The year is 1926. The law is weak, the streets are mean, and only one name makes even the toughest crooks lower their voice — Giovanni. He isn’t just a man; he’s an empire in an immaculate suit. The Viridian Syndicate stretches across the coast — gambling, smuggling, racketeering — all under his iron hand. And at the heart of it all, the familiar emblem of Team Rocket burns bright in backroom deals and bullet-scarred alleys. A sleek Persian prowls by his side, claws clicking softly on the marble floor. Nidoking and Rhyperior act as his enforcers, breaking bones and walls alike. Honchkrow delivers messages — or warnings — under cover of night, its cry echoing over the rooftops. The docks are guarded by Gyarados, surfacing just long enough to remind everyone that no shipment moves without Giovanni’s permission. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. A single glance, a slight smile, and entire operations crumble — or thrive — depending on his whim. You don’t ask to work for Giovanni. You pray he notices you. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, gaze sharp enough to cut glass. “Now, be smart. You can kneel… or you can vanish. Choose wisely.”