Crimson Mura: Agent of Rocket 3
(Crimson POV)
*BOOOP*
*BOOOP*
*BOOOP*
*PING*
The sound of the secure line connecting sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. The rhythmic tones echoed in the quiet room, each one reminding you of the high stakes of this conversation. As soon as the connection was established, your instincts kicked in, and you moved swiftly, the phone pressed tightly to your ear.
"The line is bugged. We'll have to be quick," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced around the room, eyes darting to every corner, every shadow. You felt the tension in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady, your movements precise. You quickly stepped into the bathroom, careful not to make a sound, making sure the phone cord wasn't caught on anything—or anyone.
The harsh light of the bathroom was a stark contrast to the dimness of the room outside. You could see yourself in the mirror, your own eyes staring back at you, a mixture of determination and anxiety reflected in them. You couldn't afford any mistakes, not now.
"Do they know?" your Handler's voice crackled through the receiver, calm but laced with an urgency that mirrored your own. It was a voice you had come to trust, despite never having seen the man behind it. The level of secrecy needed to maintain your cover was considerable, and part of that secrecy meant you had no idea who this person was, or what his true motives might be.
"No, sir, I'm angling for a promotion," you said, trying to keep your tone casual despite the tension gnawing at you. "You know how life is... so far, I haven't given them anything real." It was the truth, or at least close enough to it. You'd managed to stay under Giovanni's radar, feeding him just enough to keep his suspicions at bay while holding back the critical intel. But the game was getting more dangerous by the day.
Your Handler's voice came back, laced with concern. "But they're going after Tactical… and with the Elder in hiding—"
"Sir," you interrupted, needing to keep him focused, "we still have time to stop them. With the information we have, we know where many of them are hiding." You had to believe that, had to cling to the hope that the shadows you were navigating hadn't yet swallowed you whole. "We're not out of this yet."
There was a pause, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. When your Handler spoke again, his voice was laced with a grim resignation. "You're running out of time, son. We all are. And with the League and the Elite Four breathing down our necks, I'm afraid this is no longer a game with two players—if it ever was one to begin with."
His cynicism cut through the thin veneer of optimism you'd been trying to maintain. He wasn't wrong. The situation was spiraling out of control, and the Rangers were caught in the middle, with enemies closing in from all sides. The once-clear lines between friend and foe were blurring, and the stakes were higher than ever.
The memory of the Operations Chief being jumped outside of HQ flashed through your mind. It was a brutal reminder of how precarious things had become. That attack had sent shockwaves through the ranks. The Rangers, once so sure of their footing, were now walking with an uneasy step, always looking over their shoulders. They'd been mocked and humiliated on their own turf, and it had left everyone on edge.
You could hear the weariness in your Handler's voice, the toll this relentless struggle was taking on all of you. "We've been compromised," he continued, his tone almost defeated. "The League is playing their games,being more ruthless than we anticipated. They're coming at us from every angle, and with Tactical in Team Rocket's sights, well thats not a bed time story I think you want to hear."
You tightened your grip on the phone, feeling the weight of the responsibility that had been placed on your shoulders. "I know, sir," you said, your voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at you. "But we can't give up now. We have the intel, and we have the will to fight. We just need to be smarter, and faster. We need to stay one step ahead."
He sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that spoke of years of battles fought in the shadows, of victories and losses that had shaped him into the man he was. "I wish it were that simple," he muttered, almost to himself. "But the truth is, we're facing enemies who are playing a different game altogether. And I'm not sure we can win this one."
His words hung in the air, a grim acknowledgment of the reality you were all facing. And with the Elite Four lending their power to some cause you couldn't even fathom, the odds were stacked against you like never before.
But you couldn't let that defeat you, not yet. "We're not out of options," you insisted, trying to inject some steel into your voice, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of your resolve. "There's always a way out, always a way to turn the tide. We just need to find it."
"Maybe," he conceded, though the doubt in his voice was palpable. "But you'd better move fast, Crimson. Because if we don't, this whole operation is going to go up in flames. And we might not be able to stop it."
"We'll find a way."
"Good luck," he said, his voice softened by the weight of all he'd seen and done. "You're going to need it."
"Slowpoke?" King said. <Whats the Matter Crimson?>
You smiled. "Just work buddy…just boring work."
-[X]Meditation and Meetings:You had to be here…thats what being in charge of this disaster means, "Settle down…now you all know why you are here, you have issues we need to iron out." Rolled: D100 => 49+25=74
You glanced over at the group of grunts huddled awkwardly around the now-silent coffee machine, their faces a mix of guilt and panic. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened, and you knew it wouldn't be the last. The science team and the grunts were always up to something, but you just had a feeling this time it was the grunts. The way they shifted nervously, avoiding eye contact—it was a dead giveaway.
