Chapter 190: Mammon Takes His Recruits to Go Hit Team Plasma
Nimbasa City — sometimes called "the city that shines like lightning."
Nimbasa was a genuinely bustling metropolis. Worth noting: by partial estimates, it ranked third in population worldwide, trailing only Lumiose City in Kalos and Wyndon in Galar.
Tells you something about its draw.
And unlike Castelia — a city defined by its high-strung, hard-working energy — Nimbasa had built its reputation on entertainment. The whole place carried an easygoing, leisurely atmosphere.
Mammon's group had arrived in Nimbasa — or, more precisely, its outskirts.
"Mr. Mammon, is Team Plasma really out here?" Skyla asked, equal parts nervous and excited.
"That's right. According to our intel, this is one of their bases — and a sizable one, at that."
Mammon nodded, then glanced over the rest of the group.
This time, he'd specifically brought along his new Blueberry Academy recruits to clear the place out. Worth noting: thanks to Skyla's networking, most of the academy's top-ranked students had already signed on with the company. Skyla's earnest, likable personality had made her genuinely popular at Blueberry — popular enough that the current Blueberry League Champion and the entire Elite Four had all signed up too.
Mammon was thrilled about this, naturally. These kids represented serious, untapped potential.
"In that case, no point waiting around, Mr. Mammon. Let's just storm the place."
The speaker was a white-haired, sharp-featured young man dressed in loose, casual clothes — Drayton, currently the Blueberry League's Champion, specializing in Dragon-types.
If Kieran was the one Mammon valued most among Blueberry's talent, Drayton was a close second. Drayton already operated at Elite-Four-tier strength, and his ceiling clearly extended into genuine Champion-tier potential — though whether he'd actually break through that barrier remained an open question. Plenty of Elite-Four-tier trainers spent their entire careers stuck right at that wall.
"Nope-nope!" Skyla's reaction was immediate, hands crossing in an emphatic X in front of her — her signature gesture. "I don't think that's a good idea, Drayton. That's way too reckless!"
She was taking this assignment seriously — this was, after all, their first mission against an actual evil organization.
Drayton scratched his head, mildly troubled. Dragon-type specialty aside, he wasn't actually that assertive a personality.
"Shouldn't we hear Mr. Mammon's actual plan first? He's the one leading this, isn't he?" Salvatore put in, mild and unbothered. He was another of Blueberry's Elite Four, specializing in Fire-types, his short red hair catching the afternoon light.
"What do you think we should do, Mr. Mammon?" Skyla turned to him for guidance.
"Straight assault. Don't give them time to react. This first run's really just about getting you all a feel for actual fieldwork."
Mammon smiled.
"Go ahead, operate however you want. I'll be watching from the back."
Privately, Mammon doubted there'd be much real danger involved. Drayton and the others might be academy-trained, but the League Club's entire focus had always been combat. Their rankings hadn't come from anywhere but actual battles — their fundamentals weren't in question.
"See, told you." Drayton spread his hands, eyeing the warehouse ahead, a slow grin spreading across his face.
Team Plasma, huh. Should be interesting.
"That said — be careful in there," Mammon added, his tone shifting more serious. "Members of an evil organization play by different rules than regular trainer battles. Stay alert. Watch your surroundings at all times. They will try dirty tricks and ambushes."
"And if you run into anyone executive-level — don't try to be a hero. Call for backup, fight together. Understood? This isn't a tournament. This is fieldwork. Your safety comes first. The mission comes second."
"Yes, sir!"
The group answered as one, properly serious now.
"Good. Off you go. I'll be right behind you."
Mammon nodded, signaling Drayton and the rest to move out.
Thirty-some Blueberry Academy students advanced toward the warehouse in a loose formation.
They got as far as the front door — and stopped.
"Um. Should we knock?" Kieran asked quietly, trailing just behind Drayton.
Yes — Kieran had come along too, though Carmine hadn't joined him. This was the first time he'd actually separated from her on an assignment.
He'd reached out to Mammon, who'd folded him directly into this run as an opportunity to experience operating without his sister hovering nearby.
