Chapter 72: Nicola VS Malcolm
The morning sun was a pale gold coin behind clouds the color of old bruises. The training grounds of the Aethelburg complex were quiet, the usual bustle of trainers and Pokémon dimmed by the news of the Eclipse Squad's presence in the city.
Briv had gathered what intel he could. It wasn't enough. The Eclipse Squad moved like smoke—here, there, gone before you could draw a bead on them. The attack on the Pokémon Center had been their first public strike, but they had been operating in the shadows for weeks before that, according to the intelligence Axel had shared.
Nicola stood at the edge of the grounds, Magnemite hovering at her shoulder like a metal sentinel. Her arms were crossed, her expression hard. The past few days had worn on her—the training, the planning, the constant thrum of tension that infected the city like a slow poison.
She heard the footsteps behind her before she saw him.
Footsteps that were too deliberate, too measured. Not Briv's quick stride. Not Patricia's light step.
She turned.
Malcolm Vane approached with the casual arrogance of someone who knew exactly how dangerous he was.
He was tall and angular, with a shaved head that caught the morning light like polished stone. His eyes were the color of coal, flat and unreadable, and a thin scar ran from his left temple down to his jaw. He wore the black-and-crimson garb of the Eclipse Squad without the emblem, as if the uniform alone was enough of a statement.
"Nicola Sunfall," he said.
His voice was smooth, low, almost pleasant.
"I've heard a lot about you."
"Can't say the same."
"Most people can't."
She didn't smile.
Neither did he.
"You're the one they call the strategist," Malcolm continued. "The one who plans three moves ahead. The one who never shows her hand."
"Are you here to chat, or is there a point?"
He tilted his head.
"The point is simple. My commander wants to know what you're made of. Consider this a test."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out three Pokéballs.
"I propose a battle. Three-on-three. No substitutions. No items."
Nicola studied him.
"And if I refuse?"
"You won't."
"You sound confident."
"I am. You don't walk away from a challenge. That's your reputation. The woman who faces everything head-on."
Her jaw tightened.
"You don't know me."
"I know enough."
The sound of footsteps made them both turn.
Axel approached, Rotom flickering at his shoulder like a captured star. He moved with the same predatory ease that Briv had come to know, but his eyes held a different kind of calculation. He was watching Malcolm with open hostility masked as polite curiosity.
"I heard there was a challenge," Axel said.
"Mr. Dualblade." Malcolm's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I heard you were in the city. I was wondering when you'd show up."
"I'm here now."
"Good. Then you can referee."
Axel's eyes flicked to Nicola, asking a silent question. She nodded once, subtle but clear.
"Fine," Axel said. "Standard rules. Three-on-three. No substitutions. No items. Send out your first Pokémon."
---
Malcolm moved first.
"Machamp."
The ball opened in a flash of crimson light and a massive humanoid Pokémon materialized on the field. Machamp stood over six feet tall, its body a mountain of gray muscle, its four arms flexing and pumping with barely contained power. Its face was stoic, almost indifferent, and its eyes burned with a quiet ferocity that made the air feel heavier. The ground beneath it cracked slightly under the weight of its stance.
Nicola assessed quickly.
Four arms. Overwhelming physical power. Slow, but devastating if it got its hands on her Pokémon.
She needed distance.
"Shieldon," she said.
The ball opened in a flash of blue light and Shieldon materialized on the field. The little Rock- and Steel-type was a squat fortress of gray armor, its facial shield broad and gleaming, its stance planted firmly. Shieldon was calm, controlled—the perfect counter to brute force.
"Begin," Axel said.
Malcolm moved first.
"Machamp—Karate Chop!"
Machamp lunged forward with terrifying speed. Its four arms swung in perfect coordination, each fist a sledgehammer aimed at Shieldon's body.
"Shieldon—Iron Defense!"
Shieldon's body glowed silver, its armor hardening in an instant.
The Karate Chop struck.
Shieldon slid backward, its feet digging grooves into the dirt. But it didn't fall.
"Shieldon—Metal Sound!"
Shieldon emitted a high-pitched screech, a grating noise that tore through the air like broken glass. Machamp flinched, its arms faltering.
"Now—Take Down!"
Shieldon surged forward, its body a battering ram aimed at Machamp's legs.
The impact was brutal. Machamp staggered, its center of gravity thrown off.
