I joined the Pokemon Big Bang on LJ this year for the first time, and here's the story that came out of it. This was my first time writing a fic this long and I hope you all enjoy it.
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Title: Survival
Author: nekusagi
Verse: anime; during Best Wishes, in Unova, at some point after the Rocket vs Plasma episodes
Characters/Pairings: Giovanni, Giovanni's secretary, Persian, Doctor Zager
Rating: PG
Persian were by far the most difficult of all cat Pokemon to raise.
This was a fact spoken frequently by Pokemon researchers, who cautioned Meowth trainers that unless you were willing to deal with the dramatic change in personality that resulted from evolving the feline Pokemon, it was best to fit them with an Everstone collar. Otherwise, after any given battle the usually laid back and easygoing Meowth would become a different creature completely, a much larger cat prone to both independence to the point of stubbornness as well as a spoiled, finicky nature.
But, the experts added, if trainers felt they were up to the challenge of training one of the most finicky Pokemon, the experience was also a rewarding one.
It was the rewarding aspect of Persian that Giovanni appreciated. Yes, Persian was indeed a handful, a cat who tended to sleep in the least convenient places- in his chair, on top of his desk if he left his office for even a moment, on the bed exactly in the area he wanted to sleep in (he had a suspicion that Persian was fully aware this inconvenienced his master, and took part in this behavior to remind him who was really in charge)- and if you gave him the wrong food, or, Arceus forbid, forgot to feed him, he wouldn't let you live it down for some time. But all the same, Persian had been his trusted companion for years, there to protect him, comfort him, and keep him from losing his mind. In a pinch, Persian proved a reliable battler, his claws and teeth honed to the sharpest tips and his slender, muscular form always in its prime. While Giovanni's Persian was easily the very picture of the stereotypical spoiled cat, he hadn't forgotten his roots in the thick of Viridian Forest.
At this moment, it was that wild side of Persian that he was grateful for. He'd been reminded quite suddenly why he typically elected to take merely a command role on important missions.
But damn it, Zager no less than assured me personally all the traps in this temple had been deactivated by age.
Two Golurk. They caught you off guard easily, the Golurk. One moment, you were following behind your Antiquities Specialist and a handful of underlings, on the way to personally see for yourself this ancient generator, the next, you found yourself blocked by those things everyone thought were just statues.
Yes, Giovanni. Take a more active role in missions in Unova, it's so far away no one even knows who you are there! Because the whole desert incident went oh so smoothly, right? Merely an unexpected fluke, he said. There are neat things, he said, you like those adventure movies, he said, it's like you're really in one, he said.
Giovanni's ever present inner critic was working overtime today, a normal reaction to seeing the dangerous parts of the adventure movies he grew up with actually confront him in horribly realistic high definition.
Except those guys had guns. And whips. And writers to get them out of everything. This is real life, and you've got to act fast, or you won't get a happy ending.
Calling for help would be worthless, the Golurk trap had tripped and Zager and the other Rockets had escaped the resulting rockfall just in time, leaving Giovanni stranded on the other side. Any sudden moves would upset the two golems before him more, so making a run out of the temple or calling for backup would mean sure death. And while he could use one of his Ground types to burrow out of the temple, reaching for a Poke Ball would leave him vulnerable.
It was down to Persian now.
"Persian, hit them with a Dark Pulse to weaken them and then use Slash!" he yelled, backing away from the Golurk duo.
Persian yowled, his fur on end, and released a massive beam of shadow toward the pair of Pokemon. Following the second half of his trainer's instructions, he bared his claws to strike at the now injured Golurk, but the attack failed to connect.
Golurk is Ground... but also Ghost, Giovanni remembered. Slash won't do a damn thing to these two.
"Persian, switch to Night Slash!" he commanded, and Persian raised a paw again, shadows gathering around each individual claw.
"Purrnyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Persian snarled, making a swipe as it leapt past the two Golurk. The attack hit flawlessly this time, but one Golurk managed to raise its arms and summon stones from the rubble... aimed right at Persian.
"It's using Stone Edge! Watch out!"
Persian made maneuvers to avoid the projectiles. One managed to hit, however, and left a small cut on his side, a tiny trail of blood working its way out of Persian's yellow fur. Persian cried out in pain.
"You bastard," Giovanni said. For all the terrible things and abuse he'd been complicit in as Team Rocket's leader, he still drew the line somewhere, and for him, that line was drawn at harm to those he cared about. Contrary to rumor, he still had some level of compassion for others- even as conditional and rare as that compassion was, he suspected it was still a deal more than some of the more “legitimate” businessmen he frequently found himself associating with. And at the moment, that compassion was directed, as it so frequently was, toward his trusted partner.
"Trap me all you want, but if you harm my friend, you'll have to pay. Persian, hit them with another Dark Pulse, and don't hold back!" he commanded, reaching into his pocket, his actions calculated down to the split second. Another dark beam went flying, this one thoroughly covering the two golems in shadow.
"Time to finish this show," he said, throwing out two yellow and black Ultra Balls, absorbing the Golurk duo.
"At least you'll prove yourselves useful to me later," he told the balls, pocketing them and fishing another Poke Ball out of his pocket. "Rhyperior, drill us out of this mess.”
In an instant, he emerged and burrowed his drill horn into the rock separating them from the rest of the group, rock flying about every which way from his work. After a few seconds the Pokemon had managed to dig a small tunnel through the rubble of the temple and into the corridors ahead.
“Return,” he said, calling Rhyperior back into his Poke Ball. “Persian, are you alright?”
Persian meowed back confidently, though it was unmistakable he was still shaken from the encounter. He sniffed at the tunnel and gave his trainer a knowing look.
“ Mrrow.” There are smells on the other side, smells I know. People smells. “Mrr.” Let's go. The cat, noticing his human's continued hesitation, impatiently nudged at a single dark-green covered leg.
“You go first,” Giovanni said.There were things he could do, and things Persian could do, and one thing Persian could do that he couldn't was see in the dark. At the time of planning the mission, it was assumed that flashlights and lanterns would do the job sufficiently, so not once had any kind of night-vision gear been considered necessary. Persian's long, furry tail in front of him would be the next best thing.
Persian gave him an irritated look. How have you humans survived this long? His sensitive black nose twitching to pick up whatever other scents might be around, he made his way into the tunnel, tail flipping behind him.
The tunnel was cool, dusty, and dark, but the glow of lights from the group ahead was enough to illuminate an exit. Zager's voice could be heard just outside the passage's exit.
“...of course he's on his way, he would have called for help if- Persian?” The white haired scientist looked at Persian the way he would a rare artifact as the cat extracted himself from the tunnel and shook the dust off his fur. “Is there a human with you by any chance?”
Persian sniffed at Zager- human! Treats? He looked up expectantly at the doctor, tail wagging happily.
“He doesn't speak, mercifully.” Giovanni had now exited the tunnel, dusting himself off and glaring at Persian. “Doubtful he'd have anything pleasant to say even if he could. I certainly don't right now.”
“Sir! We... were going to sent out a party to search for you-” Zager straightened at the sound of his employer's voice and quickly backpedaled from his previous statement, realizing the futility of it.
“Funny, Zager, that's not what I heard a minute ago. I'm probably too old for all of this, but my hearing's not failed me quite yet.”
Zager just stood, speechless, as the group of Rockets nearby tried their hardest to hide their voyeuristic glee at the possibility of seeing a confrontation between the doctor and the boss, and Persian stuck his nose up and returned to Giovanni's side, realizing, disappointed, there would be no treats now.
“I believe the exact wording was, 'he would have called for help if Persian.' I believe, Zager, it is common decency to send help if you're travelling with someone and that someone ends up on the opposite side of a rockfall with the two golem Pokemon responsible for it.” His last words were as pointed as the glare he was now directing at the tiny old man.
Zager blinked, then composed himself.
“All traps were accounted for, just as I said in the report-”
“Golurk are traps too, if you don't expect them,” Giovanni interrupted. “Funny thing about ancient civilizations, they were clever. Next time, Zager, be sure to do a survey of the Pokemon in the site as well. For everyone's safety, as well as your own.”
Zager took off his monocle, polished it nervously on his labcoat, then clipped it back on. “Understood, sir,” he said. “Ahem... now that we seem to be all present and accounted for-”
“-No thanks to you-” Giovanni muttered audibly enough that Zager could hear it, but Zager disregarded this remark.
“-Let's proceed with the business at hand.” He motioned to the altar sitting in the middle of the room. “Now, as you can see, the crystal upon this altar is the prized Heart of Keldeo, the legendary power source of the lost civilization that built this temple, said to generate energy from feelings of friendship and trust. According to writings translated only recently, merely a small amount of positive emotion- friendship- could be converted into nearly unlimited power through this stone-”
Persian and Giovanni gave each other “not this again” looks. The both of them knew that Zager would be at this for a while before getting to the actual main event and that it was time to settle in. They wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.
~
After what seemed like an eternity of listening to Zager's lectures and watching him running tests on the Heart of Keldeo to assure that it was indeed the real thing and not a reproduction- it had happened before, but with a different priceless artifact- the order was finally given to begin work removing the glowing pink crystal from its pedestal in the shrine.
“Easy, easy, that thing is upwards of a thousand years old, we can't just find a new one- well, I can't say I expected this,” Zager said. He waited for a response.
“I'm sorry, were you speaking to me?” Giovanni finally asked, continuing to feign interest in the completely incompetent group of agents tasked with the dirty work on the mission and their attempts to secure the Heart. Persian had since dozed off, curled up in a large fuzzy ball at his feet. “And I've noticed that's standard operating procedure for you.”
Zager had prepared a defense for the insult, but realized he was already on very thin ice as it was and refrained from it, because, you know nearly having the boss dying from thousand year old golems and all, Zager. As... unorthodox... as some of his methods were, self-preservation was still extremely important to him.
“Oh would you ju- er, I mean, noted, sir,” he said, defeated. “I've never seen an artifact so rooted to its home as this stone. Clearly this was of greatest import to its people. Do you know what this means?”
