For reference, you should probably separate out your author’s note from your actual story text much like you did in part one earlier.
As many a working man had learned before him, Sakaki was starting to discover how much of a petty bastard Don Marchetti was.
Oh yeah, this and the description earlier totally bodes well™ for where things are going to go in this part.
Having left the car with Grace at the doctor's, he'd considered catching a cab, but decided against it. The Don was not subtle in his distaste, even after Giovanni had busted his ass over scads of paperwork and given a prompt report. The Don had no respect for a family man working in the famiglia.
So, he'd take a bus, since multiple witnesses might dissuade a hit.
Okay, yeah, I can already tell that Marchetti was ancient history by the time of the ‘present day’ in your writings if he was willing to have Gio knocked off over minorly inconveniencing him over record-keeping.
Of course, he quickly discovered such precautions had been closed off to him: he'd been released right as the buses shut down. Giovanni decided, to screw it, he'd risk a cab after all. He tried to call the second he got beyond the Don's property but his phone all but lit on fire.
Oh, so Gio
does have a cell phone after all. I wonder what timeframe this was all set in.
The first message to pop up was expected: Grace asking if he'd made it to the emergency and to call him once he got out. The multiple call attempts after were alarming. The last few texts had his teeth clenched and his off hand curled tight into a fist.
He could not turn on his heel and storm up to Don Marchetti and sock him in the face.
Because if he started he wasn't sure he'd stop.
Oh yeah, that doesn’t bode well for how Gio’s wife is doing right about now. .-.
Also, murder attempts would draw attention to both the Sakaki matriarch and the Council of Dons.
No matter the temptation, Don Marchetti's actions set to dance before his eyes. Glaring at his phone, swearing at an hour old message, Giovanni learned that his car had been towed.
Lmao, Marchetti really
is a petty one.
An innocent accident, someone out of the Game would think. Until you one realized, as Grace had, that innocently towed cars did not disappear off of an insurance registrar. Or had their tracker turned offline.
Wait, wait, wait. There are
trackers in cars at the time this is set? Originally I thought that this was a period piece from like the 70s or 80s or something like that.
Grace, the smart thing she was, had found a public place, stayed put, and gotten some friends from work to pick her up.
Relief twined with fury nearly made him sick, as he read the latest messages.
Come home soon.
That… uh… feels like it’d be ill-advised at the moment given that I’m sure that Marchetti knows where Gio lives.
His fingers shook as he flicked to the next set.
Three nurses from General were playing honor guard.
Andre, you remember him, the half Kalosian, the ex-trainer with a charmeleon? He was with them, and Melon the 'meleon was acting tougher than tough.
Oh, so Marchetti
is just straight-up attempting to assassinate Gio’s wife over some blown-off bookkeeping…
wonderful.
The fire type was making circuits around their property. Everything from the upper floors she'd need was brought down, and checked, and the upper stories locked and sealed.
It wasn't much, a few shelves to brace door handles, but it was a warning. The ground windows were locked and they were on a rotation to recheck the locks and doors. She'd just wrapped up her turn... The girls were discussing dinner...
Uh, yeah. This is woefully inadequate as protection, I can already tell.
She felt shaken but was safe enough. After a debate, they'd voted against ordering out and made a royal mess of the kitchen.
He forced himself to close her messages. He called a cab, which turned into two calls, then three. Each company insisted they couldn't ping his location. Swore he was not in Kanto. They wouldn't take his credit card. Wouldn't take cash. Couldn't find the cross streets. The last sing-songed that the wait time was twelve hours then threw him onto hold with extreme prejudice.
Boy, the Viridian Mob has
deep tentacles around town if Marchetti can just get all the local cabbies to flatly refuse to pick up someone he wants to have a bad day.
Beyond caring about property damage Giovanni decided he would summon Rhydon. While not fast, the mon wouldn't tire, and buildings and cars were gnats to its earthen hide.
Except the same tech that jammed his phone had corrupted his pokeballs. Even outside the device's signal, they were still busted.
I don’t suppose “break Pokéball, let out Pokémon” is an option here, huh?
And now he had a bigger problem. In one fell swoop the Don had him unarmed.
Ah yes, I take it that this is a shot across the bow saying “I
own you, don’t you forget it”.
Taking a deep breath, holding, counting to five, he released. Reigning his fury in, but only barely.
Carjacking Hotwiring a car was an option. It was a mark of utter desperation he was considering it since if he got caught he'd be sacrificing his public persona and League connections and his relationship with Grace... Still, cars were around. He was in the better districts of Viridian. Every house had a car. The trade-off was every house had a security system.
If Gio is
unarmed at the moment, it’s going to be a bit hard for him to carjack anybody at the moment. I assume based off the surrounding context that you meant to talk about stealing a car.
Staring at his hands, they shook, and wouldn't unclench for anything, he knew that doing anything in his state was a free pass to incarceration.
And while as tempting as it was to turn on his heels, commit murder Don Marchetti, and then carjack off help himself to the dead Don’s transportation, Giovanni knew when to subsume passion to reason. And there was only one route left for his reason to take right now:
He grit his teeth and started to run. First, he'd get to the gym. Marchetti's tech wasn't cutting edge by any stretch of the imagination. A simple virus sweep would provide a fix. Once that was done he'd swap out for a flying type, make some adjustments to his team... and figure out this mess once he was sure Grace was safe.
Oh, Marchetti is doing this to Gio while he’s a
Gym Leader.
That one was unexpected there.
Come stupid late and half past exhausted Giovanni found himself guiding a crobat down on the driveway. The creaking wings and shrill screeches that heralded his arrival made Melon's tail flame flare.
The three medical personnel, still in scrubs, and wielding household items as impromptu weapons, winced back from the sudden pyrotechnics and hostile poison type.
