Chapter 188: Team Rocket's Nothing — Team Plasma Is the Real Apex Power!
"Kieran. This really isn't going to work."
Carmine looked at her younger brother, exasperation plain in her voice.
"You joined the League Club. That means you actually have to battle the other members."
She pressed the point, trying to coax some response out of him.
"...Sorry. Sis."
Kieran ducked his head, unable to look at her, voice small.
"I'm not saying this so you'll apologize. You haven't done anything wrong."
Watching him fold in on himself like that, Carmine's tone sharpened without her quite meaning it to.
But the sharper she got, the lower Kieran's head dropped.
Frustration flared in her chest, hot and immediate. She'd always known her brother ran soft — gentle to the point of timidity. As his older sister, she'd long since taken it as her job to shield him, to be the thing he could lean on whenever he needed.
But she couldn't be there to protect him in every situation. Some things, Kieran had to push through on his own.
The problem was, after years of the same dynamic, she genuinely didn't know how to teach him to stand on his own two feet.
"Looks like you two are dealing with something. Need a hand?"
A pleasant, clear voice cut through the silence, startling both siblings out of their standoff.
"Who are you?"
Carmine's brow furrowed instantly. She stepped, almost without thinking, between Kieran and the three approaching figures.
"You're not students here, are you?"
She placed it quickly — she'd never seen any of these three around campus before. Mammon's group had striking enough presence that she'd absolutely have remembered them.
"You're right, we're not. We're visitors, touring the campus." Mammon offered a warm, easy smile — the kind that put most people at ease almost immediately. "It looked like you two might be having a disagreement. Sorry to intrude."
"We're fine. He's my brother. We were just talking."
Carmine's tone stayed cold. She turned, ready to pull Kieran away with her.
Kieran lingered half-hidden behind her, watching the three strangers with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.
"Not sure if I should say this," Mammon continued, addressing Carmine directly, "but protecting him reflexively like that — your brother might never get the chance to actually grow."
He didn't carry any particular ill will toward Kieran, honestly. Sure, his eventual "fall" in the Scarlet/Violet storyline involved some genuinely ugly behavior. But the truth was, that fall traced back, almost entirely, to Carmine's own well-intentioned mishandling.
Knowing how much Kieran loved ghost stories, she'd still talked the protagonist into hiding from him the fact that the two of them had encountered an actual ghost — a baffling decision, in retrospect.
Kieran's personality already ran introverted, sensitive, and insecure. Getting deliberately excluded by both his sister and the protagonist he idolized had only deepened the spiral he was already in.
When Kieran finally found out — discovering the truth behind the mask, the historical secret, all of it kept from him deliberately — his fury had been intense and completely justified. And Carmine, his own sister, had read that fury not as betrayal but as ordinary teenage rebellion.
Genuinely baffling, in hindsight.
That misread had been the final crack. Their relationship had frozen over completely, and Kieran's descent into his darker self had become unstoppable.
To Mammon's read, Carmine wasn't a bad older sister, exactly — but she'd failed Kieran in a very specific, very damaging way.
And Kieran himself genuinely wanted to get stronger. The problem was, having been raised under his sister's dominant presence his entire life, he'd built a reflexive dependence on her — and that, combined with how thin-skinned and fragile he was underneath, made him desperately easy to push into extremes the moment things went wrong.
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
Carmine froze mid-step, turning back with a hard look at Mammon.
"I can tell your brother leans on you a lot. For a boy his age, that's not actually a good thing."
Mammon kept his smile easy.
Carmine glanced at Kieran, who looked back at her, clearly unsure what to do with himself.
"This isn't any of your business." She shot Mammon one final wary look and turned to leave.
Kieran pressed his lips together, glanced once at Mammon, and said nothing.
"Kieran, right? I can tell — you've genuinely got a lot of talent. Don't take what your sister said to heart."
Mammon's voice was gentle, directed straight at him.
Something in Kieran's golden eyes brightened slightly — a stranger, offering him genuine warmth and recognition. He looked at Mammon with something close to gratitude.
"You want to get stronger, don't you? You want your sister to actually look at you differently. Don't you?"
Mammon smiled at the boy, watching him closely.
"I—" Something stirred visibly in Kieran. Because that was exactly it. That was exactly what he wanted.
He wanted to get strong. He didn't want to spend his whole life being protected. He wanted, desperately, to be as strong as the Blueberry League's own Champion. (Author's note: referring to Drayton, the Blueberry League Champion.)
But he couldn't seem to manage it. Every time he stepped into a battle, something locked up in him. He didn't even know why.
"Kieran! Let's go!"
Carmine's voice came from up ahead.
Whatever Kieran had been about to say died in his throat. Crestfallen, he turned to follow her.
"I understand you, Kieran. Believe me — your potential is real. Take this. If you ever decide you're ready, come find me."
Mammon flicked a business card toward him.
Kieran caught it on reflex, opened his mouth, closed it again, and tucked the card into his pocket without a word. He hurried after Carmine.
Mammon watched the two of them disappear from view, the smile on his face deepening by the second.
"Tsk~ that whole thing felt a little like a pyramid scheme pitch, honestly." Kagura couldn't resist teasing him. "What's got you so invested in that kid?"
"I've always had respect for genuine talent. Aren't you the same way, Kagura?"
Mammon laughed it off, shrugging.
"That's fair, I guess. But I'm a Meteorite heir. Who exactly was he?"
Kagura nodded along, agreeing in principle, though she clearly didn't think the wilting teenager they'd just met belonged in the same conversation as herself.
After all, his own sister had basically just confirmed he wasn't even good at battling.
