Chapter 241: Hello Everyone, I'm Mammon — Team Rocket's Mammon
Two hours of shopping later.
Mammon had come away with some clothes for himself — selected by Caitlin, a few pieces that coordinated with the dresses she'd bought. This was deliberate, on Caitlin's part, in a way she wasn't going to announce.
"Oh — Mammon! Caitlin!"
A bright voice behind them.
"Skyla. What a coincidence."
Mammon turned. Pink hair, bright energy, the kind of enthusiasm that didn't have an off switch.
Skyla was standing with Kieran and Carmine, the three of them apparently on a shopping trip of their own. All three clearly surprised.
"Carmine's with you too. And Kieran."
"Mammon. Caitlin." Kieran's reaction was — notably more animated than the last time they'd met. His eyes had a quality to them that had been absent before. His hair was tied back now, which changed the whole presentation.
Carmine looked between Skyla and Kieran, noticed their reactions, filed the information, and wondered what she'd missed.
The group found a nearby juice bar. Mammon ordered for everyone and added a selection of small cakes.
Jirachi, Victini, and Tapu Fini were released, because Jirachi had a precise internal schedule around snack opportunities and Mammon had learned to respect it.
"Tapu Fini!" Skyla's Fairy-type instincts lit up immediately.
Tapu Fini acknowledged this attention with the dignity of someone who has decided to enjoy their strawberry cake and prefers not to be interrupted. Her eyes closed in small contentment.
"We're actually leaving Unova tomorrow," Mammon mentioned. "Good timing, running into you."
"Already?!" Skyla looked dismayed.
"Operations here are stable. Team Plasma's essentially finished. The remaining work doesn't need us present."
"That's disappointing. I wanted to go on another mission with you."
Caitlin watched Skyla with an expression that was pleasant and slightly amused. The young woman's enthusiasm was genuine and unguarded — not the cultivated variety, but the kind that hadn't learned yet to protect itself.
"Opportunities will come up in other regions." Mammon smiled. "I'll be in Kanto for a while after this, then moving on. When something significant comes up, I'll reach out."
"You promise?!" Skyla immediately.
"I promise."
"YES." She pumped one fist with absolute sincerity, then seemed to realize she'd done that in public and composed herself somewhat. "I mean — that would be very welcome."
Kieran said nothing during this exchange, but he was watching.
"Kieran." Mammon looked at him directly. "Your eyes are different."
Kieran blinked. Didn't quite know what to do with direct attention.
"They're more settled. And the new hairstyle works."
"...Thank you," Kieran said, and his cheeks went slightly pink despite everything.
He was still that person, underneath the new posture. But something had changed — the look that used to retreat immediately had held for a second before it moved.
"Skyla mentioned you've been training hard since Nimbasa."
"He's been terrifying," Skyla said, without exaggeration. "His ranking in the school system has jumped so fast that Drayton actually asked me if something was wrong."
Kieran looked at the table.
"He has genuine talent," Mammon said, matter-of-factly, to no one in particular. "He just needed a reason to use it."
Kieran absorbed this in silence and felt it settle somewhere that hadn't had weight on it before.
He'd been training obsessively since Nimbasa. He didn't fully understand why, except that he'd watched something during that incident — had watched the scale of what Mammon and Caitlin had done without apparent strain — and had felt, for the first time, not envy or inadequacy, but something that was closer to direction.
He wanted to be something like that. He didn't have words for it more precise than that.
Carmine watched her brother with an expression that was complicated in ways she wasn't going to examine in a juice bar.
"There won't be many missions in Unova anymore," Skyla was saying. "I've only done three so far. I don't even have enough merit points for a Ralts yet."
"Drayton and Kieran have been hoarding tasks," she added, with very specific energy directed at Kieran, who did not react.
"If you have time, pick up tasks from other regions in the meantime. The board updates continuously." Mammon leaned back with his juice. "And when something comes up that needs your specific capabilities, I'll contact you directly."
"We'll be there," Skyla said, already decided.
"We'll be there," Kieran echoed, quieter, but with similar certainty.
