More than half a year had passed since the war. Peace had returned to the Kanto region—at least on the surface. Cities rebuilt. Towns healed. Trainers roamed again.
And in the heart of Viridian, Giovanni remained.
Viridian City had changed. What was once a sleepy town overshadowed by the grandeur of Saffron and Celadon now thrived with new life. Tourists came in droves. Young trainers challenged the Gym, hoping to claim the final badge before reaching the Plateau. Some sought a symbol of victory. Others came chasing stories of the man who led the Kanto Liberation Army.
They all left with a story.
Giovanni didn't lose. Not really.
If a challenger came with zero to three badges, they were tested, not punished. Giovanni used his newer Pokémon—Meowth, Sandshrew, Cubone—for weaker challengers, rotating them to gain battle experience. For those with more than three badges, a trained Graveler or a wary but obedient Raticate appeared. These Pokémon weren't weak—they were controlled, directed to push, not crush.
The Raticate was overkill for the three-badge tier, but Giovanni lacked enough mid-tier Pokémon, so it had to "play nice."
"Play nice," he'd mutter, tossing the Poké Ball. "Let them think they had a chance."
For four to six badges, the battles grew fiercer. His Sandslash—once a common Sandshrew under the Gym's care—had clawed its way into Giovanni's trust after evolving. A grieving Cubone had evolved into a relentless Marowak. These Pokémon didn't hold back. They fought tooth and nail against their challengers.
Six badges and beyond, however, brought only pain.
That's when his elite team appeared. No pity. No training wheels. A single Rhydon or his ever-cunning Persian could end most battles with brutal efficiency. But the truth was, Giovanni lacked a proper mid-tier roster. His war-forged Pokémon couldn't be dialed down. So instead, he pushed his lower-tier Pokémon to evolve, aiming to build a balanced challenge for higher-tier trainers—not just steamroll them with Rhydon.
The Underground Fortress
Sandslash and Marowak became staples for four-to-six-badge battles—brutal but not flashy. He sifted through Graveler and Diglett, keeping only the strongest. Those who fell behind were reassigned: scaring off burglars, shaping terrain, or expanding the base.
Yes. The base.
Giovanni had expanded.
Beneath Viridian Forest's outskirts, hidden behind thick trees and war relics, Dugtrio and its Digletts had carved a subterranean stronghold—a training facility for weapons, strategies, and Pokémon testing. Above, it was an overgrown glade. Below? A fortress.
His captured Giant Onix was too massive for the Gym, so the underground bunker became its training ground alongside his elite team.
"Find me the tools," Giovanni had ordered months ago over a secure Rocket channel. "Metal Coats. Razor Fangs. Dragon Scales. Catalog everything."
He'd also demanded a Protector—an obscure item now, but vital for Rhydon's future evolution. While Rhyperior remained undiscovered, Giovanni's alternate memories hinted at its potential.
In Johto, Rocket scouts bribed museum workers for held items. In Sinnoh, teams smuggled stones from Mount Coronet. The war had drained ambition from most—but Giovanni rebuilt. Quietly. Strategically.
Training the Beasts
After taming Onix, Giovanni realized he needed to balance training between his elite squad and his growing roster. The underground fortress became their battleground—a place where the earth itself seemed to tremble under the weight of their clashes.
The Giant Onix had been unruly at first, rampaging through the caverns until Giovanni enforced the carrot-and-stick method. Obedience was rewarded with premium Pokéchow and mineral-rich feasts; defiance met with his team's collective punishment. Slowly, loyalty was forged—not through fear, but through the unspoken understanding that here, strength was honed, not wasted.
And then, the rivalry began.
Rhydon, ever the stubborn titan, challenged Onix daily. Size favored the serpentine beast, but Rhydon's cunning turned the tide in sporadic victories—ducking under a Rock Throw to land a crippling Hammer Arm, or luring Onix into a trap with Sand Attack. These battles became spectacles, dust clouds choking the cavern air as the other Pokémon paused to watch.
Inspired, the rest of his team threw themselves into training with feverish intensity:
Charizard, its wings casting monstrous shadows, sparred against three Pokémon at once—Dugtrio's rapid digs, Nidoqueen's venomous jabs, and Persian's razor claws. It relished the chaos.
Dugtrio and Nidoking turned their bouts into earth-shaking drills, collapsing tunnels only to rebuild them faster.
Persian and Raticate dueled like assassins—one with aristocratic precision, the other with street-brawler grit.They had a varied arsenal of moves due to being normal types.
Sandslash and Marowak shadowed the elites, their claws and bones scraping against stone as they mimicked Earthquake's tremors. Marowak's bone club became a whirlwind, its hollow eyes burning with something akin to pride.