"He hasn't made his decision yet, that's all. Kagura — you have to understand, there are people in this world who aren't lacking talent at all."
Mammon tucked his hands into his pockets, scanning the surroundings idly, as if searching for something.
"They just need a trigger. One real opportunity, and they erupt with talent that genuinely surprises everyone."
That described Kieran perfectly. He wasn't short on raw ability. What he lacked was conviction — resolve. Give him enough of that, and he'd grow at a frankly absurd pace.
"Huh? You're serious?" Kagura was genuinely surprised. Champion-tier potential — that kid?
"You'll see." Mammon didn't elaborate further. The world was enormous, after all, packed full of trainers — but how many ever actually reached Champion-tier?
"Bet he doesn't even contact you." Kagura rolled her eyes.
"No, he'll contact me. I'm sure of it."
Mammon's smile turned slightly mysterious, brimming with confidence.
A dominant sister. A high-pressure environment. A simmering, private hatred for his own perceived weakness — Kieran would reach out. Absolutely.
Because Kieran wanted to surpass Carmine more than he wanted almost anything else — exactly the reason that, in the game's canon, he'd idolized the protagonist the moment they beat her in battle for the first time.
"And you're that confident he'll actually join us? Mammon, we're a criminal organization." Kagura was still curious.
"Kagura — have you ever heard the saying?"
Mammon flashed a smile at a cluster of attractive students who'd been openly staring at him, drawing a small chorus of delighted gasps.
"The world isn't black, and it isn't white. It's a fine, elegant grey."
"A 'dark organization'? That's just a label the League slapped on us. But out here, on this new, unclaimed land — Team Rocket isn't a dark organization. Not yet, not in his eyes."
A boy fresh out of some sleepy rural town like Kieran wouldn't have the faintest idea what Team Rocket even was. And even if he did — Mammon was confident he could talk a kid that green into anything.
People with vulnerabilities were fragile, by definition. And someone with Kieran's particular psychology was, frankly, extremely easy to work with.
"That's so you, somehow." Kagura sighed, almost admiring.
The world isn't black, isn't white — just a fine, elegant grey.
Even she found that one weirdly profound, sitting with her for a moment longer than expected.
N's Castle.
A fortress belonging to N personally — and Team Plasma's primary base of operations.
"Any progress, N?" Ghetsis asked.
"My apologies, Father. We've found no trace of Mammon so far."
N shook his head, his eyes still unfocused, dim. His voice was perfectly calm. Emotionless.
"Damn it. He's buried himself well."
After N had pulled Ghetsis out of police custody, Ghetsis had immediately put him to work hunting for Mammon's location.
Alder had rejected his proposal outright — refused to cooperate against Rocket.
Ghetsis privately seethed at Alder's idiocy. Team Rocket was a genuinely catastrophic threat. As the home power, shouldn't dealing with that take obvious priority over whatever internal squabble Alder had with Plasma?
The man had no functioning brain whatsoever, as far as Ghetsis could tell. No wonder Unova kept slipping further behind every other region.
But fine. If the League didn't want to cooperate, Ghetsis wasn't about to keep groveling for the privilege. He had his pride.
So be it. Without the Unova League's help, Team Plasma would simply eliminate Rocket on their own merits.
With his beloved adopted son at his side — N, already followed and endorsed by the Dragon of Ideals himself.
That's right. N — his N — was unstoppable.
"There's no need to rush, Father. I believe we'll have a location soon enough."
N's tone remained level.
"Mm. And Colress — how's his end coming along?"
Ghetsis pressed.
"According to Colress's latest report, the Genesect revival has been a complete success. He's also revived a shiny specimen — its combat capability significantly exceeds every other individual."
N answered flatly.
"Excellent! If we can revive a full Genesect legion, Team Rocket won't be worth worrying about at all!"
"Colress also reported that the Genesect are extremely volatile by nature. As of now, not a single individual has shown a docile temperament."
N added.
"No matter. Colress can keep them under control. He always finds a way."
Ghetsis's trust in Colress was absolute. He'd seen Colress's machine-control technology firsthand, applied to wild Pokémon. The man's ability was, in his estimation, beyond question.
Control...
N went quiet, something shifting deeper in his already-dim eyes.
He'd always thought of Pokémon as friends, not tools. His entire goal had been their genuine happiness. That conviction was the very reason Zekrom had chosen him.
And yet, here was the painfully obvious irony — the organization he led, the one carrying out his ideals, was actively controlling Pokémon as instruments.
"This is a necessary sacrifice, N. For the ideal world we're building together. You understand that, don't you?"
Ghetsis caught the flicker of hesitation and softened his tone, working it like a careful argument.
"I understand, Father."
N said nothing further. Of course he believed in his father.
"Heh heh heh..."
Ghetsis smiled warmly back at him — though underneath, his eyes held nothing but deep, settled contempt. If he hadn't genuinely needed N for the plan, he wouldn't have wasted a moment putting on this act for a monster like him.
Because that's exactly what N was, in Ghetsis's private estimation. A monster.
N wasn't fully human — he was the offspring of a human and a Pokémon, which was precisely why he'd been born with the ability to sense Pokémon's emotions directly.
What else would you call that, if not a monster?
Ghetsis had despised N from the very beginning. But the plan required him — so he'd adopted the boy as his son anyway.
It was the only path that let him use N effectively.
Mammon.
Ghetsis's eyes darkened. He still hadn't forgotten that day — the mockery, the humiliation.
Wait until we find you. You'll pay for every word of it.
He laughed, low and cold. He had N, with Zekrom at his back. He had an entire Genesect legion coming online.
Team Rocket — what was that, against an organization like theirs?
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