The moment Captain Mercer disappeared into the crowd, Cerulean Base came alive.
The plaza that had been packed with recruits only moments ago quickly emptied.
Some sprinted toward the Battle Arena, others hurried to the Rocket Market, a few disappeared toward the Pokémon Center.
Everyone had reached the same conclusion: one month wasn’t long.
Adrian remained where he was.
Rushing without a plan accomplished nothing.
He slowly looked around the underground city again.
Every building represented an opportunity, and every opportunity required one thing.
TRP.
His gaze settled on a large building near the center of the plaza.
MISSION HALL
That was where he’d start.
The Mission Hall was surprisingly busy.
Unlike the recruits, everyone else inside looked experienced.
Rocket Grunts came and went carrying backpacks and equipment, a Team Leader argued with a receptionist over mission rewards, and several researchers posted requests on nearby boards.
The building resembled a guild more than a military headquarters.
As Adrian entered, he noticed dozens of electronic boards covering the walls, each displaying missions marked with a letter rank.
F, E, D, C, B, A, S.
Most of the higher-ranked ones were locked.
A Rocket employee behind the counter noticed Adrian’s recruit uniform.
“First day?”
Adrian nodded.
The woman slid a small black card across the counter.
“Your Rocket ID.” He picked it up.
The card was made from black metal, only a few lines etched across its surface.
Rocket ID
Name: Adrian Rank: Recruit TRP: 0 Authorized Missions: F-Rank
“The card updates automatically.
It tracks your TRP, mission history, and authorization level.” She looked him in the eyes.
“If you lose it.
Don’t.”
Adrian walked toward the mission board.
Every posting displayed three pieces of information: difficulty, reward, and requirements.
One caught his attention.
Gather Poison Mushrooms Location: Cerulean Forest Requirement: Five Poison Mushrooms Reward: 15 TRP
Another:
Capture a Rattata Reward: 20 TRP Requirements: Pokémon must be healthy.
Another:
Collect Ten Medicinal Herbs Reward: 12 TRP
Most paid between ten and thirty points.
Not much.
But enough to begin.
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Thinking too small.”
Adrian turned.
A tall man wearing a Team Rocket grunt uniform stood beside him, three Poké Balls resting on his belt.
His Arbok watched Adrian carefully from behind.
The grunt crossed his arms.
“Everyone picks those missions.
They’re safe.
They’re easy.
They’re crowded.” He pointed toward another board.
“There.”
Adrian followed his finger.
One mission remained untouched.
Collect Three Bog Venom Flowers Location: Eastern Swamp Reward: 50 TRP Warning: Wild Poison Pokémon frequently sighted.
“The reward’s better.”
“So why hasn’t anyone taken it?”
The grunt chuckled.
“Because recruits die.” He walked away without another word.
Adrian looked back at the board.
Fifty TRP.
More than triple most beginner missions.
There had to be a reason.
He activated the nearby terminal.
Additional information appeared.
Known Wild Pokémon Ekans · Nidoran♀ · Nidoran♂ · Croagunk · Grimer · Tentacool
Estimated Strength Baby Rank, occasional Beginner Rank
Adrian considered the mission.
Croagunk had the type advantage against several of those Pokémon.
Poison resisted Poison, and ground attacks like Mud-Slap would prove useful.
Still, his partner had never battled before.
Neither had he.
Jumping into a dangerous mission would be reckless.
He continued browsing.
Eventually another request appeared.
Battle Evaluation Location: Battle Arena Three Requirement: New Recruits Reward: 10 TRP Additional Rewards Based on Performance
Adrian smiled.
That was perfect.
No unnecessary danger, guaranteed opponents, experienced evaluators.
And a chance to see exactly where Croagunk stood compared to the other recruits.
He pressed his Rocket ID against the terminal.
Mission Accepted.
The screen updated.
Mission Time: Today, 14:00 Arena Three
As Adrian left the Mission Hall, he clipped his Rocket ID beside Croagunk’s Poké Ball.
He had a destination.
A few hours remained before the evaluation.
Adrian used them well.
He walked the plaza slowly, mapping the base in his head.
The distance from the dormitories to the Mission Hall, the quickest route to the Market, which corridors stayed crowded and which ones didn’t.
Small things.
The kind of details that meant nothing on their own and everything once a situation went wrong.
At the Rocket Market, he lingered outside a window displaying Potions and Poké Balls, checking prices against the TRP figures he’d already seen.
Everything was expensive relative to what a Day 1 recruit could earn.
A single Hyper Potion alone cost more than three of the beginner missions combined.
He filed the number away and kept moving.
By the time he reached Battle Arena Three, a small crowd of recruits had already gathered outside, trading nervous glances the same way they had in the auditorium hours earlier.