"Kieran, c'mon, we're here to take down criminals. Why would we bother being polite about it?"
Drayton rolled his eyes, exasperated. He and Kieran got along well enough, despite the gap in confidence.
"Aurorus!"
Drayton grinned, popping open the Poké Ball in his hand without further ceremony. A massive, ice-and-rock-armored Pokémon crashed down in front of him — Aurorus, evolved from Amaura. His ace.
"Aurorus! Hyper Beam!"
"Wait! Drayton!" Skyla and the others scattered with alarm.
But the order had already been given. Aurorus answered to Drayton, not to the others.
A condensed, metallic-glinting sphere of energy gathered in front of Aurorus's body. It fired without hesitation, blasting straight into the corrugated steel doors ahead.
BOOOOM!
The doors shattered outright in a single thunderous explosion, debris and dust billowing outward.
"Drayton, that was way too reckless." Nellie frowned at him, hands on her hips.
"C'mon, you're all so conservative. Mr. Mammon literally said operate however we want."
Drayton shrugged. What, were they actually supposed to knock?
"You can't give them a chance to run. Frontal force is the cleanest way to handle this. Look — they're already coming out."
He gestured at the warehouse interior, where several figures in Plasma uniforms were spilling out, alarmed.
"Damn it! Our door!"
"Who the hell are you people?!"
"You think you can come into Team Plasma's territory and start trouble? You got a death wish?!"
"Hand over your Pokémon, all of you — or things get ugly!"
Looking over the cluster of young students, the Plasma grunts clearly assumed this was going to be easy.
A handful of Pokémon poured out alongside them — Golbat, Liepard, Weezing — a solid number, but in raw headcount the Blueberry contingent had them badly outclassed.
"Aha~ aha~"
Hearing the threat, Drayton produced another Poké Ball without hesitation, and a powerful Dragonite materialized beside him.
"I've heard plenty about Team Plasma's famous 'reputation,' but this is genuinely the first time I've seen it in person. So you all really do go around stealing other people's Pokémon, huh?"
"Hmph! What disgusting people!"
Skyla's expression went grave as she popped open her own balls — a Whimsicott and a Stunfisk materializing in front of her.
"Guess we're doing good work today, technically," Salvatore said, drawing out his own ace, a Talonflame. "Honestly, I kind of like this kind of assignment."
"Wait, hold on — merit points get calculated based on individual kill count, right?" Drayton suddenly caught a worrying loophole. "Skyla, you and the others aren't gonna race me for kills, are you?"
"I really want to redeem a Dratini, but the merit cost is steep..."
"Nope-nope! Drayton! That's so selfish! I want a Ralts too, you know!"
Skyla shot him down instantly, without a shred of hesitation.
"And we're in the middle of a mission right now — you're being way too lax about this!"
"Okay, okay, fine." Drayton put his hands up in mock surrender. "Though honestly — opponents like this wouldn't even crack the top fifty back at school, would they?"
He gave the Plasma Pokémon a quick once-over and clicked his tongue, unimpressed.
The dismissive attitude landed about as well as you'd expect with the Plasma grunts.
"You insolent little brats!"
"The nerve! We're Team Plasma!"
"Today, uncle's gonna make every last one of you punks cry!"
The threats wrapped up, and both sides launched into the fight in earnest, the whole scene descending rapidly into chaos.
"Mammon — are you doing this on purpose?"
Watching the increasingly lopsided battle unfold inside the warehouse compound, it was obvious enough that the ordinary Plasma grunts stood no real chance against Drayton's group.
But this was, as established, no small-time outpost — a mid-to-large operational base. The grunts currently engaged were just door security. The actual elite Plasma members were still further inside.
And more importantly: this particular base housed one of Plasma's senior executives.
"Call it a happy side effect. The real target's the man inside."
Mammon didn't deny it, taking an unhurried sip of juice.
"Mammon, Mammon~ I want some too."
Jirachi, perched on his shoulder, tugged at his hair, demanding attention.
"Here~ this raspberry one's pretty good, actually." Mammon pulled a bottle out of his dimensional pack.
