Author's Note:
Welcome back to the madness. The war is over, but Giovanni's new job keeps throwing him curveballs. This time? A rumor about a walking, talking Meowth. As always, expect dry humor, grounded logic, and a side of absurdity. Consider this part two of the post-war sitcom arc.
Viridian Gym was quiet.
Too quiet.
Giovanni stood in his office with a cup of cold tea and a stack of challenger profiles. They were all beginning to blend together—Bug Catcher Timmy with his Beedrill, Poké Fan Suzy and her Eevee in a tutu, some guy named Kyle who thought using three Rattata counted as "strategy."
Matori poked his head in, looking mildly amused. "Got something you might want to hear."
"Unless it's about someone finally showing up with a decently trained Sandslash, I doubt it."
"Talking Meowth."
Giovanni paused mid-sip. "Pardon?"
"Yeah. Word from the Rocket contacts near Celadon. There's a rumor going around about a Meowth in the Hollywood ruins. Walks upright. Talks. Swindles tourists."
Giovanni lowered the cup. Something deep in his memory shifted—not his memory, but the other one's.
A trio of clowns. A Meowth that talked.
"Where exactly in Hollywood?"
"East side. Near the old Pokéstar Studios that Johto bombed. Place is crawling with street 'mons and broken dreams."
"Perfect place for someone with nothing to lose to become king of trash," Giovanni muttered.
Matori raised a brow. "Should I prep a team?"
"No. I'll go alone."
Hollywood Ruins
The air in Hollywood smelled like broken electronics and stale popcorn. Once the pride of Kanto's film industry, now it was a graffiti-covered husk, full of feral Pokémon and burned-out set pieces. A plastic Wailord lay upside-down in a fountain. Someone had drawn sunglasses on it.
Giovanni walked past a collapsed snack bar. A Pidgey hissed at him before retreating into the skeleton of a ticket booth.
And then he heard it.
"I told ya, punk! The nuggets were mine!"
Brooklyn accent. Loud. Confident. And definitely coming from a Meowth.
Giovanni turned the corner and found him.
The Meowth stood on two legs, arms crossed, facing off against a group of scrappy-looking Poochyena. A turf war over fast food, apparently.
Giovanni just watched.
Meowth growled, eyes narrowed. "You mangy mutts got two seconds before I show you why they called me the Claw of Crescent Alley."
One Poochyena lunged. Meowth dodged, barely. A second caught his tail. A third pounced.
"Enough," Giovanni said, stepping forward.
The ground shook slightly as he tossed out a Poké Ball. "Larvitar. Sandstorm."
A roar of swirling sand and grit exploded outward. The ferals yelped and scattered. Meowth ducked behind a trash bin, coughing.
Another ball. "Drillbur. Use Rapid Spin. Clear them out."
Drillbur shot through the sandstorm like a bullet, his spinning claws knocking down anything still bold enough to try.
When the dust settled, only Giovanni, Meowth, and the two Pokémon remained.
Meowth peeked out. "What in the nine furballs was that?"
"A demonstration," Giovanni replied. "You're coming with me."
"Excuse me?! I ain't some pet—"
"You talk. You walk. You think. That makes you useful. Or dangerous. Either way, you don't get to run wild anymore."
Meowth hesitated. Then sighed. "I get dental?"
Giovanni smirked. "You get trained."
Training Montage: "The Claw Learns to Strike"
Back at the Viridian training grounds, Meowth stood on a rock with a notepad, frowning.
"So you're sayin' if I hone my claws, I get more crits?"
Giovanni nodded. "And we're adding Shadow Claw and Slash to your arsenal. You need range and coverage. You're fast, but you need power."
Drillbur watched silently as Meowth failed to land a Fury Swipes on a moving target dummy.
Larvitar muttered something to himself and threw a small rock at the dummy, knocking it over.
Meowth glared. "Show off."
The days passed. Meowth trained with Giovanni's Pokémon, sometimes clashing with them, sometimes bonding. He learned how to fight . How to listen. How to read moves.
Eventually, Giovanni called the whole team together.
"We're heading back to Hollywood. You said there was a gang?"
Meowth nodded. "Couple dozen alley 'mons. Mostly other Meowth. Some Rattata. They ain't bad, just... lost."
"Perfect. We're recruiting."
Return to the Ruins – Turf Takeover
Back in Hollywood, Giovanni stood before a half-collapsed theater. Dozens of Meowth lounged on the rafters and ruined seats. The air was thick with defiance.
"Meowth," Giovanni said, nodding to his partner.
"Y'know," Meowth said, stepping forward, "this guy? He ain't half-bad. We're gonna do somethin' real. So if you bums want more than scraps, line up. Or get ready to fight."
Predictably, the fight came.
Larvitar's Sandstorm kicked up, blinding the scattered foes. Drillbur, moving at insane speed under Sand Rush, blitzed through them like a steel bullet. Meowth dove in behind them, landing his new Slash clean on the opposing leader.
It was messy. But quick.
By the end, the Meowth gang bowed their heads. They didn't need to be convinced.
They had a new boss.
[ALT STRIP: Meowth's Giga Glow-Up]
Viridian Gym Locker Room
Meowth stood in front of the mirror wearing sunglasses and flexing.
"Gotta work the core, y'know what I'm sayin'? No one respects a noodle-waist."
Giovanni walked by with a clipboard. "Stop talking to yourself. And you're still skipping leg day."
"Leg day don't exist when ya got paws!"
Cue montage: Meowth doing pushups. Trying to lift a Machop-sized dumbbell. Getting crushed under Larvitar, who was used as a bench.
Back in the hallway, Persian gave him a smug look.
Meowth: "What, you think ya better than me?"
Persian: "I am better than you."
Cue slapstick fight. Cut to Giovanni sipping tea while the chaos unfolds.
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PS: Trying to add alternate comedic or unique ideas at the end of chapter hope u all like it