Chapter 55: Briv VS Samantha
The training grounds stretched empty beneath a sky the color of old bruises.
Briv stood at the center of the field with his boots planted wide, his breath misting in the cold morning air. Monferno crouched across from him—tail blazing, fists clenched, eyes locked on an invisible opponent. Riolu practiced alone near the treeline, its movements precise, each punch and kick slicing through the silence like a blade. Gible sat on a low stone wall, its massive mouth hanging open, watching everything with wide, hungry eyes.
"Again," Briv said.
Monferno lunged—left, right, spin—its flaming tail carving an arc through the air. It landed three strikes in rapid succession, each one aimed at the space where an enemy's ribs would be.
"Good. Now the counter."
Monferno spun, dropped low, and swept its leg outward. It rose with a backflip, flames flaring brighter, and landed in a fighting stance.
Briv nodded.
"Better."
Riolu broke from its solo training and trotted over, its red eyes gleaming with approval. It nudged Monferno with its shoulder, and the fire type responded with a playful shove that nearly knocked the smaller Pokémon off its feet.
"Easy," Briv said.
Monferno chuffed—a sound that might have been laughter—and helped Riolu back up. Gible watched the exchange with unblinking curiosity, its tiny arms folded across its round blue belly.
Briv was reaching for his water bottle when the air changed.
It was subtle at first—a shift in pressure, a taste of copper at the back of his throat. The breeze died. The grass stopped swaying. Even the distant hum of Aethelburg's morning traffic seemed to fade.
Monferno's tail flared brighter.
Riolu's ears flattened.
Gible rose slowly, its massive mouth opening wider, catching a scent that Briv couldn't detect.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps. Two sets. One measured—crisp, deliberate, the stride of someone who had never been rushed in their life. The other wild—uneven, almost dancing, each step landing with a weight that didn't match its rhythm.
Briv turned.
They emerged from the treeline like figures stepping out of a fever dream.
The man was tall, elegant, dressed in black so deep it seemed to swallow the light. His hair was dark as ink, swept back from a face that could have been carved from marble—high cheekbones, a sharp jaw, lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. His eyes were the color of frozen lakes, pale and piercing, and they fixed on Briv with the calm, clinical precision of a surgeon assessing a wound.
The woman beside him was chaos given form.
Her hair was violet—not the soft lavender of twilight, but the electric purple of a storm about to break. It fell past her shoulders in wild waves, framing a face that was all sharp angles and smirking lips. Her eyes were the same shade, manic and magnetic, darting from Briv to Monferno to Gible with the hungry curiosity of a predator who hadn't decided what to kill first.
She wore red. Bright, arterial red. A cropped jacket over a black corset, tight leather pants that clung to every curve, boots that clicked against the stone like the ticking of a bomb.
"Well, well," she said. Her voice was honey and broken glass. "The champion himself."
Briv didn't move.
"Who are you?"
The man answered. His voice was soft—almost gentle—but it cut through the air like a scalpel.
"Niklaus Eterngust." He inclined his head a fraction of an inch. "And this is my wife, Samantha."
Samantha grinned. It was the kind of smile that belonged on a wanted poster.
"You're Briv Ambertone," she said. "Last year's League champion. The funny guy. The smart guy. The one everyone's been talking about."
"And you're Eclipse Squad."
Niklaus's expression didn't change.
"Perceptive."
"What do you want?"
Samantha laughed—a bright, manic sound that bounced off the distant towers of Aethelburg.
"Straight to business. I like that." She stepped closer, her boots clicking against the stone. "We're not here to fight. Not yet. We're here to... assess."
"Assess what?"
"You." Her purple eyes glittered. "The people who've been sticking their noses where they don't belong."
Briv's jaw tightened.
"The stone."
Niklaus's pale eyes flickered.
"You know about the stone."
"I know you stole it."
"We liberated it." Samantha twirled a strand of violet hair around her finger. "There's a difference."
"From the marsh. From the thing that was sealed beneath it."
Samantha's grin widened.
"Oh, you've been talking to the old man. Ezekiel. How is the fossil? Still breathing?"
Briv's hands clenched.
"What do you want with the stone?"
Niklaus stepped forward, his presence cold and suffocating.
"That's not your concern."
"The hell it isn't."
"It isn't." Niklaus's voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "You're a trainer, Briv Ambertone. A good one—maybe even a great one. But this isn't a battle. This isn't a League match. This is something older. Something you can't comprehend."