He could have barrelled through them to the front door, they were spread far too thin, but he didn't point that out. Just slid off the flyers back, withdrawing the Cro' and summoning Persian in one fluid motion.
Surprised no ‘do you even know who I am’ moment there.
"Way to make a fucking entrance man." Andre breathed.
"Where is my wife?"
Patricia, a rotund woman with cherubic features, tried to stiffen her spine. She demanded to know if he was who he was because dittos were a thing. The idea was smart, but stammered. The mix of fear and cunning put Persian in mind of a baby rattata, and she licked her fangs at Giovanni's feet.
Some more small corrections here and there. Though I see that that one gambit from Detective Pikachu is actually used from time to time in this setting.
In response, Giovanni drew the rest of his team. They fanned about him, Nidoking's soft snarl setting prompting the medical personnel to cluster amongst themselves.
"I won't repeat myself."
Hopper, a slip of a thing, with more brains than her peers, grabbed Patricia, and then Andre's arms, and hauled them out of the way.
Nidoking: “*Hrmph. Glad to see you all wised up fast.*”
Shooting off a quick. "Inside. Living room." As she did so.
And good thing she did, because Giovanni would have gone through them had she not.
Ah yes, when you almost suddenly need three new
soldati since they were a bit
too dedicated to their jobs of being paranoid about your wife. ^^;
He'd blown a shoe in his mad dash, the other held on by a prayer. He was sweat stained and wind burned and his hair was a rattatas nest. Run ragged had never been given a more accurate representation than he was that night.
Grace swept him into her arms without a care.
D’aww… I mean, there’s basically a coinflip chance that his house is going to get shot up in a couple hours, but it’s the thought that counts.
"I think our car is in a chop shop somewhere." Grace warbled. Only talking once the hysteria had died down enough that she could talk coherently. That thought nearly brought her tears to the fore.
Giovanni: “... Dammit, I
liked that car.”
In the kitchen, Andre had declared it hot-chocolate-aclock and made drinks for everyone. Hooper had taken a seat by the window, seemingly entranced by the ground types patrolling outside. Patricia was perched on a nearby seat, fretting, while Persian was sprawled between Grace and the rest of the world.
"Doesn't matter." The loss of the black bentley stung, it was his first indulgence he'd got with his league income, but was irrelevant all things considered. He feathered a kiss on her forehead. "You made it home safe. That's the important thing."
I guess that’s one way to tell that this Kanto doesn’t hew all that close to Japan, even if I wasn’t expecting actual IRL brands to make an appearance here.
"I know it's stupid... I mean we're both kinda made of money..." Hopper laughed and Andre hissed at her to shut up. "But I liked that car."
Snerk. And here I did that cutaway gag as a joke.
"We'll pick something better perhaps with more seating."
Silence ticked by, interspaced with the hum of the microwave as water was heated. [ ]
"Gio, what in God's name happened? Where were you?
Probably makes sense to describe whoever’s about to speak here as more of a transition thing. e.x. if it’s Grace or one of the three underlings.
Heaving a sigh, Giovanni nuzzled into Grace's throat. Savoring her warmth and pulse. Basking in the unspoken blessing of ‘she's alive’.
"A hell of a lot." He pulled up with a kiss. Considered the room at large. "And I think for everyone's safety we need to wait until we're alone for me to tell you the whole story."
Gio must be really convinced in those Ground-types’ ability to hold the grounds to just go “yeah, let’s get alone for this” here.
Passing out mugs, Melon at Andre's heels hissing how he could drink some, just a sip, Andre gave Giovanni a cup. The Rocket took it with a nod.
"When a fellow talks like that, that's usually code for there being Mob stuff afoot." Patricia noted.
"I'm a rich, self-made, pristine record holding, Italian businessman who told the previous Don to suck it when he harassed me at my Gym. I guess the guy bit it instead and there's new management." He let some of his rage creep into his tone. "They'll learn like the last batch did, that I am not to be fucked with. It lands them with broken bones or being hauled off in clappers."
Wait, so this isn’t even the
first Don that Gio’s gotten on the bad side of and then had to fight his way past.
Chocolate was partaken, and nearly everyone's eyebrows were raised.
Andre whistled. "Hooly hell. Scary, but hot."
"Stop trying to poach him, Andre," Hopper warned.
"He's mine, we are married for God's sake." Grace snuggled into Giovanni, the contact made the man's dark eyes go half-lidded and he hummed a contented note.
Well, if nothing else, you can’t say that Andre
isn’t a bold one there.
"I'm just saying if you wanna try for the other team I can break you in and I promise to be gentle."
Yeah, see above there.
To that, Sakaki roused enough to bark a laugh. "Andre I'm so straight I rank a zero on the Kinsey scale. You could use my preferences as a level. If you're wanting a hot gym leader to screw, go ask Surge. Anything of age and with a pulse is open season for the man."
Oh, so Surge served in the navy specifically for his combat duty then, huh? /s
That caused a babble as well as the dreaded "war crimes" debacle to be bandied about. The only reason he tolerated it was it made Grace snigger into his side.
"For fuck’s sake, one: I am happily married. Two: Surge served in the Air Force flying Raichu planes, I was a ground trooper and pressed into attack 'mon training which meant we had very little overlap in leaves, duties, etc. Three: He nearly got discharged for screwing a superior officer, I don't want that kind of complex in my life. Four: I've committed no crimes, nullifying the crimes part of this. Five: neither has Surge, unless you count a few cases of drunk and disorderly. If you do, do not drag me into that mess."
Hot chocolate was not meant to be taken like a shot. It was too thick and cloying to rally work. Mercifully Andre topped his glass with milk. The thinner liquid kept him from dying.
"Six: the time we met was after the War. Surge was in VA AA, or had been. He'd fallen off the wagon. I happened to be taking a walk alongside the bridge he was at... We talked, and I set him up at a hotel for a few months. Cue a timeskip of fuck knows how long, and the dumbass comes barreling into my gym waving his paperwork at me like he's God's gift to man. He's now stone cold sober, and hell-bent on proving he could not only run a gym better than me but open one faster."
