Green Oak

The arbok springs for Pikachu without hesitation, but it meets the floor than the rodent, who outspeeds the poison-type by just enough to gain some distance as it picks itself back up to go hissing for the electric-type. 

That has Red’s attention, spnning around to follow the fight.

“Quick, thunder wave, Pikachu!”

Pikachu’s cheeks begin to spark with the command, still running on all fours to dodge the arbok continuing to give chase, just to gain the right opportunity to spin around to blast off a paralysing jolt.

But in the meantime, the other pair haven’t slowed down:

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A third pokemon? well how fair is that? “Umbreon, eyes up!” The opposing golbat is fast to clear the conference table. Weezing however?—much slower to draw than its partner. An opportunity. “Use, Iron Tail! Bring that bat down!”

Umbreon manages to evade the screeching golbat by launching into the air, coming down twice as hard onto the Pokemon, jettisoning them both to the floor—just in time to take a sludge bath. 

The boy’s face screws into a scowl, he hadn’t thought that one all the way through. At least golbat had taken the brunt of the damage, landing beneath the dark-type. 

Umbreon yelped in pain as its paws came in contact with the foul sludge, quick to jump out of range. They were okay for now, but there was no doubt that the poison would eventually start sapping at their health. The boys would need to wrap things up so Green could administer an antidote. No sweat.

Red won’t grumble about the other guy being overly cautious as they enter the first lower floor of the hideout, he himself walking and listening for any sounds or sights of possible approaching grunts. But the coast is clear—were they incredibly lucky, or was something off? Half of the grunts did appear to be waltzing around Celadon City without a care (or shame!) in the world. But…

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“Shit.”

Go figure, just as Green gains a touch of confidence? Rockets. He had opened the door, brazenly charging in only to be shoved back, the adult grabbing hold of his shoulders and heaving. The telltale crackle and flash of thunderbolt is enough to spur the boy to action: Green gains his bearings beside Red as umbreon leaps into the fray, its lithe body crouching to the floor to narrowly avoid the noxious gas spewing from the floating ‘mon.

Green jacks his shirt over his nose —never one to waste an opportunity for dramatics— though his command rings clear as day. “Feint Attack!” 

Umbreon responds in kind, disappearing from its spot below the fog to launch into the air, slamming into the poison type to send it spinning.

“Hey two against one ain’t fair!” 

“Fair! Who are you guys to talk about fair?” Green’s commentary is lost as the second grunt sends out an arbok.

Seeing no immediate danger Green whips around, shoving Red with both hands.

“At least give me a heads up- Who knows what we’re gonna run into!” His hand lingers on the first Pokeball holstered at his hip, Umbreon. With less experience than Red he was certainly giving the Rockets a little too much credit. Who would’ve thought he would be the cautious one?

The boy clears his throat still glancing around, not eager to charge in blindly. “Basement floor…one? Jeesh how deep does it go?” Did Red know anything about what they were getting into?

He holds onto Red’s arm knowing all too well that the trainer was a flight risk. “Dude, who even told you about this? What if we go through all the trouble of reaching the final basement and nothing’s there? What then?” In other words—what’s up your ass about the Rockets?

There was no joy in doing a good deed ‘just because’ for Green. There always needed to be a prize in sight, a reward for his efforts. Even with his brief experience at the Pokemon Tower, Green had never felt the ramifications of the Rocket’s activities. He ignored them, wrote them, and those they affected off as a problem for adults. Why should he care?

Green was a whole lotta complaining, not enough trusting. But the question in particular that Green decides to pester Red about earns him an incredulous look for it. 

“What do you mean, there’ll be nothing? Haven’t you seen the Rockets running around?” Which was exactly how Red got the info in the first place, adults keeping looser lips when it came to kids. …especially ones that hid in bushes or around corners. 

“Whatever man- just know that if these dudes start swinging? I’m leaving your ass behind.” And that was that. He follows Red’s directions, mentally trying to reassure himself where Red had failed. How bad could it be? At the very least Red had handled the Rockets before, and if he could...—his frown morphs into a self confident smirk—Then Green should be able to handle them in half the time! With hopefully enough hours left in the day to score that sweet dratini.

He side-eyes the wall disinterestedly as the other trainer tries to hype him up. “No way. Only you would be dumb enough to think that the Rockets would hide something so important behind - ”

Was… that a switch? Green yanked his arm away, taking a hurried step back. He recognized the look in Red’s eyes from far too many ill-fated adventures as kids. This only spelled trouble. He shoots a glance over his shoulder. - No one seemed to notice them - and Green was keen to keep it that way. Couldn’t they just mind their own business? Do a little gambling? Maybe just maybe win a Dratini?