"Try me."
Samantha clapped her hands together.
"Oh, I like him. Nik, can we keep him?"
"No."
"Fine. Can we break him?"
Niklaus's lips curved—a ghost of a smile.
"That depends on him."
Briv's Pokémon had formed a semicircle behind him. Monferno's flames crackled. Riolu's fists were clenched. Gible's massive jaw worked silently, its nostrils flaring.
Samantha noticed them.
Her eyes—those wild, purple eyes—danced with delight.
"Three Pokémon. Monferno, Riolu, Gible." She tilted her head. "Interesting team. No water. No electric. Heavy on offense, light on defense. You're a gambler."
"He's a fighter," Niklaus corrected. "Aggressive. Relentless. Predictable."
"I'm standing right here," Briv said.
Samantha laughed again.
"I know."
She reached into her jacket and pulled out three Poké Balls. They gleamed in the pale morning light—black and gold, unlike anything Briv had seen before.
"Let's make a deal," she said.
"I'm listening."
"A battle. Three-on-three. Right here, right now." She spun the balls between her fingers. "If I win, you tell everyone to back off. Stop poking around the Eclipse Squad. Stop looking for the stone. Stop trying to play hero."
"And if I win?"
Samantha's grin turned feral.
"Then maybe I'll tell you something useful."
Briv studied her.
She was dangerous—he could see it in the way she moved, the way her eyes tracked everything, the way her fingers kept drifting toward her Poké Balls like a gunslinger's hands hovering over holsters. She was chaos wrapped in red leather, and she wanted him to dance.
He looked at Niklaus.
The man was still watching him with that cold, clinical gaze. Assessing. Calculating. Waiting.
"Fine," Briv said.
Samantha's grin exploded into something radiant and terrifying.
"Perfect."
---
Axel appeared from the shadows.
Briv didn't know when the man had arrived—he hadn't heard footsteps, hadn't sensed a presence—but suddenly Axel was there, leaning against the stone wall with his Rotom flickering at his shoulder, his green eyes sharp and unreadable.
"I'll referee," he said.
Samantha's eyes narrowed.
"Axel Dualblade. The man with one Pokémon and a reputation that precedes him."
Axel didn't respond.
Niklaus studied him with renewed interest.
"You're Eclipse Squad," Axel said. "Or you were. Before you started thinking for yourself."
Niklaus's expression didn't change.
"And you're the man who's been watching us."
"I'm the man who's been waiting."
Samantha clapped her hands.
"Enough foreplay. Let's fight."
---
The field was cleared.
Axel stood at the center, his Rotom hovering above his shoulder like a nervous firefly. Briv and Samantha faced each other across twenty yards of grass, their Poké Balls ready, their teams gathered behind them.
"Standard League rules," Axel said. "Three-on-three. No items. No switching unless a Pokémon faints. First trainer to lose all three loses."
Briv nodded.
Samantha grinned.
"Trainers, ready your first Pokémon."
Samantha moved first.
Drapion materialized in a burst of purple light—a massive, armored scorpion that loomed over the field like a nightmare given flesh. Its carapace was the color of dried blood, its claws clicking, its tail arched high with venom dripping from the stinger. Its eyes—small, red, cruel—fixed on Briv with predatory hunger.
Briv reached for his own ball.
Gible.
The dragon-ground type appeared in a swirl of blue and brown, its round body settling onto the grass with a soft thud. It was small—barely two feet tall—but its massive mouth was already open, its tiny teeth bared, its eyes locked on Drapion with fearless determination.
Samantha laughed.
"A Gible? Against my Drapion?" She shook her head. "You're a gambler, alright."
"Begin," Axel said.
Samantha attacked first.
"Poison Sting."
Drapion's tail whipped forward—faster than something that size had any right to move—and a barrage of purple needles erupted from its stinger. They streaked toward Gible like a rain of venom.
"Dig," Briv shouted.
Gible vanished—burrowing into the earth with a speed that belied its round body. The poison needles struck the ground where it had been standing, sizzling into the grass, leaving smoking craters behind.
Samantha tilted her head.
"Interesting."
"Now."
Gible erupted from beneath Drapion—its massive mouth clamping down on the scorpion's armored leg. The crunch of chitin echoed across the field. Drapion roared—a sound that was equal parts pain and fury—and tried to shake the dragon off.
"Bite!" Briv shouted.
Gible's jaws clenched tighter. Cracks spiderwebbed across Drapion's carapace.