“No, please, tell me though, Zager,” Giovanni remarked dryly.
“It means that the chances of the accounts of the Heart as a power source being accurate just rose exponentially. By at least ninety percent, I would wager.”
Is he telling me all of this may have been for nothing? “Fascinating,” he replied.
Zager beamed and nodded in agreement, the sarcasm clearly lost on him. “I said easy on it!” he yelled at the grunts he'd tasked with the job of retrieving the gem. “Crowbars are not what I'd call 'easy'!”
The thing clearly refused to budge and the Rockets had come to a consensus that non-scientific measures had to be taken.
“We can't find any other way to get it, Doctor,” one of them said, working at the stone. A loud snapping noise was heard and something shiny flew off the bottom of the hunk of crystal.
“Oh, you've gone and broken a bit off now, see what carelessness does?” Zager said with exasperation. The bit, the size of a pocketwatch, landed just a few inches away from Persian, making a sound like broken glass as it reached the stone tiles of the shrine room. The sound woke Persian, who sniffed at it before Giovanni snatched it away from him.
“Don't eat that,” he said, slipping the sliver of crystal into the pocket of his jacket. “You'll get sick and the last thing I need is you making another mess all over the helicopter. Like the last time you decided to eat something foreign.”
If cats could blush, Persian would have, as his ears and whiskers went back with embarrassment at the reminder of the incident.
“No matter, though,” Zager continued, “it's still in excellent condition, even with that blemish, and I suppose some things can't be avoided. Load it up, gentlemen, we should be getting back before night falls.”
For a fleeting moment in the corner of Giovanni's mind, his old movies and stories replayed, the ones that he'd loved as a boy. Those movies usually had the dashing hero taking some priceless trinket out of a shrine, off a pedestal just like that one, and-
“Extraction complete-”
“-Eh?”
“I said the extraction was complete and successful. We'll be leaving now if there are no further instructions,” Zager said.
“Oh, excellent,” Giovanni replied, his chain of thought interrupted by Zager's report, “I see no reason why we should stay here any longer. If you're sure, Zager, then move out.” He nudged Persian with his foot to hint to him it was time to go.
“Yes sir,” Zager motioned to the grunts behind him and began leading the way, but stopped before they could even get very far. The rockfall from earlier, and the tunnel Giovanni had made to get through. He glanced nervously at it.
“Yes Zager. It's a tunnel. I'm actually capable of thinking things through, unlike some of us. You might have to get a little dirty, but I'm sure you can manage.”
Zager motioned to the others, and the group slowly made their way through the tunnel. This time was easier, as there were flashlights, and Giovanni was amazed at how much faster the trip seemed to go with proper lighting as opposed to simply feeling one's way through the tunnel.
As they neared the exit, Giovanni's mind had returned to its wanderings. An uneasy realization came to him.
Shrines hated it when you took their treasures. They knew, and they did everything in their power to make sure you didn't keep them.
“Zager,” he said, as they reached the tunnel's end at last and emerged back into the temple. “Zager, we could be in danger.”
“I thought you caught the Golurk the first time,” Zager said.
Never before had Giovanni felt a stronger urge to strangle someone right there and then. But it was in very poor form, he reasoned, to kill your guide before you were out of the temple. Passive-aggression would have to do for now. With emphasis on the aggression part.
Zager whimpered as another glare from the boss impaled him on the spot. Bad day was probably an understatement for what he was experiencing at this moment.
“ Did it never occur to you,” Giovanni growled at Zager, his patience finally running on empty, “that those Golurk weren't-”
Rumble.
Something moved under his feet and gave him pause. Years of experience as a Ground type Gym Leader in Viridian City and Giovanni knew more than a few things about how the earth reacted to disturbances, and there were only two things this kind of sensation meant.
Either an earthquake, the natural occurrence or the capital-E attack, or there were a pack of Ground types nearby. And they weren't happy.
The last time Giovanni had felt that kind of sensation, he was in the wild capturing the Rhydon that would later become the Rhyperior that dug him through the rockfall earlier. And that herd of Rhydon wasn't exactly thrilled to see him.
Zager picked up on the discomfort hanging thick in the air combined with the unusual seismic activity taking place.
“What was that?” he asked.
“All of you, run like hell for the exit if you want to make it out of here alive,” Giovanni said. “The rest of those guard Golurk are going to be here for us any minute, and I doubt they're pleased I helped myself to two of their friends.” A thought occurred to him as he ran to the exit among the others. There would still be the odd Golurk here or there particularly gifted in the speed department.. if he could just find a way to distract them while he, Zager, and Persian got out safely....
“Any one of you who can capture and bring me a Golurk, I'll reward handsomely when we get back,” he added. All the Rockets on this run were fairly low ranked and therefore expendable. They'd also do anything to get ahead, regardless of how stupid or dangerous it might be. Worst case scenario, the membership rolls might be a few less upon return to headquarters, best case scenario, more Golurk.The plan was unquestionably ruthless, but Giovanni was sure it would work. “How many Golurk are there usually in a group?”
“Golurk and Golett travel in groups of up to twenty,” Zager said, his old body growing slightly winded, “but from the looks of it, the people only installed Golurk to guard things... factor in that and the size of the temple and we're looking at ten to eleven Golurk.”
“Lovely,” Giovanni muttered. “Persian, stay close. I don't want you getting- oh mother of-”
The Golurk had appeared. Giovanni didn't bother to count them- that was the last thing on his mind as he, the doctor, and the Rockets scrambled for the exit just a yard or two ahead- but he had a suspicion Zager's guess was pretty close, or maybe even underestimated.
The group froze in their tracks, surrounded by massive, angry golems.
“Welcome wagon's here, gentlemen,” he growled. “Here's the new plan. When I give the word, run out of here to draw them off, then take as many as you can, and we'll all meet just outside the helicopter.” He sized the Golurk up, looking for the smallest one that was so often in groups like this. Normally he'd enjoy taking on a direct command role- too commonly the strategizing was left to an officer or executive and his part in it was merely to sign off his approval- but this was unplanned. And if there was one thing Giovanni hated, it was surprises.
The runt was there in front of him. The thought ran through his head that it might be the friend of one of the two he'd caught earlier. That if it was, the adrenaline from anger would make it a bigger threat. That maybe trying to get past this one wasn't the best idea there was. That this was the end... Persian might be able to escape with his cat reflexes, but his human-
Nonsense, his inner critic said, returning for a second performance. You didn't get to this point shying away from conflict, curling up and dying when things got hard, so maybe you almost died earlier, maybe one of your head researchers is a moron who made a potentially fatal error in the planning process, maybe you'll have half your operatives wiped out from unexpected Golurk before you get out of this, but you will make it out alive, that's the important thing, right, and it's not your style to do anything but push everything a little more-
Rectangular eyes flashed rapidly, scanning their prey, like something out of a strange Bronze Age science fiction scenario...
“NOW!” He thrust his hand forward to motion to the group, who obediently ran in all directions out of the temple as the Golurk turned and began pursuit. The plan seemed to be a sound one after all- Golurk were lumbering things and their size slowed them down substantially. Giovanni stayed in place through this, staring down the runt, the one who'd apparently chosen to focus on him rather than pursuing the scattering masses around him.
He'd been picked as an enemy. Part of him wanted to flee and just get to safety, but the other part, the part always fixing for a fight, always wanting excitement, saw a worthy opponent and a chance to prove himself in battle as the superior force. He hadn't spent his life mastering Ground types to not know that this small Golurk was offering him a challenge.
“Persian, get behind me,” he said. “It's not safe for you to be in on this.” Persian retreated behind his human, tail wrapped protectively around his slender body.
“Those two I caught back in the passage, the ones that tried unsuccessfully to kill me. Friends of yours?” he asked. Golurk's eyes flashed back an affirmation.
It all made sense now. The two from earlier were undoubtedly the leaders of the group, and this little one was ready to defend the group against the intruder and his men.
“So they were. The humans who put you here were brilliant. You're here to keep their secret from intruders, yes?”
Golurk's eyes flashed again and it made a sort of humming noise at him. How did he know so much about them? Clearly this was an intelligent opponent...
“Your masters have been dead for a century now, and every trace of their past is merely a passage in a history book or an exhibit in a museum. This temple and all the treasures within it belong to Team Rocket now. I'm afraid it ends now.”
Golurk's head creaked slightly as it turned, confused. In its history, it had never encountered such a brazen mockery of the people who relied upon it and its friends... It hummed again sadly.
“You're going to fight to the end to defend it, though. Am I correct?” Giovanni reached slowly into his jacket pocket for Rhyperior's ball, paying close attention to not make any sudden movements to startle his adversary.
Another eye flash.
“Then prove your dedication to the cause in battle!” He threw the Poke Ball in the air and Rhyperior appeared on the battlefield. He roared and stomped one of his massive feet at Golurk. Golurk took a similar offensive pose as it steeled itself for battle.
“Horn Drill, Rhyperior! Don't hold back just because it's a little one!” Rhyperior turned his head towards his master and gave a little understanding nod, then charged at Golurk, the horn on his nose spinning rapidly. Flames shot out of Golurk's body to hover it over the ground and evade Rhyperior's attack by mere inches.
“Rocket body...” Giovanni muttered. “I should have expected that.”
This threw a whole new wrench into the works. Without the ceiling of the temple constraining Golurk's movements, the golem was free to use the boosters in its feet to maximum potential, so Earthquake was rendered useless. And even if the Horn Drill had connected, the Normal-type attack would have been completely ineffective against a half-Ghost type Pokemon, Giovanni realized, remembering Persian's failed Slash during the earlier confrontation with this one's comrades. He was down to an extremely limited selection of moves to take this one out with, two of them already out of the question. Machamp, Cloyster, and Krookodile were all back at Unova HQ, resting from an earlier practice battle...
Despite all this, he welcomed the new challenge. “Deflect it with your tail!” he yelled at Rhyperior, as Golurk hurled rocks at the rhino in what looked like a Rock Tomb. The rocks soared toward Rhyperior as he spun, his tail making a clean arc, and smacking its target. The rocks turned and flew back at Golurk, catching it off-guard. It clearly wasn't prepared for this turn of events in the battle, and the massive projectiles hit their origin, knocking him out of the air.