He lowers his voice. “C’mon dude just call it a day- This isn’t some joke Red - Gramps won’t bail us out of this one.” For an instant he’s the kid that grew up next door, his need for self preservation and general unease getting the best of him.  But it’s gone in an instant. There was no backing Red down and he knew it. The bastard. Pinching the bridge of his nose Green takes a deep breath. “But I guess if I’m with you nothing too bad can happen.”

Green was babbling in his ear about something or other, but when Red finds that switch, he doesn’t need to intentionally tune it out. His grin is a wide thing, despite whatever might be waiting for him on the other side. Trouble, he knows, but like hell was that going to keep him out.

He was going to be the new trouble, for Team Rocket. So when Green tries to urge otherwise, he’s already got a “Green” on his tongue, ready for an argument—

but even Green seems to know better, and Red lets go of the fight, is surprised by the decision Green makes. Sure, given in the most Green way, but that was beside the point. 

“We’ve gotta clear them out,” he whispers in fierce determination—and with that, he presses down on the button, a soft click following it, a part of the wall fracturing away from the rest.

Red pushes against it—and it moves inward like a door, giving entrance to a small room. He looks around them, but no one is as hyper aware to what’s going on as he is. 

Except in a split moment, he thinks he sees a member of staff. And it’s that alarm that makes him yank on Green’s arm even harder this time to throw him inside the room with him, shoving the secret door shut at their back. 

“That was close!”

Seeing no immediate danger Green whips around, shoving Red with both hands. 

“At least give me a heads up- Who knows what we’re gonna run into!” His hand lingers on the first Pokeball holstered at his hip, Umbreon. With less experience than Red he was certainly giving the Rockets a little too much credit. Who would’ve thought he would be the cautious one?

The boy clears his throat still glancing around, not eager to charge in blindly. “Basement floor...one? Jeesh how deep does it go?” Did Red know anything about what they were getting into?

He holds onto Red’s arm knowing all too well that the trainer was a flight risk. “Dude, who even told you about this? What if we go through all the trouble of reaching the final basement and nothing’s there? What then?” In other words—what’s up your ass about the Rockets?

Green was sold. Why go fishing when he could burn through money and brag about it?

The gambling eleven year old - who had sandwiched himself between two much older slot players - was unfortunately the least troubling issue at hand. The spot was long rumored to be a front for Team Rocket’s operations, and it was easy to see why. The Game Corner was busy at all hours, It would be impossible to keep track of who was coming and going. A perfect cover.

And like most civilians, the boy was utterly unaware, too focused on the task at hand. For what could have been the hundredth time Green cranks the lever, jaded eyes watching pensively as the reels begin to whirl, his machine adding to the dizzying mix of sounds.

7 - 7 - Pikachu.

Close but no cigar. With an exaggerated groan/eye-roll combo the trainer’s shoulders slump forward in defeat. “This place is SO rigged.” He kicks the machine, garnering a stern look from the gambler beside him. Jeesh. Time to move on. He scans the bustling room hoping for an open machine - instead? He sees red. Literally.

Pft it was so like Red to follow him in here, always chasing his coattails..was he waiting for a turn? Green slides off his stool, slowly approaching his friend turned rival with mild interest. What was so interesting back here anyway?

“Hey Genius! You ain’t gonna win anything by staring at the wall.” His tone is flat, arms crossed, a stance he had literally perfected in the mirror at home. All part of his newfound ‘cool guy’ persona. As if he wasn’t even slightly excited to see the other Pallet native.  “What are you doing here anyway? You realize gambling is a winner’s game - right?”

Something was always fishy about something in Kanto. Team Rocket’s antics were about as everywhere as the magikarp were in the oceans, definitely not making him question the hard-earned money he spent ages ago to get one. 

All Red needed to hear was  ‘switch….behind a poster...’ and the game corner was his obvious next stop. Customers were all too distracted by the promises of reward if they just kept at their slot machines a little more, the front desk gone into the back rooms—

“Hey Genius! You ain’t gonna win anything by staring at the wall.”

He side-eyes the wall disinterestedly as the other trainer tries to hype him up. “No way. Only you would be dumb enough to think that the Rockets would hide something so important behind - ” 

Was... that a switch? Green yanked his arm away, taking a hurried step back. He recognized the look in Red’s eyes from far too many ill-fated adventures as kids. This only spelled trouble. He shoots a glance over his shoulder. - No one seemed to notice them - and Green was keen to keep it that way. Couldn’t they just mind their own business? Do a little gambling? Maybe just maybe win a Dratini?