Four days passed before Adrian accepted another mission outside Cerulean Base.
It wasn’t because he’d become cautious after encountering Nidorino.
If anything, the fight had shown him exactly why he needed field experience.
Training inside the base could improve Croagunk’s movements, but an automated target would never panic, change tactics, or suddenly reveal an attack Adrian hadn’t expected.
The problem was balance.
There was little value in completing missions all day if Croagunk never had time to correct the mistakes those missions exposed.
There was equally little value in spending every waking hour inside a training room while his TRP remained empty.
So Adrian settled into a routine of his own making.
Morning training focused on conditioning.
Croagunk wore its adjustable weights while running, jumping, changing direction, and practicing the footwork Adrian had begun developing around Cross Chop.
They started with the same load every morning, and Adrian resisted the temptation to increase it simply because Croagunk could tolerate it.
Afternoons were less predictable.
Some days they accepted missions.
Others they battled recruits or trained specific moves.
Adrian had even spent several hours in the Rocket library reading basic material on Pokémon physiology and training.
The books had quickly corrected one assumption.
Pokémon growth wasn’t linear.
Levels were useful measurements, but two Pokémon at the same level could differ significantly depending on species, health, training, nutrition, experience, and potential.
Rank represented a broader threshold of development.
A Pokémon didn’t become Beginner simply because a number changed on a scanner.
Its body and internal energy had to develop enough to cross that boundary.
That explained Nidorino.
Croagunk’s potential might eventually carry it far beyond an average Nidorino, but potential couldn’t replace development.
Today, Adrian intended to push that development.
“Again.”
Croagunk moved.
The Poison-type crossed the swamp clearing with four training bands secured around its limbs.
It accelerated toward a wooden target, planted one foot, and twisted.
“Fake Out.”
Its palm struck the target.
“Left.”
Croagunk landed and shifted.
“Poison Sting.”
Purple needles struck a second target several meters away.
“Close.”
Croagunk rushed forward.
“Cross Chop.
Half.”
Its arms crossed.
The strike landed with a heavy crack.
More importantly, Croagunk didn’t stumble.
It landed, shifted its weight backward, and raised its arms.
Adrian smiled.
“Better.”
Croagunk turned.
“Croa.”
“Don’t look so proud.
You couldn’t do that three days ago.”
That wasn’t the response Croagunk wanted.
Adrian checked his watch.
“Five minutes.”
Croagunk dropped beside the water and reached for its bottle.
Adrian sat nearby and opened his notebook.
The changes weren’t dramatic individually.
Cross Chop’s recovery had improved.
Poison Sting had become more accurate against moving targets.
Croagunk could transition from Fake Out into another attack faster.
Its weighted movement was beginning to resemble its old unweighted movement.
More importantly, Adrian was improving too.
He’d stopped trying to command every movement.
At first he’d treated battling like controlling a character.
Dodge left, jump, attack, retreat.
It was too slow.
Croagunk had eyes.
Instincts.
Anticipation.
Adrian’s role wasn’t to tell it how to move every limb.
His job was to control the larger battle while Croagunk handled the immediate details.
They were still far from polished, but the difference from their first fight against Rattata was obvious.
Adrian pulled out his Rocket ID.
TRP: 35
That needed work.
He stood.
“Break’s over.”
Croagunk groaned.
“Not training.”
Croagunk looked happier.
“We’re getting paid.”
That earned a much more enthusiastic croak.
The Mission Hall had taught Adrian another lesson during his first week.
Good missions didn’t wait.
By midday, most high-paying F-Rank missions had disappeared.
Recruits had quickly learned which assignments offered the best balance between danger, time, and reward.
Adrian had adapted.
Instead of choosing whatever remained, he checked the board several times throughout the day.
Missions appeared whenever Rocket personnel or associated businesses submitted them.
Today, that patience paid off.
A new listing appeared while he was browsing.
