Chapter 16: You Can't Just Work Me Like a Dog, Sir
"Is there a problem?"
Mammon looked at Guzma quizzically.
"I don't have any experience running a business, man."
Guzma scratched his head in genuine distress. He was a delinquent, plain and simple. When had he ever done anything legitimate?
Let alone managing a Game Corner.
"And, uh — boss, aren't we supposed to be an evil organization?"
"Who told you evil organizations don't need to make money?"
Mammon frowned, then sighed. Right — he was dealing with Team Skull's level of sophistication here.
"Guzma, running an organization costs money. Money can't do everything in this world, sure."
"But you can't do anything without it. Get my meaning?"
Mammon spoke slowly and patiently, practically spelling it out.
Guzma's expression was perfectly vacant — a clear and unmistakable declaration that no, he did not get the meaning.
"Forget it. Let me simplify. Team Rocket has a lot of people on payroll. Those people need salaries, right?"
"Uh…"
"'Uh' what? Don't tell me you've never paid the guys who follow you around."
"…"
Guzma and Plumeria exchanged a glance, both falling into an awkward silence.
"On top of that — uniforms, base construction, greasing palms, intelligence gathering, coordinated operations — it all costs money."
"Especially the palms. That's unavoidable no matter what. The Pokémon League is massive. If you don't spend money cultivating insiders, how is the organization supposed to grow?"
Mammon laid it all out.
Though in Alola's case, there wasn't much palm-greasing needed yet — no League to infiltrate. Just keeping an eye on the Island Kahunas would do for now.
Guzma's eyes were starting to spiral. Plumeria, on the other hand, was listening intently.
"We're just getting started in Alola, so there's a lot of upfront investment needed. Don't worry about the seed money — Kanto HQ will cover that."
"But the sooner we become self-sustaining, the better. That's why the Game Corner needs to open as soon as possible. It'll be a major revenue stream."
Lance chimed in.
"And Mr. Guzma, you have considerable name recognition across Alola. Word that you're opening a Game Corner will generate instant buzz and get our business on people's radar much faster."
Caitlin added with a smile.
"But his reputation isn't exactly… positive." Plumeria voiced her concern.
Guzma was famous in Alola, sure — famous as a bully and a menace. That wasn't the kind of PR you usually wanted.
"Doesn't matter. We'll have a local paper run a feature — something like 'Guzma Turns Over a New Leaf' or 'The Man Behind the Menace.' Just needs to be a couple of sappy puff pieces." Mammon waved it off.
"What we want is eyeballs and attention. A little early backlash about Guzma's past is irrelevant."
Mammon had full confidence in the Game Corner. The centerpiece of any Game Corner was the arcade — and the prizes on offer would be more than enticing enough.
The Celadon Game Corner back in Kanto, which Team Rocket operated, was famous across the entire region and brought in staggering annual revenue.
"You don't even have to do much, Guzma. Just show up for the grand opening, stand on stage, look tough. Day-to-day management gets handled by your deputies — they're professionals."
"Ohhhh — well, that's no problem then!"
Guzma nodded, visibly relieved. Running a company was decidedly not in his skill set.
He much preferred the direct approach. Namely, punching people.
"One more thing, Plumeria. Once the garment factories are up and running, take a team out to recruit. We need more bodies."
"Understood."
"Good. Go brief your people downstairs."
After wrapping up the essentials, Mammon waved the two of them off to handle things outside.
Guzma and Plumeria left the room.
"And just like that, Team Skull is dealt with. Not too painful." Mammon stretched lazily. All in all, a smooth operation.
"With this, there's no dark-side power left in Alola that can stand in our way."
"Mm — let's start cleaning out the Pokémon Hunter syndicates over the next few days. I don't want to hear so much as a whisper about those scumbags in Alola."
Mammon's tone was flat. Pokémon Hunters were mercenaries — they took commissions, completed the job, collected their fee. A "profession," if you were being generous.
Hunter J from the anime, for instance, was one such operative.
Mammon had no love for the Hunter syndicates. They were essentially parasites feeding off business that rightfully belonged to proper criminal organizations.
Anything the Hunters could do, an evil organization could do too. Team Rocket took high-profile commissions of its own — big-money clients were always welcome, after all.
But Mammon despised Hunters because they were entirely transactional. As long as the price was right, they'd take any job — no limits, no lines.
Having been reborn into this world, Mammon had real affection for Pokémon. He had no tolerance for people who treated them as nothing more than tools and bargaining chips.
It was because of Mammon's influence — and Giovanni's quiet approval — that Team Rocket had largely abandoned genetic experiments and rarely bothered stealing random Trainers' Pokémon anymore.
Mammon didn't consider himself a good person. But he had his own lines in the sand.
You could be bad. You could be evil. But at least be a villain — not an animal.
Of course, Hunter organizations could never be truly eradicated. Where there was demand, there'd be supply. That was the way of the world.
Even the Pokémon League — the most powerful institution on the planet — couldn't stamp out criminal organizations or Hunter syndicates entirely. That was simply reality.
Humans were creatures of desire, through and through. Even in a world as largely bright and beautiful as the Pokémon world.
"Caitlin — I'd like to put you in charge of this one. What do you think?"
Mammon turned to Caitlin with a smile.
His attitude toward her was notably different from the others. In his eyes, Caitlin had genuine potential.
Team Rocket currently had only two Champion-tier fighters — Giovanni and himself. Caitlin had a real shot at becoming the third.
"Of course. I'd be happy to." Caitlin nodded with a poised, elegant smile.
Dismantling notorious Hunter syndicates? That carried zero moral burden for her.
"Oh — and Caitlin, you might want to design yourself a field uniform. The places you'll be going aren't exactly clean, and it'd be a shame to ruin that gorgeous dress."
Mammon looked over the pristine aristocrat and couldn't resist a jab.
"The Young Master makes a good point. A proper mission outfit would serve you well, Miss Caitlin."
Lance nodded in agreement.
"All right, I'll put some thought into it." Caitlin smiled. A Team Rocket uniform of her own?
She fell into thought. This was her official work attire for the organization — it deserved careful consideration.
"Also, whenever you have downtime, feel free to spar with Lance or Guzma for practice." Mammon added.
He'd always believed that real combat was the best training there was.
"?"
Lance froze. The eager, expectant look Caitlin turned on him sent a chill down his spine.
It wasn't that he was unwilling — the problem was that Caitlin had free time and he didn't.
Sir, I've barely had time to breathe these past few days — when am I supposed to fit in sparring sessions?!
And aren't YOU the one with the lightest schedule? YOU could spar with her!
You can't just work me like a dog, sir!
Keep this up and I'm transferring back to Kanto, you jerk!
…Yeah. Lance was starting to miss the easy days back in Kanto. Back then, he'd even had time to go shopping for little cakes after work.