Chapter 56: Briv's Eclipse
The warehouse swallowed them whole.
Briv sat at the metal table, the chair cold beneath him, his fingers wrapped around the black card until the edges bit into his palm. Patricia stood behind him—close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing. Nicola leaned against a rusted support beam, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Dariana and Samuel flanked the exits, their Pokémon materialized at their sides.
The man in the white suit smiled.
His silver hair caught the lamplight like spun moonlight. His eyes—burnished gold, ancient—moved across each of them with the patience of someone who had all the time in the world.
"You brought friends," he said. "Good. You'll need them."
Briv didn't blink.
"Start talking."
The man inclined his head.
"My name is Elias. I was Eclipse Squad before Eclipse Squad had a name. Before Niklaus. Before Samantha. Before the stone."
He reached into his jacket and produced a small photograph. He slid it across the table.
Briv picked it up.
The image was old—faded, creased, the colors bleached by time. It showed a group of people standing in front of a temple—a structure Briv didn't recognize, all black stone and spiraling towers. There were seven of them. Six men. One woman.
Elias pointed to the woman.
"Samantha's mother."
Patricia leaned forward.
"She's Eclipse Squad?"
"She was." Elias's voice was soft. "She founded us. The original Eclipse Squad. We were... different then. We had a purpose. A mission."
"What mission?"
Elias's golden eyes flickered.
"To protect the stone. To keep it sealed. To ensure that what sleeps beneath the marsh never wakes."
The silence stretched.
Then Nicola laughed—a sharp, humorless sound.
"You're telling us the Eclipse Squad was founded to protect the stone?"
"Yes."
"And now?"
Elias's expression didn't change.
"Now the mission has changed. The original members are dead—all except me. The new leadership has... different priorities."
"Samantha."
"And Niklaus." Elias leaned back in his chair. "They don't want to protect the stone. They want to use it. They want to wake what sleeps beneath it."
Briv's jaw tightened.
"Why?"
"Power." Elias spread his hands. "What else? The thing beneath the marsh is old—older than the League, older than Elyssia, older than anything we have records of. It was sealed centuries ago by trainers who gave their lives to bind it. Samantha and Niklaus believe they can control it. They believe they can harness its power."
"And you?"
"I believe they're fools." Elias's voice hardened. "The thing beneath the marsh cannot be controlled. It can only be contained. And if it wakes—"
He stopped.
"If it wakes what?"
Elias looked at Briv—really looked at him—and for the first time, the man's golden eyes showed something that might have been fear.
"Imagine every nightmare you've ever had. Every shadow that moved in the dark. Every scream you've ever swallowed. Now imagine them all given form. Given flesh. Given hunger."
He leaned forward.
"That's what sleeps beneath the marsh. And Samantha wants to wake it."
---
The room was quiet after Elias finished.
He told them everything—the history of the stone, the original Eclipse Squad, the schism that had torn them apart. He told them about Niklaus—a former student of his, a prodigy who had once believed in the mission before power had corrupted him. He told them about Samantha—a child born into the Eclipse Squad, raised on stories of the stone's power, twisted by her mother's obsession.
When he finished, Briv's hands were shaking.
"What do you want from us?"
Elias smiled—a thin, tired expression.
"I want you to help me stop them. Before it's too late."
"How?"
"I need you to steal something from them. Something they took from me."
"The stone."
"No." Elias shook his head. "The stone is beyond our reach now. They've already performed the ritual—partially, at least. They've awakened a fragment of what sleeps beneath. That's why Samantha's Pokémon are so powerful. That's why she wanted to fight you."
Briv's blood ran cold.
"She was testing us."
"She was measuring you." Elias's voice was grim. "She wanted to see if you were strong enough to be useful. Strong enough to be a threat. Strong enough to be... absorbed."
"Absorbed?"
"Into the Eclipse Squad. Or into the thing beneath the marsh. Either way, you wouldn't be you anymore."
Patricia stepped forward.
"What do you need us to steal?"
Elias reached into his jacket and produced another photograph. This one was newer—a picture of a building, sleek and modern, all glass and steel.
"The Eclipse Squad's headquarters. Beneath it, in a vault, is something they took from me. A key. The only key that can seal the stone again."