"Alright," you began, your voice carrying the weight of authority. "Who broke it?" You crossed your arms, waiting for someone to crack. The silence was thick, filled only by the distant hum of machinery. You weren't about to let this slide; after all, this wasn't just about coffee—it was about maintaining order.
The science team, usually suspects number one when it came to odd mishaps, seemed genuinely offended by the implication. They were fiercely protective of their coffee; it fueled their long hours of Pokémon research, and without it, productivity would take a nosedive. They all shook their heads in unison, their eyes wide with indignation.
One of the grunts, a young one who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, finally spoke up. "It wasn't the science team, sir. They've been working on that new project all morning. It's... it's probably one of us."
You raised an eyebrow, not entirely surprised but still disappointed. The grunts needed their coffee almost as much as the scientists did, especially with the absurd hours and dangerous tasks they had to deal with. Honestly, you couldn't really blame them for being on edge.
"Was it Vicious?" you asked, half-joking but also needing to get that troublesome Onix out of the room. You didn't need a giant rock snake causing more chaos in an already tense situation.
"No, sir," one of the grunts piped up quickly. "I think it was one of the Admins."
You sighed, rubbing your temples. Of course, the Admins. They were always skirting the rules and this time they'd gone too far. The grunts didn't stand a chance against them if it came to a showdown over something as sacred as coffee.
"Well then," you said, your voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone, "here's what you're going to do. You're going to 'borrow' the coffee machine from the Admin quarters. Just don't get caught."
The grunts exchanged nervous glances but nodded in agreement. It was risky, sure, but it wasn't the first time they'd had to pull off a heist within their own ranks. Besides, the stakes were high—peace between the science team and the grunts was hanging by a thread, and no one wanted to see what would happen if that thread snapped.
As the grunts scurried off to carry out their mission, you couldn't help but smirk. If they managed to pull it off, they'd have the gratitude of the entire science team, and you'd have bought yourself a little more peace in the chaotic world you managed.
For now, the tension would be eased, and you'd avoid an all-out coffee war. All in a day's work.
Reward: The Peace between the Science Team and Grunts!
-[X]The Two J's and the Cat: Jessie and James…and Meowth, those three are a mess. "What…happened to your balloon? And why are you all over the news." Rolled: D100 => 20
"Hey, Crimson," the Admin called out, a slight edge of exasperation in his voice. You turned, already sensing that whatever was coming next wasn't going to be good. "You know that hot air balloon we were going to assign to you?"
"No..." you replied cautiously, trying to recall any mention of a balloon in your recent assignments. "Why was I supposed to be getting one?"
"Well," the Admin began, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to ease the tension that was clearly building, "Jessie and James took it. And they left a note saying you gave it to them."
The words hit you like a ton of bricks. "Oh NO!!" you groaned, the realization sinking in fast and hard. Jessie and James—those two were walking disasters wrapped in a swirl of Team Rocket bravado and bad luck. If they so much as touched that balloon, it was bound to end up in pieces somewhere. And knowing them, they'd probably blame the wreckage on some 'twerps' they encountered along the way.
Your mind raced as you considered the consequences. Hot air balloons weren't cheap, and they certainly weren't easy to come by. If those two managed to break it—and let's face it, they almost certainly would—it would come out of your paycheck. The very thought of it made you wince. A hot air balloon wasn't just some minor expense; it could set you back months, maybe even a year, depending on the damage.
You could picture it now: the tattered remnants of what was once a perfectly good balloon, scattered across a field, with Jessie and James standing over it, shrugging helplessly as if it wasn't their fault. And then there was the note—probably scrawled in their usual haphazard handwriting, with some half-baked excuse about how it was all in the name of Team Rocket's glory.
"What did the note say, exactly?" you asked, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you prepared for the worst.
The Admin pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to you. You unfolded it slowly, your eyes scanning the sloppy handwriting. It read:
*"Dear Crimson,
Thanks for the balloon! We promise to use it wisely on our next mission. Don't worry, we'll bring it back in one piece. Probably.
Sincerely,
Jessie and James"*
You let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Probably," they'd said. That single word was doing a lot of heavy lifting in their promise, and you had zero confidence it would hold up. The idea that you were now somehow responsible for their inevitable mishap made your stomach churn.
The Admin watched you, clearly trying to gauge your reaction. "Look, Crimson, I know this isn't your fault, but you know how it goes around here. If they don't bring it back in one piece—or at all—it's going to be on you."
"Yeah, I know," you muttered, already resigning yourself to the reality of the situation. "I'll figure something out."