Golurk hit the ground, motionless and seemingly stunned.
Giovanni smirked. He'd played enough video games to know what to do now.
It's just like a boss battle, he realized, motioning to Persian, who was watching the battle intently from his spot behind his human, but real. “Persian, give that Golurk another one of your Shadow Claws and finish this so we can get back to the base.”
Persian snarled and readied his front claws, as Giovanni reached for his last empty Ultra Ball and prepared to make a capture.
The air filled with dread. He wasn't sure where it was coming from but... something... was about to go wrong.
It was a feeling he was no stranger to. Nothing was ever foolproof, and sometimes no matter how much money you put into them or how sharp the minds behind them were, even the most precisely executed plans were laid to waste by a miniscule change in variables. That feeling, when he realized that he faced defeat, no matter what he did...
He felt the Ultra Ball slip out of his fingers and hit the rough mountainous ground beneath him as the whole chain of events unfolded and unraveled before him in horrifying slow motion, as Golurk slowly rose and some external force pushed him to dive in and hug Persian tightly, protecting the already injured feline Pokemon from further harm...
“Persian, just don't move anymore... I've got you...”
In that moment, a bond formed between trainer and Pokemon, and terrified as Persian was, something let him know everything would be okay, that they would both pull through, that soon, they'd be snuggled back together by a warm fire or in a soft office chair...
...but now, the most important thing was survival.
Keeping the warm fur coat held close to him as best he could, Giovanni squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the incoming second salvo of Rock Tomb... promising himself and Persian no matter what, they'd both come out of this okay...
~~~~
~~~~
It was a sunny day in Viridian Forest, like any other.
“Persian! I'm going to throw the ball! You catch it and run it back to me as soon as you can, okay?”
Persian yowled back at his trainer, a 13 year old boy with shiny, long brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail under a baseball cap. Most boys played catch with their friends or their dad.
Giovanni played it with Persian. His training techniques were a little odd, compared to the straightforward ones of his peers, but then, he never was like the other boys. And he didn't have time to be like the other boys, either. He wanted to be better than them. Better than everyone.
Speed, accuracy, reflexes. These were the traits most important for a Persian. Throwing a ball seemed like simple child's play, but by timing Persian, rewarding him for new records with his special Pokemon treats, the cat's skills were honed a little finer every time.
“Let's beat yesterday's records, okay Persian? I'll take you out for something special if you do! I think there's a case of that cream you really like in the fridge back home, maybe I can sneak you a little if you do really well.”
Persian's whiskers, tail, and ears perked up at the possibility of delicious, fresh cream, his favorite treat.
“Mrow mrow!” he replied, grinning back.
“Okay!” Giovanni pulled his arm back, winding up the pitch for Persian. “Ready... go!” he said, letting the ball fly, as Persian watched him intently. No sooner had the ball launched than Persian was on his feet, dashing after it. As his Pokemon pursued his prey, Giovanni kept his eye intentlyon a small stopwatch in his hand. This was one of the very first digital models, a birthday present from his mother, and it had served his training needs well since he'd received it. He pressed the button to stop the time as Persian emerged from the tall forest grasses, dropping the baseball at his feet and purring.
“6.25 seconds, and I'd say that ball flew at least 10 yards this time... good start. How's best average out of 3 throws sound for today? I still have Dugtrio and Nidorino to work with after you're done.”
Persian nodded to him. “Purrnya.” His catch session would be a little shorter than usual today, but that was fine with him. It was more of a lounge around in the sunshine day for him anyway. He danced around the baseball, hinting to his human it was time to throw again.
“Okay, okay, give me a chance to catch my breath, already. I only have two hands, Persian, at least let me get this time down first.” Giovanni slipped the fountain pen he'd been writing with into the binding of a small spiral notepad and laid it down on a tree stump next to him.
“I'm going to throw harder this time, Persian!” His method was unscientific, but ultimately it was reaction time Giovanni was going for with this training. It was reasonable for him to assume he could only throw a baseball so far, and by plugging this number into the time between him throwing the ball and Persian bringing it back to him he'd found a reliable way to gauge his friend's improvement. And so far, it'd been stunning in terms of how quickly Persian had grown from a lazy yet skilled cat Pokemon to a lazy yet incredibly quick cat Pokemon with excellent reflexes.
“Go!” He let the ball fly, and Persian dashed after his quarry. Once again the stopwatch was started, then stopped upon the ball dropping at his feet from Persian's jaws. Persian nuzzled his leg affectionately. “Nyanyapurrnya?”
“6.28 seconds. Three hundredths off the last one, but we're still making a good rate today, Persian. One more go?”
Persian wagged his tail in agreement.
“Let's go, then. Make this your best run! On three...”
Persian stared at the ball in his hand.
“Two...” Giovanni drew his arm back in preparation to throw it.
“Go!” He threw the ball the best he could and watched as Persian disappeared into the grass after it, then looked at his stopwatch again. Four seconds... five seconds... six... seven.. eight.
Something wasn't right. Either Persian found something, or...
No. The thought was too much for Giovanni to bear, and Persian was too smart to get into trouble- he was too smart a trainer to let Persian get into trouble. There was only one thing he could do.
“Persian? Persian, I'm coming for you!”
Giovanni ran into the thick grasses, ignoring the rough stinging of the nettles and the dry grasses and the gravelly soil on his skin. He heard Persian's familiar hiss, the one he only used two times.
One was during battle, when things were truly down to the wire and the match was close. The other was when facing down a wild enemy...
“Persian I'm here for you!”
What Giovanni saw wasn't as bad as some of the morbid things that initially flashed through his head, but it was still pretty dire. Persian had made the mistake of treeing a tiny wild Weedle, one that had been accidentally hit by the baseball from the looks of the small mark on its head and its proximity to it. Persian's tail fur was on end, fluffing it to double size, his claws were fully extended from his paws, and a snarl had replaced the smile from earlier, as Weedle writhed and whimpered in fear.
And in the near distance, buzzing. The hive had heard tiny Weedle's cries and was ready to rush to his aid.
“Persian, back off from the Weedle before you get yourself hurt. Your pride isn't worth being pumped full of Beedrill venom...”
Persian looked at his trainer defiantly.
“Persian... let's just go. I'll give you cream anyway, you did great today, just... don't get into it with a Weedle, it's really not worth it.”
The buzzing became louder, and a whole swarm of yellow and black Beedrill began closing in on the group, their stinger arms gleaming.
“Beebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebee”
“Persian.” Giovanni extended a single understanding hand to make it clear to Persian he wasn't angry. “Let's just go. Right now. Leave the ball and leave Weedle alone.”
Persian's ears were back now in fear. He began slowly making his way toward his trainer.
Normally Giovanni would use an unexpected encounter like this as a training opportunity for his other Pokemon. But what good were two Ground types and a Persian against a swarm of Beedrill that clearly outnumbered all four of them? It wasn't worth being the hero and having to explain to Mother later on the phone why he and his Pokemon were stuck in the Viridian City Pokemon Center covered with nasty sting wounds after being found and taken to safety by some bewildered Trainer...
“No sudden moves, Persian. We run on my word.”
“Mrr.”
The Beedrill clearly had no intention of letting the two go. Even though Persian had left the Weedle and allowed it a chance to escape, the swarm still stared at the two, out to remind them to never mess with the hive.
Mother always had warned him to be more careful...
“Now, Persian!” Giovanni took off in a sprint as Persian's strong, well-honed legs carried him alongside the human. “There's a clearing to the north, if we can just reach that in time it should throw them off. Beedrill never stray too far from their hives before giving up.”
“Beebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebee.” The infernal buzzing of the Beedrill as they flew behind them, the most terrifying sound to Giovanni at the moment... he was growing exhausted, but every instinct he had kept him going.
For himself and for Persian. They were all each other had right now.
“Augh!” He felt his flight interrupted by something sticking out of the ground- a root- and tripped. “Keep running Persian, I can take care of myself-” He saw the Beedrill growing closer to him, reached for a Poke Ball, realizing anything he threw at the enraged Beedrill at this point would be completely worthless anyway, but doing it all the same...
One of them fluttered just a few feet from him, single stinger arm raised, prepared to attack, when Persian leapt in front of it...
“PERSIAN! I SAID-” Giovanni watched as Persian took the stings, yowling out in pain with each one, protecting his human...
“Persian you don't have to....” No this wasn't fair, Persian didn't cause this, he had, he'd hit the Weedle, of course it was upset.
Persian turned his head to look at him. Through the obvious pain, there was a clear look of reassurance. Don't worry, I've got this.
The feline turned his head back to the Beedrill and stared them down. Keep going, but I'm not going to stop defending the one who counts on me. A pained cry from Persian, and the largest of the Beedrill finally halted its assault.
Persian let out a defiant snarl, as if to warn others what would happen if they tried to harm his trainer, then fell to the ground, lying on his side, panting in pain.
“Persian!”
Giovanni inspected the spot where Persian had received the worst blow. It was terribly red and swollen and Persian recoiled the closer he got his hand to it.
The move used was clear, Poison Sting, and it seemed from the wound and the number of hits Persian had taken that it had taken a few attempts from the swarm before the poison actually stuck.
“Ugh there must be so much venom in you... Don't make any sudden moves, Persian. I'm taking you to the Pokemon Center before your condition gets any worse.”
He carefully picked Persian up and positioned him in his arms so that the cat's front paws rested over his shoulder, then ran for the Pokemon Center just outside the forest's entrance.
“You're lucky you got him here as quickly as you did,” the nurse had told him. “This much Beedrill venom in a Pokemon Persian's size... the effects could have been disastrous...”
For two days he waited in the Pokemon Center, hiding when his mother's staff came looking for him, accepting gifts of food from the sympathetic nurse there, and watching Persian for as long as he could stay awake. He wasn't about to leave a friend in his time of the most need.