He slid the photograph across the table.
"Steal it. Bring it to me. And I can stop this before it's too late."
Briv studied the photograph.
"And if we refuse?"
Elias's expression didn't change.
"Then in one month, when the League begins, Samantha and Niklaus will perform the final ritual. The stone will break. The thing beneath the marsh will wake. And everyone in Aethelburg—everyone in Elyssia—will die."
---
They left the warehouse in silence.
The city was dark—the crystal towers dimmed, the floating bridges empty, the canals glowing faintly with bioluminescent algae. The air was cold. The stars were hidden behind clouds.
Briv walked at the front of the group, his hands shoved into his pockets, his mind racing.
Patricia caught up with him.
"You're thinking about it."
"Of course I'm thinking about it."
"And?"
He stopped. Turned. Looked at her—her blue eyes, her blond hair, the quiet strength in her jaw.
"I'm thinking we don't have a choice."
Patricia nodded slowly.
"I know."
She reached out and took his hand.
"Then we do it. Together."
---
They found a hotel near the edge of the city—a quiet place, anonymous, far from the crystal towers and the glowing canals. They rented three rooms. Samuel and Dariana took one. Nicola took another. Briv and Patricia took the third.
The room was small. Clean. A bed. A window. A bathroom.
Patricia closed the door and locked it.
"Come here."
Briv didn't move.
"I need a minute."
She crossed the room and took his face in her hands.
"You don't have a minute." Her voice was soft but firm. "You have tonight. Tomorrow we start planning. Tomorrow we start preparing. But tonight—"
She kissed him.
It was gentle—gentler than he expected. Her lips moved against his with a tenderness that made his chest ache. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into it.
When she pulled back, her eyes were bright.
"Tonight, you're mine."
He kissed her again.
This time it wasn't gentle.
---
Later—much later—Briv lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling.
Patricia was asleep beside him, her head resting on his chest, her breath warm against his skin. The room was quiet. The city was quiet. Everything was quiet.
Then he heard it.
A knock.
Soft. Deliberate. Three taps against the door.
Briv's eyes snapped open.
He slid out of bed—careful not to wake Patricia—and pulled on his jeans. He crossed the room and opened the door.
Samantha stood in the hallway.
Her violet hair was loose, falling past her shoulders in wild waves. She wore a black trench coat over something red and barely-there, and her purple eyes glittered in the dim light.
"Hello, champion."
Briv's hand tightened on the doorframe.
"What do you want?"
"To talk." She smiled—that manic, dangerous smile. "Just talk. I promise."
"Bullshit."
"Maybe." She shrugged. "But you're going to let me in anyway."
"Why would I do that?"
Samantha glanced past him—at Patricia sleeping in the bed, at the room, at the quiet intimacy of it all.
"Because I have information you need. About the stone. About Elias. About what's really happening."
She met his eyes.
"And because if you don't, I'll wake up your girlfriend and tell her exactly how I know you."
Briv's blood ran cold.
"You don't know anything."
"I know you're bluffing." Samantha's smile widened. "But it's cute."
She stepped past him into the room.
Briv closed the door.
---
"Talk," he said.
Samantha settled into the chair by the window, crossing her legs. The trench coat fell open, revealing a red silk dress that left nothing to the imagination.
"Elias is lying to you."
"About what?"
"Everything." She tilted her head. "Well, not everything. The stone is real. The thing beneath the marsh is real. The ritual is real. But his version of events?"
She laughed softly.
"Let's just say he's not the hero of this story."
Briv leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"Then what is he?"
"A liar. A manipulator. A man who's been playing this game for longer than you've been alive." Samantha's eyes glittered. "He told you he wants to stop us. But he doesn't want to seal the stone. He wants to control it."
"And you don't?"
"I want to set it free." She shrugged. "There's a difference."
"You want to destroy the world."
"I want to change it." Her voice softened. "The world is broken, Briv. You know that. The League, the cities, the wars—it's all just... noise. The stone can silence it. The thing beneath the marsh can remake it. Make it better."
"Make it a nightmare."
"One man's nightmare is another man's dream."
Briv shook his head.
"You're insane."
"I'm honest." Samantha leaned forward. "Which is more than Elias can say."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Samantha smiled—a slow, dangerous curve of her lips.