"Get it off," Samantha said. Her voice was still playful, but there was an edge to it now—a blade hidden beneath the silk. "Poison Jab."
Drapion's claw swung down—a massive fist wrapped in purple energy—and struck Gible square in the back. The dragon-ground type was sent tumbling across the grass, its round body rolling before it skidded to a stop.
It rose.
Its back was cracked. Its breath was ragged. But it rose.
"Again," Briv said.
"Dragon Rage."
Gible's mouth opened—and a torrent of blue-white energy erupted outward, a beam of pure draconic fury that streaked toward Drapion like a comet.
Samantha's eyes widened.
"Cross Poison!"
Drapion's claws crossed—purple energy flaring—and met the Dragon Rage head-on. The two attacks collided in a blinding explosion of light and sound.
When the smoke cleared, both Pokémon were still standing.
Gible's attack had been powerful—devastating, even—but Drapion was bigger, stronger, and infinitely more experienced. The scorpion's carapace was cracked in a dozen places, but it was still standing. Still fighting. Still hungry.
"That was impressive," Samantha said. "Really. I mean that."
Briv didn't respond.
"But it wasn't enough."
"Poison Jab."
Drapion lunged—faster than before, its claw swinging down like a guillotine. Gible tried to dodge, but its body was too damaged, its reflexes too slow.
The attack connected.
Gible collapsed.
It didn't get up.
"Briv's Gible is unable to continue," Axel said. "Trainer, send out your next Pokémon."
---
Briv recalled Gible, his hand trembling.
The dragon-ground type had fought well—better than well. It had cracked Drapion's armor, forced Samantha to take the fight seriously, proven that a small Pokémon could punch above its weight.
But it hadn't been enough.
He reached for his second ball.
Riolu.
The fighting type materialized in a burst of blue light, its compact body settling onto the grass with quiet grace. Its red eyes fixed on Drapion—not with fear, but with calm assessment. It could sense the scorpion's emotions through aura—the pain, the anger, the bloodlust—and it knew this was an enemy it couldn't afford to underestimate.
Samantha recalled Drapion.
"Good fight," she said. "But I think I'll save Drapion for later."
She reached for her second ball.
Gengar.
The ghost-poison type materialized in a swirl of purple mist, its grinning face emerging from the shadows like a nightmare given form. It was round and squat, its body dark as midnight, its eyes glowing red. It hovered above the ground, its claws flexing, its laughter echoing across the field like breaking glass.
Riolu didn't flinch.
"Begin," Axel said.
Briv attacked first.
"Quick Attack."
Riolu vanished—a blur of blue and black—and reappeared behind Gengar. Its fist, glowing with fighting-type energy, shot forward like a piston.
It passed through Gengar's body like smoke.
Samantha laughed.
"Shadow Punch."
Gengar's fist—wreathed in purple shadows—struck Riolu from behind. The fighting type was sent tumbling across the grass, its body skidding before it found its footing.
It rose.
Its chest was heaving. Its aura was flickering. But it rose.
"Close Combat," Briv shouted.
Riolu lunged—a flurry of punches and kicks, each one aimed with surgical precision. But Gengar was faster—its ghostly body twisting and phasing, avoiding every strike with the lazy grace of a cat playing with a mouse.
"Hypnosis."
Gengar's eyes glowed.
Riolu's movements slowed. Its eyelids drooped. Its fists dropped to its sides.
"Now," Samantha said. "Dream Eater."
Gengar's grin widened—stretching impossibly—and a wave of purple energy erupted from its body. It washed over Riolu like a tide, draining the fighting type's energy, its dreams, its will to fight.
Riolu's knees buckled.
It fell.
It didn't get up.
"Briv's Riolu is unable to continue," Axel said. "Trainer, send out your final Pokémon."
---
Briv recalled Riolu, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Two down. One left.
He looked at Monferno.
The fire-fighting type was already standing at the edge of the field, its tail blazing, its fists clenched. It didn't wait for a command. It walked past Briv and took its place on the field, its eyes locked on Gengar with a fury that bordered on hatred.
Samantha tilted her head.
"Monferno. Your starter."
Briv didn't answer.
"I've read about you, you know." Samantha's voice was soft now—almost admiring. "The trainer who came from nothing. The trainer who fought his way to the top with nothing but guts and a fire type that wouldn't quit."
She smiled.
"I wonder if you're still that trainer."
"Begin," Axel said.
Samantha attacked first.