Route 5 Supply Retrieval
Authorization: F-Rank Objective: Recover a dropped supply case.
Location: Wooded area south of Cerulean City.
Reward: 35 TRP Warning: Wild Pokémon activity reported.
Adrian examined the details.
A Rocket courier had lost the case while fleeing a League patrol the previous night.
The courier had escaped, but returning personally risked drawing attention.
The case itself wasn’t marked.
Thirty-five TRP for retrieving a box.
Simple.
Which meant there was probably a complication.
Adrian accepted anyway.
They needed experience.
Adrian kept Croagunk outside its Poké Ball for most of the journey.
The Poison-type had become increasingly reluctant to remain inside unless necessary, and Adrian didn’t mind.
Walking beside him was training in its own way, while Croagunk wore its weights.
Once they left the main road, Adrian removed the map provided with the mission.
The courier had marked the approximate location.
“Should be somewhere ahead.”
Croagunk moved through the undergrowth.
Adrian followed.
The forest was quieter than Route 24 had been.
Trees blocked much of the afternoon sunlight, leaving the ground covered in patches of shadow.
Adrian scanned Pokémon whenever they appeared.
A Caterpie disappeared into the bushes.
Red potential.
A Pidgey watched them from a branch.
Orange.
Another Pidgey.
Red.
A Bellsprout deeper among the trees.
Yellow.
Adrian paused briefly.
Yellow was respectable.
Under different circumstances, he might have considered catching it.
Not now.
Poké Balls cost resources, and he had no reason to collect Pokémon simply because they were above average.
“Keep going.”
Croagunk glanced toward the Bellsprout before following.
Twenty minutes later, they found the case.
It was wedged beneath the roots of a fallen tree.
Adrian approached.
Croagunk suddenly stopped, its body stiffening.
Adrian froze.
Anticipation.
Not as strong as with Nidorino.
Still enough.
“Where?”
Croagunk looked upward.
Adrian followed its gaze.
Nothing.
Then a branch moved.
A yellow-and-brown shape dropped from the canopy.
Adrian jumped backward.
The Pokémon landed between them and the case.
Beedrill.
Its wings buzzed violently.
Adrian’s system opened.
Pokémon Scan
Species: Beedrill ♀ Level: 9.
Rank: Peak Baby Potential: Orange Ability: Swarm Moves: Fury Attack · Focus Energy · Twineedle · Rage · String Shot Status: Agitated Evaluation: Above Average Individual
Adrian relaxed slightly.
Level nine.
Stronger than Croagunk, but not Nidorino.
More importantly…
“Flying opponent.”
Croagunk looked up at Beedrill.
They hadn’t fought one before.
Beedrill attacked without warning.
“Twineedle!” It shot forward.
Croagunk jumped aside.
Beedrill passed overhead, one needle clipping Croagunk’s shoulder.
“Poison Sting!”
Croagunk fired upward.
Beedrill changed direction in the air.
Every needle missed.
Adrian frowned.
There was the problem.
Their ranged accuracy had improved tremendously against targets moving across predictable paths.
Beedrill wasn’t predictable.
It could move vertically, turn in midair, attack from angles Croagunk couldn’t easily follow.
Beedrill circled.
“String Shot!” White strands shot downward.
“Move!”
Croagunk jumped away, but one strand wrapped around its weighted ankle.
Beedrill dove.
“Fury Attack!”
“Fake Out!”
Croagunk surged forward.
The attacks met.
Fake Out struck first, and Beedrill recoiled in midair.
“Cross Chop!”
Croagunk jumped, its arms crossed.
Beedrill recovered and simply flew backward.
Cross Chop hit nothing.
Croagunk landed.
Poorly.
The String Shot around its ankle pulled against the weight.
Beedrill attacked.
“Twineedle!” Both stingers struck Croagunk’s crossed arms, and it was knocked backward.
Adrian’s mind raced.