"Because I like you." She stood and crossed the room. "And because I want to give you a choice."
She stopped in front of him—close enough that he could smell her perfume, dark and sweet and dangerous.
"Join me."
"No."
"You haven't heard the offer."
"I don't need to."
Samantha tilted her head.
"Fine." She stepped closer. "Then I'll give you a different one."
She reached up and touched his chest—her fingers trailing down, down, down.
"You defeated me—no, wait." She laughed. "I defeated you. That means you owe me."
Briv grabbed her wrist.
"I don't owe you anything."
"You owe me your obedience." Her purple eyes burned. "League rules. A defeated trainer must obey one command from the victor."
"That's not—"
"It is." She pressed closer. "And I've come to claim it."
Briv's jaw tightened.
"What do you want?"
Samantha's smile turned feral.
"I want you to fuck me."
The room went very still.
"Along with Niklaus," she added.
Briv stared at her.
"The three of us." Samantha's voice was soft and dark. "I want you to double penetrate me. Both of you. At the same time. Tonight."
"You're insane."
"I'm determined."
"Your husband—"
"Will be here in ten minutes." She stepped back. "Think about it. The choice is yours—obey me, or break League law. And we both know what happens to trainers who break League law."
She walked toward the bathroom.
"I'll wait."
The door closed behind her.
---
Briv stood frozen.
His mind raced—the League code, the rules, the penalties for refusal. He'd seen trainers stripped of their credentials for less. He'd seen them banned from competition. He'd seen them ruined.
And Samantha knew it.
She knew the law better than anyone.
The door opened.
Niklaus walked in.
He was still wearing black—the same elegant suit, the same cold presence. His pale eyes moved across the room—Briv, the sleeping Patricia, the bathroom door—and his lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"She's asked you."
"Yes."
"And you've refused?"
"Not yet."
Niklaus nodded slowly.
"You should know—the law is on her side. There's nothing you can do."
"I could run."
"You could." Niklaus's voice was soft. "But you won't. You're too honorable. Too proud. Too... committed to the rules."
He walked to the window and looked out at the city.
"My wife is many things," he said. "Insane. Unpredictable. Dangerous. But she is also intelligent. She knows the law. She knows you. And she knows what she wants."
"And what's that?"
"You." Niklaus turned. "Your strength. Your potential. Your... fire."
He crossed the room.
"This isn't about sex," he said. "Not entirely. This is about control. About power. About showing you that we can take what we want—when we want."
"Then take it."
"I intend to."
The bathroom door opened.
Samantha emerged—the trench coat gone, the red dress gone, nothing but bare skin and violet hair and purple eyes that burned like stars.
"Shall we begin?"
---
They moved to the bed.
Patricia was still asleep—Briv had checked, had made sure the pillow was over her ears, had made sure she wouldn't wake. He told himself it was for her sanity. He told himself it was for her safety.
He told himself a lot of things.
Samantha lay on the bed, her legs spread, her fingers trailing between her thighs. She was beautiful—lean and pale and curved, her breasts small and firm, her hips narrow, her pussy already glistening.
Briv stood at the foot of the bed.
Niklaus stood beside him.
"Rules," Samantha said. "You do what I say. When I say it. No hesitation. No defiance."
She met Briv's eyes.
"One order. Remember?"
Briv nodded.
"Then strip."
He did.
His shirt came off first—pulled over his head, discarded. His jeans followed. His boxers last.
He stood naked.
Samantha's eyes moved across him—his chest, his stomach, his cock—and she smiled.
"Not bad, champion."
Niklaus undressed more slowly. His clothes were elegant—expensive—and he folded them meticulously, setting them on a chair. When he was done, he stood beside Briv, his body lean and pale and powerful.
Samantha's smile widened.
"Now."
She sat up and reached for both of them.
---
Her hands wrapped around their cocks—one in each hand, fingers stroking, squeezing, measuring.
"Two," she murmured. "Good."
She pulled them closer—tugged them onto the bed, onto either side of her—and leaned forward.
Her mouth found Briv first.
She kissed the tip of his cock—soft, wet, teasing—and her tongue flicked out to taste him. He shuddered. She smiled.
