Elliot walked through the market district, a familiar backpack slung over his shoulder.
Inside?
A massive haul of Beedrill Stingers.
This wasn't his first delivery, but this time, the quantity was insane—
100 Beedrill Stingers for the usual price: 10,000 Pokédollars.
An extra 150 stingers for a premium rate of 200 each, netting him 35,000 total.
A ridiculous payday for what was, at this point, routine work.
As he handed over the goods to the Alchemist, he could already see excitement in the man's eyes.
"With this many, I can finally experiment on mass production—"
Elliot didn't care.
He had the money in hand—that's what mattered.
As he exited the shop, Charmeleon huffed beside him, a slight flicker of worry in his eyes.
"We can sell without worry." Elliot reassured him.
"Team Rocket wouldn't just 'give' missions openly—it'd be an astronomical risk to their secrecy."
Charmeleon relaxed.
He trusted Elliot's logic.
But still—this was Vermilion.
And things were always messy here.
As they made their way toward the Pokémon Center, Elliot's sharp eyes caught something unusual.
Dozens of young trainers.
Paralyzed Pokémon.
Semi-injured teams.
Confused, frustrated expressions.
Something was wrong.
Elliot didn't hesitate—he approached Nurse Joy, who, along with Chansey, looked exhausted.
And it was only noon.
"Surge?" Elliot asked bluntly.
Nurse Joy sighed and nodded.
"Surge."
Elliot narrowed his eyes.
He had expected tough battles—but this?
This was slaughter.
He reached into his bag, pulling out a Normal Pokéblock, handing it to Chansey.
The Pokémon chirped in tired gratitude before returning to work.
Elliot turned, already walking toward the Gym.
Not for revenge.
Not for the trainers who lost.
But because Lt. Surge was making a fool of himself.
A fool of the Pokémon League.
A fool of Team Rocket.
And Elliot wasn't going to let that slide.