"Shadow Ball."
Gengar's hands came together—purple energy swirling between them—and a sphere of ghostly power erupted outward. It streaked toward Monferno like a bullet.
"Flame Wheel," Briv shouted.
Monferno's body ignited—a spinning wheel of fire that rolled across the grass with devastating speed. The Shadow Ball struck the flames and detonated, but Monferno burst through the explosion like a meteor, its momentum unbroken.
It slammed into Gengar.
The ghost type reeled—its body flickering, its grin faltering—and for the first time since the battle began, Samantha's smile wavered.
"Mach Punch!"
Monferno's fist—glowing with fighting-type energy—shot forward like a piston. It struck Gengar square in the face, and the ghost type was sent tumbling through the air.
It didn't recover.
It hit the ground. It didn't get up.
"Samantha's Gengar is unable to continue," Axel said. "Trainer, send out your next Pokémon."
---
Samantha recalled Gengar, her purple eyes glittering.
"Now that," she said, "was impressive."
She reached for her final ball.
"I was going to save this one for later. But you've earned it."
She threw the ball.
Garchomp materialized in a burst of golden light—a dragon that towered over the field like a god of war. Its body was sleek and lethal, its skin the color of desert sand, its eyes burning with cold intelligence. Its claws—massive, curved, razor-sharp—glinted in the morning sun. Its tail whipped behind it like a scythe.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
It was the strongest Pokémon Briv had ever faced.
Monferno didn't flinch.
It stood its ground—its tail blazing brighter than ever, its fists clenched, its eyes locked on Garchomp with a fury that bordered on madness.
"Begin," Axel said.
Briv attacked first.
"Flame Wheel!"
Monferno ignited—a spinning wheel of fire that rolled across the grass like a meteor. It struck Garchomp head-on, the flames licking at the dragon's armored hide.
Garchomp didn't move.
It didn't even blink.
Samantha laughed.
"Dragon Claw."
Garchomp's claw swung down—a blur of golden light—and struck Monferno like a thunderbolt. The fire-fighting type was sent tumbling across the field, its flames flickering, its body broken.
It rose.
Its chest was heaving. Its tail was dimming. But it rose.
"That's it," Briv whispered. "That's the spirit."
"Mach Punch!"
Monferno lunged—its fist glowing—and struck Garchomp square in the chest. The dragon type slid backward an inch, its eyes narrowing.
"You're persistent," Samantha said. "I'll give you that."
"Earthquake."
Garchomp's foot slammed into the ground—and the earth exploded. A wave of seismic energy erupted outward, tearing through the field like a tidal wave. Monferno was caught in the blast—its body battered, its flames nearly extinguished—and sent crashing into the stone wall at the edge of the arena.
It didn't move.
It didn't get up.
"Briv's Monferno is unable to continue," Axel said. "Samantha is the victor."
---
The silence stretched.
Briv recalled Monferno, his hands trembling. The fire-fighting type had fought with everything it had—everything Briv had taught it—and it still hadn't been enough.
Garchomp was on another level.
Samantha recalled her dragon, her grin wide and wild.
"That was fun," she said. "Really. I haven't had a battle like that in months."
Briv didn't answer.
He was looking at his Poké Balls—three of them, each one holding a Pokémon that had given everything and lost.
"You're good," Samantha continued. "Better than good. But you're not ready."
"Ready for what?"
She stepped closer—close enough that he could smell her perfume, something dark and dangerous, like nightshade and honey.
"For what's coming."
Niklaus appeared beside her—silent, cold, his pale eyes fixed on Briv with something that might have been respect.
"You fought well," he said. "But you fought alone."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Niklaus glanced at Axel—still leaning against the stone wall, his expression unreadable.
"You have allies. Friends. People who would die for you." His voice was soft, almost gentle. "But you don't trust them. Not fully."
Briv's jaw tightened.
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know everything about you." Niklaus smiled—a thin, cold expression. "That's what I do."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black card. He handed it to Briv.
"If you want to know the truth—about the stone, about the Eclipse Squad, about what's really happening in this city—come to this address. Tomorrow. Midnight."
Briv took the card.
"Don't be late," Samantha said. She winked. "And bring your friends. You're going to need them."
She turned and walked back toward the treeline, her boots clicking against the stone. Niklaus followed—silent, elegant, his shadow stretching long across the grass.
They vanished into the mist.
---
Axel approached.
"You okay?"
Briv didn't answer.