Nurse Joy said Persian should make it out okay, but.... he couldn't imagine a world where he didn't have him by his side. Even though they'd only been together for four years, they were an inseparable pair, and the thought of not being able to wake up in the morning and not having a warm ball of fur there to pet and greet... not having a friend he could always trust no matter what happened...
He wasn't sure he was ready for that yet.
“Please come out okay, Persian...” he said to the sleeping feline.
The night of the second day, just as he dropped off to sleep at Persian's bedside, he felt something warm, wet, and rough against one hand.
A tongue.
“Persian? You're better?”
“Mrow.”
Persian had recovered at last, and for that moment, all was right in the young boy's world.
“Persian... thank you for protecting me from those Beedrill back there in the forest... even though you got injured....”
“Mrow?”
“I thought I'd lose you for good. Promise me we'll never be apart, Persian. Promise?”
“Mrow!” Persian nuzzled his hand.
“No matter what happens, we'll always have each other. And even if we get separated... I know we'll do everything to find each other again. Promise?”
“Mrow!”
“I'll repay you for this someday Persian, you have my word on it!”
~
Bright. Everything was so bright around him. And white.
Giovanni squinted. He didn't... did he?
No he couldn't have, he still felt things. His legs and his arms. And his head. And they were all in so much pain.
He blinked a few more times and his eyes finally adjusted to the light. Not any afterlife, just the stark fluorescent lighting of Unova HQ. As he regained his bearings, his surroundings became clearer to him.
He was in a bed. It was a fairly comfy one, with soft sheets and a fluffy pillow behind his sore head. There was an IV in his right arm- though the feeling of the needle stuck there was minor compared to the sheer pulsing pain the rest of him felt- and the bag he was attached to was part of a cluster of other monitors.
Obviously, he thought, you were injured horribly taking that Rock Tomb and you're now in the infirmary recovering from whatever happened to you out there. He congratulated himself on this brilliant deduction, then took in more of the room. A bedside table with some fresh flowers in a vase and a glass of water, next to a matching crystal pitcher and a pile of papers. Curtains on the windows, simple white cloth that matched the ceiling and shiny linoleum floor tiles and altogether added to the stifling feeling of sterility in the wing.
And sitting along one wall, a small writing desk. He wondered for the slightest moment why that was in the infirmary, until he realized those papers weren't the nurses'.
“Oh come on, now, that's just tacky,” he said, feeling exasperation and dread at the prospect of that part of the job that was decidedly unglamorous but sadly necessary to keep everything running.
In fact, it was a load of the tedious stuff that had led him to take Zager up on his suggestion to tag along on the whole reason he was lying here now. He'd wanted to look at something that wasn't black text on a white page and do more than forwarding papers or signing things, and it seemed like a routine enough operation at the time. Go in, watch a bunch of complete idiots make a huge deal out of stealing yet another extremely valuable knick-knack, as Zager's missions tended to go, then return back to headquarters with a shiny thing to run tests on and... more paperwork from when you were gone.
In the end, it was paperwork that nearly claimed his life.
“Sir! You're awake?” His secretary stood in the doorway of the room, evidently having heard his remarks over the desk.
Persian's not in here.
“Yes, I'm awake,” he replied. “How long have I been here?”
Persian's not in here.
The secretary checked her watch. “Thirty-six hours, sir,” she said. “The injuries you sustained were quite on the severe side. The nurses hooked up an IV with painkillers as soon as the damage was assessed.”
Oh god Persian's not in here.
He was ready to make his typical demand for an explanation, but the secretary didn't deserve it. No, the explanation demand was to be directed to the one man responsible for this whole mess.
He's fine, he's probably just not in the room at the moment because they wanted you to get rest to recover faster...
“Arceus,” he swore. She was making her way around the room now, checking the monitors and seeing to it everything was in shape. As she inspected things, she took notes on the clipboard she carried.
Persian is fine, you saved him yourself...
“Sir, are you in need of anything?”
I need Persian but she probably doesn't know where he is and it's been thirty-six hours where is Persian.
“A cup of tea, black, a slice of chocolate cake, and send Doctor Zager in here, will you? I need to... discuss the mission... with him.”
And Persian.
But he'd ask Zager about that when he came in. The secretary was merely filling her assistant role at the moment and it was likely she knew little about what transpired out there in the mountains.
You're totally not delaying the inevitable or anything, no.
“Right away, sir,” the secretary said, bowing slightly and leaving to get the cake, tea, and Zager.
~
Persian didn't like the outside much, he decided. The mountains were a definite change of pace from the plush carpets and warm beds he'd grown accustomed to, and the lack of food on demand was a definite minus. How he'd changed since that fateful day in Viridian Forest.
He'd be wandering the rocky path- he didn't know how long, cats couldn't generally tell time- for a while now, and looking for his human. He knew the human was out here somewhere...
Persian, if we ever get separated, look for the nearest city with people. That's how you'll know you're on your way to safety.
Wasn't that what the human had told him years ago? City with people... but there were no people anywhere around here, not that Persian knew of. Isn't that why the human had to fly with his other humans out here? This was so far up in the mountains... and the human had probably flown back to where he came from. He wondered how the human was, if he was hurt. He'd protected Persian from a pretty bad attack, after all, and attacks damaged people as well as Pokemon...
Persian sniffed the air. If he tracked the residual smells of the people, picked something up on the wind, he could use that to point the way...
The human was out there. He could sense it. Not just in the smells on the breeze, but something he couldn't see or smell or hear. Something that was just... there.
Persian continued on his journey. Somewhere was the human, and he would find him...
Dad...
~
“I demand an explanation,” Giovanni said, relishing the chance to use the words on the cowed white haired man next to his bed.
Zager had the expression of a Sawsbuck caught in headlights. He knew this was coming. He'd known ever since the trip back on the helicopter, the trip back when he was nothing but grateful, in a sick way, that Giovanni had been rendered unconcious from taking the Golurk's attack, if only because it delayed the inevitable.
“Mistakes were made, sir,'” Zager managed out, his cover-all response to anything that fouled up.
“Understatement of the year, Zager,” Giovanni hissed back. “I want to know exactly what happened to me back there in the mountains after that Rock Tomb hit. According to the secretary I've been unconscious for 36 hours. You have some filling in to do, I believe.”
“Two broken legs, a broken left wrist, minor head injuries, and some little cuts all over. Amazing you walked away from a direct hit from Rock Tomb with just that. They don't call it that for nothing.”
“Thank you for the update, I was totally unaware as to why these casts were all over my now immobile and aching extremities. Your college education was not wasted. What's the status of the Heart?” he asked Zager, delaying the question that tormented him at the back of his mind.
“Taken to the laboratory and research is underway upon the properties of the stone.”
“Excellent. At least the mission wasn't a total mess.”
Zager cringed, but supposed he should be thankful for the compliment when every other thing said up to this point implied it was a failure
“Thank you, sir,” he replied, his eyes shifting around the room. He'd never actually been in an infirmary wing here, come to think about it, and wondered if he'd leave this encounter without getting his own room.
“You're dismissed Zager.” Please say it. Please say it. Please-
“One more thing, Zager.”
Zager's face went pale.
“Sir?”
“Where's Persian?”
This. This is what Zager feared him asking most of all. He'd enjoyed the last 36 hours of merciful peace before becoming the soon-to-be-shot messenger. As much as he could enjoy them realizing sooner or later he'd either have to break the news or take the fall after someone else did.
“Persian is...” Zager began to sweat under his labcoat. “Persian is...”
“Persian is where?” Giovanni's voice had become more insistent, causing the old doctor to shake.
“Persian isn't here,” Zager squeaked out.
“I'm sorry, Zager, I thought I heard you say 'Persian isn't here.' Because clearly if you and the men you came with were responsible they would have made sure that Persian was here. So why don't you just tell me where Persian is?”
“...Persian ran away. When we got to the scene, your Rhyperior was pulling away the rubble, and Persian seemed unharmed by the attack, since you took most of it. However... once you were pulled away, Persian panicked when approached and ran away. We were unsure of the severity of your injuries, so... it was a difficult choice, but we had to rush you to the helicopter for treatment...”
All the color had drained from Giovanni's face now. Inside, he wanted to yell at Zager, so loud that the entire headquarters would hear the old man's humiliation at his hands, and would have, had he the will. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Zager recognized the blank expression, the eyes a mix of sadness and rage. This was the face of a man who'd just lost everything but was too proud to admit it. He was torn between trying to comfort him and simply shutting up while he was still ahead.
He recalled his childhood, when the family's beloved Lillipup had taken a walk outside one day and got lost, never returning... how much it hurt to lose such a close friend...
Beyond simple loyalty, Zager wouldn't wish the feelings he had then on anyone. And he wasn't about to see someone else go through them if he could help it.
“I'm so sorry, sir,” Zager said. “Rest assured, I'll see to it everything is done in my power to reunite you with Persian. We're searching the mountains for him as I speak.”
Sorry. Sorry didn't bring Persian back. Sorry didn't change the utter dread Giovanni had that, even if Persian was retrieved as Zager promised him, it meant spending time in this accursed bed, healing painfully from his injuries, with only the usual group of idiots to keep him company. No reassuring snuggles from a warm ball of fur.
There was nothing he could do. Technically Zager was following protocol- by making the priority getting him to safety. Even with Persian MIA, nothing wrong had been done by Zager on the mission aside from his foul-up with the Golurk traps.
But weren't those why this whole mess happened in the first place? Because of Zager's utter negligence? Yes... that... that needed to be punished, if nothing else.
He lacked the willpower for even that now.
“Zager,” he snapped. “Get out. I'll figure out what to do about you later, just... get out. And pray that you're right about getting the cat back to me.”
Zager stood, reeling from the news he had just broken, the reaction to it.
“I said get out,” Giovanni snarled. “Don't make me repeat myself again.”
Heart racing, Zager wasted no time removing himself from the room, nearly running into the secretary, who was carrying tea and cake on a tray.
Wonder what he said to trigger that kind of shaking in him, she wondered to herself.
