The battlefield inside the Vermillion Gym was deathly silent.
Earlier, two Team Rocket grunts who had been called to clean had gone off to fetch tools and soil, so Nozomi's infiltration had caused no alarm.
He then picked out a lone grunt whose body type matched his own and tailed him all the way to a bathroom stall. He commanded Gastly to use Hypnosis, ensuring the poor fellow would be unconscious for hours.
Nozomi pressed the hidden button at his temple, donned a mask, slipped into the grunt's uniform, tidied his hair, and in a matter of moments became nearly identical to the man he had knocked out.
After checking in a mirror to confirm the disguise was flawless, Nozomi swaggered onward into the depths of Viridian Gym.
"A little quiet, I see."
Walking down the corridor, he muttered to himself.
The scene before him differed from what he'd expected. He thought a place like Vermillion Gym, swarming with Rocket operatives, would have many patrols—but there were only a few stragglers wandering the halls. He passed just a handful of people and couldn't tell where the staff he'd beaten earlier had gone off to.
Perhaps owing to the internal atmosphere within Team Rocket, none of them even greeted him; they looked cold and uninterested.
"Good — that actually works in my favor. Less trouble for me."
Nozomi was pleased. He wanted precisely this kind of situation: the fewer eyes on him, the better. If he could collect the Rocket Team's criminal evidence and leave without being noticed, that would be ideal.
Of course, things weren't going to go as smoothly as he hoped.
He strode forward, trying to locate Lt. Surge's office, when someone suddenly appeared in front of him.
On seeing "him," the person's face registered surprise.
"Huh? Inoue, wasn't Lt. Surge boss supposed to send you to the meeting room, to assign tasks? Why are you still wandering around?"
The newcomer acted as if intimately familiar with the identity Nozomi was impersonating.
Hearing someone call him out, Nozomi's heart skipped a beat. He had been worried—despite his near-perfect disguise, he hadn't a voice changer, and his voice could betray him.
He weighed whether to act immediately, but shook his head. That would be the worst time to draw weapons; if he attacked now, his infiltration would be compromised, and he could lose all hope of gathering intelligence or escape.
Suddenly, a clever idea struck him: earlier he'd pretended another Team Rocket grunt was squatting in the bathroom with a stomach problem. So he coughed twice, adopting a weak, raspy voice.
"I… I had some bad meat. I've been in the bathroom."
To lend plausibility, Nozomi used telekinesis (Psychic power) to restrict blood flow to his lips, making them pale and cracked, as though dehydrated from diarrhea.
"Puhahaha!"
The Rocket grunt across burst out laughing, a cruel, mocking face: "I told you so — that barbecue last night was undercooked, but you insisted on eating it. Now look at you."
Thanks to the mask and his carefully constructed story, the grunt didn't suspect a thing.
"Don't laugh. Help me up." Nozomi said, sounding half-irritated, half-desperate, body hunched over as though genuinely weak.
"Alright, alright, Inoue—just remember to treat me to a meal next time."
Laughing, the other grunt supported Nozomi and they headed in the direction of the meeting room.
Vermillion Gym — Meeting Room
Lt. Surge sat at the head of the table. He no longer wore the carefree grin he'd shown in the Gym; now he frowned, glaring at the empty seats. Displeasure emanated from his expression.
His subordinates sat tensely, afraid to draw his wrath.
"Where is that Inoue guy?" Many in their hearts shouted the question.
As they all suspected, Surge was furious. He had summoned all the Rocket captains in Vermillion Gym to convene and assign tasks—but one person was missing. Surge would hardly stay calm under such an insult.
Losing to Nozomi earlier was one thing (after all, he hadn't yet unleashed his real ace). But someone daring to be late when summoned? Outrage filled him.
Pointing at a subordinate, he barked, "You! Go fetch that bastard Inoue and bring him here!"
The summoned grunt nodded and rose.
Just then, the door was knocked—and Nozomi, still propped up, was escorted in.
"You bastard, where were you just now?" Surge spat the question the moment he saw "Inoue."
He vented all his anger on Nozomi.
Nozomi's heart pounded. This was the moment of truth. Whether he could extract Rocket intelligence hinged on fooling Surge.
He was about to open his mouth and beg forgiveness in that weak, raspy voice—when the very grunt who had escorted him intervened:
"Lt. Surge, boss, Inoue had food poisoning last night. He's been in the bathroom just now."
Nozomi hadn't counted on someone helping explain for him.
"Such kindness…" he thought silently, and felt his luck swelling. If he'd tried to explain himself, even with good acting, Surge might've seen through him.
Surge paused. He looked at Nozomi's ashen, drained appearance and snorted. He let the matter drop.
"Hmph. Leave him here. You—out!"
He didn't glance again at Nozomi; he moved to chair the meeting.
The grunt who had supported Nozomi threw him a "good luck" look and slipped out of the meeting room.
When all outsiders had departed, Surge scanned the remaining faces.
"Now, the meeting begins! This discussion is of supreme importance. All of you are to maintain absolute secrecy. Not one word may leak out. Understood?"
"Understood!" all answered, among which Nozomi added his weak, hoarse voice.
Surge ignored Nozomi and went straight to business: "I just received orders from Boss Giovanni. Three days from now, we will launch a hijacking operation against the luxury cruise ship S.S. Anne. I've summoned you all here to arrange the operational plan!"