His team was injured. His pride was wounded. And he had a black card in his pocket with an address he didn't recognize.
"They're stronger than us," he said.
"Yes."
"By a lot."
"Yes."
Briv turned to face him. His brown eyes were hard.
"What do you know that you're not telling me?"
Axel's expression didn't change.
"Everything."
"Then tell me."
"Not yet." Axel looked at the horizon—at the crystal towers of Aethelburg gleaming in the morning sun, at the floating bridges shimmering like spider silk, at the canals glowing with bioluminescent algae.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Midnight."
He walked away.
---
Briv found his team by the edge of the field.
Monferno was sitting in the grass, its tail dimmed to a faint glow, its body covered in bruises. Riolu lay beside it, still unconscious, its breathing shallow but steady. Gible was curled up a few feet away, its massive jaw closed, its eyes half-lidded.
Briv sat down beside them.
"You did good," he said.
Monferno stirred weakly.
Riolu didn't respond.
"You did good."
He stayed there for a long time—long after the sun rose, long after the shadows shifted, long after the city woke up around him. He stayed there because his Pokémon needed him, and because he needed them, and because the world was falling apart and he didn't know how to hold it together.
Tomorrow.
Midnight.
He looked at the black card in his hand.
The address was printed in silver ink—elegant, precise, cold.
He slipped it into his pocket.
And he waited.
---
That evening, Briv gathered his friends.
Patricia. Nicola. Dariana. Samuel.
They met at the inn—their usual corner table, their usual drinks, their usual quiet tension. But tonight, the tension was different. Heavier. More urgent.
"I fought Samantha Eterngust today," Briv said.
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Eterngust?" Patricia's voice was sharp. "As in—"
"Eclipse Squad. One of their leaders."
"Fuck," Nicola said.
"Yeah."
Samuel leaned forward.
"What happened?"
"I lost." Briv's jaw tightened. "Three to zero. Her Garchomp wiped the floor with Monferno."
No one spoke.
"She gave me this." He pulled out the black card and set it on the table. "An address. Tomorrow. Midnight."
"And you're going?"
"I don't know."
Patricia reached across the table and took his hand.
"We go together. Or we don't go at all."
Briv looked at her—at the determination in her blue eyes, the strength in her jaw, the quiet fire that burned beneath her calm exterior.
"Yeah," he said. "Together."
Nicola nodded.
Dariana smiled.
Samuel finished his drink.
"Then let's get some sleep," he said. "We're going to need it."
---
The room was dark when Briv and Patricia finally found their own space—a small, quiet room on the inn's third floor, far from the others, far from everything.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Patricia turned to face him. Her eyes were exhausted but sharp, tracing the lines of tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw, the way his hands kept clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"You're thinking about it," she said. It wasn't a question.
"All of it." Briv sat on the edge of the bed and scrubbed his face with both hands. "The battle. Samantha. Niklaus. That card."
"You lost."
"I got destroyed." He laughed—a hollow, humorless sound. "Three to zero. My Pokémon didn't stand a chance."
Patricia crossed the room and knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his knees.
"Tell me."
So he did.
He told her about the battle—every detail, every mistake, every moment where he'd thought he might turn the tide only to watch it slip through his fingers. He told her about Samantha's smile, her manic energy, the way she'd played with him like a cat with a mouse. He told her about Niklaus—cold, calculating, terrifying in his stillness.
When he finished, Patricia was quiet for a long moment.
"You can't beat them," she said finally.
"I know."
"Not alone."
"I know."
She looked up at him—her blue eyes catching the faint light from the window, her blond hair falling loose around her shoulders.
"You don't have to be alone."
Briv stared at her.
"I have you."
"You have all of us." Patricia stood and pulled him to his feet. "You have me. You have Nicola. Samuel. Dariana. We're not going anywhere."
He reached out and cupped her face in his hands.
"You're too good for me."
"I know." She smiled—that crooked, perfect smile that made his chest ache. "But I'm stuck with you anyway."
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle—not at first. It was desperate, hungry, a collision of need and fear and everything he couldn't put into words. She matched his intensity, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, refusing to let go.
They stumbled backward onto the bed.
Patricia landed on top of him, her legs straddling his hips, her lips never leaving his. She ground against him—a slow, deliberate roll of her hips that made his breath hitch—and he groaned against her mouth.
"Off," she said.
He didn't need to be told twice.