He'd never been much of a drinker — fruit juice was his actual weakness.
"Yummy~" Jirachi popped the cap off with practiced ease, took a sip, and her eyes scrunched shut into two happy crescent moons.
Watching her, Mammon couldn't help a small fond smile. That little star-headed face really was unbearably cute.
Meanwhile, deeper inside the Plasma base.
"Tch~ these guys are a lot stronger."
Drayton's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the Seviper and Krookodile facing him. The gap in quality between the grunts inside and the ones at the front door was obvious the moment he'd crossed the threshold.
For himself, the difference didn't matter much. For some of his classmates, though, that was a different story.
Meanwhile, in central Nimbasa.
"Madam Elesa!"
An officer flagged down a tall, striking woman browsing a row of shops.
"What's going on, Looker?" Elesa asked, puzzled.
"There's a large warehouse out on the western outskirts of the city. Reports of an active fight, and witnesses spotted Plasma members fleeing the scene. Could I ask you to head out there?"
"Team Plasma, huh? Understood. I'm heading there now."
Elesa's eyes narrowed slightly, decisive.
"Thank you. We've already dispatched officers — they'll rendezvous with you on-site."
Looker's words came quick.
"This sparkling city doesn't need an ugly little organization like Team Plasma anywhere near it. I'll make sure every last one of them gets a proper shock."
Elesa's tone stayed level as she pulled on her golden-yellow jacket and strode out of the shop, long legs eating up the distance fast.
Nimbasa was hers. And under this city's bright lights, there was simply no room for a cult organization like Team Plasma.
Inside the Plasma base.
"What is all that racket outside?"
A blond young man in a long coat that looked unmistakably like a research jacket emerged from the lab, brow furrowed, clearly displeased.
He'd been in the middle of an experiment, and the noise outside had thoroughly broken his concentration. The lab had decent soundproofing, but evidently not decent enough — which told him exactly how chaotic things had gotten out there.
"Apologies, Lord Colress. A group has stormed the base."
A Plasma subordinate offered the report with visible embarrassment.
"What?" Colress's handsome face creased with displeasure.
This base was supposed to be his — a secure, isolated facility built specifically for his research. How had anyone even found it?
"Unova League forces?"
"No, sir. Doesn't seem like it. From what they were saying, they're... temp workers, for some company called 'Alpaca Cultural Entertainment, Limited'..."
"...?"
Three large, baffled question marks visibly settled over Colress's elegant, scholarly features. What.
"Has anyone informed Ghetsis?"
But Colress was Colress. He let the absurd company name go without further comment and pivoted directly back to logistics.
"Already done, sir. Sage Ghetsis says reinforcements are already on the way, and he advised you to make preparations in the meantime."
"Good."
Colress's expression smoothed back into its usual composed neutrality. He had no real interest in getting tangled up in Plasma's various territorial conflicts. He was a scientist, first and foremost — that was the role he wanted to play. Ghetsis and Plasma had taken him in and given him the resources and freedom to do his work, and that was, in essence, the entire basis of his loyalty. Nothing more complicated than that.
In raw terms, Colress's personal battling ability was genuinely formidable — but he thought of himself as a scientist, not a fighter, and had never had much taste for direct confrontation.
Unless, of course, there was genuinely no other option. Or the opponent piqued his curiosity. Or it presented an interesting research opportunity.
"Guess you're the head of this little operation, then?"
Drayton's lazy voice reached Colress's ears. He turned, taking in the young man standing across from him with obvious curiosity.
"I'm just a researcher. I'm not really an appropriate opponent for you." Colress's tone stayed flat.
"Nah, nah, you've got the bearing of someone important. Executive-level, probably. Catching you should be worth a good chunk of merit. Sorry about this, Mr. Researcher — but I've got a Dratini to save up for."
"...?"
More question marks settled over Colress. He genuinely couldn't parse half of what this kid was saying.
Merit points? A Dratini, specifically?
And — temp workers for a company? What kind of corporate temp staff stormed a Team Plasma base outright?
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