Jace, a guy in his mid-twenties, wandered through the city streets with no real purpose. He wasn't running errands or meeting friends. He was just... Walking.
Technically, he told himself he was "getting some fresh air," though being surrounded by exhaust fumes and honking horns probably didn't count. After several days of being holed up in his apartment, endlessly grinding through the latest Pokémon game, it was probably time to remember what the sun looked like.
"Playing Pokémon nonstop probably isn't healthy," he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
Jace had been a Pokémon fan ever since high school. Funny thing was, he hadn't even liked Pokémon at first. He only got into it because of a girl he liked one who always talked about her favorite Pokemon ,game and anime to her friends. He thought if he learned about it, maybe they'd have something to talk about.
Unfortunately, she had a boyfriend.
Devastated? Sure. But in the end, it didn't matter. Jace had unexpectedly fallen in love... with the franchise. From that point on, he dove in headfirst games, lore, theories. You name it, he knew it. He played every mainline game, even the obscure spin-offs. Pokémon became his comfort zone.
Now, years later, here he was unemployed, framed by his coworkers and let go without a fight. Depression crept in quietly, and before he knew it, days blurred together, spent staring at screens, caught in a loop of pixelated battles and forgotten dreams.
Today was supposed to be a small step forward.
And then he saw it.
A young boy was fiddling with a vending machine on the corner. It was one of those bulky old ones, the kind you had to practically punch to get anything out of. Jace glanced at the kid, then looked away.
But then the machine tilted.
His heart skipped.
The vending machine wobbled dangerously, its center of gravity shifting.
"Hey!" Jace shouted, already moving.
Without thinking, he lunged forward and shoved the kid out of the way. A split second later, the metal beast came crashing down.
Right on him.
CRASH.
The impact echoed. Time froze.
It shouldn't have killed him. Sure, it might've broken a few ribs, maybe knocked the wind out of him but death? That was overkill.
Then again, Jace hadn't exactly been taking care of himself lately. Weeks of junk food, no exercise, and a sleep schedule that defied physics had taken their toll. His body gave out in a blink.
Then darkness.
Complete and total darkness.
Until...
"So... this is the one?"
A commanding voice echoed in the void, sharp and cold.
Jace's eyes snapped open.
He wasn't in pain. He wasn't in a hospital. He wasn't even lying down.
He was seated, upright, in a sleek leather chair. The room was dim, with metallic walls and sharp, geometric corners. A tall man stood in front of him, arms behind his back, radiating the kind of authority that made Jace's skin crawl.
He looked familiar uncomfortably so.
Jace tried to speak, to move, but his body wouldn't respond. He was frozen in place like a puppet on invisible strings.
The man began to speak.
"Sylas. You've been promoted. Effective immediately, you are now the acting Admin of the Pewter City outpost."
Admin? Pewter City...?
Jace's mind reeled. It couldn't be. Could it?
The man continued, detailing operations, duties, expectations. All of it sounded like the kind of thing a villain might say in a video game cutscene.
Then it hit him.
The sharp suit. The cold tone. The Persian by his side. The sheer pressure rolling off of him like a Gyarados's glare.
That's... Giovanni.
Jace—no, Sylas? was dismissed with a wave of the hand. Without knowing how, his body moved on its own, stepping out of the office and into a long corridor.
The moment the door slid shut behind him, the tension released. He stumbled, sweating, gasping for breath like he'd just escaped a Snorlax's body slam.
"What the hell is happening...?"
He looked around. The hallway was metallic and sterile, but something about it buzzed with familiarity. Something out of fiction. His memories felt scattered he remembered the boy, the vending machine, and now... this?
Did I get... reincarnated?
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice.
"Admin Sylas?"
Jace turned to see a man in a black uniform approaching. He had short brown hair, a clean-cut look, and the unmistakable red R printed across his chest.
"My name is Karl," the man said with a respectful nod. "I've been assigned to assist you. If you'll follow me?"
Jace's brain screamed at him to ask questions, demand answers, do something but his feet moved anyway, trailing behind Karl.
