"Gym Leader Giovanni, I understand how you feel, but please try to stay calm."
Chief Jenny's voice carried the careful patience of someone dealing with a man who was clearly rattled—at least by his standards.
Giovanni hadn't slammed the table or raised his voice.
But that was precisely the problem.
He was usually so composed that even a slight crack in that exterior read as unusually intense.
Giovanni didn't answer right away.
He went silent for a moment, then drew a slow breath, forcing his breathing to steady.
Agatha and Charles Goodshow exchanged a quiet glance.
Goodshow gave her the slightest shake of his head.
"Are you truly certain?" Giovanni asked at last, his voice low.
"Gym Leader Giovanni," Goodshow said, sounding weary, "as unfortunate as it is, this is the truth."
"We don't know the exact reason, but Damian has indeed joined Team Rocket."
He lifted his chin slightly toward Jenny.
"The Kahunas of Alola and Sinnoh Champion Cynthia can all attest to it."
Chief Jenny nodded once and pressed a button on a remote.
The display screen lit up.
A handsome, black-haired youth appeared on it—Damian.
"This was taken at the scene," Jenny said.
"…"
Giovanni stared at the screen.
His gaze didn't flinch, but the look in his eyes shifted slowly, becoming complicated.
He didn't speak for a long while.
Then, without another word, he took out his phone.
He dialed.
Beep… beep… beep…
The ringing echoed in the conference room.
Other than that, there was nothing.
Quiet enough that it felt like everyone was holding their breath at the same time.
The call connected.
"Hello? Dad?"
Damian's voice came through the receiver—light, lazy, almost casual to the point of being inappropriate given the moment.
But it was unmistakably him.
Goodshow was certain. He'd been the one to hand Damian the trophy at the Indigo Conference.
At the time, he'd been delighted, convinced another great genius was rising out of Kanto.
"Damian," Giovanni said, voice still low, "what are you doing in Alola?"
"Traveling," Damian replied, amused. "Obviously."
Giovanni's tone dropped another degree.
"Tell me the truth."
"Did I ever teach you to lie?"
The words came out controlled, but everyone in the room could hear what sat underneath them—pressure, anger, the edge of something barely contained.
Goodshow's white brows drew together.
For a brief moment, the line went silent.
Then Damian spoke again.
"As expected," Damian said quietly. "You found out."
His tone had changed.
Gone was the lazy lightness.
What remained was flat, cold, indifferent.
"So you really did join Team Rocket," Giovanni said, his composure still intact, but his voice hardening. "Damian, do you have any idea what you're doing? How did I raise you since you were little? I—"
"You always say things like that."
Damian cut him off cleanly, like he couldn't be bothered to listen to the rest.
Giovanni paused.
"What did you say?"
"I said I've had enough, Giovanni," Damian replied. "Sixteen years."
"Sixteen whole years."
He didn't sound hysterical.
He didn't sound broken.
If anything, that calmness made it sharper.
"You demanded I walk the path you laid out."
"Did you ever, even once, care what I wanted?"
"I was your puppet," Damian continued, voice level. "Step by step, exactly where you pointed."
Giovanni's throat tightened.
"I…" he managed, and then the words he'd relied on for years slipped out, dry and automatic. "I was doing it for your own good."
There was a beat.
Then Damian laughed—quietly, not with humor, but with something bitter.
"Yeah."
"They'd say it all the time."
"'That's Gym Leader Giovanni's son.'"
"'Of course he's amazing—he's Giovanni's son.'"
Damian's tone stayed even, but the contempt underneath it was unmistakable.
"No matter how hard I worked," he went on, "even after I won the Indigo Conference…"
"I still wore your label."
"As if anything I accomplished only existed because of you."
The conference room fell into a strange silence.
Goodshow's expression darkened.
Chief Jenny's jaw tightened.
Agatha, meanwhile, wore the faintest, most unpleasant hint of a smile as her cloudy eyes watched Giovanni.
"I'm not your toy," Damian said.
"And I'm not your shadow."
"I'll prove it."
"I'll prove that even without you, I'll still stand at the top."
The line went dead.
Giovanni lowered his head.
He didn't move.
Shadows fell across his face, hiding his expression from the three officials.
But they all understood the narrative immediately.
A brilliant son.
A strict father.
Pressure, expectations, public opinion.
A child pushed too far.
Those words must have been devastating.
But in reality—
Hold it in. Hold it in. Don't laugh.
Giovanni's years of practiced composure were finally earning their keep.
"Sigh…"
Goodshow looked like he wanted to say something, then stopped himself.
In Giovanni's "current state," anything he said would sound hollow.
Strict upbringing. Unrelenting expectations. Effort that never received proper recognition.
It was enough to break even a gifted child.
What could Goodshow even do here? Blame Giovanni? To what end?
"My apologies, Chairman," Giovanni said at last, his voice roughened just enough to sound believable. "This is my fault."
"It's alright," Goodshow replied, forcing a gentler tone. "No one could have predicted this. Don't blame yourself too much."
What a mess.
Goodshow rubbed his forehead.
He had planned to personally invite Damian into the Kanto Elite Four after the boy's travels ended this year.
And now?
That same genius—raised under an official Gym Leader—was Team Rocket.
Goodshow felt a headache coming on.
Who could possibly understand his pain?
In Alola.
Damian ended the call and leaned back, looking thoroughly refreshed.
That felt great.
Now that the "father-son break" had been staged, whatever Damian did next wouldn't splash back onto Giovanni the same way.
Sure, there would be gossip.
There would always be gossip.
But it wouldn't be enough to bury Giovanni.
"Perfect."
Damian crossed his legs on the leather sofa, relaxed to the point of looking lazy.
"Once I find the right opportunity, I can officially take the Boss's seat."
He'd waited too long for this day.
What was the point of being second-in-command?
If you're going to do it, you do it all the way.
"Boss's," Proton asked, stepping forward, "what do we do next?"
On the inside, Proton had an extremely strong urge to comment.
These two—father and son—really knew how to perform.
But Proton had survived in Team Rocket by knowing which thoughts stayed inside his head.
Whether it was the soon-to-be "retired" Boss Giovanni or the soon-to-be-appointed Boss Damian, Proton could follow either.
Giovanni wasn't dying.
He was stepping back.
And Damian's strength and temperament were more than enough to match the role.
So in practical terms, it didn't matter.
Damian considered for a moment.
"Have our people lay low for a few days," he said. "We don't know what Kukui and the others will do next."
"Yes," Proton replied immediately.
Damian's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Cynthia showing up is a nuisance."
He'd had no intention of accelerating certain steps yet.
But now he had to.
There was no helping it.
Cynthia's appearance had disrupted his pacing.
Damian's gaze sharpened.
"Tch."
"I'll head to Aether Paradise in a few days…"
"And take down Lusamine first."