Good. Mammon looked at the two of them — Skyla's immediate total commitment, Kieran's quieter version of the same thing — and thought that these two would be considerably more capable in a year than they were now, and more capable still in two.
Carmine said nothing during most of this, but she was paying attention.
They said goodbye to the three of them eventually. Skyla insisted on paying — "I can't let the boss cover the bill" — and won that argument through sheer persistent positivity.
Walking out of the shopping district, Mammon felt the warmth of the Nimbasa afternoon and thought about the departure tomorrow.
"They're enthusiastic," he said.
"You're not much older than they are," Caitlin pointed out, with quiet amusement.
"Mm." He glanced at her. "Does it bother you? That they don't know what I actually am?"
He meant it as a genuine question. Skyla and Kieran's view of him was shaped by the surface presentation — the careful warmth, the competence, the absence of anything that would suggest the actual nature of what he led.
"They admire something real," Caitlin said. "The strength is real. The care for the people working with him is real." She paused. "The rest is just information they don't have yet."
"A philosopher once said something about admiration," Mammon said. Jirachi was dozing against his chest, round and warm, milk-heavy and content. "That it's the emotion most distant from understanding."
Caitlin's brow came together slightly.
"They see something and fill in the gap with what they want it to mean," Mammon continued. "What they see of me isn't me. It's adjacent to me."
"Does that bother you?"
"No." He smiled. "I'm curious about the moment they find out. Whether what's real is enough to hold what they built on the image."
He wasn't worried, exactly. He was interested.
"It depends," Caitlin said, "on how much they actually value you."
"Probably." His expression shifted — something that wasn't quite mischief and wasn't quite anticipation. "Or maybe everything will already be done by then. Either way — it'll be interesting."
The next day. Departure. Goldenrod City Airport.
Mammon stepped off the plane and felt the quality of familiar air.
Different from Unova. Different smell, different weight. Kanto-Johto corridor air, which had its own character.
Home territory.
"Lord Mammon."
Chakra, disguised, waiting at the arrival gate with a small team. His expression underneath the disguise was the specific kind of barely-contained energy Mammon associated with Chakra having good news he was trying to pace himself about delivering.
"Two months and six days," Chakra said.
"You counted."
"I count everything, Lord Mammon. It's a talent."
Mammon walked toward the waiting cars.
"The radio tower?"
"Ready. The station director and senior management are cooperating. You can go whenever."
Chakra couldn't quite keep the excitement out of his voice. He'd known what Mammon was going to use it for — he'd worked it out on his own — and the idea of it had been making him quietly giddy since he figured it out. Chakra had a specific type of personality, and it rhymed with the kind of thing Mammon was about to do.
"Then let's go now."
The convoy pulled up to the Goldenrod Radio Tower in the early afternoon.
The tower was a significant piece of infrastructure — one of the major broadcast installations in the region, visible from considerable distance, capable of reaching most of Kanto-Johto on its primary frequencies. Clean, well-maintained, famous.
The staff who met them at the entrance had been briefed. Chakra's briefing had been efficient and unambiguous.
"Where do I go?" Mammon asked.
The broadcast booth was on the fourth floor. Large window looking out over the city. Bank of equipment. Microphone centered on the desk.
Mammon sat down.
The control board operator looked at the senior producer. The senior producer had received very clear instructions. He nodded.
"Which frequencies?" the operator asked.
"The popular ones. Primary radio. Public broadcast. Whatever goes to the street speakers."
"...All of them?"
"All of them."
Kagura watched this from across the room with an expression that suggested she was going to enjoy this.
Caitlin stood by the wall, the particular quality of her expression suggesting that whatever was coming next was going to be worthy of note.
Mammon poured himself a glass of water from the provided carafe.
Drank it.
Set the glass down.
Looked at the microphone.
Across Kanto, in the afternoon: taxis with their radios on, shop speakers that broadcast background noise into the street, televisions in waiting rooms, radios on kitchen counters, people walking with earphones in — all of it carrying the same feed at the same moment.
A pause.
A breath.
And then:
"Hello, everyone. My name is Mammon. Team Rocket's Mammon."
(End of Chapter)
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