Then she turned to Niklaus.
She kissed him the same way—slow, deliberate, savoring—and Niklaus's breath hitched, barely audible.
"Good," she said again.
She took Briv in her mouth.
Her lips slid down his shaft—wet, warm, tight—and her tongue pressed against the underside, tracing the vein, teasing him. He groaned. She hummed. The vibration made him twitch.
She pulled back and took Niklaus.
Her mouth moved between them—alternating, teasing, driving them both to the edge. Her hands worked what her mouth couldn't reach—stroking, squeezing, fondling their balls.
Briv's hands clenched the sheets.
He hated her.
He wanted her.
He hated that he wanted her.
Samantha pulled back. Her lips were swollen. Her eyes were bright.
"Now," she said. "Briv, behind me. Niklaus, on the bed."
Briv moved.
He positioned himself behind her—on his knees, his cock pressing against her ass—and waited.
Samantha leaned forward.
She took Niklaus in her mouth.
"Now," she said around him. "Fuck me."
Briv did.
---
He entered her slowly—one inch, two, her ass tight and hot and slick with spit. She moaned around Niklaus's cock. Niklaus's hand tangled in her hair.
Briv began to move.
He fucked her deep—long, steady strokes that made her gasp, made her arch, made Niklaus's eyes darken. The bed creaked. The room smelled of sweat and desire.
"Harder," Samantha gasped.
Briv went harder.
His hips slammed against her ass—flesh slapping, skin on skin, obscene and raw. She cried out around Niklaus's cock, her fingers clawing at the bed, her body shaking.
"That's it," she panted. "That's it—"
Niklaus watched.
His eyes didn't leave Briv's.
There was something in that gaze—something cold and calculating and terrifying. Something that said this wasn't over. This was never over.
Briv fucked Samantha harder.
She came.
Her whole body convulsed—her back arching, her pussy flooding, her mouth still working Niklaus's cock.
When she finished, she pulled back.
"Now," she said. "I ride him. And you—" she looked at Niklaus— "my ass."
---
She repositioned herself.
Briv lay on his back and she straddled him—her thighs spread, her pussy hovering over his cock.
"How do you want it?"
"Ride me."
She did.
She sank down onto him—slow, deliberate, inch by inch—and her walls clenched around him, tight and hot and perfect. She moaned. He groaned. She began to move.
Niklaus appeared behind her.
He didn't speak. Didn't warn. He just pushed—one hand on her hip, the other guiding his cock—and Samantha cried out as he entered her from behind.
She was full.
Two cocks—two men—stuffed inside her, pressing against each other, filling her completely.
Briv could feel Niklaus on the other side of the thin membrane that separated them. Could feel the pressure, the heat, the sheer wrongness of it.
Samantha loved it.
"Fuck," she breathed. "That's perfect."
She began to move—riding Briv while Niklaus fucked her ass—and the rhythm was chaotic, brutal, overwhelming. Briv grabbed her hips. Niklaus grabbed her shoulders. Together they pounded her, using her body, taking what she offered.
Samantha screamed.
Not in pain. In pleasure.
The sound was raw and wild and terrifying.
Briv felt his balls tighten.
"I'm close," he grunted.
Niklaus didn't speak. But his rhythm quickened.
Samantha laughed—a breathless, broken sound.
"Inside," she gasped. "Both of you. Inside my mouth."
---
They pulled out.
Samantha slid off Briv. Niklaus stepped back. She knelt on the floor and opened her mouth.
"Now."
Briv came first.
He stroked himself—once, twice—and then he was spilling into her mouth, hot and thick and bitter. She swallowed it all, her eyes locked on his.
Niklaus followed.
His release was silent—a shudder, a grimace, a deep breath. Samantha took him too, swallowing, licking, cleaning him off.
When they were done, she sat back on her heels.
Her lips were wet. Her chin was streaked with cum. Her eyes were bright.
"Good," she said.
She stood.
She walked to the bathroom. The door closed.
Briv stood there—naked, shaking, hollow.
Niklaus dressed. Reached for his jacket. Paused at the door.
"Tell Elias," he said. "Tell him we know what he's planning."
The door closed behind him.
Briv was alone.