His newer Pokémon, once untested, now thrived in the hierarchy:
Krookorok (evolved from Sandile) had annihilated a 3-badge trainer's Wartortle in a single sweep after evolving , its jagged teeth glinting mid-battle. Giovanni had no choice but to promote it to the 4–6 badge tier.
Gligar, though mischievous, had mastered evasion—flipping over attacks with a bat's grace before retaliating with Swords Dance-boosted strikes. It taunted opponents now, clicking its pincers mockingly.
Drilbur, drilling alongside Dugtrio, had mastered the use of dig recently it began to show signs of evolution.
.Larvitar summoned sandstorms on instinct, its tiny body humming with latent power. It trailed after Rhydon like a shadow, studying every stomp.
Gible, the runt of the litter, had become a terror at the 3-badge level. Its Dragon Breath scorched challengers, and its Dig attacks struck from below like a shark in sand. Giovanni had caught it gnawing on a fallen Geodude's arm once—he'd allowed it.
The Hoenn Gambit
Giovanni's files on Hoenn had grown thick over the months.
He'd monitored the region's civil war with detached interest—not avoiding it out of fear, but strategy. Sending operatives into a fractured nation risked exposure, and Giovanni preferred his moves unseen. Now, with the conflict resolved and the dust settling, his gaze sharpened.
Hoenn was ripe.
Ground-types prowled its deserts and caverns—potential additions to his arsenal.Be it Pokemon like Trapinch , Aron , Baltoy or the Nummel line . But more valuable than Pokémon was Devon Corporation.
His alternate memories flickered with certainty: Devon was Silph's future rival.
His early investments in Silph had already paid dividends. Their research into Technical Machines—devices that could teach Pokémon moves beyond their natural limits—was progressing. As a board member, he'd receive the first prototypes. A privilege he intended to exploit.
Yet Hoenn... Hoenn required finesse.
Obtaining travel permits would draw scrutiny, but Giovanni had levers to pull. Bureaucrats could be bought. Ships could be rerouted. And if all else failed?
There were always tunnels.
The region offered more than business opportunities. Its very landscape was a challenge—volcanoes that bred fire-types, oceans hiding ancient leviathans, and rumors of a beast slumbering in magma that made even his Onix seem small.
Giovanni closed the dossier.
Soon.
Chapter Interlude: Sweet Investments
Giovanni had visited Delia's stall thirteen times this month.
He told himself it was reconnaissance—studying the future mother of Kanto's Champion. Purely strategic. Yet he noted irrelevant details: her flour-smudged cheek, the way her hums syncopated with kneading rhythms, how she laughed when pastries failed.
Distractions.
Yet he cataloged them.
Scene: Viridian Market – Twilight
Delia's hands moved deftly as children clamored for her singing Jigglypuff pastries. She didn't look up when the shadow fell across her stall, but her shoulders stiffened.
He carried silence with him, that man—like air before a storm.
"The glaze improved."
Delia's spoon froze. That voice—cool, deliberate—always unsettled her.
She turned, wiping sugared hands. "Excuse me?"
Giovanni stood arms-behind-back, analyzing her wares like battle plans. "Last week's caramelized too fast. These," he nodded at golden-brown confections, "are exact."
Delia's cheeks warmed. "I've never burned anything!"
His smirk barely surfaced. "Is that so?"
"...Have we met?"
A calculated pause.
"Not formally," he lied. He knew her supplier routes, her habit of tucking hair when nervous. "But I remembered you."
Delia exhaled sharply. "You're that War hero right ?"
A child dropped a pastry.
"Giovanni," he said, as casually as noting the weather. "Former Liberation Army commander. Now... professional badge distributor ."
Delia's laugh sparkled. "Is that supposed to reassure me?"
"Depends," he said, reaching past her for a dumpling—fingers deliberately avoiding contact. "On how badly you want badges."
"Pass." She crossed her arms. "I'm done with training."
"Pity." He bit into the pastry—tangy berries balanced by honey. Like her, part of him mused. "Kanto's loss."
Their gazes locked. Nearby, Meowth gagged on stolen sweets.
The Unspoken Game
A rhythm emerged Giovanni started spending quite some time at her shop :
Tuesdays: He arrived at closing, critiquing recipes with tactical precision. "The custard's viscosity is inconsistent."
Fridays: She left black coffee by the register—unsweetened, uncreamed. His preference.
Rainy Days: They spoke of everything but war, their conversations lingering like the damp.
"Why Viridian?" she'd asked once, pounding dough.
"Strategic position," he'd deflected.
Delia had snorted. "Liar. You hate humidity."
He hadn't denied it.
He didnt want to acknowledge it but he liked spending time with Delia it was becoming less of a strategy and more of an actual interest for him .