Still weakened by the news Zager broke to him, Giovanni could hear a knock on his door.
****************************************************
Title: Survival
Author: nekusagi
Verse: anime; during Best Wishes, in Unova, at some point after the Rocket vs Plasma episodes
Characters/Pairings: Giovanni, Giovanni's secretary, Persian, Doctor Zager
Rating: PG
Persian were by far the most difficult of all cat Pokemon to raise.
This was a fact spoken frequently by Pokemon researchers, who cautioned Meowth trainers that unless you were willing to deal with the dramatic change in personality that resulted from evolving the feline Pokemon, it was best to fit them with an Everstone collar. Otherwise, after any given battle the usually laid back and easygoing Meowth would become a different creature completely, a much larger cat prone to both independence to the point of stubbornness as well as a spoiled, finicky nature.
But, the experts added, if trainers felt they were up to the challenge of training one of the most finicky Pokemon, the experience was also a rewarding one.
It was the rewarding aspect of Persian that Giovanni appreciated. Yes, Persian was indeed a handful, a cat who tended to sleep in the least convenient places- in his chair, on top of his desk if he left his office for even a moment, on the bed exactly in the area he wanted to sleep in (he had a suspicion that Persian was fully aware this inconvenienced his master, and took part in this behavior to remind him who was really in charge)- and if you gave him the wrong food, or, Arceus forbid, forgot to feed him, he wouldn't let you live it down for some time. But all the same, Persian had been his trusted companion for years, there to protect him, comfort him, and keep him from losing his mind. In a pinch, Persian proved a reliable battler, his claws and teeth honed to the sharpest tips and his slender, muscular form always in its prime. While Giovanni's Persian was easily the very picture of the stereotypical spoiled cat, he hadn't forgotten his roots in the thick of Viridian Forest.
At this moment, it was that wild side of Persian that he was grateful for. He'd been reminded quite suddenly why he typically elected to take merely a command role on important missions.
But damn it, Zager no less than assured me personally all the traps in this temple had been deactivated by age.
Two Golurk. They caught you off guard easily, the Golurk. One moment, you were following behind your Antiquities Specialist and a handful of underlings, on the way to personally see for yourself this ancient generator, the next, you found yourself blocked by those things everyone thought were just statues.
Yes, Giovanni. Take a more active role in missions in Unova, it's so far away no one even knows who you are there! Because the whole desert incident went oh so smoothly, right? Merely an unexpected fluke, he said. There are neat things, he said, you like those adventure movies, he said, it's like you're really in one, he said.
Giovanni's ever present inner critic was working overtime today, a normal reaction to seeing the dangerous parts of the adventure movies he grew up with actually confront him in horribly realistic high definition.
Except those guys had guns. And whips. And writers to get them out of everything. This is real life, and you've got to act fast, or you won't get a happy ending.
Calling for help would be worthless, the Golurk trap had tripped and Zager and the other Rockets had escaped the resulting rockfall just in time, leaving Giovanni stranded on the other side. Any sudden moves would upset the two golems before him more, so making a run out of the temple or calling for backup would mean sure death. And while he could use one of his Ground types to burrow out of the temple, reaching for a Poke Ball would leave him vulnerable.
It was down to Persian now.
"Persian, hit them with a Dark Pulse to weaken them and then use Slash!" he yelled, backing away from the Golurk duo.
Persian yowled, his fur on end, and released a massive beam of shadow toward the pair of Pokemon. Following the second half of his trainer's instructions, he bared his claws to strike at the now injured Golurk, but the attack failed to connect.
Golurk is Ground... but also Ghost, Giovanni remembered. Slash won't do a damn thing to these two.
"Persian, switch to Night Slash!" he commanded, and Persian raised a paw again, shadows gathering around each individual claw.
"Purrnyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Persian snarled, making a swipe as it leapt past the two Golurk. The attack hit flawlessly this time, but one Golurk managed to raise its arms and summon stones from the rubble... aimed right at Persian.
"It's using Stone Edge! Watch out!"
Persian made maneuvers to avoid the projectiles. One managed to hit, however, and left a small cut on his side, a tiny trail of blood working its way out of Persian's yellow fur. Persian cried out in pain.
"You bastard," Giovanni said. For all the terrible things and abuse he'd been complicit in as Team Rocket's leader, he still drew the line somewhere, and for him, that line was drawn at harm to those he cared about. Contrary to rumor, he still had some level of compassion for others- even as conditional and rare as that compassion was, he suspected it was still a deal more than some of the more “legitimate” businessmen he frequently found himself associating with. And at the moment, that compassion was directed, as it so frequently was, toward his trusted partner.
"Trap me all you want, but if you harm my friend, you'll have to pay. Persian, hit them with another Dark Pulse, and don't hold back!" he commanded, reaching into his pocket, his actions calculated down to the split second. Another dark beam went flying, this one thoroughly covering the two golems in shadow.
"Time to finish this show," he said, throwing out two yellow and black Ultra Balls, absorbing the Golurk duo.
"At least you'll prove yourselves useful to me later," he told the balls, pocketing them and fishing another Poke Ball out of his pocket. "Rhyperior, drill us out of this mess.”
In an instant, he emerged and burrowed his drill horn into the rock separating them from the rest of the group, rock flying about every which way from his work. After a few seconds the Pokemon had managed to dig a small tunnel through the rubble of the temple and into the corridors ahead.
“Return,” he said, calling Rhyperior back into his Poke Ball. “Persian, are you alright?”
Persian meowed back confidently, though it was unmistakable he was still shaken from the encounter. He sniffed at the tunnel and gave his trainer a knowing look.
“ Mrrow.” There are smells on the other side, smells I know. People smells. “Mrr.” Let's go. The cat, noticing his human's continued hesitation, impatiently nudged at a single dark-green covered leg.
“You go first,” Giovanni said.There were things he could do, and things Persian could do, and one thing Persian could do that he couldn't was see in the dark. At the time of planning the mission, it was assumed that flashlights and lanterns would do the job sufficiently, so not once had any kind of night-vision gear been considered necessary. Persian's long, furry tail in front of him would be the next best thing.
Persian gave him an irritated look. How have you humans survived this long? His sensitive black nose twitching to pick up whatever other scents might be around, he made his way into the tunnel, tail flipping behind him.
The tunnel was cool, dusty, and dark, but the glow of lights from the group ahead was enough to illuminate an exit. Zager's voice could be heard just outside the passage's exit.
“...of course he's on his way, he would have called for help if- Persian?” The white haired scientist looked at Persian the way he would a rare artifact as the cat extracted himself from the tunnel and shook the dust off his fur. “Is there a human with you by any chance?”
Persian sniffed at Zager- human! Treats? He looked up expectantly at the doctor, tail wagging happily.
“He doesn't speak, mercifully.” Giovanni had now exited the tunnel, dusting himself off and glaring at Persian. “Doubtful he'd have anything pleasant to say even if he could. I certainly don't right now.”
“Sir! We... were going to sent out a party to search for you-” Zager straightened at the sound of his employer's voice and quickly backpedaled from his previous statement, realizing the futility of it.
“Funny, Zager, that's not what I heard a minute ago. I'm probably too old for all of this, but my hearing's not failed me quite yet.”
Zager just stood, speechless, as the group of Rockets nearby tried their hardest to hide their voyeuristic glee at the possibility of seeing a confrontation between the doctor and the boss, and Persian stuck his nose up and returned to Giovanni's side, realizing, disappointed, there would be no treats now.
“I believe the exact wording was, 'he would have called for help if Persian.' I believe, Zager, it is common decency to send help if you're travelling with someone and that someone ends up on the opposite side of a rockfall with the two golem Pokemon responsible for it.” His last words were as pointed as the glare he was now directing at the tiny old man.
Zager blinked, then composed himself.
“All traps were accounted for, just as I said in the report-”
“Golurk are traps too, if you don't expect them,” Giovanni interrupted. “Funny thing about ancient civilizations, they were clever. Next time, Zager, be sure to do a survey of the Pokemon in the site as well. For everyone's safety, as well as your own.”
Zager took off his monocle, polished it nervously on his labcoat, then clipped it back on. “Understood, sir,” he said. “Ahem... now that we seem to be all present and accounted for-”
“-No thanks to you-” Giovanni muttered audibly enough that Zager could hear it, but Zager disregarded this remark.
“-Let's proceed with the business at hand.” He motioned to the altar sitting in the middle of the room. “Now, as you can see, the crystal upon this altar is the prized Heart of Keldeo, the legendary power source of the lost civilization that built this temple, said to generate energy from feelings of friendship and trust. According to writings translated only recently, merely a small amount of positive emotion- friendship- could be converted into nearly unlimited power through this stone-”
Persian and Giovanni gave each other “not this again” looks. The both of them knew that Zager would be at this for a while before getting to the actual main event and that it was time to settle in. They wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.
~
After what seemed like an eternity of listening to Zager's lectures and watching him running tests on the Heart of Keldeo to assure that it was indeed the real thing and not a reproduction- it had happened before, but with a different priceless artifact- the order was finally given to begin work removing the glowing pink crystal from its pedestal in the shrine.
“Easy, easy, that thing is upwards of a thousand years old, we can't just find a new one- well, I can't say I expected this,” Zager said. He waited for a response.
“I'm sorry, were you speaking to me?” Giovanni finally asked, continuing to feign interest in the completely incompetent group of agents tasked with the dirty work on the mission and their attempts to secure the Heart. Persian had since dozed off, curled up in a large fuzzy ball at his feet. “And I've noticed that's standard operating procedure for you.”
Zager had prepared a defense for the insult, but realized he was already on very thin ice as it was and refrained from it, because, you know nearly having the boss dying from thousand year old golems and all, Zager. As... unorthodox... as some of his methods were, self-preservation was still extremely important to him.
“Oh would you ju- er, I mean, noted, sir,” he said, defeated. “I've never seen an artifact so rooted to its home as this stone. Clearly this was of greatest import to its people. Do you know what this means?”
“No, please, tell me though, Zager,” Giovanni remarked dryly.