"Shieldon—Iron Head!"
Shieldon's head glowed silver, and it slammed into Machamp's chest with a sickening crunch.
Machamp stumbled back, its four arms flailing.
But it didn't fall.
It didn't even look hurt.
"Machamp—Cross Chop!" Malcolm commanded.
Machamp's arms crossed in front of its chest, and a wave of focused energy rippled through its body. Then it struck.
All four arms slammed down simultaneously.
Shieldon had no time to dodge.
The attack shattered the ground beneath it, sending a shockwave that knocked dust into the air.
Shieldon skidded backward, its armor dented, its eyes dazed.
"Shieldon—Iron Defense!"
Too late.
"Machamp—Karate Chop!"
Another barrage.
Another impact.
Shieldon cried out, a high-pitched sound of pain and determination.
But it didn't fall.
"Shieldon—Metal Burst!"
Shieldon's body glowed a deep orange, and it released a burst of accumulated damage back at Machamp.
The attack struck Machamp's chest.
Machamp actually grunted.
It actually felt that.
"Now—Take Down!"
Shieldon lunged forward one last time.
Its body slammed into Machamp's legs.
Machamp staggered.
But it didn't fall.
"Machamp—Cross Chop!"
Another devastating strike.
Shieldon collapsed.
"Shieldon is unable to battle," Axel said. "Machamp wins."
---
Nicola recalled Shieldon.
She whispered to the ball before clipping it to her belt.
"You were perfect."
She looked at Malcolm.
His expression hadn't changed.
"Staravia," she said.
Staravia materialized in a flash of gray light, its wings spreading wide, its crest sharp, its eyes burning with territorial fury. It was fast, proud, and relentless. Exactly what she needed.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Malcolm moved first again.
"Machamp—Rock Slide!"
Machamp slammed its fists into the ground, and a barrage of rocks erupted from the earth.
"Staravia—Aerial Ace!"
Staravia shot into the sky, its body a blur, and dove through the gaps in the rocks.
It struck Machamp's head with a sharp, precise blow.
Machamp staggered.
"Now—Wing Attack!"
Staravia swung its wings, the tips glowing white.
The attack struck Machamp's shoulder.
Another grunt.
"Staravia—Double Team!"
Staravia's form multiplied, a dozen illusions scattering across the battlefield.
"Machamp—Earthquake!"
Machamp slammed its fists into the ground.
The earth shook.
The illusions shattered.
But Staravia was still in the air.
"Staravia—Quick Attack!"
Staravia shot forward like a bullet, striking Machamp's chest.
Machamp stumbled.
"Now—Aerial Ace!"
Another strike.
Another grunt.
Machamp was weakening.
Slowly, but surely.
"Machamp—Cross Chop!"
Machamp's arms crossed, and it struck.
Staravia tried to dodge.
Too slow.
The attack caught Staravia's wing.
Staravia cried out and plummeted, hitting the ground hard.
It didn't get up.
"Staravia is unable to battle," Axel said. "Machamp wins."
---
Nicola recalled Staravia.
Her hand trembled.
Two down.
One left.
She looked at Tangrowth.
Tangrowth materialized in a flash of green light, its massive body a tangle of thick blue vines, its long arms dragging on the ground, its eyes peering out from the tangle like ancient jewels. It was slow, but it was relentless. Strong, resilient, and unpredictable.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Malcolm moved first.
"Machamp—Karate Chop!"
Machamp lunged.
"Tangrowth—Vine Whip!"
Tangrowth's vines shot forward, wrapping around Machamp's arms, its legs, its torso.
Machamp struggled.
It was strong—overwhelmingly strong.
But Tangrowth was stronger.
"Tangrowth—Power Whip!"
The vines tightened, and Tangrowth swung Machamp into the air like a ragdoll.
Machamp crashed into the ground.
It didn't get up.
"Machamp is unable to battle," Axel said. "Tangrowth wins."
---
Malcolm recalled Machamp.
He didn't look frustrated.
He looked interested.
"Impressive," he said. "But that was my weakest."
He drew his second ball.
"Haunter."
The ball opened in a flash of violet light and Haunter materialized on the field. The ghostly Pokémon hovered in the air, its body a floating head and hands, its eyes glowing red, its grin wide and wicked. It cackled softly, a sound like bones rattling in a dark room.
