, Ultron. I need to check my resorts—make sure they’re not trashed.”
'Those beachfront properties took a lot of my money,' he thought, his aura flickering with worry.
Ultron’s telepathic tone turned smug. “Shall I summon Madam Erza, Master?” Gladion froze, his smirk fading. “Don’t you dare—”
Before he could finish, Ultron’s eyes flashed, and with a psychic tug, Gladion was teleported, the world blurring. He landed face-first on his bed, the mattress creaking. “Ultron, you smug hunk of steel!” he groaned, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Ultron’s telepathic chuckle echoed. “Rest, Master. You’re welcome.”
---
Meanwhile,Viridian City, Giovanni, Team Rocket’s boss, lounged in a leather chair, a glass of Pinap Juice in hand, his Persian purring at his feet.
The television played the Moonwood battle, Gladion’s Colossus firing Hyper Beams, trainers cheering.
Giovanni’s smile was wide, savage, his eyes glinting with a predator’s glee. Proton, his top executive, stood nearby, his face tense. “Sir, aren’t you pissed about the failed op?”
Proton asked, his voice cautious. “Those grunts botched the Gyarados plan, got themselves killed, and now the League’s gonna come down harder. Gladion’s not gonna sit still—he’ll hunt us.”
Giovanni’s laugh was low, menacing, like a Gengar’s cackle. “Angry? Oh, I’m furious, Proton. Those idiots cost me a ship and six men. But they’ve given me something better—a spark of something.”
His smile twisted, his voice dripping with venom. “Young Gladion’s made a name for himself, hasn’t he? Hero of Moonwood, prodigy, sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Well, I’ve got plans to keep him busy. Very busy.”
He swirled his juice, his eyes narrowing. “His little social media apps—PokéTwitter, PokéGram—they’re his pride, his empire. We’ll use them to bring his name down. Oh, he would pay for every grunt and their Pokemon had killed. And I mean it literally."
Proton frowned, shifting uneasily. “How, sir? Giovanni’s grin was pure malice. “Our dead grunts and their fried Pokémon? We’ll pay off influencers, threaten reporters, whatever it takes. His own apps will turn his victory into a PR nightmare.” He leaned forward, his voice a hiss. “That brat thinks he can play with the grown-ups? I’ll bury him in his own game. He’ll pay for every Rocket death with his reputation.”
Giovanni pulled a list from his desk, sliding it to Proton. “Names—bloggers, streamers, shady admins. Send them money, threats, whatever gets them in line. They’ll flood PokéTwitter with our narrative. By the time Gladion wakes up, Kanto will think he’s the villain.” His laugh was cold, his Persian echoing with a growl. “Time to teach this kid why you don’t cross Team Rocket.”
"As for the league, these Gyaradoses have given me a wonderful idea to keep them busy and make everyone fearful of Team Rocket's name. But we would have to wait for those plans after we recover from our losses with Team Aqua and getting them off our backs."
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