This paragraph IMO should be split up into smaller pieces. Also, you probably want to give some speech tags to make it obvious who’s speaking here. I
assume that it’s Andre, but…
Taking a sip, Giovanni smirked.
"Never mind I'd been running my own gym for a few years by that point."
Well, nevermind. It was Gio after all.
Snorts and snickers were going all around at this point. "If you're setting your cap for the man you should know exactly how low the bar can get." He warned Andre with a sharpedo’s smile.
"Noted." Andre hummed. "He sounds cute. Like himbo cute."
Wait, ‘himbo’
existed as a term whenever this story is set? ^^;
"He gets off to explosions, mayhem, and electricity. Don't expect anything mundane or cutesy to hold his attention for more than a fling."
"Flings can be fun." Patricia noted, in near sync, with Andre. Both looked startled then considered each other measuringly. They also both ignored Grace's squeak of "incoming tmi".
Ditto here. It probably makes sense to think about
when this prequel story is set, since a lot of the dialogue and terminology is
very modern.
Patting her shoulder, a mute promise of protection, Giovanni raised an eyebrow. In tones that made ten-year-olds cry, rumbled. "If you're going to plan anything, do it at your home, not mine."
Not long after the trio split off. Andre to call his brother back home to say he'd swing back sometime tomorrow. Patricia to scope out rooms for them to take, and Hopper to do another window and door check.
"So I hope you don't mind if everyone stays the night..."
Ah yes, just doing the same thing that Marchetti did to you but with the three people responsible for your wife’s well-being. I sure hope they’re personally loyal to you more than you were to Marchetti. Gio.
"Honestly, the more friendly eyes the better." Giovanni sighed. Suddenly he felt each step of his mad run ten times and then some. "Persian, take first watch, and wake me for the second."
He brushed Grace's assurances that he didn't need to and that they were safe away with gentle kisses.
Which would be wise given all the stuff Marchetti has pulled just up to this point to send a message to Gio. ^^;
Infinitely kinder than the razor tones that would have been his norm. And held her and was held in turn until sleep took them both.
Enjoy it while it lasts, you two. Since I’ll be surprised if Marchetti lets you two have a proper good night’s rest.
Claws pricked his side, a purrless knead that made Giovanni's black eyes flick open. The sun was up, but since there were no clocks, he wasn't too sure as to the actual time.
With a huff, he relaxed into Grace's hold, wide awake without his daily cup of coffee. It was ironic, that he dreamed of death cast in emerald hues, as he lay in Grace's arms.
Considering his day it wasn't that much of a surprise.
Ah yes, when your line of work
literally gives yourself dreams of how you’ll die. Sounds like a bit of a nasty side effect to being a mobster.
He'd been younger, slogging through the tail end of college. The guest bedroom of the Madam's Viridian home allowed a view of the bustling city bit from up high. Why a family of two needed a highrise with servants was forever beyond him, even if the lower floors were set aside for the gym and Business meetings, how much mess could two people honestly make?
I mean, if they were smart, much of the floorspace would be set aside for the equivalent of a knockoff WeWork to use for money laundering from the other family enterprises.
He'd been looming at the window watching the ant-like people stroll by. A half-complete thesis paper on his desk, eyes half-lidded as they burned between the strain of too much reading, and the emerald pulse of the Forest's fey illumination.
Huh, so Viridian Forest has bioluminescence to the point of being visible at night, huh? Is that actually a thing depicted in some media? Or was that something that you made for your setting.
SHE was angry, a supernova about ready to explode. The threat was so real that even the city slicker 'mon felt it in their bones.
He blinked (it was like a sea of clover rushed over him sweeping the world away) and when his vision cleared, he was under the familiar boughs of the Forest. Trailing after his mother because she'd never let a man or 'mon break a path for her. His grunt uniform was a bit too large and snagged on the lowest branches as they hiked. Another grunt met them halfway between here and there, passing the Madam papers before bowing back into the ethers and ceasing to exist.
Oh, so the Team Rocket uniforms
did exist before Gio started his own thing, even if it makes me wonder what their original insignia was.
"And what are this one's crimes?" He'd long left the warbling tones of adolescence behind. But that didn't stop his own timbre from startling him sometimes.
In the hush of the path, his voice roiled like thunder.
Because, despite the steady pull of the Forest on his blood, there was only one reason for him to leave Viridian City. And there'd be a body by Work's end. His.... talents... were little more than cleaning tools to be applied to the Madam's mess.
Oh, so Gio spent his college years moonlighting as a ‘cleaner’ for the family, huh? Or at least I
think that that’s the implication there.
As always, when employed like this he had to bite his tongue, lest he spit at the madam to clean her own fucking messes. Dare he Had he dared, and he'd have his body added to the upcoming compost.
"Defiance, seeing what they shouldn't see," her The answer was came, airy and giggled.
Well
that demeanor wasn’t expected coming from Madam Sakaki’s end of things. Duly noted.
As if there wouldn't be an eye-gouging before the dismemberment started. The Madam's appetites always made Giovanni's skin creep.
Above, the branches rattled a sympathetic echo of his unease.
Well, I suppose that knowing where the bodies are buried has helped Gio’s longevity amongst the Viridian Mob quite a bit.
Another blink, green miasma, it came and went, and once his eyes cleared... he could still see it. Stuffed into corners and crevices just on the edge of his sight.
There was a thrashing form near smothered in loom fabric and leaves. The body-to-be was disquietingly small. It was made infinitely worse when the Madam pulled back the obscuring foliage to reveal the bound and gagged party to be a child.
Well, that went way,
way into ‘yikes’ territory really fast.