Tangrowth couldn't hit it.
Ghost types were immune to Normal and Fighting moves.
But Tangrowth had Grass and Poison moves.
"Tangrowth—Vine Whip!"
The vines shot forward.
They passed through Haunter's body.
Haunter cackled.
It phased through the ground.
"Tangrowth—Power Whip!"
Tangrowth's vines whipped the ground where Haunter had been.
Nothing.
"Haunter—Shadow Ball!"
A sphere of dark energy formed between Haunter's hands and shot forward.
It struck Tangrowth's body.
Tangrowth grunted.
"Haunter—Lick!"
Haunter materialized behind Tangrowth and ran its tongue across its vines.
Tangrowth shuddered.
"Tangrowth—Ancient Power!"
Tangrowth's body glowed, and a barrage of rocks erupted from the ground.
They passed through Haunter.
But the energy touched it.
Haunter winced.
"Haunter—Night Shade!"
A wave of dark energy.
Tangrowth took the hit.
It grunted.
"Haunter—Shadow Punch!"
Haunter's fist glowed with dark energy and struck Tangrowth's body.
Tangrowth staggered.
"Tangrowth—Power Whip!"
Another barrage.
Another miss.
Haunter was too fast.
Too slippery.
"Haunter—Dream Eater!"
Tangrowth was weakening.
Its movements slowed.
Its eyes drooped.
"Tangrowth—Giga Drain!"
Tangrowth's body glowed, and green energy shot from Haunter's body to Tangrowth's.
Haunter shrieked.
It actually felt that.
But it didn't fall.
"Haunter—Shadow Ball!"
Another sphere of dark energy.
Another hit.
Tangrowth collapsed.
"Tangrowth is unable to battle," Axel said. "Haunter wins. Malcolm wins the match."
---
The field was silent.
Nicola recalled Tangrowth, her hands steady despite the loss.
She had lost.
Fairly.
Completely.
Malcolm recalled Haunter and walked toward her.
"You're good," she said.
"I know."
"You're also a piece of shit."
He smiled.
"Maybe. But I'm a piece of shit who won."
He extended his hand.
She didn't take it.
"Tell your commander I'm not impressed," she said.
Malcolm's smile widened.
"I'll tell him."
He turned and walked away.
---
Axel approached Nicola.
"You okay?"
She didn't answer.
"He was stronger than me."
"He was stronger than you today," Axel corrected. "Tomorrow is a different story."
She looked at him.
"You sound like Briv."
"Maybe he's rubbing off on me."
She didn't laugh.
Neither did he.
"We need to find out where they're staying," she said. "Before they hurt someone else."
"I'm already on it."
She nodded.
"Then let's move."
---
The two Eclipse Squad members stood on the rooftop across from the compound, watching the battle below.
Roger cracked his knuckles.
"Malcolm's taking his time."
"He likes to play with his food," Callum said. "Always has."
Roger spat over the edge of the roof.
"Nicola's good. Better than I remember."
"She's still a thorn. A big one."
"Yeah." Roger grinned. "But thorns burn."
Callum pulled out a lighter and flicked it open.
"They do," he said. "They really do."
The flame danced in the wind.
=====
Roger's boots scraped against the rooftop gravel as he turned away from the edge. Callum flicked the lighter shut, the flame vanishing into a thin ribbon of smoke. They disappeared into the shadows of the city, their footsteps swallowed by the hum of distant traffic and the lap of canal water against stone.
---
Nicola stood alone in the training yard long after Axel had gone. The dirt was still disturbed from the battle—grooves carved by Machamp's fists, scorch marks from Haunter's shadow energies, deep indentations where Tangrowth's vines had lashed. She stared at the battlefield without seeing it.
Her jaw ached from clenching.
Her hands had stopped trembling.
Malcolm's words echoed in her skull. Consider this a test. You're good. But I'm a piece of shit who won.
She replayed every command she'd given, every move she'd made. Shieldon had held longer than expected but still fell. Staravia had landed solid hits but couldn't finish. Tangrowth had overwhelmed Machamp but couldn't touch Haunter.
Three Pokémon.
Three losses.
She had been outmaneuvered, outplayed, outclassed.
The realization burned like acid in her throat.
She wasn't used to losing.
She wasn't used to being second.