Some carried themselves like they’d already decided they were the strongest one there.
Others looked like they were hoping simply not to embarrass themselves.
A Rocket official checked names off a list at the entrance.
“Adrian?”
“Here.”
“Arena’s open.
Wait for your match to be called.”
Inside, the arena was smaller than the auditorium but no less imposing.
A rectangular battlefield marked with painted lines, bleachers on one side for waiting recruits, and an elevated booth where two evaluators sat with clipboards, watching every match with the flat attention of people who had already seen a hundred recruits that day and would see a hundred more tomorrow.
Adrian took a seat and watched the matches ahead of his.
Most were short.
A Rattata versus a Sandshrew ended in under a minute, neither trainer managing more than a few shouted, half-panicked commands before an evaluator called it.
A Bellsprout user fared better, landing two clean Vine Whips before her Growlithe opponent closed the distance and ended it with Bite.
The pattern repeated itself, match after match.
Pokémon that had barely met their trainers a day earlier, trainers who had never given a battle command in their lives, evaluators grading performance more on composure than results.
Adrian noted all of it.
Nobody here had any real training.
Whatever advantage he had wouldn’t come from experience.
It would come from knowing exactly what he was working with before the match even started.
“Adrian.
Arena Three, Match Twelve.”
He stood.
Croagunk’s Poké Ball felt warm in his palm as he stepped onto the field.
Across from him, a stocky recruit with a Nidoran♂ gave him a short, appraising look.
The kind that measured an opponent by uniform and posture rather than anything that actually mattered.
One of the evaluators glanced up from her clipboard.
“Standard evaluation match.
Three-minute limit or first knockout.
Begin on my mark.”
Adrian released Croagunk.
The Poison-type landed low to the ground, crimson eyes sweeping the arena before settling on the Nidoran across from it.
It didn’t retreat.
It didn’t hesitate.
After a full day of cautious steps and careful distance, something in its posture had shifted.
Not trust, not yet, but a willingness to stand beside Adrian instead of simply tolerating him.
A translucent blue window flickered at the edge of Adrian’s vision.
Pokémon Scan
Species: Nidoran♂ Level: 6.
Rank: Baby Potential: Orange Ability: Poison Point Moves: Peck · Focus Energy · Double Kick Status: Healthy Evaluation: Above Average Individual
Orange.
Solid, but nothing close to what he’d been given.
Adrian dismissed the scan and said nothing.
There was no reason to let anyone here know what he could see.
“Begin!”
The Nidoran lunged first, Peck aimed low.
Croagunk didn’t dodge.
It didn’t need to.
Adrian had already seen the attack coming the moment the Nidoran shifted its weight backward before the strike.
“Mud-Slap.
Its eyes.”
Croagunk’s palm slapped the ground, flinging a spray of wet dirt directly into the Nidoran’s face mid-lunge.
The Peck went wide.
The Nidoran stumbled, blinking hard, momentarily blind.
“Now.
Poison Sting.”
Croagunk’s barbs struck home before the Nidoran recovered its footing.
It staggered, poison already working through its small frame, and the recruit across the field shouted something that was more panic than strategy.
His Nidoran surged forward anyway, Double Kick catching Croagunk across the shoulder.
A real hit, and Croagunk hissed in pain, but held its ground.
Adrian didn’t flinch.
Croagunk had type advantage, a status effect already ticking, and an opponent flailing on instinct instead of any real plan.
The outcome had been decided the moment Mud-Slap connected.
“Fake Out.”
Croagunk closed the distance in a single burst of speed, palm striking the Nidoran’s face before it could react.
The Pokémon flinched hard, poison and the follow-up hit finally too much.
It collapsed, still conscious but unable to continue.
“Nidoran is unable to battle,” the evaluator called.
“Croagunk wins.”
The recruit across the field stared at his fallen partner, then at Adrian, with the particular expression of someone doing math he didn’t like.
Adrian said nothing.
He crouched instead, checking Croagunk’s shoulder where the Double Kick had landed.
A bruise, nothing worse.
Before returning it gently to its Poké Ball.
The evaluator made a note on her clipboard without looking up.
“Clean match.
Good use of terrain and status.
Ten TRP base, plus five for performance.”
Adrian’s Rocket ID chimed softly against his hip.
TRP Balance: 15
Fifteen points.
Not much, measured against fifty for a swamp full of wild Poison-types twice his level.
But it was a start.
And more importantly, it was proof of something he’d already suspected.
Croagunk wasn’t just talented on a screen only he could see.
It was talented in a way that showed up on a scoreboard everyone could read.
He left the arena as the next match was called, already thinking about what fifty TRP might buy him a month from now.