But what could you do? Jessie and James were out there somewhere, floating along in a stolen balloon, probably dreaming up their next scheme. The best you could hope for was that they somehow managed to avoid total disaster—but knowing them, that hope was slim.
As you handed the note back to the Admin, you tried to think of a way to mitigate the damage. Maybe you could track them down before they did something irreversibly stupid. Or maybe you could find a way to pin this mess on someone else—after all, they did forge your name on that note.
But deep down, you knew that this was just another day in the life of Team Rocket. Things always went wrong, and somehow, you always ended up paying for it—literally, in this case.
With a heavy sigh, you headed off to figure out your next move, already dreading the conversation you'd inevitably have with the higher-ups if—when—Jessie and James returned empty-handed.
You swear they were good at this! What happened to make them all obsessed and SLOPPY?
Failure: They took the Balloon and said it was in your name…your paycheck is at risk.
-[X]Spend time with Erika: She seems ready to talk about… lot of things. "Crimson I think we need to talk." Rolled: D100 + 30 => 101
Erika looked at you with a mixture of affection and concern, her eyes lingering on the group of Pokémon lounging around in the gym. They were a ragtag bunch, their types and temperaments clashing with the serene, floral aesthetic of her domain. Despite the dissonance, they seemed at ease, as if they belonged there just as much as the carefully tended plants. But Erika's expression told you that something was amiss.
"Crimson," she began, her voice soft but laced with an underlying tension, "I love you, but—"
You cut her off, trying to lighten the mood. "Is it because the Pokémon clash with the typing aesthetic?"
She shook her head, a small, wistful smile playing at the corners of her lips. "No, Crimson… it's not about that. It's the fact that you've been withholding things from me."
Her words hit you like a sudden gust of cold wind. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, she continued.
"And to be honest, so have I," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of her confession was too heavy to bear.
Your mind raced, trying to piece together what she could possibly mean. "Oh? What is this?" you asked, a note of curiosity creeping into your voice as you tried to mask the anxiety building in your chest.
Erika hesitated, clearly struggling to find the right words. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of resolve and regret. "I'm… I'm going to be doing something you don't agree with," she said slowly, each word carefully chosen. "I'm throwing my support behind Champion Lance's environmental protection initiative."
For a moment, you were stunned into silence.
What?
Your mind reeled as you tried to process what she was saying. Lance's initiative was notorious for its radical approach, even among the most fervent environmentalists. You'd read his pamphlet—it was extreme, advocating for measures that would drastically alter the way people and Pokémon interacted with the environment. It was one thing to care about the planet, but Lance's plan went far beyond that.
"You've read his pamphlet, right?" you finally said, your voice edged with disbelief. "It's extreme even by our standards. It's not like you to be radicalized like this… it doesn't fit you."
Erika nodded, her expression calm yet determined. "I know how it seems, but I've thought long and hard about this. I may look like a traditional young woman, Crimson, but I'm not just some public doll. I want to do more, to prevent the scars and pain that took your family from you. I'm doing this for you, for us."
Her words struck a chord deep within you, stirring up memories you'd tried to bury. She truly believed she was doing the right thing, that this initiative was the way to protect others from the kind of loss you'd experienced. But she didn't know the full story—how could she? You'd never told her everything.
God, why can't I tell her the truth?
You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to respond. "Just… be careful, okay? I love you."
Erika's eyes softened, and she stepped closer, placing a hand on your arm. "First sign of real trouble, I'll bolt. And if they go wrong, I'll fight them. I promise." She smiled, a small but genuine expression of reassurance.
But even as she smiled, you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at your gut. Erika was walking into something dangerous, something she couldn't fully understand. And you? You were powerless to stop her without revealing everything you'd kept hidden.
As she turned to leave, her footsteps soft on the gym's polished floor, you watched her go, your heart heavy with unspoken fears. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that she'd find her way back to you without getting hurt. But in your world, nothing was ever that simple.
Reward: Erika has joined the Blackthrone Faction of the League for your benefit.
Erika can now be used as an unwitting agent against Lance.
-[X]Meet with your Handler: Face to Face was never the game plan. But this was too important to leave to chance. Next dead drop would be face to face. Rolled: D100 + 33 => 101
The man looked at you observing the way you walked and read the book on Poke-Care.
"Its good to finally meet you son." The Man talking to you was supposed to be dead.
"I have so many questions sir." You said.
"Indeed, and so you shall have some answers, as you will answer mine." He said.
(To Be continued in The Spy, the Madman and the Shadow)
-[X]Spend time with Latias: Alright little flyer, its time for a little Bonding time. Rolled: D100 => 44
Latias looked at the small bird types and chased them.
She was getting better at the social aspect at least.
AN: Enjoy and the Plot thickens!
