Chapter 70: Mammon, You Absolute Player!
Kanto. Saffron City.
"Ahh — back again. Feels like a lifetime ago."
Mammon stepped out of the airport and looked out at the skyline, something quietly nostalgic in his voice.
Caitlin and Gladion followed behind him.
These two were the core of what he was building toward the next region. No rush yet, though — he was back in Kanto specifically to rest for a while.
"Saffron City," Caitlin murmured, adjusting her hat brim as she looked around. She'd never been to Kanto before.
Gladion hadn't either. True to form, he said nothing — just fell into step behind Mammon like a cold-eyed shadow.
"Economic capital of Kanto," Mammon said. "Silph Co.'s headquarters is here. One of the most powerful corporations on the planet."
His expression when he said it was distinctly unreadable.
Silph Co. of Kanto. In the same tier as Devon Corp. in Hoenn and Macro Cosmos in Galar — among the most influential companies in the world, and the pioneering force behind the foundational technology of modern Poké Balls.
A company like that belonged in Team Rocket's portfolio.
Mammon was quite certain of this. Though he'd have to be smarter about it than the game — in the games, Team Rocket had seized Silph Co. brazenly and made themselves a target for everyone in the region. Too loud. Too obvious. Terrible PR.
Patience. There were better ways.
"Let's go."
He checked his phone and ushered Caitlin and Gladion into a waiting car.
The driver took them to a quiet corner of Saffron City. The three of them got out.
Saffron was one of Kanto's premier cities — naturally, Team Rocket maintained a base here. It wasn't enormous, because Saffron already had a hidden asset in place.
Down in the underground base, a girl was already waiting.
"Hey — Sabrina. It's been a while." Mammon's eyes lit up. "You just keep getting prettier, don't you?"
She looked like a porcelain doll brought to life — pale, precise features, completely expressionless. An immediate aura of do not approach. She was wearing a red dress with a black sash cinched at the waist, accentuating a figure that was, objectively, striking.
A beautiful woman, by any measure. But whatever the source — personality, circumstance, something else entirely — she carried an edge of cold so deep it didn't dissipate. Those faint red eyes swept over you and left a chill that lingered.
"Are you free tonight? Dinner's on me."
Mammon was, visibly, unbothered by any of this. Cold on the outside, warm when you were close enough — that was fine.
"I'm afraid I have work, young master," Sabrina said flatly.
"You're so distant these days. You weren't always like this."
"…"
A trace of color rose to Sabrina's otherwise porcelain face — barely visible, there and gone. She gave Mammon a look that could have etched glass.
Mammon met it with an expression of complete innocence.
Two years ago — no, three years now — Mammon had just been brought into Team Rocket by Giovanni. Sabrina still remembered those early days: the wide, cautious eyes, the careful movements, the harmless and slightly vulnerable quality that had, against her better judgment, done something to her protective instincts.
She'd been completely deceived.
Because what had followed was that Mammon had, during one overnight stay at the base, talked his way into her bed.
Strictly speaking — they hadn't done anything. He'd just pressed himself against her and slept there, shamelessly, all night.
Among the senior executives, the consensus on Sabrina was unanimous: untouchable ice queen. What was less widely known was that she had always treated Mammon with a particular kind of exception.
And then last year — outsiders weren't privy to the details — something had happened that shifted her attitude toward him into something considerably more complicated.
According to Lance's confidently-sourced gossip, there had been some kind of falling-out between them. Which wasn't entirely surprising — Sabrina was only three years older than Mammon, when it came down to it.
As for what had actually happened that night —
Just thinking about it made Sabrina's face warm. She'd nearly, in a moment of confused half-awareness, —
And then she'd found out about his subsequent string of romantic activities.
The warmth evaporated instantly. Every degree of cold returned.
Mammon. You absolute player.
"The Boss is waiting. Follow me."
Sabrina took a quiet, controlled breath, shot Mammon one last withering look, and turned to lead the way.
"Mammon, she…"
Caitlin leaned close to him, her expression deeply pointed.
"Right — she's one of our Three Admins. Goes by 'the Psychic Prodigy.' Like you, Caitlin, she's someone with naturally exceptional psychic ability."
"She's the Saffron City Gym Leader," Gladion said, slightly taken aback. He'd done his research before coming to Kanto.
The Saffron Gym was one of the official Kanto League Gyms, and a well-regarded one. Sabrina's reputation as a Trainer was formidable — she was highly spoken of online. The only reason the Saffron Gym wasn't the most talked-about in Kanto was Sabrina's personality.
"Exactly. A Psychic-type specialist as well." Mammon nodded. "You should talk to her, Caitlin — Sabrina's precision in psychic technique is something you'd benefit from studying."
Caitlin's current overall power likely exceeded Sabrina's at this point, but Sabrina's control — her fine accuracy in applying psychic force — was a different matter. She was ahead of Caitlin there by a meaningful margin.
To say nothing of the advanced applications. Mammon had personally witnessed Sabrina use her psychic power to push a Kadabra directly through its evolution into Alakazam.
And then there was her ability to render a human completely immobile — essentially turning them into a puppet. That one was genuinely alarming.
"Understood." Something sparked in Caitlin's eyes. A kindred spirit.
They reached a door. Sabrina knocked twice and opened it.
A modest conference room. A middle-aged man in a black trench coat and a gentleman's hat sat at the table, unhurried, sipping tea. His free hand moved in slow circles over the head of a Persian lying contentedly beside him.
Giovanni.
"Hey, old man."
"You're back. Sit down, all of you."
Giovanni set down his teacup. Something close to warmth moved across his characteristically shadowed features. He gestured for them to take their seats.
Once they were settled, Mammon reached over and started scratching under Persian's chin.
Persian's face twitched.
Then it noticed Mammon's expression, and immediately rearranged itself into one of relaxed satisfaction.
(Good kitty.jpg)
It remembered. Last time it had gotten fed up and batted Mammon's hand away, Mammon had shown up that same afternoon with a veterinarian and announced he was scheduling a neutering appointment.
What kind of person does that?
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