Eleven years old, more angles than anything else... Even under a shedding of leaves was a mess of familiar brown hair, her hazel eyes were ringed wide with white, and a nodding acquaintanceship with the league world helped him identify her in a moment's notice.
Daisy Oak, missing two days now. Last seen in Celedon. He'd challenged her team when encountering her on civilian rounds last week. She'd soundly lost and then confessed to being lost. He'd had some shopping at the plaza, a stone's throw away from the local Center, and she'd been content to tag along with him to get to her destination.
Can’t tell if this is one of those jobs that Gio balked on or if this is just an AU where there’s no Daisy Oak anymore.
She got in his graces by being both quiet and enthusiastic. Her subject of choice had charmed him further, as she chattered about cats
She was doing a cat run, she explained. And was over the moon to get to ride ponyta style on his ragamuffin persian as a treat.
So… it was Persian’s brilliant idea to yeet her out into the body collection after she obviously didn’t take being a mount well? /s
Instead of mastering the League, she'd planned to get a cat from each region, catching common mon and trading her way up to get the ones she wanted. Then she'd kick gym leaders from here to Johto and back.
As to why she'd lost. It was an off day. She'd been taking a day from being wound about the trade station to wander and daydream about glameows and espurrs.
That and hit the library to get some new books.
Oookay, and
where did things go sideways here such that we went from
here to being tied up in the forest and awaiting death?
There were some spy novels she wanted to take a crack at. Not crime, she corrected when he asked, because those were all bodice rippers with pretty airhead things trying to redeem made men, but the real meaty stuff.
Like that missing person's case in Johto, where they found people nailed into ice statues.
Ah right, this is a setting that’s based off the Manga. Boy was
Pryce up to some really nasty stuff out there.
He'd laughed at that. Having both been a bad influence, and been misled by many being a bad influence, he dared her to read those while eating a red raspberry gelato. She had laughed, bent over double to giggle into Persian's scruff.
Because she could, and did, do better. She, at the age of nine, had read about the "Cinnabar Barbequer" while eating hot dogs with extra ketchup.
Daisy, how on earth did your parents
raise you? Since I don’t remember
Gary/Blue being into serial killer stories. .-.
"Hot dogs?"
"He was a can-e-bowl." She enunciated the mispronunciation so well he didn't call her out on it. "And liked certain parts extra crispy!"
Ah yes, totally a healthy fascination to have at age 9 there.
Giovanni decided to not ask any more questions after that. Just ruffled her hair and once they were in sight of the center and plaza told her to scram.
His last words to her felt more like a taunt now, even if he'd meant nothing by it then.
"Don't get lost, not everyone is nice like me."
Clearly, her love of mystery and poor direction sense, had led to this.
Wait, so is this meant to be a flashback within a flashback? If so, I feel that it might make sense to add a bit more transition than you presently have in your story here.
By the scent of human scat waste and the state of her jeans, she'd spent those missing forty-eight hours here, barely able to move. Her team still clipped to her belt, wailing peons choruses of frustration and grief. Their shrieks were audible, a tinny choir that left words in his head as their mistress was wheeled up in the Madam's grip.
Oh, so humans
can hear Pokémon inside Pokéballs in this setting. Though I’m surprised that the Madam let those
stay with her instead of confiscating them and adding them into Rocket’s internal circulation of Pokémon.
"What a filthy little beast you are rolling around in the muck with your little animals..." The Madam crooned, tones sugar sweet, words interspaced with bone-jarring shakes that made Giovanni wince from bad memories.
Horror gripped him, not something as misplaced as sympathy, but bone-deep flabbergasted shock as the repercussions of this mapped themselves in his mind.
This was Professor Samuel Oak's youngest girl. As in ex-champion, entangled with the police, round about possessor of every non-Rocket trainer’s benched 'mon... If that wasn't bad enough Oak was notorious for his hot-headed nature and obsession with rules. He'd not be talked down out of investigating on his own. And Viridian, and all of Rocket, would burn.
Oh, so Gio wound up killing the old Madam over “no, this is a terrible idea, you need to let her go and forget any of this ever happened”, huh?
Because Oak had the resources, the means, and the psychic types to help him find the carrion. All it would take was a friendly gastly, an Ouija board over the departed, and Rocket was screwed.
Because the Madam Boss of Team Rocket had introduced herself and him to her victim in the making. All to break trust and twist the psychological knife.
Holy fucking God were they screwed.
Wait, wait, wait. Is
this the background behind how Blue and Red got sent off on their journeys in this setting?
"Madam."
The fool woman was teasing her prey. A gun caressing the child's cheek with bruising force. She looked up from her sport at the strangled protest.
Not because he was her son. Or that she cared for him. But because his tones were those you'd hiss to another not aware of a looming Pyroar slinking close.
Okay, yeah. The Madam is totally not leaving this flashback alive, I can already tell.
The Forest was thrumming through him, as violent as thunder, it drowned out her words that he report. The Forest's rage was a thousand pinpricks of all its brambles scraping him down to his bones. He opened his mouth to breathe and smothered on something thick and cloying like sap.
"Not this one. [ ]"
Giovanni couldn't recognize his own voice, it was so mutilated. The fool woman didn't care.
I kinda wonder if Gio’s explanation would’ve worked with a bit more specificity. e.x. “She’ll be more trouble dead than alive.”
"Not here."
There was a noose about his throat, tightening, tighter, too tight. He scrambled at his throat worming off his tie. Like the brambles, and thunder none of this was truly happening.
There was no noose.
But it felt real enough.
Wait, wait, so did this
actually happen in Giovanni’s past? Or is this a dream sequence of his?
Below the sensations, INTENT rose like titanic plates during an earthquake. He shook as each rumble rolled over his nerves. The Forest was tired of all this unneeded compost that smothered instead of nurtured. The leavings that brought growlithe and arcanine sniffling at her boughs.