They passed through the corridor, the walls gradually opening up until they emerged into a massive underground hangar. Jace's jaw dropped.
Grunts in black uniforms hurried to and fro, some carrying crates, others checking equipment. But it wasn't the people that stunned him.
It was the Pokémon.
A Growlithe napped beside a storage bin. A Zubat flapped lazily under a dim light. A Machoke was helping lift some equipment like it was made of cardboard.
Jace froze.
This wasn't a dream.
This wasn't some VR simulation.
This was real.
He had really, actually, impossibly... been reincarnated into the Pokémon world.
Karl noticed his silence. "Something wrong, sir?"
Jace couldn't answer. His eyes were wide, his breathing shallow.
And then
Ding!
Team Rocket Admin System initiating...
Welcome , Host!
Jace blinked.
"I what the—"
---
Sylas formerly Jace, proud citizen, lifelong Pokémon fan, and vending machine victim was still reeling as he followed the man named Karl down a narrow hallway that reeked of metal and disinfectant.
Despite being addressed as "sir" and "admin," Sylas couldn't shake the feeling that Karl had zero respect for him. It wasn't anything Karl said directly just the subtle way he walked a step ahead instead of behind, or the way he almost rolled his eyes when saying "sir."
Yeah. Total disrespect.
Not that I blame him, Sylas thought bitterly. I don't even respect myself right now.
Floating beside him, translucent and flickering like a badly coded HUD, was what looked like a system window.
> [System Installation: 87% Complete]
He sighed and looked around as they walked. This was real. He really had been reincarnated into the Pokémon world.
Like every fan, he had imagined this moment a thousand times. Battling gym leaders, catching rare Pokémon, traveling with friends, and maybe even making it to the Pokémon League.
But instead?
He was now an admin for Team Rocket.
A criminal organization.
"I'm a law-abiding citizen! Why am I suddenly a criminal?!" he cried internally, groaning into his palm.
Eventually, Karl stopped in front of a metallic platform guarded by a stern-looking man and wait. Was that an Alakazam standing next to him?
Sylas immediately recognized the Pokémon, its spoons floating midair, eyes glowing with unreadable power.
Karl turned to Sylas, expression unreadable. "This is the teleportation point. Alakazam will be transporting you to your assigned post in Pewter City. You'll be responsible for all Rocket activities within that zone. Do try to live up to the position... Admin."
There it was again. Admin. It sounded impressive. Powerful, even.
Then the world twisted.
There was no countdown. No warning.
Just a sudden wrenching sensation in his gut, as though his intestines had decided to moonwalk out of his body.
And then pop.
Sylas was no longer standing on the sleek metal platform.
He was sprawled on the cracked tile floor of a different facility, eyes spinning, bile rising in his throat. He managed to stumble to his hands and knees before
> Huuuurgh...!
Teleportation, it turned out, was not for the weak of stomach.
After a minute or two of dry-heaving and quietly reevaluating every life choice he had ever made, Sylas finally stood and looked around.
And immediately wished he hadn't.
The place was... rough. The ceiling was leaking in three places. Vines snaked through cracks in the walls. The air smelled like mildew, dust, and maybe something dead behind a vent.
This is my post...?
Sylas stared in disbelief. This wasn't an outpost. It was a health hazard.
Still trying to cling to some form of optimism, he whispered, "Maybe the inside's better...?"
He stepped through the doorway.
It was not better.
Flickering lights. Cracked monitors. A broken table. And what looked suspiciously like a Rattata skeleton in the corner.
This isn't a base. This is a disaster zone.
Wasn't he supposed to be an admin? Weren't admins supposed to command entire squads of grunts, have a team of powerful Pokémon, and operate from shadowy fortresses?
This was barely a public restroom with ambitions.
Before he could spiral any further, five figures appeared from the side hallway.
Three guys. Two girls.
They looked like background NPCs who had wandered out of a rejected Pokémon side quest. One guy was rail-thin, nervously twitching. Another was chubby, eating chips straight from the bag. The third wore thick glasses and had a bandolier of Poké Balls that clinked with every step.