He looked at the bed. At Patricia, still sleeping. At the room—the evidence of everything he'd just done.
He'd obeyed her.
He'd broken faith.
He'd crossed a line he could never uncross.
He walked to the bathroom. Opened the door. Showered.
When he came out, he dressed.
He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for dawn.
And he knew—with perfect, terrible certainty—that nothing would ever be the same.
=====
Patricia woke at dawn.
Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the pale light filtering through the curtains. She stretched beneath the sheets, her body still warm and loose from sleep, and reached for Briv.
Her hand found empty space.
She sat up.
He was sitting in the chair by the window—still dressed, still staring at the city, his face a mask of something she couldn't name. The morning light caught the angles of his jaw, the hollows beneath his eyes.
"You didn't sleep."
It wasn't a question.
Briv turned. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression hollowed out.
"No."
Patricia pulled the sheet around her and crossed the room. She knelt in front of him and took his hands. They were cold.
"What happened?"
He told her.
Every word. Every detail. Every shameful, filthy moment of it.
When he finished, Patricia was very still.
Her hands had gone slack in his. Her face—usually so open, so warm—had closed like a door slamming shut.
"You fucked her."
"Yes."
"While I was asleep."
"Yes."
"Because of some League rule."
"Yes."
Patricia stood. She walked to the bed and sat down, her back to him, her shoulders rigid.
"I need a minute."
She didn't say anything else.
The silence stretched—one minute, two, five. Briv stayed in the chair, his heart pounding, his throat tight.
Then Patricia spoke.
"I'm not angry."
He looked up.
"You should be."
"I am." She turned to face him. Her blue eyes were wet. "But I'm not angry at you."
"Then who?"
"Her. Him. Elias. This whole fucking city." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You didn't have a choice. That's what makes it worse."
Briv stood and crossed the room. He knelt in front of her.
"I should have refused."
"You couldn't."
"I should have tried."
Patricia reached out and touched his face.
"You're a good man, Briv. That's why she chose you. That's why she wanted to break you." Her voice cracked. "And I hate her for it."
He pulled her into his arms.
She held him tight—so tight it hurt—and they stayed like that for a long time. The city woke up around them. The sun rose higher. The world kept turning.
"What do we do now?"
Patricia pulled back. Her eyes were red, but her jaw was set.
"We fight. We steal that key. We stop them." She kissed him—hard, fierce. "And we don't let them break us."
---
They gathered in Nicola and Samuel's room an hour later.
Dariana was sitting on the bed, her legs crossed, her dark eyes sharp. Samuel leaned against the wall, his dreadlocks tied back, his expression unusually serious. Nicola paced near the window, her arms crossed, her jaw tight.
Briv told them everything.
Elias. The key. The vault. Samantha and Niklaus. He left nothing out—not the deal, not the battle, not the night before.
When he finished, no one spoke.
Then Nicola stopped pacing.
"You fucked her."
"Yes."
"While Patricia was in the room."
"Yes."
Nicola's hand twitched.
"I'm going to kill her."
"Get in line."
She turned away, her fists clenched.
Dariana stood and crossed the room. She took Briv's hands—her touch gentle, her eyes soft.
"You didn't have a choice."
"That's what everyone keeps saying."
"Because it's true." She squeezed his fingers. "Samantha used the law against you. She manipulated you. That's what she does."
"I still did it."
"You survived." Dariana's voice was firm. "You survived, and now you know more about her. That's not nothing."
Samuel nodded.
"She showed you her hand. That's a gift."
"It doesn't feel like one."
"Gifts rarely do."
---
They spent the morning planning.
Elias had given them schematics of the Eclipse Squad headquarters—the building on the photograph, all glass and steel and cold efficiency. The vault was in the basement, three levels down, protected by biometric scanners, motion sensors, and at least a dozen guards.
"We need a distraction," Nicola said.
"I can handle the guards."
"You can't handle twelve guards."
"I can handle ten."
Patricia rolled her eyes.
"This isn't the time for dick-measuring. We need a plan."
"I have one."
Everyone turned.
Dariana was sitting on the bed, her legs crossed, her expression thoughtful.
"The Eclipse Squad isn't the only thing happening in this city. There's a public tournament next week—the Aethelburg Open. Half the trainers in the region will be there. Including most of the Eclipse Squad."