HER orders "stopstopstop" roiled in his brain, nearly smothering out the basic functions that kept him alive and in that panicked moment Giovanni pushed back. Back against the torturous sensations (they weren't real) and mentally clawed to reality to find the Madam had eased her newest toy in the loom and was pointing her gun at him.
Whelp, I feel good about that prediction that the Madam isn’t making it out of this flashback alive. Since… uh… she kinda
has to at this point in order for Gio to make it into the present day.
"So sad, Gio, even with all your training, all your status, you're nothing more than that broken little thing I sent to Mama. I should have strangled you in your crib."
Even near senseless from alien sensations Giovanni gripped and drew. Nidoqueen shimmered into existence before him with a rumble. Seeing the Madam as nothing more than prey with a gun. Uppity prey that dare endanger her packmate.
Oh, well. I take it that the Madam had a closed-casket funeral after she passed on, huh?
The Madam was a champion crack shot. All Giovanni was doing was buying a moment, and honestly in the grip of fury and disgust (and grief) he mentally screamed back at the verdant tide.
The Forest's promise to succor and nurture him had always always been filthy lies. He'd gotten lost in HER shadows as a babe and SHE'D planted 'mon voices in his head without an explanation.
SHE'D left him to suffer, thinking himself defective, and what good was that parlor trick going to do to him now? He was good as dead. The click of the safety being pulled confirmed that and he opened his mouth to command 'Queen to dig.
Okay, in retrospect, I kinda wonder given how elaborate this flashback with Gio’s time with the Madam is, if it’d have been better off formatted as being its own scene.
Banking on a miss, then praying when his body hit the ground 'Queen'd rise up and drag the Madam down with her...
The sap was back. Seething into his throat, squeezing his lungs and vocal cords so when he spoke it was not in his voice. And they weren't his words.
"Fissure."
Um… yeah, you should probably be ducking anyways right now, Gio.
To the outsider, he spoke and 'Queen answered. And at her tail slap, the earth split beneath the Madam. It swallowed her whole before slamming shut.
The attack had taken less than thirty seconds, only the tremors before the earth ripped asunder had spared him being shot dead.
Since just saying, with the gun’s safety off and the Madam’s finger on the trigger, you’d think that
three seconds would be fatally slow for all of this.
After all even crackshots could miss when surrounded by their own personal earthquake.
Oh, that explains a few things. Also:
The ground was unsteady... Compromised. But it was like there was a map in his head. He could sense the frailties and threw himself over them to retrieve the hyperventilating Daisy Oak.
He threw the girl to Queen, getting them the hell out of there.
Reminder to keep your abbreviations for Nidoqueen consistent in this story. Also, you have a newline error.
And as they ran, the Forest's malice receded. The Madam had been killing carelessly. She was gone now. The surplus of invasive carrion and its eaters would thin.
All was well.
I take it that when Gio needs to deal with bodies in his line of work, that he deals with them at places closer to home given how much his job as the family cleaner out in Viridian Forest affected him.
And as for Giovanni, there were lines every time he blinked. Fault lines, pressure points. He staggered, overwhelmed as the information flared in and out of his mind, sweeping aside thought to drown in knowledge. He could feel the burrows of a nest of rattata, knew he could command Queen and the lines and flaws would condense into one lethal point, just for him, to smother what life he wished.
He held onto Queen's shoulder as they took back paths and side routes deeper into the Forest.
I’ll just take that as a confirmation there.
Even as its will shimmered away, like mist to the morning light.
One intrusive thought remained. A warning and a truth.
Let it not be said SHE'D given him nothing. Dare he, and he'd join the wasteful hunter among the roots, smothered under acres of rock and dirt.
Um… are you
sure that’s the takeaway you were supposed to have there, Gio?
He'd had Queen strip the girl of her clothing—Poison types being were immune to the effects of biological waste. He'd made the rookie mistake of not knocking her out first. But considering who he'd just buried...
Persian stepped in, coaxing the girl into a deep sleep via hypnosis. Sakaki used his survival skills to adlib soap and clean both filth and dna traces off the limp body. A burn heal mended the damage her skin took from its immersion in scat her own filth. Leaving Persian and King to keep watch (between hypnosis and confusion the girl could be kept benignly befuddled for days) he slipped into town, stealing clothes from a donation stop. It was more guesswork than anything else, and he returned to find Persian crooning, Singing the child to gentle dreams.
Well, you can’t say that this story isn’t using its Mature rating to the fullest. I’m a little divided as to whether some of the details regarding Daisy Oak’s captivity are ‘TMI’ or ‘reality ensues’ for a very ugly incident involving people in a very ugly line of work. I
do wonder if there should’ve been more acknowledgement over why “go to a motel and do this there” wasn’t an option (I assume because there’d be too much risk of being sighted) in the narration, though.
"You're too soft." He rasped, dropping the clothes on the ground.
He got to dressing Daisy Oak, and once sure she was clean and set waved both 'mon off. He'd already purloined her 'mon. She was no threat.
A meowth, glameow, espurr, and purloin lay in the pokeballs in Sakaki's lap. She clearly hadn't worked her way up to that pyroar yet.
I’m still surprised that the Madam still kept these Pokémon
with Daisy all this time. I guess being a psychotic killer makes for suboptimal decision-making with how to deal with your victims.
He ran his fingers over the captured 'mon. Under his touch, they'd ceased their caterwauling but looked through their confinement on their sleeping trainer with wide worried eyes.
Okay, so not that this isn’t possible in the manga continuity, but I
do wonder if you should’ve acknowledged that “top of the Pokéball is translucent” was a thing earlier on in one of the scenes with Gio and his Pokémon.
It took only a few moments. And Persian, spiteful thing, curled around the child with a quiet purr.
"What part of "stop cuddling" do you not ge-"
Of course, that's when Daisy woke up.