“It means that the chances of the accounts of the Heart as a power source being accurate just rose exponentially. By at least ninety percent, I would wager.”
Is he telling me all of this may have been for nothing? “Fascinating,” he replied.
Zager beamed and nodded in agreement, the sarcasm clearly lost on him. “I said easy on it!” he yelled at the grunts he'd tasked with the job of retrieving the gem. “Crowbars are not what I'd call 'easy'!”
The thing clearly refused to budge and the Rockets had come to a consensus that non-scientific measures had to be taken.
“We can't find any other way to get it, Doctor,” one of them said, working at the stone. A loud snapping noise was heard and something shiny flew off the bottom of the hunk of crystal.
“Oh, you've gone and broken a bit off now, see what carelessness does?” Zager said with exasperation. The bit, the size of a pocketwatch, landed just a few inches away from Persian, making a sound like broken glass as it reached the stone tiles of the shrine room. The sound woke Persian, who sniffed at it before Giovanni snatched it away from him.
“Don't eat that,” he said, slipping the sliver of crystal into the pocket of his jacket. “You'll get sick and the last thing I need is you making another mess all over the helicopter. Like the last time you decided to eat something foreign.”
If cats could blush, Persian would have, as his ears and whiskers went back with embarrassment at the reminder of the incident.
“No matter, though,” Zager continued, “it's still in excellent condition, even with that blemish, and I suppose some things can't be avoided. Load it up, gentlemen, we should be getting back before night falls.”
For a fleeting moment in the corner of Giovanni's mind, his old movies and stories replayed, the ones that he'd loved as a boy. Those movies usually had the dashing hero taking some priceless trinket out of a shrine, off a pedestal just like that one, and-
“Extraction complete-”
“-Eh?”
“I said the extraction was complete and successful. We'll be leaving now if there are no further instructions,” Zager said.
“Oh, excellent,” Giovanni replied, his chain of thought interrupted by Zager's report, “I see no reason why we should stay here any longer. If you're sure, Zager, then move out.” He nudged Persian with his foot to hint to him it was time to go.
“Yes sir,” Zager motioned to the grunts behind him and began leading the way, but stopped before they could even get very far. The rockfall from earlier, and the tunnel Giovanni had made to get through. He glanced nervously at it.
“Yes Zager. It's a tunnel. I'm actually capable of thinking things through, unlike some of us. You might have to get a little dirty, but I'm sure you can manage.”
Zager motioned to the others, and the group slowly made their way through the tunnel. This time was easier, as there were flashlights, and Giovanni was amazed at how much faster the trip seemed to go with proper lighting as opposed to simply feeling one's way through the tunnel.
As they neared the exit, Giovanni's mind had returned to its wanderings. An uneasy realization came to him.
Shrines hated it when you took their treasures. They knew, and they did everything in their power to make sure you didn't keep them.
“Zager,” he said, as they reached the tunnel's end at last and emerged back into the temple. “Zager, we could be in danger.”
“I thought you caught the Golurk the first time,” Zager said.
Never before had Giovanni felt a stronger urge to strangle someone right there and then. But it was in very poor form, he reasoned, to kill your guide before you were out of the temple. Passive-aggression would have to do for now. With emphasis on the aggression part.
Zager whimpered as another glare from the boss impaled him on the spot. Bad day was probably an understatement for what he was experiencing at this moment.
“ Did it never occur to you,” Giovanni growled at Zager, his patience finally running on empty, “that those Golurk weren't-”
Rumble.
Something moved under his feet and gave him pause. Years of experience as a Ground type Gym Leader in Viridian City and Giovanni knew more than a few things about how the earth reacted to disturbances, and there were only two things this kind of sensation meant.
Either an earthquake, the natural occurrence or the capital-E attack, or there were a pack of Ground types nearby. And they weren't happy.
The last time Giovanni had felt that kind of sensation, he was in the wild capturing the Rhydon that would later become the Rhyperior that dug him through the rockfall earlier. And that herd of Rhydon wasn't exactly thrilled to see him.
Zager picked up on the discomfort hanging thick in the air combined with the unusual seismic activity taking place.
“What was that?” he asked.
“All of you, run like hell for the exit if you want to make it out of here alive,” Giovanni said. “The rest of those guard Golurk are going to be here for us any minute, and I doubt they're pleased I helped myself to two of their friends.” A thought occurred to him as he ran to the exit among the others. There would still be the odd Golurk here or there particularly gifted in the speed department.. if he could just find a way to distract them while he, Zager, and Persian got out safely....
“Any one of you who can capture and bring me a Golurk, I'll reward handsomely when we get back,” he added. All the Rockets on this run were fairly low ranked and therefore expendable. They'd also do anything to get ahead, regardless of how stupid or dangerous it might be. Worst case scenario, the membership rolls might be a few less upon return to headquarters, best case scenario, more Golurk.The plan was unquestionably ruthless, but Giovanni was sure it would work. “How many Golurk are there usually in a group?”
“Golurk and Golett travel in groups of up to twenty,” Zager said, his old body growing slightly winded, “but from the looks of it, the people only installed Golurk to guard things... factor in that and the size of the temple and we're looking at ten to eleven Golurk.”
“Lovely,” Giovanni muttered. “Persian, stay close. I don't want you getting- oh mother of-”
The Golurk had appeared. Giovanni didn't bother to count them- that was the last thing on his mind as he, the doctor, and the Rockets scrambled for the exit just a yard or two ahead- but he had a suspicion Zager's guess was pretty close, or maybe even underestimated.
The group froze in their tracks, surrounded by massive, angry golems.
“Welcome wagon's here, gentlemen,” he growled. “Here's the new plan. When I give the word, run out of here to draw them off, then take as many as you can, and we'll all meet just outside the helicopter.” He sized the Golurk up, looking for the smallest one that was so often in groups like this. Normally he'd enjoy taking on a direct command role- too commonly the strategizing was left to an officer or executive and his part in it was merely to sign off his approval- but this was unplanned. And if there was one thing Giovanni hated, it was surprises.
The runt was there in front of him. The thought ran through his head that it might be the friend of one of the two he'd caught earlier. That if it was, the adrenaline from anger would make it a bigger threat. That maybe trying to get past this one wasn't the best idea there was. That this was the end... Persian might be able to escape with his cat reflexes, but his human-
Nonsense, his inner critic said, returning for a second performance. You didn't get to this point shying away from conflict, curling up and dying when things got hard, so maybe you almost died earlier, maybe one of your head researchers is a moron who made a potentially fatal error in the planning process, maybe you'll have half your operatives wiped out from unexpected Golurk before you get out of this, but you will make it out alive, that's the important thing, right, and it's not your style to do anything but push everything a little more-
Rectangular eyes flashed rapidly, scanning their prey, like something out of a strange Bronze Age science fiction scenario...
“NOW!” He thrust his hand forward to motion to the group, who obediently ran in all directions out of the temple as the Golurk turned and began pursuit. The plan seemed to be a sound one after all- Golurk were lumbering things and their size slowed them down substantially. Giovanni stayed in place through this, staring down the runt, the one who'd apparently chosen to focus on him rather than pursuing the scattering masses around him.
He'd been picked as an enemy. Part of him wanted to flee and just get to safety, but the other part, the part always fixing for a fight, always wanting excitement, saw a worthy opponent and a chance to prove himself in battle as the superior force. He hadn't spent his life mastering Ground types to not know that this small Golurk was offering him a challenge.
“Persian, get behind me,” he said. “It's not safe for you to be in on this.” Persian retreated behind his human, tail wrapped protectively around his slender body.
“Those two I caught back in the passage, the ones that tried unsuccessfully to kill me. Friends of yours?” he asked. Golurk's eyes flashed back an affirmation.
It all made sense now. The two from earlier were undoubtedly the leaders of the group, and this little one was ready to defend the group against the intruder and his men.
“So they were. The humans who put you here were brilliant. You're here to keep their secret from intruders, yes?”
Golurk's eyes flashed again and it made a sort of humming noise at him. How did he know so much about them? Clearly this was an intelligent opponent...
“Your masters have been dead for a century now, and every trace of their past is merely a passage in a history book or an exhibit in a museum. This temple and all the treasures within it belong to Team Rocket now. I'm afraid it ends now.”
Golurk's head creaked slightly as it turned, confused. In its history, it had never encountered such a brazen mockery of the people who relied upon it and its friends... It hummed again sadly.
“You're going to fight to the end to defend it, though. Am I correct?” Giovanni reached slowly into his jacket pocket for Rhyperior's ball, paying close attention to not make any sudden movements to startle his adversary.
Another eye flash.
“Then prove your dedication to the cause in battle!” He threw the Poke Ball in the air and Rhyperior appeared on the battlefield. He roared and stomped one of his massive feet at Golurk. Golurk took a similar offensive pose as it steeled itself for battle.
“Horn Drill, Rhyperior! Don't hold back just because it's a little one!” Rhyperior turned his head towards his master and gave a little understanding nod, then charged at Golurk, the horn on his nose spinning rapidly. Flames shot out of Golurk's body to hover it over the ground and evade Rhyperior's attack by mere inches.
“Rocket body...” Giovanni muttered. “I should have expected that.”
This threw a whole new wrench into the works. Without the ceiling of the temple constraining Golurk's movements, the golem was free to use the boosters in its feet to maximum potential, so Earthquake was rendered useless. And even if the Horn Drill had connected, the Normal-type attack would have been completely ineffective against a half-Ghost type Pokemon, Giovanni realized, remembering Persian's failed Slash during the earlier confrontation with this one's comrades. He was down to an extremely limited selection of moves to take this one out with, two of them already out of the question. Machamp, Cloyster, and Krookodile were all back at Unova HQ, resting from an earlier practice battle...
Despite all this, he welcomed the new challenge. “Deflect it with your tail!” he yelled at Rhyperior, as Golurk hurled rocks at the rhino in what looked like a Rock Tomb. The rocks soared toward Rhyperior as he spun, his tail making a clean arc, and smacking its target. The rocks turned and flew back at Golurk, catching it off-guard. It clearly wasn't prepared for this turn of events in the battle, and the massive projectiles hit their origin, knocking him out of the air.