She looked at Briv.
"While they're watching the battles, we slip into the vault."
"And how do we get in?"
"I know someone." Dariana smiled. "A friend. She's been looking for a challenge. And she owes me a favor."
"Who?"
"Misty Waveborn."
Briv blinked.
"Misty? The Waterflower gym leader?"
"Former gym leader. She's in the city for the tournament." Dariana stood. "She's staying at a hotel near the harbor. I can call her, set up a meeting."
Nicola raised an eyebrow.
"You think she'll help us?"
"She's not Eclipse Squad. She's not League. She's just... good." Dariana shrugged. "And she hates bullies."
Patricia nodded slowly.
"Call her."
---
Misty arrived at the inn two hours later.
She was shorter than Briv remembered—compact and athletic, her orange hair tied in a high ponytail, her cerulean eyes bright and sharp. She wore a cropped yellow tank top and denim shorts, and she moved with the easy confidence of someone who'd spent her whole life in motion.
"Briv." She grinned. "Long time."
"Long time."
She hugged him—quick, friendly, familiar. Then she hugged Patricia. Then Nicola. Then Dariana.
She stopped at Samuel.
"And you must be the musician."
Samuel smiled.
"That's me."
"I heard you play once. In Cerulean. You were good."
"Thanks."
Misty turned back to Briv.
"So. What's the job?"
---
They told her.
Everything—the stone, the Eclipse Squad, the key, the plan. Misty listened without interrupting, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern to cold, hard determination.
When they finished, she nodded.
"I'm in."
"That easy?"
"I owe Dariana a favor. And I hate people who use rules to hurt other people." She cracked her knuckles. "Samantha sounds like a bitch."
"She is."
"Good. I was worried she'd be boring."
Dariana laughed.
"There's just one thing."
Misty looked at her.
"A battle. Before we go. I need to know you're still sharp."
Dariana's eyes sparkled.
"You want to fight me?"
"I want to test you." Misty's grin widened. "Three-on-three. No stakes. Just training."
Dariana looked at Briv.
He nodded.
"Fine," she said. "Let's fight."
---
They found an abandoned courtyard three blocks from the inn.
Crumbling stone walls. Cracked flagstones. A fountain that had run dry decades ago. It was quiet. Private. Perfect.
Axel was already there.
He stood in the center of the courtyard, his Rotom flickering at his shoulder, his green eyes sharp.
"Word travels fast," Briv said.
"I hear things."
He looked at Misty.
"Three-on-three?"
"Yes."
"I'll referee."
Misty nodded.
"Works for me."
She reached for her first ball.
---
The courtyard hummed with tension.
Dariana stood at one end, her dark hair pulled back, her expression calm. Misty stood at the other, bouncing on her heels, her ponytail swinging.
Axel raised his hand.
"Standard League rules. Three-on-three. No items. No switching unless a Pokémon faints. First trainer to lose all three loses."
He dropped his hand.
"Begin."
Misty moved first.
Psyduck.
The water type materialized in a flash of light—a small, yellow duck-like Pokémon with a blank expression and a splitting headache. It stood there, swaying slightly, its eyes unfocused.
Dariana tilted her head.
"Interesting choice."
"Psyduck's full of surprises."
Dariana reached for her ball.
Eevee.
The normal type appeared in a burst of brown and cream—small, agile, its bushy tail wagging, its dark eyes bright and curious. It looked at Psyduck. Psyduck looked back.
Neither moved.
"Confusion," Misty said.
Psyduck's eyes glowed—a faint pink light that pulsed outward. Eevee yelped and stumbled, its body trembling.
"Quick Attack," Dariana said.
Eevee recovered fast—faster than Psyduck expected—and slammed into the water type before it could react. Psyduck tumbled backward.
"Water Pulse."
Psyduck opened its beak—a torrent of water erupting outward, rings of energy pulsing through the stream. Eevee tried to dodge, but the water caught it, sent it spinning across the flagstones.
It landed on its feet.
"Bite."
Eevee lunged—its teeth glowing dark—and sank them into Psyduck's arm. The water type screeched—a high, piercing sound—and tried to shake the normal type off.
"Confusion!"