They undressed each other in a flurry of hands and fabric—her jeans, his shirt, her bra, his belt—until they were both bare, skin against skin, the heat of her body seeping into his like sunlight into stone.
She was beautiful.
She'd always been beautiful—her narrow waist, her round ass, the way her body curved in all the right places—but tonight she was something else. Something fierce. Something determined.
She pushed him back against the pillows and crawled over him, her hair falling in a golden curtain around their faces.
"I want you," she whispered.
"Then take me."
She reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his cock—already hard, already aching—and guided him to her entrance. She was wet, slick, ready, and when she sank down onto him, they both gasped.
"Fuck," Briv breathed.
Patricia laughed—a breathy, shattered sound—and began to move.
She rode him slowly at first—her hips rolling, her walls clenching around him with every stroke. She braced her hands on his chest, her nails digging into his skin, and looked down at him with eyes that burned like blue fire.
"Don't you dare close your eyes," she said.
Briv didn't.
He watched her—the way her breasts bounced with every thrust, the way her lips parted, the way her cheeks flushed pink. He watched her take what she needed from him—his body, his strength, his surrender—and he gave it willingly.
She leaned forward and kissed him.
Her tongue slid against his—slow, dirty, deliberate—and he tasted whiskey and mint and the faint salt of her sweat. He reached up and grabbed her ass, his fingers sinking into the firm, round flesh, pulling her down harder onto his cock.
She moaned into his mouth.
"That's it," she breathed. "Right there."
He thrust up into her—hard, deep, relentless—matching her rhythm, driving her higher. The bed creaked beneath them. The world outside faded to nothing—no Eclipse Squad, no stone, no war. Just her. Just this. Just the heat and the friction and the wet, obscene sound of their bodies slapping together.
"Harder," she gasped.
He rolled them over.
Patricia landed on her back with a startled laugh that turned into a groan as he pushed back inside her. He grabbed her legs and spread them wide—wide enough that he could see everything, the way she stretched around him, the slick evidence of their need.
"Look at you," he said. "Goddamn beautiful."
She laughed—breathless, wild—and reached up to pull him down for another kiss.
He fucked her harder after that.
Pounding. Deep. Each thrust driving her into the mattress, each stroke making her cry out. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her nails raked down his back—pain and pleasure blurring together—and he buried his face in her neck and swore against her skin.
"I'm gonna—" she started.
"Not yet."
He didn't stop. He couldn't. The rhythm had taken over—a primal, mindless thing—and all he could do was hold on.
"Please," she begged.
"Not yet."
He reached down and found her clit—swollen, slick, desperate—and drew tight circles with his thumb.
She shattered.
Her whole body convulsed—her back arching, her mouth open in a silent scream, her walls clamping down around him like a vice. He followed a heartbeat later—pouring into her with a guttural, broken groan—and collapsed on top of her, his heart hammering against his ribs.
For a long moment, they didn't move.
The room was silent except for their breathing—ragged at first, then slowly evening out.
"That was—" Patricia started.
"Yeah," Briv said.
She laughed—a soft, shaky sound—and ran her fingers through his hair.
"We're going to be okay."
He lifted his head and looked at her—her flushed cheeks, her kiss-swollen lips, her eyes bright with something that looked almost like hope.
"You think so?"
"I know so." She kissed him—gentle this time, tender—and smiled. "Now get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
---
Midnight.
The address on the black card led them to a warehouse on the edge of the city—a sprawling, rusted carcass of corrugated steel and shattered windows, abandoned long before either of them had been born.
The five of them stood at the entrance—Briv, Patricia, Nicola, Dariana, Samuel—their Pokémon at their sides, their expressions grim.
"Ready?" Briv asked.
"No," Nicola said. "But let's go anyway."
They walked inside.
The warehouse was dark—pitch black, the kind of darkness that swallowed everything. But there was light at the far end—a single lamp burning above a table, and at the table sat a man Briv had never seen before.
He was slender, elegant, with silver hair that fell past his shoulders and eyes the color of burnished gold. He wore a white suit that seemed to glow in the darkness, and he smiled when he saw them.
"Welcome," he said. "I've been expecting you."
Briv stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
The man's smile widened.
"A friend."
"Bullshit."
"Perhaps." The man gestured to the chairs arranged around the table. "But that doesn't change the fact that we have something in common."
"And what's that?"
The man's golden eyes flickered.
"We both want the Eclipse Squad destroyed."
The silence stretched.
Then Briv sat down.
"Talk."
The man smiled.
"With pleasure."