The Perfect Disguise

Summary: Petrel devises the perfect prank in celebration of April Fools Day. Look out, Proton.

Genre: Humor

Just something I whipped up in time for April Fools Day this year. Feel free to read this story on fanfiction(dot)net, too, if you have an account there. My screen name is PurpleArmadillo. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Game Freak, Nintendo, and the Pokémon Company

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This was going to be the best April Fools prank ever! Petrel thought happily to himself as he leaned over his dresser to inspect his face in the large mirror. He stroked his purple goatee and frowned slightly before reaching down and digging through his make-up kit. There was no way he was shaving it off, so he'd just have to cover it up instead. The Rocket executive pulled out a small prosthetic piece and began carefully applying it to his chin.

Once that was done, he stepped back and gave his reflection a final look over. Yes! He clapped his hands together, beaming proudly at his handiwork. His disguise was perfect.

A peek at the clock hanging on the wall informed him he was right on schedule: it was ten minutes until midnight: the glorious hour in which April Fools Day would begin. Petrel had waited all day and all night for this moment. And now he was prepared to pull off the greatest prank in Team Rocket history! No one would ever forget it!

A wide mischievous grin formed on his lips, and he cackled like a madman as he stepped out of the room and into the hallway. Now to find an unsuspecting victim...

xxx​

Proton sat behind the desk in his room, typing away on his laptop as he hurried to finish his mission report for Archer before the morning's deadline. He mentally kicked himself for procrastinating. He really shouldn't have waited until the day before to work on it, but he had been incredibly busy lately.

His tired eyes burned in protest from staring at the computer screen for so long. He rubbed them and then blinked, frowning suddenly as he realized the room had grown very dark. When did that happen? The afternoon must have slipped away without him noticing. Pale moonlight filtered onto the carpet from between the window drapes, and a glance at his computer clock revealed it was approaching midnight.

Heaving a sigh, Proton dragged himself from his chair and stretched his stiff legs. His foot was asleep and he had lost feeling in his butt long ago. The teal-haired criminal yawned loudly and shuffled towards the door to turn the lights on.

Unfortunately, darkness plus a messy room created a rather disastrous obstacle course.

He had barely taken three steps when he smashed his toe against something hard; a string of colorful language left his mouth as he toppled head first over the invisible object and crashed to the floor. Great, if he had just broken his toe--! This was all Archer's fault for assigning him that stupid report in the first place, he thought irritably. Of course, he knew that was a ridiculous notion, but it cheered him up a bit blaming his misfortune on someone else.

Proton pealed his face off the carpet and regained his feet. He was more careful this time as he inched the remaining distance to the door and flipped the switch on with a gloved finger. Light flooded the place, causing him to squint while his eyes readjusted.

"So, you're the sneaky little culprit," he snorted at the red vacuum cleaner lying innocently in the middle of the floor. He had brought it upstairs two weeks ago, only to promptly forget about it. Apparently, his room looked like a tornado had thrown up all over the place, as Petrel so eloquently liked to describe it.

But it hadn't always been this untidy. With his current schedule and workload, Proton barely had enough free time to eat dinner before he flopped into bed for the night. He had fallen into the bad habit of tossing things such as dirty socks into a corner, telling himself he'd put them away in the morning. Only that never happened. The process would repeat itself, and soon the small bunch of socks had grown into a large pile of various clutter.

Honestly though, the mess wasn't that bad. He'd get around to cleaning it...eventually.

The executive shot the vacuum another glare for good measure as he edged around it and plopped back down into his chair. He peered at the computer screen with a fresh sigh; there was still a lot more writing he needed to do. Maybe the power of caffeine would help him stay awake long enough to finish.

Proton grabbed the nearby coffee cup he had been drinking out of earlier and raised it to his lips. He took a sip only to discover it was now stone cold. He swallowed with a grimace. Well, better than nothing, he shrugged. He wasn't about to trek all the way down to the kitchen with a throbbing foot just to warm up half a cup.

As he took another sip, he caught sight of a dark shape moving out of the corner of his eye. Startled, he glanced up and nearly spit his mouthful of coffee onto his laptop.

Giovanni, ex-leader of Team Rocket, was standing in the doorway garbed in a weathered trench coat and equally faded hat.

Proton did a double-take, clutching at the edge of his desk to save himself from falling off his seat in shock. He choked on his drink. The unexpected visitor was greeted with a tremendous coughing fit.

"S-Sir!" he gasped once he had recovered.

He sprang to his feet and nodded his head respectfully. For a second he simply stared, dumbfounded, not knowing what to say to his former Boss' magical appearance. "I-You came back. We've been searching everywhere for you, ever since you left three years ago. We never doubted someday you'd return to us." Proton realized his jaw was still hanging open, and he shut it.

Giovanni watched his disbelief with an air of amusement.

"It has been quite a while, hasn't it?" he replied casually, taking the liberty of stepping over the threshold and into the room. "I see you haven't changed at all since the last time I saw you." But then his sharp dark gaze took in the messy state of their surroundings, and he seemed to rethink that comment.

Proton shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like the expression Giovanni was giving him, so he decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"What do you plan to do now, sir?" He wasn't going to lie — he was excited at this miraculous turn of events. "...It's been a long time since we got to pull off any real, big heists."

"Well," Giovanni flashed him a pointed look as he answered, "now that I've resumed leadership of Team Rocket, my first order of business is to clean house."

Proton's eyebrows shot up into his teal colored hairline. He didn't like where this was going.

The Boss' face deadpanned as he went on, "As you know, I have high expectations for all of the recruits who are promoted to executive status, especially the ones I handpick myself. Strong organization skill is one of the qualities I look for."

Crap, Proton thought, bracing himself for the worst as a sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't believe it. His old boss, who had been gone for three whole years, had suddenly shown up outside his door in the middle of the night...to fire him. All because of his room.

"Wait, sir, I can explain." Proton gestured toward the red vacuum. "My Zubat got out of its Pokéball earlier this evening and shot all over the place like a bat out of hell. I was gonna take care of the mess first thing in the morning." He swallowed hard when Giovanni didn't appear to be buying his story.

Then, to his utter surprise and confusion, his leader broke into a huge grin and actually started laughing at him.

What the...?

Proton stared, jaw wide open, as he watched Giovanni reach up and rip off part of his chin. The executive's shock swiftly flared into anger when he caught sight of a purple goatee lying beneath. He swore loudly.

"Man, I can't believe you, Petrel! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"I know," the imposter Giovanni wiped tears from his eyes as he shook with laughter. "You should've seen your face! It's too bad I forgot my camera, cuz that was priceless! Best. Prank. Ever."

"I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself, P," Proton glared murderously. He took a step forward. "Because it's also the last prank you'll ever pull, if you don't run fast enough."

"Aww, c'mon, Pro. Deep down I know you appreciate my jokes," Petrel called over his shoulder as he bolted out of the room and down the hallway with Proton on his tail.

FIN​