Oh well, guess you’re not getting a Glameow today, Gio.
She'd of course scrambled up with a scream, but Persian was entangled, and the girl only managed to get to thrash a bit before ivory white paws clamped her close. The justified yowls of hysteria tapered off to sobs so deep they made Persian shake as a result.
It went on so long Sakaki set her pokeballs by Nidoking, staggered across the earth that felt one breath from buckling under him, all to untangle the girl from 'mon before she smothered.
And what a twisted world it was, she stared up at him, face dripping snot and tears, wild eyes racing over his uniform, seeing its scarlet R.
There was no way in Hell she did not know what he was…
And thus ended Giovanni’s one-time relationship with a Professor’s grandchild.
Face twisting horridly, throat trembling on that thin line between puking and sobs, Daisy Oak threw herself at him with a tortured cry.
"She... She..." Spindly arms wrapped over his shoulders, she trembled so hard it took everything in him not to shake in turn. "She... Hurt me... So bad... She'd ... Her walking stick.."
He leaned back letting a nearby tree take both their weight as she babbled on. Not trusting himself to hold an ounce, much less this broken girl.
Giovanni: “Um… yeah, I’m kinda more specialized in
breaking people than putting them back together. You should go see a therapist. I might know a guy.” .-.
"She'd just push and push on the squishy bits like she was trying to push my elbow and ankle off... And when... When I didn't break just right. When I screamed..."
"She'd call me a... A bad doll... And sit me up and drink it in front of me... And only good little playthings got food and drink..."
Giovanni: “(In retrospect, I
proooobably should’ve knocked off the Madam a long time ago. Since now I’m starting to wonder about some of the
other calls that she made on the job.)” .-.
Daisy Oak had not been gone for a mere two days. Not by a long shot. She sobbed herself to incoherence and when sense seemed to be on the rise he gave her his water canteen.
"Slow and easy."
It wasn't much, and she was a smart thing. Not drinking herself sick at least.
Giovanni: “(Dammit, we don’t happen to have one of those memory-editing Pokémon in the stash, do we? Could’ve sworn there was some freaky alien-looking one from way out across the sea that could do it.)”
Flopping against him with a shudder once done. She lay like that, while above them the sun pushed back the dark. False dawn was surreal in its own way. Steel-hued skies, golden light, the fragile crown of Viridian's most delicate leaves gilded in gold yet casting the world around them in cool green tones.
He took it in and concentrated on breathing. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Are you going to bury me too?"
Giovanni: “Obviously not, since I’ve had at least six hours to put you about as many feet under if I’d felt like it.”
Like he buried his mother? That unspoken truth hung between them, and Sakaki supposed neither one of them felt bad about it. For probably the same reasons.
"No..." Licking his lips, tasting the salt of old tears and dried sweat, Giovanni Sakaki shook his head. "Killing you should never have been in part of the plan. She was stupid to... Do what she did... And..." He cleared his throat. "I am sorry she did."
But not sorry enough to not yoink her team of cats, huh?
Unspoken: no kid deserves that.
Felt bone deep: she never should have done things like that to me.
I feel like this was a part that was left in notes internally while writing that you didn’t get around to fleshing out.
Both ideas left him breathless and throat-tight-throated. He took a drink, a long one, and drank until he could speak again.
"What happens now?"
The most effective route would’ve been to take her headquarters. Once there he could get her treated for sprains and dehydration. Checked for... Other damages... Then once cleared the quacks could lobotomize her. They'd used Saffron's underground psychic community as a patsy yet again and everyone would move on with their life.
All except for her.
I feel as if that doing an out-and-out
lobotomy would’ve been a no-no for similar reasons as outright killing Daisy Oak, since you’d think that’d hardly go unnoticed by Professor Oak there much the same way that his granddaughter’s corpse turning up in the woods wouldn’t.
Considering that Gio
killed his mother over a course of action that endangered the broader family by virtue of it being too hot, I do wonder if he’d have logically thought of something a bit more discreet and less overtly damaging than this.
There wasn't enough water in the world to drown out that sick feeling in his gut.
"That's up to you." Terrible truth teased his tongue, but he choked it down. "But before we go the route of least resistance... I want to tell you a little truth, and maybe you with your sleuthing stuff can help me find a better ending."
Well, considering how Daisy Oak is still alive and well in the present day, looks like they found that better ending after all.
Team Rocket was large. Not a country, but perhaps a fourth of one when you counted made men, paid men, and weighed in the littlest assets, the children.
And if Rocket were found, hunted from end to end... and all of those people corralled into cells. [ ]
"It's a lot of people... And Kanto laws don't mark the difference between a guilty adult, coerced patsy, or child in the crib. Sins are inherited... And karma incurred by a grandfather's sins may stain a great-grandchild's prospects.”
[ ]
“It was the worst of Hinduism and Buddhism on malicious copper steroids and it's meant to punish. Worse, it drives the punished to keep on a wicked track because trying to cleave to virtue is the sickest joke when not only are you stuck suffering your whole life, but you know that even unaware innocents, like half cousins twice removed, are going to pay for your crimes for generations."
Suffice it to say Kanto and its sister Johto did not inspire many good-feel redemption stories.
You seem like you missed some text leading into this explanation (which I presume is from Gio). It’s also long-winded enough that you should strongly divide it up into two and probably add some speech tags somewhere.
"One fourth... of a country?"
She'd focused on the important things it seemed.
"Perhaps more."
She chewed her lip, while he worked his hands over her ankle. Rocket potions had the perk of being multispecies compatible and while not perfect... They worked well enough to tend the traumas wrought by the Madam's steel-tipped walking stick. She'd be able to bear weight. If she were careful she could make a full recovery in a week rather than the months you normally needed.
Wew, Team Rocket is
massive in this setting, though did you really mean
country and not
region there?