Psyduck's eyes glowed. Eevee's grip faltered. Its body went rigid.
"Now," Misty said. "Water Pulse."
The water hit Eevee at point-blank range. It was sent rolling across the courtyard, its fur soaked, its body limp.
It didn't get up.
"Dariana's Eevee is unable to continue," Axel said. "Trainer, send out your next Pokémon."
---
Dariana recalled Eevee.
She didn't look worried. She looked focused.
"Shellos."
The water type materialized—soft-bodied, gentle-eyed, its antennae swaying. It looked at Psyduck with calm curiosity.
"Begin," Axel said.
Misty attacked first.
"Confusion."
Psyduck's eyes glowed. Shellos flinched—but didn't falter. It held its ground, its body rippling.
"Mud Bomb," Dariana said.
Shellos opened its mouth. A sphere of brown mud erupted outward—streaking toward Psyduck like a bullet. It struck the water type square in the chest and exploded, coating it in thick, sticky muck.
Psyduck staggered.
"Water Pulse!"
Psyduck's attack was weaker now—its movements sluggish, its eyes dazed. Shellos took the hit and kept going.
"Again. Mud Bomb."
The second sphere hit Psyduck in the face. The water type collapsed.
It didn't get up.
"Misty's Psyduck is unable to continue," Axel said. "Trainer, send out your next Pokémon."
---
Misty recalled Psyduck.
Her grin was still there—but sharper now. Hungrier.
"Not bad," she said.
"Thanks."
"Starmie."
The water type materialized in a flash of purple and gold—a star-shaped Pokémon with a central gem that gleamed like a heartbeat. It hovered above the ground, its appendages spinning.
"Begin."
Dariana attacked first.
"Mud Bomb."
Shellos fired. Starmie dodged—a blur of purple light—and countered with a Swift attack, a barrage of golden stars that rained down on Shellos like hail.
Shellos endured.
"Water Pulse."
Starmie's attack was precise—a concentrated jet of water that struck Shellos in the center of its body. The water type slid backward.
It didn't fall.
"Recover," Dariana said.
Shellos glowed—a soft, green light—and its wounds began to close.
Misty's eyes narrowed.
"Rapid Spin."
Starmie spun—faster and faster—and slammed into Shellos like a buzzsaw. The water type was sent tumbling across the courtyard.
It didn't get up.
"Dariana's Shellos is unable to continue," Axel said. "Trainer, send out your final Pokémon."
---
Dariana recalled Shellos.
One left.
Croagunk.
The poison-fighting type materialized—wiry and blue and sly, its yellow cheeks bulging, its orange throat sac pulsing. It looked at Starmie with calm, calculating eyes.
"Begin," Axel said.
Misty attacked first.
"Psychic."
Starmie's gem glowed. Croagunk was lifted off the ground—its body rigid, its limbs splayed. It floated there, helpless.
"Throw it."
Starmie's psychic grip tightened. Croagunk was hurled across the courtyard—slamming into the stone wall with a sickening crack.
It didn't move.
Dariana's heart stopped.
Then Croagunk stood.
Its body was battered. Its breathing was ragged. But it stood.
"Poison Jab."
Croagunk lunged—faster than anything that injured had any right to move—and sank its fist into Starmie's core. The water type recoiled, its gem flickering.
"Rapid Spin!"
Starmie spun—but Croagunk was already moving, ducking under the attack, circling behind.
"Sucker Punch."
Croagunk's fist—glowing dark—struck Starmie from behind. The water type was sent flying.
It didn't get up.
"Misty's Starmie is unable to continue," Axel said. "Trainer, send out your final Pokémon."
---
Misty recalled Starmie.
Her grin had faded—but her eyes still burned.
"Not bad at all."
"Thanks."
"Corsola."
The rock-water type materialized—a small, pink Pokémon with a crown of coral branches and bright, determined eyes. It stood on the flagstones, its body gleaming.
"Begin."
Dariana attacked first.
"Poison Jab."
Croagunk lunged. Corsola didn't dodge—it couldn't—but it didn't need to.
"Mirror Coat."
Corsola's body glowed—a shimmering barrier that absorbed the attack and reflected it back. Croagunk was thrown backward, its own poison energy slamming into it.