---
The walk back to the inn was quiet. The streets of Aethelburg were emptying, shopkeepers pulling down metal shutters, street vendors packing away their carts. The crystal towers caught the last light of the dying sun and threw it back in fractured rainbows that danced across the cobblestones.
Nicola didn't notice any of it.
She climbed the stairs to her room, closed the door, and sat on the edge of the bed. Magnemite hovered at her shoulder, its single eye watching her with cold precision. It didn't speak. It didn't need to.
She appreciated that about Magnemite.
No pity. No comfort. Just presence.
---
The knock came an hour later.
Three sharp raps.
Nicola didn't move.
The knock came again.
She stood, crossed the room, and opened the door.
Malcolm Vane stood in the hallway.
He had changed clothes—the Eclipse Squad uniform replaced by a simple black shirt and dark jeans. His shaved head gleamed under the dim hallway lights, and the scar on his jaw looked deeper in the shadows.
"You," she said.
"Me."
"What do you want?"
He smiled.
"I think you know."
---
She should have slammed the door.
She should have told him to fuck off, to crawl back to whatever hole the Eclipse Squad had crawled out of, to never show his face again.
She didn't.
She stepped aside.
Malcolm walked in.
---
The room was small—a bed, a desk, a window overlooking the canal. The curtains were drawn, and the only light came from a single lamp on the nightstand. Magnemite hovered in the corner, its eye tracking Malcolm's every movement.
"Call off your Pokémon," Malcolm said.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not here to fight."
Nicola looked at Magnemite.
"Stand down."
Magnemite hesitated.
"Stand down," she repeated.
Magnemite drifted to the far corner of the room and powered down, its eye dimming to a faint blue glow.
Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed.
He patted the mattress beside him.
Nicola didn't move.
"I won," he said. "Fair and square. Three-on-three. No substitutions. No items."
"I know the rules."
"Then you know what comes next."
She crossed her arms.
"You think I'm going to fuck you because you beat me in a Pokémon battle?"
"No." He leaned back on his hands. "I think you're going to fuck me because you want to."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Nicola's jaw tightened.
"You're arrogant."
"I'm honest."
"You're a piece of shit."
"I'm a piece of shit who's about to fuck you senseless."
She should have punched him.
She should have walked out.
She should have done anything but stand there, frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs.
But she didn't.
---
He stood.
Crossed the room.
Stopped inches from her.
He was taller than her by half a foot, his body lean and hard beneath the black shirt. Up close, she could see the fine lines around his eyes, the way his scar pulled at the corner of his mouth when he smiled.
"You're angry," he said.
"Furious."
"Good."
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
His fingers were rough, calloused from years of training.
She didn't flinch.
"You lost," he said. "And now you want to prove something. To me. To yourself. To everyone who thinks Nicola Sunfall is untouchable."
His hand slid down her neck.
"Am I wrong?"
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
---
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't tender.
It was hard, demanding, his mouth crushing against hers like he was trying to claim something that had never been his to begin with. She kissed him back with the same ferocity, her hands fisting in his shirt, her teeth catching his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
He grunted.
He liked it.
---
Clothes came off in a blur.
His shirt hit the floor.
Her jacket followed.
His hands found her waist, her hips, the curve of her ass. She was lean and athletic, muscles shifting beneath warm skin, her body honed by years of training and battles.
He grabbed her ass with both hands and squeezed hard.
She gasped.
"You like that," he said.
"Shut up."
He squeezed harder.
She moaned.
---
He pushed her onto the bed.
She landed on her back, her blond hair spilling across the pillow, her sharp brown eyes burning with a mixture of anger and arousal. He stood over her, unbuttoning his jeans, his cock already hard and straining against the fabric.
She watched him.
Her mouth watered.
---
He pulled his jeans down.
His cock sprang free—thick, long, already leaking at the tip. He wasn't the biggest she'd ever seen, but he was close, and the sight of it made her thighs clench.
"Like what you see?" he asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
He grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed.
She yelped in surprise.
He knelt between her legs.
His mouth found her cunt.
---
She cried out.
His tongue was rough, insistent, lapping at her folds with a hunger that bordered on feral. He sucked her clit hard, then soft, alternating pressure until her hips bucked against his face.
"Fuck," she gasped.
He didn't stop.
He pushed two fingers inside her—no warning, no preparation—and curled them upward.