They couldn’t chase it.
Poison Sting wasn’t reliable enough.
Croagunk needed Beedrill on the ground.
His eyes dropped toward the forest floor.
Dirt.
Leaves.
Loose soil.
“Mud-Slap!”
Croagunk kicked.
Beedrill rose.
The attack passed beneath it. Get faster updates on g.com.
Adrian had expected that.
“Again!”
Croagunk kicked another spray.
Beedrill climbed higher.
“Again!”
A third.
Beedrill buzzed angrily, nearly three meters above Croagunk now.
Adrian watched.
Croagunk understood before he commanded.
It moved beneath Beedrill.
The Bug-type couldn’t attack without descending.
“Focus.”
Beedrill’s wings shifted.
There.
It dove.
“Wait.”
Croagunk remained still.
Beedrill accelerated.
“Wait.” Two meters.
“Now!”
Croagunk didn’t attack Beedrill.
It slammed Mud-Slap directly into the ground.
Dirt erupted upward.
Beedrill flew straight into the cloud, its compound eyes covered, its flight suddenly erratic.
“Fake Out!”
Croagunk jumped, its palm striking Beedrill’s abdomen.
The Bug-type crashed onto the ground.
“Cross Chop!
Half!”
Croagunk landed beside it, arms coming down.
The impact slammed Beedrill into the earth.
It tried rising, wings buzzing weakly.
“Poison Sting!”
The needles struck at point-blank range.
Beedrill collapsed.
Adrian waited.
Nothing.
He exhaled.
Croagunk straightened, then started pulling at the String Shot around its ankle.
Adrian laughed.
“Hold still.” He crouched and helped tear away the sticky strands.
“That was better.”
Croagunk rubbed its shoulder.
Adrian scanned it.
Minor injuries.
Nothing serious.
Then the screen changed.
Pokémon Scan
Species: Croagunk ♂ Level: 7.
Rank: Baby Potential: Blue Ability: Anticipation Moves: Poison Sting · Mud-Slap · Fake Out (Egg Move) · Cross Chop (Egg Move) Status: Lightly Injured Evaluation: Extraordinary Individual
Level seven.
Adrian smiled.
“Three more.”
Croagunk tilted its head.
“Three levels until ten.”
That didn’t guarantee Beginner rank.
Everything he’d read suggested breakthroughs could vary somewhat between individuals.
But it was progress.
Adrian retrieved the supply case.
He considered capturing Beedrill, then decided against it.
Orange potential.
Common species.
Not worth using a Poké Ball simply for a small capture payout, especially when the mission offered none.
They left it where it was.
The Mission Hall verified the case that evening.
Mission Complete Reward: +35 TRP Current Balance: 70 TRP
Adrian pocketed his ID.
Not spectacular.
But his balance had doubled.
More importantly, Croagunk had gained another level.
As they crossed the central plaza, the countdown caught his attention.
23 Days Until Trial Two
Almost a week had passed.
Adrian stopped.
Twenty-three days sounded like plenty.
It wasn’t.
Around him, other recruits were improving too.
Some had more TRP.
Some had stronger starters.
Some had begun working together.
And somewhere among the surviving recruits were people Adrian hadn’t even encountered yet.
He couldn’t measure his progress against where he’d started.
The trial wouldn’t care about that.
It would measure him against whatever standard Team Rocket had decided was sufficient.
Adrian looked toward Croagunk.
“Tomorrow, we train without the weights.”
Croagunk’s eyes brightened.
“Don’t celebrate.”
The expression disappeared.
“We’re seeing how much faster you’ve gotten.”
Croagunk flexed its legs experimentally.
Adrian continued toward the dormitories.
One week had nearly passed.
Croagunk was level seven.
Seventy TRP remained in his account.
Their teamwork was improving.
A decent beginning.
Nothing more.
Three weeks remained to turn it into something that could survive Team Rocket’s second trial.