Golurk hit the ground, motionless and seemingly stunned.
Giovanni smirked. He'd played enough video games to know what to do now.
It's just like a boss battle, he realized, motioning to Persian, who was watching the battle intently from his spot behind his human, but real. “Persian, give that Golurk another one of your Shadow Claws and finish this so we can get back to the base.”
Persian snarled and readied his front claws, as Giovanni reached for his last empty Ultra Ball and prepared to make a capture.
The air filled with dread. He wasn't sure where it was coming from but... something... was about to go wrong.
It was a feeling he was no stranger to. Nothing was ever foolproof, and sometimes no matter how much money you put into them or how sharp the minds behind them were, even the most precisely executed plans were laid to waste by a miniscule change in variables. That feeling, when he realized that he faced defeat, no matter what he did...
He felt the Ultra Ball slip out of his fingers and hit the rough mountainous ground beneath him as the whole chain of events unfolded and unraveled before him in horrifying slow motion, as Golurk slowly rose and some external force pushed him to dive in and hug Persian tightly, protecting the already injured feline Pokemon from further harm...
“Persian, just don't move anymore... I've got you...”
In that moment, a bond formed between trainer and Pokemon, and terrified as Persian was, something let him know everything would be okay, that they would both pull through, that soon, they'd be snuggled back together by a warm fire or in a soft office chair...
...but now, the most important thing was survival.
Keeping the warm fur coat held close to him as best he could, Giovanni squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the incoming second salvo of Rock Tomb... promising himself and Persian no matter what, they'd both come out of this okay...
~~~~
~~~~
It was a sunny day in Viridian Forest, like any other.
“Persian! I'm going to throw the ball! You catch it and run it back to me as soon as you can, okay?”
Persian yowled back at his trainer, a 13 year old boy with shiny, long brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail under a baseball cap. Most boys played catch with their friends or their dad.
Giovanni played it with Persian. His training techniques were a little odd, compared to the straightforward ones of his peers, but then, he never was like the other boys. And he didn't have time to be like the other boys, either. He wanted to be better than them. Better than everyone.
Speed, accuracy, reflexes. These were the traits most important for a Persian. Throwing a ball seemed like simple child's play, but by timing Persian, rewarding him for new records with his special Pokemon treats, the cat's skills were honed a little finer every time.
“Let's beat yesterday's records, okay Persian? I'll take you out for something special if you do! I think there's a case of that cream you really like in the fridge back home, maybe I can sneak you a little if you do really well.”
Persian's whiskers, tail, and ears perked up at the possibility of delicious, fresh cream, his favorite treat.
“Mrow mrow!” he replied, grinning back.
“Okay!” Giovanni pulled his arm back, winding up the pitch for Persian. “Ready... go!” he said, letting the ball fly, as Persian watched him intently. No sooner had the ball launched than Persian was on his feet, dashing after it. As his Pokemon pursued his prey, Giovanni kept his eye intentlyon a small stopwatch in his hand. This was one of the very first digital models, a birthday present from his mother, and it had served his training needs well since he'd received it. He pressed the button to stop the time as Persian emerged from the tall forest grasses, dropping the baseball at his feet and purring.
“6.25 seconds, and I'd say that ball flew at least 10 yards this time... good start. How's best average out of 3 throws sound for today? I still have Dugtrio and Nidorino to work with after you're done.”
Persian nodded to him. “Purrnya.” His catch session would be a little shorter than usual today, but that was fine with him. It was more of a lounge around in the sunshine day for him anyway. He danced around the baseball, hinting to his human it was time to throw again.
“Okay, okay, give me a chance to catch my breath, already. I only have two hands, Persian, at least let me get this time down first.” Giovanni slipped the fountain pen he'd been writing with into the binding of a small spiral notepad and laid it down on a tree stump next to him.
“I'm going to throw harder this time, Persian!” His method was unscientific, but ultimately it was reaction time Giovanni was going for with this training. It was reasonable for him to assume he could only throw a baseball so far, and by plugging this number into the time between him throwing the ball and Persian bringing it back to him he'd found a reliable way to gauge his friend's improvement. And so far, it'd been stunning in terms of how quickly Persian had grown from a lazy yet skilled cat Pokemon to a lazy yet incredibly quick cat Pokemon with excellent reflexes.
“Go!” He let the ball fly, and Persian dashed after his quarry. Once again the stopwatch was started, then stopped upon the ball dropping at his feet from Persian's jaws. Persian nuzzled his leg affectionately. “Nyanyapurrnya?”
“6.28 seconds. Three hundredths off the last one, but we're still making a good rate today, Persian. One more go?”
Persian wagged his tail in agreement.
“Let's go, then. Make this your best run! On three...”
Persian stared at the ball in his hand.
“Two...” Giovanni drew his arm back in preparation to throw it.
“Go!” He threw the ball the best he could and watched as Persian disappeared into the grass after it, then looked at his stopwatch again. Four seconds... five seconds... six... seven.. eight.
Something wasn't right. Either Persian found something, or...
No. The thought was too much for Giovanni to bear, and Persian was too smart to get into trouble- he was too smart a trainer to let Persian get into trouble. There was only one thing he could do.
“Persian? Persian, I'm coming for you!”
Giovanni ran into the thick grasses, ignoring the rough stinging of the nettles and the dry grasses and the gravelly soil on his skin. He heard Persian's familiar hiss, the one he only used two times.
One was during battle, when things were truly down to the wire and the match was close. The other was when facing down a wild enemy...
“Persian I'm here for you!”
What Giovanni saw wasn't as bad as some of the morbid things that initially flashed through his head, but it was still pretty dire. Persian had made the mistake of treeing a tiny wild Weedle, one that had been accidentally hit by the baseball from the looks of the small mark on its head and its proximity to it. Persian's tail fur was on end, fluffing it to double size, his claws were fully extended from his paws, and a snarl had replaced the smile from earlier, as Weedle writhed and whimpered in fear.
And in the near distance, buzzing. The hive had heard tiny Weedle's cries and was ready to rush to his aid.
“Persian, back off from the Weedle before you get yourself hurt. Your pride isn't worth being pumped full of Beedrill venom...”
Persian looked at his trainer defiantly.
“Persian... let's just go. I'll give you cream anyway, you did great today, just... don't get into it with a Weedle, it's really not worth it.”
The buzzing became louder, and a whole swarm of yellow and black Beedrill began closing in on the group, their stinger arms gleaming.
“Beebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebee”
“Persian.” Giovanni extended a single understanding hand to make it clear to Persian he wasn't angry. “Let's just go. Right now. Leave the ball and leave Weedle alone.”
Persian's ears were back now in fear. He began slowly making his way toward his trainer.
Normally Giovanni would use an unexpected encounter like this as a training opportunity for his other Pokemon. But what good were two Ground types and a Persian against a swarm of Beedrill that clearly outnumbered all four of them? It wasn't worth being the hero and having to explain to Mother later on the phone why he and his Pokemon were stuck in the Viridian City Pokemon Center covered with nasty sting wounds after being found and taken to safety by some bewildered Trainer...
“No sudden moves, Persian. We run on my word.”
“Mrr.”
The Beedrill clearly had no intention of letting the two go. Even though Persian had left the Weedle and allowed it a chance to escape, the swarm still stared at the two, out to remind them to never mess with the hive.
Mother always had warned him to be more careful...
“Now, Persian!” Giovanni took off in a sprint as Persian's strong, well-honed legs carried him alongside the human. “There's a clearing to the north, if we can just reach that in time it should throw them off. Beedrill never stray too far from their hives before giving up.”
“Beebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebee.” The infernal buzzing of the Beedrill as they flew behind them, the most terrifying sound to Giovanni at the moment... he was growing exhausted, but every instinct he had kept him going.
For himself and for Persian. They were all each other had right now.
“Augh!” He felt his flight interrupted by something sticking out of the ground- a root- and tripped. “Keep running Persian, I can take care of myself-” He saw the Beedrill growing closer to him, reached for a Poke Ball, realizing anything he threw at the enraged Beedrill at this point would be completely worthless anyway, but doing it all the same...
One of them fluttered just a few feet from him, single stinger arm raised, prepared to attack, when Persian leapt in front of it...
“PERSIAN! I SAID-” Giovanni watched as Persian took the stings, yowling out in pain with each one, protecting his human...
“Persian you don't have to....” No this wasn't fair, Persian didn't cause this, he had, he'd hit the Weedle, of course it was upset.
Persian turned his head to look at him. Through the obvious pain, there was a clear look of reassurance. Don't worry, I've got this.
The feline turned his head back to the Beedrill and stared them down. Keep going, but I'm not going to stop defending the one who counts on me. A pained cry from Persian, and the largest of the Beedrill finally halted its assault.
Persian let out a defiant snarl, as if to warn others what would happen if they tried to harm his trainer, then fell to the ground, lying on his side, panting in pain.
“Persian!”
Giovanni inspected the spot where Persian had received the worst blow. It was terribly red and swollen and Persian recoiled the closer he got his hand to it.
The move used was clear, Poison Sting, and it seemed from the wound and the number of hits Persian had taken that it had taken a few attempts from the swarm before the poison actually stuck.
“Ugh there must be so much venom in you... Don't make any sudden moves, Persian. I'm taking you to the Pokemon Center before your condition gets any worse.”
He carefully picked Persian up and positioned him in his arms so that the cat's front paws rested over his shoulder, then ran for the Pokemon Center just outside the forest's entrance.
“You're lucky you got him here as quickly as you did,” the nurse had told him. “This much Beedrill venom in a Pokemon Persian's size... the effects could have been disastrous...”
For two days he waited in the Pokemon Center, hiding when his mother's staff came looking for him, accepting gifts of food from the sympathetic nurse there, and watching Persian for as long as he could stay awake. He wasn't about to leave a friend in his time of the most need.