As for the girls one had oversized spectacles and clutched a clipboard like it was a shield. The other simply smiled. A wide, unsettling grin that did not reach her eyes.
They stood in a half-formed line and saluted awkwardly.
"Welcome, Admin Sylas!"
Sylas stared at them. His five grunts. This was it?
This is my entire staff?!
First, he dies. Then, he's told he's an admin. And now he's dropped into a moldy Pokémon dungeon with five questionably sane coworkers.
I got scammed, he realized, numb.
Then—ding.
The system window reappeared, this time fully loaded and glowing.
[Admin System Online]
Name: Sylas
Age: 26
Team Rocket Rank: Admin
Special Ability: Poker Face – your expression always remain neutral.
Current Team: Golbat (Lv. 25), Teddiursa (Lv. 18)
Sylas stared blankly.
Poker Face...?
Golbat and Teddiursa...?
"How the hell did I become an admin with this team?" he whispered aloud.
Then another window popped up:
> New Quest: Restore the Pewter City Outpost to operational status.
Time Limit: 30 Days
Penalty for Failure: Death.
Reward : ???
---
Sylas blinked.
Penalty for—wait... WHAT?!
"...Fuck this shit," he muttered under his breath.
---
Far from the crumbling ruins of the Pewter City outpost, deep within the sleek marble corridors of Team Rocket's main headquarters, Giovanni sat behind a towering obsidian desk.
Stacks of intel files were spread across the surface, flanked by monitors displaying maps, trainer data, and intercepted Pokémon League communications. His Persian lay curled beside his chair, its crimson eyes half-lidded in a calm, yet always-ready state.
The room was silent save for the occasional tap of keys as Giovanni typed commands into a sleek, custom terminal.
Then the doors slid open.
Karl stepped in.
He approached with the careful confidence of a man who knew his place back straight, steps measured, and head slightly bowed.
Giovanni didn't look up.
"Karl," he said, his voice as calm and cold as ever. "Speak."
Karl cleared his throat.
"If I may, sir... I wish to inquire about your decision regarding the new admin placement."
Now Giovanni looked up, slowly. His dark eyes met Karl's, unreadable.
Karl continued, carefully choosing his words. "Why did you promote that one?" His tone still respectful, but laced with confusion. "That grunt Sylas. His record is unimpressive at best. He failed his last field assignment, his combat stats are below average, and he only has two Pokémon one of which is a Teddiursa."
A pause.
Giovanni chuckled.
It was low and soft, but the kind of sound that made even Persian lift its head.
Karl stiffened.
"You think I made a mistake?" Giovanni asked, voice almost amused.
"N-No, sir. I would never presume—"
"You think I handed a critical position to a weakling... by accident?"
Giovanni rose from his chair.
He walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the sprawling underground network of the base below. After a long moment, he spoke.
"That outpost... is nothing."
Karl blinked.
"It was once part of an experimental research site off the books, abandoned years ago. Toxic remnants, unstable systems. No trainer with a future would willingly be assigned there. But the League has started sniffing around again. They've grown arrogant. Curious."
He turned slightly, profile now visible in the dim glow of the room.
"I don't expect Sylas to succeed. Frankly, I don't care if he lives."
Karl remained silent.
"That outpost is bait. A lure. A disposable decoy. Whether the League catches wind of his presence, whether wild Pokémon tear him apart, or whether he simply breaks down under the pressure... doesn't matter."
Giovanni's eyes narrowed.
"What matters is that the League sends their scouts to investigate that post instead of the ones that do matter."
Understanding dawned in Karl's eyes.
"You're using him as a distraction."
"Precisely."
Giovanni finally turned fully toward him.
"A grunt of no significance. A face no one will remember. A weak link with just enough flare to catch a League officer's interest... and just enough incompetence to ensure it leads nowhere."
Karl lowered his gaze and nodded.
"As expected of you, sir. Ruthless and efficient."
Giovanni smirked, returning to his desk.
"Let the boy play admin. The moment he collapses, we'll clean up the mess... and move on."
Karl bowed.
"Yes, Boss Giovanni."