It staggered.
"Recover."
Corsola glowed—its wounds vanishing—and stood firm.
"Again," Dariana said. "Poison Jab."
Croagunk attacked. Corsola countered with Mirror Coat. Croagunk was thrown back.
Again. And again. And again.
Each time, Croagunk rose. Each time, it attacked.
"Enough," Dariana said. "Venoshock."
Croagunk's throat sac pulsed—a wave of purple energy erupting outward. It struck Corsola before it could raise its barrier. The rock-water type convulsed.
"Now. Poison Jab."
Croagunk lunged—faster than before—and struck Corsola square in the center. The rock type was sent rolling across the courtyard.
It didn't get up.
"Misty's Corsola is unable to continue," Axel said. "Dariana is the victor."
---
The courtyard was quiet.
Then Misty laughed.
"That was fun."
Dariana smiled.
"You're good."
"So are you." Misty recalled Corsola and crossed the courtyard. She offered her hand. "Rematch sometime?"
"Anytime."
They shook.
Briv approached.
"That was impressive."
Dariana shrugged.
"I got lucky."
"You got good." He looked at Misty. "Both of you."
Misty grinned.
"So. When do we break into this vault?"
---
They gathered back at the inn that evening.
The plan was simple. The tournament started in three days. Most of the Eclipse Squad would be there—Samantha, Niklaus, Roger, Callum. The headquarters would be lightly guarded.
Dariana would contact her source inside the building—a former Eclipse Squad member who owed her a debt. Misty would provide backup. Nicola, Patricia, and Samuel would handle security.
Briv would steal the key.
"If anything goes wrong," he said, "you run. All of you. Don't look back."
Patricia took his hand.
"Nothing's going to go wrong."
"You don't know that."
"I know you." She squeezed his fingers. "And I know we're going to win."
Briv looked at her—at the determination in her eyes, the strength in her jaw, the quiet fire that burned beneath her calm exterior.
He kissed her.
"For luck."
"For luck."
---
That night, Briv and Patricia shared a room again.
They didn't speak about Samantha. They didn't speak about the plan. They just held each other—skin against skin, breath against breath—and let the silence say what words couldn't.
Then Patricia kissed him.
It started slow—soft, tender, almost hesitant. But the hesitation didn't last. Her hands found his chest, his stomach, his hips. His found her waist, her back, her ass.
"Make me forget," she whispered.
He did.
He laid her down on the bed—gentle, reverent—and kissed every inch of her. Her neck. Her collarbone. Her breasts. Her stomach. Her thighs.
She moaned when his tongue found her clit.
He worked her slowly—lapping, sucking, teasing—until she was writhing beneath him, her fingers tangled in his hair, her hips bucking against his mouth.
"Please," she gasped. "Please—"
He didn't stop.
He slid two fingers inside her—curling, pressing, finding that spot that made her gasp. She came apart on his tongue—her body shuddering, her thighs clenching, her voice breaking.
He crawled up her body and kissed her.
She tasted herself on his lips.
"Inside me," she said. "Now."
He entered her slowly—savoring every inch, every gasp, every tremble. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper.
"Harder."
He obeyed.
The bed creaked. The headboard slammed against the wall. She clawed at his back, bit his shoulder, whispered filthy things in his ear.
"You're mine," she breathed. "Say it."
"I'm yours."
"Say it again."
"I'm yours."
She came again—her walls clenching around him, her body arching—and he followed, spilling inside her with a broken groan.
They lay there afterward—sweaty, exhausted, tangled together.
Patricia traced circles on his chest.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
She kissed his neck.
"Tomorrow we steal a key."
"Tomorrow we save the world."
She laughed.
"Same thing."
---
The next morning, they gathered in the courtyard.
Dariana was already there, stretching. Misty stood beside her, her ponytail swinging. Nicola was checking her Poké Balls. Samuel was tuning a small stringed instrument.
Patricia stood at Briv's side.
"Ready?"
He looked at her—at all of them—and nodded.
"Ready."
They walked toward the Eclipse Squad headquarters.
The city gleamed around them—crystal towers, floating bridges, glowing canals. It was beautiful. It was fragile. It was worth saving.
Briv's hand found Patricia's.
They didn't look back.