Nurse Joy said Persian should make it out okay, but.... he couldn't imagine a world where he didn't have him by his side. Even though they'd only been together for four years, they were an inseparable pair, and the thought of not being able to wake up in the morning and not having a warm ball of fur there to pet and greet... not having a friend he could always trust no matter what happened...
He wasn't sure he was ready for that yet.
“Please come out okay, Persian...” he said to the sleeping feline.
The night of the second day, just as he dropped off to sleep at Persian's bedside, he felt something warm, wet, and rough against one hand.
A tongue.
“Persian? You're better?”
“Mrow.”
Persian had recovered at last, and for that moment, all was right in the young boy's world.
“Persian... thank you for protecting me from those Beedrill back there in the forest... even though you got injured....”
“Mrow?”
“I thought I'd lose you for good. Promise me we'll never be apart, Persian. Promise?”
“Mrow!” Persian nuzzled his hand.
“No matter what happens, we'll always have each other. And even if we get separated... I know we'll do everything to find each other again. Promise?”
“Mrow!”
“I'll repay you for this someday Persian, you have my word on it!”
~
Bright. Everything was so bright around him. And white.
Giovanni squinted. He didn't... did he?
No he couldn't have, he still felt things. His legs and his arms. And his head. And they were all in so much pain.
He blinked a few more times and his eyes finally adjusted to the light. Not any afterlife, just the stark fluorescent lighting of Unova HQ. As he regained his bearings, his surroundings became clearer to him.
He was in a bed. It was a fairly comfy one, with soft sheets and a fluffy pillow behind his sore head. There was an IV in his right arm- though the feeling of the needle stuck there was minor compared to the sheer pulsing pain the rest of him felt- and the bag he was attached to was part of a cluster of other monitors.
Obviously, he thought, you were injured horribly taking that Rock Tomb and you're now in the infirmary recovering from whatever happened to you out there. He congratulated himself on this brilliant deduction, then took in more of the room. A bedside table with some fresh flowers in a vase and a glass of water, next to a matching crystal pitcher and a pile of papers. Curtains on the windows, simple white cloth that matched the ceiling and shiny linoleum floor tiles and altogether added to the stifling feeling of sterility in the wing.
And sitting along one wall, a small writing desk. He wondered for the slightest moment why that was in the infirmary, until he realized those papers weren't the nurses'.
“Oh come on, now, that's just tacky,” he said, feeling exasperation and dread at the prospect of that part of the job that was decidedly unglamorous but sadly necessary to keep everything running.
In fact, it was a load of the tedious stuff that had led him to take Zager up on his suggestion to tag along on the whole reason he was lying here now. He'd wanted to look at something that wasn't black text on a white page and do more than forwarding papers or signing things, and it seemed like a routine enough operation at the time. Go in, watch a bunch of complete idiots make a huge deal out of stealing yet another extremely valuable knick-knack, as Zager's missions tended to go, then return back to headquarters with a shiny thing to run tests on and... more paperwork from when you were gone.
In the end, it was paperwork that nearly claimed his life.
“Sir! You're awake?” His secretary stood in the doorway of the room, evidently having heard his remarks over the desk.
Persian's not in here.
“Yes, I'm awake,” he replied. “How long have I been here?”
Persian's not in here.
The secretary checked her watch. “Thirty-six hours, sir,” she said. “The injuries you sustained were quite on the severe side. The nurses hooked up an IV with painkillers as soon as the damage was assessed.”
Oh god Persian's not in here.
He was ready to make his typical demand for an explanation, but the secretary didn't deserve it. No, the explanation demand was to be directed to the one man responsible for this whole mess.
He's fine, he's probably just not in the room at the moment because they wanted you to get rest to recover faster...
“Arceus,” he swore. She was making her way around the room now, checking the monitors and seeing to it everything was in shape. As she inspected things, she took notes on the clipboard she carried.
Persian is fine, you saved him yourself...
“Sir, are you in need of anything?”
I need Persian but she probably doesn't know where he is and it's been thirty-six hours where is Persian.
“A cup of tea, black, a slice of chocolate cake, and send Doctor Zager in here, will you? I need to... discuss the mission... with him.”
And Persian.
But he'd ask Zager about that when he came in. The secretary was merely filling her assistant role at the moment and it was likely she knew little about what transpired out there in the mountains.
You're totally not delaying the inevitable or anything, no.
“Right away, sir,” the secretary said, bowing slightly and leaving to get the cake, tea, and Zager.
~
Persian didn't like the outside much, he decided. The mountains were a definite change of pace from the plush carpets and warm beds he'd grown accustomed to, and the lack of food on demand was a definite minus. How he'd changed since that fateful day in Viridian Forest.
He'd be wandering the rocky path- he didn't know how long, cats couldn't generally tell time- for a while now, and looking for his human. He knew the human was out here somewhere...
Persian, if we ever get separated, look for the nearest city with people. That's how you'll know you're on your way to safety.
Wasn't that what the human had told him years ago? City with people... but there were no people anywhere around here, not that Persian knew of. Isn't that why the human had to fly with his other humans out here? This was so far up in the mountains... and the human had probably flown back to where he came from. He wondered how the human was, if he was hurt. He'd protected Persian from a pretty bad attack, after all, and attacks damaged people as well as Pokemon...
Persian sniffed the air. If he tracked the residual smells of the people, picked something up on the wind, he could use that to point the way...
The human was out there. He could sense it. Not just in the smells on the breeze, but something he couldn't see or smell or hear. Something that was just... there.
Persian continued on his journey. Somewhere was the human, and he would find him...
Dad...
~
“I demand an explanation,” Giovanni said, relishing the chance to use the words on the cowed white haired man next to his bed.
Zager had the expression of a Sawsbuck caught in headlights. He knew this was coming. He'd known ever since the trip back on the helicopter, the trip back when he was nothing but grateful, in a sick way, that Giovanni had been rendered unconcious from taking the Golurk's attack, if only because it delayed the inevitable.
“Mistakes were made, sir,'” Zager managed out, his cover-all response to anything that fouled up.
“Understatement of the year, Zager,” Giovanni hissed back. “I want to know exactly what happened to me back there in the mountains after that Rock Tomb hit. According to the secretary I've been unconscious for 36 hours. You have some filling in to do, I believe.”
“Two broken legs, a broken left wrist, minor head injuries, and some little cuts all over. Amazing you walked away from a direct hit from Rock Tomb with just that. They don't call it that for nothing.”
“Thank you for the update, I was totally unaware as to why these casts were all over my now immobile and aching extremities. Your college education was not wasted. What's the status of the Heart?” he asked Zager, delaying the question that tormented him at the back of his mind.
“Taken to the laboratory and research is underway upon the properties of the stone.”
“Excellent. At least the mission wasn't a total mess.”
Zager cringed, but supposed he should be thankful for the compliment when every other thing said up to this point implied it was a failure
“Thank you, sir,” he replied, his eyes shifting around the room. He'd never actually been in an infirmary wing here, come to think about it, and wondered if he'd leave this encounter without getting his own room.
“You're dismissed Zager.” Please say it. Please say it. Please-
“One more thing, Zager.”
Zager's face went pale.
“Sir?”
“Where's Persian?”
This. This is what Zager feared him asking most of all. He'd enjoyed the last 36 hours of merciful peace before becoming the soon-to-be-shot messenger. As much as he could enjoy them realizing sooner or later he'd either have to break the news or take the fall after someone else did.
“Persian is...” Zager began to sweat under his labcoat. “Persian is...”
“Persian is where?” Giovanni's voice had become more insistent, causing the old doctor to shake.
“Persian isn't here,” Zager squeaked out.
“I'm sorry, Zager, I thought I heard you say 'Persian isn't here.' Because clearly if you and the men you came with were responsible they would have made sure that Persian was here. So why don't you just tell me where Persian is?”
“...Persian ran away. When we got to the scene, your Rhyperior was pulling away the rubble, and Persian seemed unharmed by the attack, since you took most of it. However... once you were pulled away, Persian panicked when approached and ran away. We were unsure of the severity of your injuries, so... it was a difficult choice, but we had to rush you to the helicopter for treatment...”
All the color had drained from Giovanni's face now. Inside, he wanted to yell at Zager, so loud that the entire headquarters would hear the old man's humiliation at his hands, and would have, had he the will. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Zager recognized the blank expression, the eyes a mix of sadness and rage. This was the face of a man who'd just lost everything but was too proud to admit it. He was torn between trying to comfort him and simply shutting up while he was still ahead.
He recalled his childhood, when the family's beloved Lillipup had taken a walk outside one day and got lost, never returning... how much it hurt to lose such a close friend...
Beyond simple loyalty, Zager wouldn't wish the feelings he had then on anyone. And he wasn't about to see someone else go through them if he could help it.
“I'm so sorry, sir,” Zager said. “Rest assured, I'll see to it everything is done in my power to reunite you with Persian. We're searching the mountains for him as I speak.”
Sorry. Sorry didn't bring Persian back. Sorry didn't change the utter dread Giovanni had that, even if Persian was retrieved as Zager promised him, it meant spending time in this accursed bed, healing painfully from his injuries, with only the usual group of idiots to keep him company. No reassuring snuggles from a warm ball of fur.
There was nothing he could do. Technically Zager was following protocol- by making the priority getting him to safety. Even with Persian MIA, nothing wrong had been done by Zager on the mission aside from his foul-up with the Golurk traps.
But weren't those why this whole mess happened in the first place? Because of Zager's utter negligence? Yes... that... that needed to be punished, if nothing else.
He lacked the willpower for even that now.
“Zager,” he snapped. “Get out. I'll figure out what to do about you later, just... get out. And pray that you're right about getting the cat back to me.”
Zager stood, reeling from the news he had just broken, the reaction to it.
“I said get out,” Giovanni snarled. “Don't make me repeat myself again.”
Heart racing, Zager wasted no time removing himself from the room, nearly running into the secretary, who was carrying tea and cake on a tray.
Wonder what he said to trigger that kind of shaking in him, she wondered to herself.
Still weakened by the news Zager broke to him, Giovanni could hear a knock on his door.