Chapter 2: Madame Boss
The Rattata, enraged that its prey would dare to charge, leaped forward. It aimed its hardened skull directly at Giovanni's face, a full-force Tackle meant to crush him.
A lesser man would have been killed instantly.
Alarm bells screamed in Giovanni's head. While the Oran Berry had flooded his system with raw energy, it had also granted him a moment of hyper-focus. He twisted his body to the side, simultaneously scooping a sharp stone from the ground and smashing it against the Rattata's head as it flew past.
He threw himself into a desperate roll, the Pokémon's attack missing his head by a hair's breadth. Scrambling back to his feet, he swung the splintered branch and landed a solid blow against the Rattata's flank.
The strike wasn't fatal, but it was enough to make the creature cry out in pain and stumble. The pain, however, was immediately replaced by an even greater fury.
The Rattata opened its mouth, revealing sharp fangs that glinted in the dim light, and lunged at the branch.
Crunch. Snap.
With each bite, the wood splintered. The force of the impacts traveled up the branch, making Giovanni's arm ache and go numb. He felt as if his bones were filled with lead.
The Rattata's small, dark eyes locked onto his, filled with disdain. It saw the branch getting shorter. It saw its opponent tiring.
Giovanni caught its mocking gaze and cursed the beast in his heart, but he didn't dare relax. He was waiting for an opening—a single chance to turn the tables.
Sweat trickled down his gaunt face, dripping onto the dry ground where it vanished without a trace. His mind was a razor's edge of focus.
The moment came when the Rattata leaped again.
Giovanni feigned a stumble. As he fell backward, he twisted his wrist, using the last of his strength to slash the sharp, broken end of the branch across the Rattata's neck—a vital point on any small animal.
"RAT-TA-TA!"
A piercing shriek tore through the air. The Pokémon's body trembled violently as blood instantly matted its purple fur. It collapsed, writhing in agony on the forest floor.
The Rattata had never imagined that the very branch it had been gnawing at in retaliation would become the instrument of its death. Cunning human!
Giovanni knew he had won the gamble. Without hesitation, he threw his body on top of the struggling Pokémon, pinning it down. He ripped the branch free and began stabbing it desperately into the wound.
"Die! Just die!" he screamed, his voice raw.
The Rattata's claws tore at his arms and chest, leaving fresh wounds, but he didn't stop. He gasped for breath, sweat and blood mingling, soaking his tattered clothes. His bloody hands were practically fused to the makeshift weapon.
Slowly, the struggles beneath him ceased. The creature's body grew still and its warmth faded…
Having killed the Rattata, the physically and mentally exhausted Giovanni could no longer hold on. He collapsed with a thud, his own blood dripping from a dozen wounds to seep into the soil of Viridian Forest. His body temperature began to drop, as if this was his final act.
He mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "Damn it... I haven't even touched a Poké Ball yet..."
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the trees. The forest, usually alive with noise, fell eerily silent. A faint green light began to bloom from the earth around him, mingling with his crimson blood. It flowed into him, a strange, primal energy from the forest itself.
The grotesque wounds on his body began to knit themselves closed, but the process was not without cost. His already gaunt frame grew even thinner, as if every last nutrient was being burned as fuel for this miracle. The pain was replaced by a new, all-consuming agony: a tidal wave of hunger.
As if on cue, a calm voice cut through the silence from deeper within the woods.
"Boss, there's someone over there. I told you my Houndoom wasn't mistaken."
Footsteps drew closer, accompanied by the growl of a large animal. The overwhelming hunger forced Giovanni to open his eyes. Through his blurry vision, he saw a massive black dog with demonic horns looming over him. Its fierce, arrogant gaze was so potent, it felt like it could have turned his hard-won Rattata to dust.
"Return, Houndoom."
A purple-haired woman in a black uniform with a red "R" on the chest walked briskly towards him. The muscular Houndoom, as large as a calf, immediately trotted back to her side.
Behind her stood more than a dozen others in similar uniforms, flanked by various Pokémon. Strangely, each of them had a long string of Poké Balls hanging from their waists, far more than the six a legal trainer was allowed to carry.
They were clearly not legitimate.
The hunger left Giovanni no time to think. He used the last of his strength to raise a trembling hand, a single word escaping his lips.
"Hungry…"
The purple-haired woman knelt, showing no disgust at his blood-and-mud-caked hand. She took it in her own. "Kid, you're in luck. Now that you've met Team Rocket—"
Before she could finish, a new figure emerged from behind the grunts. She was a dignified woman with long, dark violet hair, dressed in a sharp red suit, red high heels, and stockings.
She scanned the scene—the blood on the ground, the dead Rattata with the branch still embedded in its corpse—and her gaze finally settled on the boy. Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Interesting," she said, her voice smooth and cool. "He killed a Pokémon with nothing but his bare hands and a stick."
She strolled forward. The purple-haired woman immediately let go of Giovanni's hand and stood respectfully to the side. "Boss."
Giovanni's arm, which he could no longer support, hung awkwardly in the air.
The woman known as "Boss" looked down at him, a faint smile on her red lips. She extended her own hand.
"Little brat," she said. "be my son!"
Giovanni's eyes, which had been about to close for good, snapped wide open— a rush of blood surged to his head, and his face turned crimson. He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry. He managed a single, desperate word before he passed out.
"Yes…"
The red-clad woman turned to her subordinate, a hint of confusion in her tone. "Miyamoto, did he agree?"
Miyamoto nodded earnestly. "He definitely agreed, Boss! He said 'yes'! Besides, you're the leader of Team Rocket. It's an honor others would kill for."
This woman was indeed Madame Boss, the leader of Team Rocket. While not yet the most powerful underground organization in Kanto, they were well on their way.
Madame Boss patted Miyamoto's shoulder lightly. "Fool. I never said who I was. How would he know?"
Miyamoto paused. "Ah. You're right. Well, it doesn't matter. He can't run from us now."
"That's right." Rika nodded, a more calculating smile gracing her lips. "I just wonder how he'll get along with his nine hundred and ninety-nine new brothers and sisters."
Hearing this, Miyamoto's playful demeanor vanished. She frowned. "Boss, must we really go through with it? That's a thousand children. We risked everything to get them out from under the League's nose."
Madame Boss merely glanced at her.
The look was enough. Miyamoto, who had just been joking with her boss, felt her scalp tingle. She quickly bowed her head. "I misspoke! The decision is yours alone!"
Madame Boss waved a hand at her subordinates, and two of them moved forward to lift the unconscious boy.
Then, she spoke to Miyamoto, her voice low and firm.
"Without me, they would have died in the gutter. I am giving them an opportunity. A chance to become predators, not prey." She turned, her slender back exuding an aura of absolute command.
"You should understand, Miyamoto. Only the most outstanding individual can lead Team Rocket. That is our ideal. What does it matter if the methods are a bit... extreme?"
Miyamoto looked at the back of her leader, at the unshakeable will she projected. She dropped to one knee.
"Everything is for the organization!" she declared, her voice filled with zealous devotion.