Her wrist had already been tended to. He'd wrapped it up in a spare shirt that he'd shredded for bandages.
"Has a Team ever been caught before?"
She had no doubts her death would have unleashed Samuel Oak like a mini armageddon. Giovanni didn't debase her of that. Fairly confident that that bit of father worship was well deserved.
Unless if you’re going “my AU, my rules”, Samuel Oak is very specifically Daisy’s
grandfather, canonically.
"There was a Team in Johto. The Red Gyarados'. Their headquarters were taken down in... '84 I think. They found an office with files and a lot of names. About two hundred or so...."
Clicking the last potion closed he gathered up the remaining bandages and got to winding. She watched him work with wet eyes. Wincing as he probably looped the thing a bit too tight.
"In the end, despite five appeals against the initial court's decision that minors shouldn't be bound... Anyone old enough to talk was incarcerated. The logic being..."
Well,
that’s definitely different than IRL Japan. Since in Japan, the default up until a few years ago was actually that crimes committed before the age of 14 were wiped from one’s record afterwards without a specific legal waver.
I mean, you can still royally tank your childhood from things like getting taken from your parents or sent to reform school, but it’s a
bit less dire than what Gio is outlining here.
"If you can talk. you can talk to a cop." She concluded in a whisper.
"Exactly. There are children who only knew two to three years outside... And for the rest of their lives... It's just cells. Famigli- families were separated."
Another typo for ‘
famiglia’ there.
She was going to chew her lips raw at this point. He distracted her with the water and a nip of fruit he'd scavenged when taking a short walk to the "privy".
It'd been less a need for privacy and more to get away from her wide eyes
She slumped into Persian looking as tired as he felt.
I mean, she’s only been through god-knows-how much physical and psychological torture for… -checks notes- a minimum of two days, and likely a lot longer from the narration.
"One fourth a country, probably a whole people-"
"Not all Italians are Rocket." Though stupid the broad assumption still stung and the pushback was kneejerk.
"If enough are, do you think Kanto would care?"
Point.
I realize that Gio isn’t exactly a reliable narrator there, but bruh, one
fourth of a country being involved in some sort of criminal enterprise and that being
known and quantifiable would get all sorts of officials running to slam the gates shut. .-.
Fucking hell, what a point. His mild freak out wasn't obscured, he was too tired for masks, and sitting across from him she watched as he realized that weight. That in taking the low road to better himself and his immediate famiglia he was roundabout screwing over his whole race.
And this is why you don’t exaggerate for effect, Gio.
Hysterically he realized he didn't want this revelation. He wanted to be working at his desk, outlining market trends and debunking modern stock calculation technology. It was boring, plodding, sane work.
This little pow-wow was anything but.
Uh… yeah, this is the part where you dump Daisy back on the route, tell her that you never met and that if she wants her life to stay peaceful, she’ll act the part. Just saying.
"Right before I went on my journey..." Daisy's finger shook as she stroked Persian's neck. "We talked about some stuff in school. Heavy stuff. Because the teachers thought that the kids going on a journey should be old enough to handle it."
He nodded, a mute go-on.
"My last two projects were about the halow cast and... Have you ever read a book about Fahrenheit?"
Is that supposed to be ‘
Hollow Cast’ there? I can’t really tell from the spelling.
"A long time ago."
"I never heard about the red gyarados at home. Not on the news or anything... I even did a paper about Johto, all about the eighties, and... Were they burned away, like with firemen?"
"Their stories were. The future of their children was."
"And everyone in Rocket... It'd be like... That awful place... ‘Autsuich’ or whatever it was called."
There were labor camps in Kantonian prisons. Most who served hard time came out disabled if at all. On the other hand, there were no chemical showers, no mass cremations.
For now.
Well,
that certainly got grim. Though I’ll admit that the reference to ‘Auschwitz’ kinda took me out of things a bit. I suppose I should’ve seen it coming when there’s an out-and-out ‘Italy’ in this setting, but it still feels a little weird to go ‘oh yeah, WWII happened almost just as it did IRL’ in a setting where there was a knockoff Romulus and Remus event in Not!New York in the distant past.
There were rumors of people going missing... And, horrid, new medical studies getting fresh blood when a Rocket Cell was hauled in.
Ah yes, we’re getting
all the grimness with our seedy underbelly to modern life in Pokéworld. I mean, I suppose it wouldn’t be
that much of a stretch from canonical events in Pokéworld considering the whole saga surrounding Infinity Energy, even if it’s a darker shade than I normally reflexively assume.
There was no guarantee that a government, when faced with that many worthless mouths to feed, with the prospects of their immediate generations going forward would be an equal waste, would be moral. No assurance that Kanto would not dip into Final Solution territory.
See the note re: ‘Auschwitz’ about this taking me out of things a bit. Like I get that you want to give the audience some things to prime them to have some sympathy for Gio, but I do wonder if this is laying things on a bit thick.
He shuddered and told her the truth and his suspicions in simple terms. Not sugar coating but not expanding beyond the bare minimum.
He didn't begrudge her snuggling into Persian to blot out the world for a while. She burrowed her little face in the cat's creamy shoulder and shook for a while. But while he didn't begrudge her he did envy her a little bit.
Gathering her courage Daisy lifted her head. Met his eyes. "I can't... I won't... I won't be the person who starts that."
Red sure will, though! /s
"The professor might not give you that choice. Even if you return back alive. If you say nothing. You're a minor, psychic types are a thing, an investigation could be launched and we'd be facing this all down anyway.."
"Your.. Your mom was really stupid."
To that, Giovanni huffed a tired agreement.
Oh, so she
did have her memories wiped before getting yeeted along her merry way, huh?
They bounced ideas back and forth for a while.
"The League?"
"Lance is a raging misanthrope." She looked at him blankly. He revisited the idea with less adult vitriol. "Wave a picture of a sad growlithe at him and he'll move mountains to help it. Show him starving children in Unova and he'd say they deserve it."