She screamed.
Her back arched off the mattress.
He finger-fucked her while he ate her out, his tongue swirling around her clit, his fingers stretching her open. She grabbed the sheets with both hands and held on like she was drowning.
"Malcolm—"
He bit her clit.
She came.
Hard.
Her body convulsed, her thighs clamping around his head, her cunt clenching around his fingers. He didn't stop. He kept licking, kept fingering, drawing out her orgasm until she was gasping for air, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
"That's one," he said.
He pulled his fingers out.
Licked them clean.
---
He stood.
Grabbed her hips.
Flipped her onto her stomach.
She landed with a grunt, her ass in the air, her face pressed into the pillow. He grabbed her hips and pulled her backward, positioning her at the edge of the bed.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Just fuck me already."
He did.
---
He drove into her with one brutal thrust.
Her eyes flew open.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
He didn't give her time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into her again, his hips slapping against her ass with a wet, obscene sound. She was tight—so fucking tight—and he groaned as her walls gripped his cock like a fist.
"Fuck," he growled. "You feel that?"
She couldn't answer.
She could barely breathe.
He fucked her hard and fast, each thrust driving her deeper into the mattress. The bed frame creaked. The headboard slammed against the wall. Magnemite's eye flickered in the corner, watching, recording, silent.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
"Shut... up..."
He slapped her ass.
She yelped.
"Answer the question."
"It feels... fuck..."
He slapped her other cheek.
"Say it."
"It feels good," she gasped. "It feels so fucking good."
"You like being fucked by a piece of shit?"
"Yes."
"Say it again."
"Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!"
He did.
---
He grabbed her hips and pounded into her, his strokes brutal and unrelenting. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her back. Her moans turned into screams. Her fingers clawed at the sheets.
She came again.
He didn't stop.
He fucked her through it, riding her orgasm like a wave, his own pleasure building with every thrust. She was limp beneath him, gasping, spent, but he wasn't done with her yet.
"On your back," he said.
She didn't move.
He pulled out, flipped her over, and pushed back in.
She cried out.
Her legs wrapped around his waist.
Her nails raked down his back.
"Look at me," he demanded.
She did.
Her eyes were wild, her face flushed, her lips swollen.
"You lost," he said. "You lost the battle. And now you're going to lose yourself."
He fucked her harder.
"I want you to remember this. Every time you see me, every time you think about today, I want you to remember how it felt to be fucked by the man who beat you."
She came again.
Her body convulsed around his cock.
He grunted.
His rhythm faltered.
"Fuck," he groaned. "I'm close."
"Do it," she gasped. "Come inside me."
He did.
---
He slammed into her one last time and emptied himself inside her, his cock twitching, his release flooding her cunt. She felt every pulse, every throb, and her hips bucked up against his, milking him dry.
He collapsed on top of her.
His breath was hot against her neck.
Her fingers tangled in the sheets.
---
They lay there for a long moment.
Neither spoke.
The bed was soaked with sweat, the room thick with the smell of sex. Magnemite's eye flickered once, then dimmed completely.
Malcolm pulled out.
He stood.
He dressed.
He walked to the door.
He paused.
"Good match," he said.
He left.
---
Nicola didn't move.
She lay on the bed, her body aching, her cunt still dripping, her mind blank. The ceiling stared back at her, indifferent and flat.
She thought about Shieldon.
About Staravia.
About Tangrowth.
She thought about the way Malcolm had fucked her, rough and demanding, taking what he wanted without hesitation. She thought about the way she had let him—no, welcomed him—despite everything he represented.
She thought about the Eclipse Squad.
About Revan.
About the storm that was coming.
---
She sat up.
Her body screamed at her.
She ignored it.
She reached for her pokéballs on the nightstand and held them in her hands. Six of them. Six partners. Six reasons to fight.
"Tomorrow," she whispered. "Tomorrow we start again."
Magnemite's eye flickered back to life.
---
The night deepened.
The city hummed.
Somewhere in the shadows, the Eclipse Squad was moving.
And Nicola—
Nicola was already planning her revenge.
---
She showered.
The water was scalding.
She stood beneath the stream and let it wash away the evidence—the sweat, the touch, the lingering heat of his hands on her skin. She scrubbed herself raw, but she couldn't scrub away the shame.
Or the satisfaction.
