Chapter 8: The Price of Failure
From her high perch, Miyamoto's eyes widened in surprise. "A Pokémon hatched during the test? It's that boy... the one we found in the forest!"
Madame Boss seemed less surprised, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Luck is a component of strength, Miyamoto. And this one's luck appears to be quite something."
Miyamoto, however, saw it differently. "But it hatched prematurely. The nutrient solution wasn't fully absorbed. Its potential will be permanently damaged... what a waste. The boy won't survive the later rounds with a stunted Pokémon."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Madame Boss countered, a thoughtful expression on her face. "A Pokémon that would risk its own life, breaking its shell to protect a master it has only just met... there is something special about that boy."
"He does seem to have his secrets," Miyamoto conceded. "Shall I investigate him?"
Madame Boss waved a dismissive hand. "No. Secrets are a good thing. Only exceptional people have them." She smiled, gesturing to the chaos below. "Besides, my other children are proving their worth as well."
Miyamoto looked and saw the burly youth who had single-handedly beaten down a dozen others, and the cunning girl who had already taken command of her own gang of delinquents. The strong were rising to the top.
Down below, Giovanni wasted no time. He pointed a shaking finger at the rest of Musashi's gang. "Weedle, poison them. All of them."
But before the tiny Pokémon could act, Miyamoto's voice boomed across the chamber. "THE TEST IS OVER! CEASE ALL HOSTILITIES!"
Team Rocket grunts swarmed into the arena, their Pokémon at their sides. They began tending to the wounded, but only those holding an incubator. The children who had failed to secure an egg were ignored, left to bleed on the floor.
Musashi and his thugs, who had been poisoned by Weedle, were among those treated. They were lucky. The two boys who had taken the first, most direct stings were not. Their bodies were already cold. Musashi's remaining followers stared at Giovanni and his tiny partner with pure terror, as if looking at the grim reaper himself.
Musashi, whose injuries were minor, shot a venomous glare at Giovanni. "You got lucky," he spat. "But I'll remember this. We'll see how your Weedle fares against a real starter Pokémon."
Giovanni just gave him a cold, dismissive look. If time hadn't run out, you'd be just another corpse on the floor.
"Cough, cough." A wracking cough shook Giovanni's body, and he spat out a clot of blood.
"Wee..." his new partner whimpered, nudging his cheek as if trying to wipe the blood away.
Giovanni struggled to his feet and gently stroked the Weedle. "Don't worry," he whispered. "They're just scrapes. But you... you hatched too soon for me. I'm sorry."
The Weedle just shook its head, its only concern being its new master.
Giovanni raised his hand, a faint green light glowing from his palm as he touched the Weedle's smooth body. The power of Viridian flowed into it, and he made a solemn promise.
"I will make it up to you. I will restore what was lost, and more. I swear, I will make you the strongest Beedrill in the world. The kind that can bring down legends."
He could already feel his power strengthening the tiny Pokémon. Its potential wasn't stunted; with him, it was limitless.
"WEE!" The Weedle let out a surprisingly loud and affirmative cry, as if it had no doubt his words would come true.
Soon, a pair of grunts approached Giovanni, efficiently bandaging his wounds. "You've got guts, kid," one of them said with genuine appreciation. "Keep it up. Maybe you'll be one of the chosen ones." He handed Giovanni a standard red and white Poké Ball. "A gift from Executive Miyamoto. She says you've earned it."
Giovanni took the ball, his expression unreadable. "Thank you. I'll do my best."
The future boss of Team Rocket, he thought to himself, a cold narcissistic certainty settling in his soul. It's my destiny.
He held the Poké Ball, the first he had ever touched. It felt cool and smooth in his hand, a tangible symbol of his new life. Weedle was his partner, his comrade.
He enlarged the ball and held it out. "Weedle," he said softly. "Will you be my partner?"
The Weedle didn't hesitate. It pressed its red nose against the button on the Poké Ball. A beam of red light enveloped it, drawing it inside. The ball shook once, then with a satisfying ding, fell silent.
The remaining children who had survived watched the scene, a mixture of envy and determination in their eyes. Musashi and his gang simply stared, their eyes burning with a hatred so intense it was almost a physical force.
The first trial was over.
At a signal from Madame Boss, Miyamoto stepped forward. The five hundred eggs had all been claimed. The children were separated into two groups: the haves, and the have-nots.
Miyamoto addressed the larger group, the failures, her voice devoid of any warmth.
"All of you who failed to obtain a Pokémon egg have been disqualified," she announced. "And in Team Rocket, the price of failure... is death."
Her words hung in the air for a single, horrifying second. Then, the grunts who had just been acting as medics revealed their true nature. They were executioners.
"Pidgeot, use Wing Attack!"
"Weezing, Sludge Bomb!"
"Arbok, Poison Fang!"
Powerful Pokémon unleashed their devastating attacks on the crowd of unarmed children. Like a scythe cutting through wheat, the moves tore through the defenseless group. Horrific screams and desperate pleas echoed through the chamber, quickly drowned out by the sounds of slaughter.
"Wait! Give us another chance!"
"No!"
"AHHH—!"
— — —
Weedle
Bug/Poison Type
Male
Aptitude: Deep Yellow (Damaged)
Ability: Shield Dust (Protected by powder, it is not affected by the additional effects of moves.)
Level: 1
Height: 0.3m
Weight: 3.2kg
Moves: Poison Sting, String Shot
Egg Moves: None