"Not you again!"
Seeing the same two people and a cat appear before him once more, Ash could only sigh in helpless frustration. Ever since he'd sabotaged their plans back in Viridian City, this trio had clung to him like burrs—impossible to shake off no matter what he tried.
"Twerp, what kind of attitude is that supposed to be?"
Hot-tempered as ever, Jessie was the first to snap. Hands on her hips, she barked,
"Do you really think this attack only involves the three of us? Team Rocket's main force—and our elite executives—are all here this time! If you know what's good for you, hand over Pikachu and every Pokémon you're carrying. Do that, and maybe we'll be generous enough to let you off."
"That's right, meow!" Meowth chimed in.
Ash flew into a rage. "I'll never give Pikachu to you!"
"Neither will we!" Misty and Brock shouted in unison.
...
"Number five."
Kael glanced down at another Team Rocket grunt lying unconscious at his feet, knocked out cold by Weavile.
"Hey—rather than letting Team Rocket take your Pokémon, you're better off fighting them to the end."
Leaving those words behind, Kael sprinted out of the room, leaving behind a young couple still trembling, not yet recovered from the sudden attack.
He had accepted Cole's employment offer:
for every ordinary Team Rocket member he dealt with, he'd earn 10,000 after the mission;
for every squad leader, 100,000.
"You really are the poison in this operation."
Just as Kael finished off his tenth grunt, a voice as cold and hard as stone sounded behind him. Turning around, he saw Mondo—the bald, powerfully built man—standing at the corner not far away, arms crossed, eyes fixed on him with icy hostility.
"So Lisa failed to take you out."
Mondo rolled his neck, joints cracking audibly.
"No matter. Killing you now won't be too late. Kid, blame yourself for crossing Team Rocket. In your next life, remember what you can afford to provoke—and what you can't."
Kael said nothing. His expression didn't change.
He simply swept his arm forward.
At once, Weavile understood.
With a sudden burst, she lunged at Mondo, right claw raised—aiming to end it in a single strike.
Mondo sneered and stepped back toward the corner.
From the shadows emerged a humanoid Pokémon nearly 1.8 meters tall. Its physique was strikingly humanlike, but its gray-blue muscles were terrifyingly dense. Four thick, powerful arms extended from its body. Just standing there, it radiated an overwhelming sense of dominance.
As expected of a bounty hunter—Mondo had never dropped his guard.
A kid was still a kid. Far too green.
Machamp.
A Fighting-type Pokémon with a skeletal and muscular structure very close to that of humans. It was said that elite Machamp could unleash over five hundred punches in a single second using its four arms.
Machamp—there were no wrong nicknames for it. When researchers named this Pokémon, the word "Machamp" was chosen precisely because its strength was so monstrously overwhelming.
Machamp dropped to one knee, crossing its arms before its chest in a defensive stance—and effortlessly blocked Weavile's rapid assault. Her razor-sharp claws left nothing more than a pale mark on muscle as hard as stone.
Even without using a special move, Weavile's ordinary slashes were strong enough to cleave through logs as thick as a bowl. Yet this was all the damage she could do.
Machamp's front arms blocked the strike and twisted, gripping Weavile's claws in a crushing hold. The sheer force made it impossible for her to break free. At the same time, the two even more developed arms behind its back rose high, shaped into blade-hands, and swung down toward Weavile's neck—
Karate Chop.
With Machamp's mountain-splitting strength, combined with Fighting-type advantage against Dark-types, a direct hit to the neck would very likely be fatal.
Mondo had no concept of holding back.
His plan was simple: destroy the Pokémon first, then eliminate this unstable variable.
Weavile was in extreme danger.
Yet Kael remained calm, his face utterly untroubled. That composure made Mondo hesitate—did this brat still have something up his sleeve?
No matter.
Finish the Weavile first.
"Why isn't Machamp striking?"
Mondo suddenly realized that Machamp's rear arms were still raised in chopping position—but no matter how long he waited, they wouldn't come down.
"Hah—!"
Machamp let out a strained roar. Veins bulged across its arms as it struggled with all its might—yet those two arms refused to obey.
At last, a faint smile appeared on Kael's face.
"Lulu," he called out clearly. "Throw it."
Kirlia stepped out from behind Kael, walking forward with her arms extended. The ruby-like red of her eyes was completely swallowed by a deep blue glow, growing brighter with every step.
"Heh!"
With a sharp cry, Lulu lifted her hands.
Machamp—still straining—was suddenly enveloped in blue psychic energy and ripped straight off the ground, floating helplessly in midair.
Fighting-types counter Dark-types.
And Psychic-types counter Fighting-types.
When psychic power touched Weavile, it was neutralized by the Dark-type energy within her body. As a result, only Machamp was affected. Lulu thrust her hands forward—and with no footing to brace itself, Machamp was violently hurled away.
The moment she was freed, Weavile didn't hesitate.
She used Quick Attack, pushing her speed to the limit, chasing down the airborne Machamp. She leapt onto its body and, while it remained restrained by psychic force, unleashed a ferocious assault.
Ice Punch slammed squarely into Machamp's face. It let out a pained groan as its features twisted from the agony—blood surged up its nose, only to be instantly frozen by the icy energy.
It wasn't over.
As mentioned before, Kael's Weavile was left-handed—her left arm was even stronger than her right. She raised it and brought down a brutal Brick Break directly onto Machamp's most vulnerable spot—its neck.
Crack.
Bone snapped.
If not for Machamp's exceptionally developed neck muscles, that blow alone would have been fatal.
Machamp survived.
But once it collapsed to the ground, it never rose again.
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