Pain. It was the first thing Giovanni felt. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through his body, like a storm that had yet to pass. His mind was hazy, his senses dulled, but something was wrong. He wasn't supposed to be here.
Flashes of his past flickered through his thoughts. He was Giovanni, the new leader of Team Rocket, a title he had only recently inherited. Before him, there was Madame Boss—his mother, a woman who had ruled the underworld with ruthless efficiency. But Giovanni had his own vision. He wasn't just a crime lord; he was a patriot. Kanto deserved better than being a pawn of Johto. That was why he had been reshaping Team Rocket, not as a gang, but as a military force for Kanto's future.
And yet... there were other memories. Ones that didn't belong to him.
A world where Pokémon battles were mere sport, where children traveled freely, challenging gym leaders and collecting badges like trophies. A world where Kanto was nothing more than a peaceful region, subordinate to Johto, its so-called "ally." The thought made his stomach twist in disgust. Kanto, bowing to Johto? That wasn't how things should be. No, that was weakness.
He forced his eyes open. The room around him was dimly lit, the walls made of cold, reinforced steel. The faint hum of machines filled the air. He recognized this place. A safehouse. One of many he had prepared for emergencies. He wasn't dead. Not yet.
A figure stood nearby. Young, sharp-eyed, dressed in a black Team Rocket uniform. Archer.
"Boss, you're awake," Archer said, his voice steady but laced with relief.
Giovanni exhaled slowly, testing his body. Sore. Weak. But alive. "How long?"
"Three days," Archer answered. "You were caught in the crossfire. A Thunderbolt—direct hit. We managed to pull you out, but it was close."
Three days. That explained the fog in his mind. His body had been pushed to its limit, his nerves burned from the attack. And yet, the memories of that other world remained, clear as day. He wasn't sure what disturbed him more—the fact that they existed or that part of him knew they held some truth.
His mind drifted back to those strange memories. The gym system in that world had reverted to what it was meant to be before the war. He had even become the Gym Leader of Viridian in that world. But here, most of the Gym Leaders of the past had been wiped out or scattered. Only two names remained known in this era—Lt. Surge, still holding the line in Vermilion, his Electric-types frying enemy forces before they could land, and Blaine, battling fiercely at Cinnabar, turning the island into a fortress with his flames.
"The war?"
Archer's expression darkened. "Johto is pressing harder. Their forces are advancing. Our strongholds near Goldenrod have been lost. Kanto is losing ground."
Giovanni's jaw tightened. He needed details. "Be specific."
Archer nodded. "Vermilion is still holding thanks to Lt. Surge, but supplies are running low. Blaine is keeping Cinnabar secured for now, but Johto's navy is pushing closer. Saffron is still contested—the Fighting Dojo is leading the defenses, but they're struggling to hold the line."
Giovanni frowned. In the other world, Saffron had been Kanto's strongest city, home to a Gym Leader with terrifying psychic power. Here, it was little more than a war zone.
"Celadon?" he asked.
"Under attack. We lost contact with our forces stationed there," Archer said grimly. "We assume the worst."
Giovanni exhaled slowly. The heart of Kanto, burning.
"And Cerulean?"
"Holding," Archer admitted, "but barely. Its leader, Samuel Waterflower, is keeping the defense together, but Johto's forces are wearing them down. If he falls, so does the city."
A wasted generation. Giovanni had known many of these Gym Leaders in passing—warriors, not entertainers. And now, one by one, they were being erased.
And then there was the boy. Ash Ketchum. A child who somehow became Champion in that other world. Giovanni found the idea laughable at first—such a simple battle, such childish tactics—but then, the boy had still won. That, at least, was something. Talent buried under foolishness.
He sat up with effort, ignoring the pain. There was too much work to do.
Giovanni let the information settle, his mind sharpening. The government and Champion thought of him as just another trainer, a man with a kind heart, unaware of the truth. That illusion had served him well, but it wouldn't last forever. He needed to move carefully. If Kanto was to rise, he had to be the one guiding it from the shadows.
He turned to Archer, his voice calm but firm. "Then it's time we change the game."
Archer nodded without hesitation. "Your orders, Boss?"
Giovanni looked at him—loyal, capable, the son of a man who had once served him well. Kanto's future was crumbling, but he wouldn't let it fall. He had been given a second chance, memories of a foolish world that underestimated him, and the knowledge to shape this one into something greater.
Kanto would not bow. Not to Johto. Not to anyone.
He clenched his fists, his vision clearing. "First, I need to understand exactly what we're dealing with. Get me reports on all our forces, resources, and enemy movements. And Archer—"
"Yes, Boss?"
Giovanni smirked, the fire in his eyes reigniting. "We are going to change things—reshape Kanto's future into what it was always meant to be."