Yeeeeah, that’s definitely decently on-brand with Manga!Lance there.
"The pol-"
His glare said no, and she smartly cut herself off.
"I was gunna say politicians."
That was a lie, Giovanni didn't call her out on it. Just shook his head.
I’m beginning to see how this girl bumbled into getting caught by a mob boss given that she thinks of the brilliant idea of “let’s go to the police” to the
active mafia member right now.
"It'd be the same as going to the police."
"Well, fudge. What am I supposed to say ‘I'll take the stupid woman's place and join Team Rocket?’."
The mental image of her in a grunt's uniform broke through the numb pall and made him smile.
"You'd make a horrible Madam."
"It'd make me the boss of you."
"Not in a million years."
Aw… they’re laughing. I mean, sure, Daisy’s probably going to need years of therapy after all of this, but they’re laughing
now at least. ^^;
She sniggered, then wiggled her feet and he'd been with enough little ones to recognize that tell. Helping her up he summoned Nidoqueen to walk her to a bushy patch a bit beyond easy sight.
Once she was gone his fingers closed over Espurr's pokeball, one idea at least taking root.
It was by no means... humane. But kinder than any reality by far.
And thus, this became a redux of
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
She resisted, complained really, but his solution had one gentler aspect than Rocket's plans, the hell Oak's fervor could kick up, and had the perk of allowing her to keep living. It was a win but making her see that was a bit harder than it should have been.
Giovanni: “Technically, lobotomization would’ve also allowed you to live, but… uh… yeah, we’re not going to sign off on anything that brings Professor Oak down on us.” .-.
"It really comes down to this... do you trust me and Espurr more than any of them?" He really shouldn't have been a part of the equation, but sadly a casual conversation about frivolities made bonds for life with this one.
"Will it hurt?"
He lied because he must had to. "It'll be like falling asleep."
That actually makes me wonder if he
could’ve done this memory-editing gambit on Daisy while she was asleep. Definitely would’ve involved a lot less resistance that way.
She agreed. Once he explained the steps in gentle tones one might read a child their favorite book.
She'd wake, alone, but not.
He'd leave Persian to guard her.
She'd be guided to Viridian gym, where he would call the paramedics because she was unwell.
You have a couple typos and formatting errors here. I
do wonder what the wisdom of leaving
Persian to guard Daisy here instead of her own Pokémon would be given that you’d think that’d risk triggering repressed memories, but I won’t question it too much.
"I'm just stiff."
"You're hurt and walking is going to make it so much worse."
Newline error here.
The League would launch an investigation and the foreign psychic type that had assaulted her would never be caught. He pinky swore to keep espurr for a time, until he found the feline a happy home.
A flat-out lie, he'd have to execute the cat himself. Its mind was awash in deadly evidence that could upset Kanto's social order but it would die knowing Daisy would lose the pain of remembering her assault. Between amnesia and treatment, this would be little more than a bad dream for the child.
I mean, he
technically could’ve yeeted Espurr out into a Wonder Trade off to god-knows-where, but… uh… yeah, kinda hard to counter the idea that Espurr knows far too much.
She lay on the Forest floor, Persian curled around her, crooning a sweet song to help her dreams along. Nestled among the faults of the earth she could never see, eyes closed, utterly trusting, Daisy Oak drifted off to sleep.
A flick summoned espurr, and a touch killed the psychic type's will to flee, to fight. Giovanni waited until the child's eyes moved despite being closed. Signaling true REM sleep. He drove the feline psychic into its mistress's mind, driving its power like how one would command a fire.
To hunt for each thought, for every trace of Madam Sakaki, even the subliminal ones like scent, the cadence of each step. And while her memories burned he burned in seeing them again and again, Daisy's torment had lasted a week, not two piddling days, and it melded with the hellscape of his own childhood via the espurr's malice-wrought pain split. He burned as she burned. Jaw locked until he could hear his teeth grind, but he didn't dare ease the pressure.
Wait, wait, wait, how does Giovanni know how to do
any of this? Since it was never
established that he’d had any experience with directing Psychic-types to edit other people’s memories.
If he opened his mouth it would be to scream.
Then... mercifully there was nothing left to burn. Nothing left but a searing agony behind his own eyes, and the thrum of the shivering psychic type under his hand. Without opening his eyes he shifted the grip, braced, then twisted. The hollow snap of the feline's neck breaking was a relief, and the pain dimmed enough he could open his eyes.
Well, it was
almost a touching moment there, but
that’s the wetwork guy that we all know at this point. Even if I kinda feel like it’s a
bit contrived that Gio pulled all of this off without
any resistance from a Psychic-type.
Daisy Oak slept on, oblivious, and with Persian to deepen her dreams she'd likely not wake for some time. Violet and emerald starlets flickered, and dimmed, as the espurr's last synapses went out and Giovanni eased out of the Forest's Gift, shaking off the cat's dead aura with practiced ease. Without either man or 'mon's efforts the supernatural light show had no other choice but to die.
In the dying light he stood, which hurt, breathing hurt, blinking hurt, but he'd endured pain before and would again. With a scoff and shake of his head Giovanni was up and leaving, taking his little body with him. As for Persian...
"Give me an hour, then pull back and wait to guild her when she wakes."
He'd summon Nidoking to baste the espurr in acids and dissolve the corpse, once safely outside the forest. That would take a few minutes, it was a small thing after all. From there he'd go to the gym, access Daisy Oak's files, and a few presses of the delete button would wipe away all incriminating records.
"Then guide her home."
Some more odds-and-ends tweaks here and there.
A rumble and pur and Persian wound about the little girl, as tight as if she were one of the old felines' kits, content they had a plan, soothered that nothing was changed, nevermind everything had changed, and would never be the same.
Yeesh, no kidding there.