---
She dressed in clean clothes.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
She pulled out her notebook.
Lists.
Strategies.
Weaknesses.
Malcolm's Machamp was slow but powerful. She needed a faster counter. Haunter was immune to Normal and Fighting moves. She needed Dark or Ghost moves. Rhyperior was a tank. She needed something that could break through armor.
She wrote for hours.
By the time the sun rose, she had a plan.
---
She walked to the training grounds.
Briv was already there, Monferno at his side, sparring with Turtwig in the morning light. He saw her approach and stopped, his expression shifting from focus to concern.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Fine."
"You look like hell."
"Thanks."
He studied her face.
"You lost."
"I know."
"Malcolm?"
"Yeah."
He was quiet for a moment.
"You want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay."
He turned back to his Pokémon.
She watched him for a moment, then pulled out her first ball.
"Shieldon," she said. "We've got work to do."
---
The morning passed in a blur of training.
She pushed Shieldon harder than ever, drilling Iron Defense and Metal Burst until the little Rock-type could execute both moves without hesitation. She worked with Staravia on speed and evasion, forcing it to dodge rocks and branches thrown by other trainers. She pushed Tangrowth to its limits, ordering Power Whip after Power Whip until the massive Grass-type could barely stand.
She didn't stop.
She couldn't.
---
By midday, she was exhausted.
She sat on a bench, Shieldon curled at her feet, Staravia preening on a fence post, Tangrowth resting in a patch of shade. Her muscles ached. Her mind was foggy. But she felt... better.
Briv approached with a bottle of water.
He handed it to her.
She drank.
"You're pushing them hard," he said.
"They need it."
"They need rest too."
She looked at him.
"I don't need a lecture."
"I'm not giving one." He sat beside her. "I'm just saying... you're not alone in this. You don't have to carry it all yourself."
She didn't answer.
She didn't know how.
---
The afternoon brought unexpected company.
Dariana appeared at the edge of the training grounds, Gallade at her side, Eevee in her arms. She wore a simple white dress that flowed in the breeze, her long brown hair loose and tangled, her dark eyes bright.
"I heard about the battle," she said.
Nicola tensed.
"Who told you?"
"Axel."
"Of course."
Dariana sat beside her.
"Malcolm is dangerous. Not just as a trainer—as a person."
"I know."
"He's with the Eclipse Squad."
"I know."
"He hurt you."
Nicola didn't answer.
Dariana reached out and placed a hand on her arm.
"Not physically," she said. "But he hurt you. I can see it."
Nicola pulled away.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
"Drop it."
Dariana studied her for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
"Okay."
She stood.
"But if you ever want to talk... I'm here."
She walked away.
---
The sun was setting when Axel found her.
She was alone on the training grounds, Shieldon asleep at her feet, Magnemite hovering nearby. The sky was painted in shades of orange and purple, and the crystal towers of Aethelburg caught the light like a thousand mirrors.
Axel sat beside her.
"Briv told me," he said.
"Briv needs to learn to keep his mouth shut."
"He's worried about you."
"I don't need people worrying about me."
"Too bad."
She looked at him.
His green eyes were sharp, calculating, but there was something else there—something softer, buried beneath the surface.
"I know what it's like," he said. "To lose. To feel like everything you've built is crumbling."
She didn't answer.
"But you're still here. You're still fighting."
"Barely."
"Barely is enough."
He stood.
"The Eclipse Squad isn't going to stop. Revan isn't going to stop. But neither are we. And neither are you."
He walked away.
---
The night was cold.
Nicola returned to her room and locked the door. She sat on the bed, her pokéballs arranged on the nightstand, her notebook open in her lap.
She thought about Malcolm.
About his hands on her skin.
About the way he had fucked her, hard and ruthless, taking what he wanted without apology.
She should have felt used.
She should have felt degraded.
She didn't.
She felt... alive.
She hated herself for it.
But she couldn't stop thinking about it.
---
She closed the notebook.
She lay back on the bed.
She stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, she would train harder.
Tomorrow, she would plan.
Tomorrow, she would be better.
But tonight—
Tonight, she let herself remember.
The feel of his hands.
The taste of his mouth.
The way he had whispered her name when he came.
She closed her eyes.
Sleep didn't come.
---
The city hummed beyond her window.
The Eclipse Squad was out there, somewhere, moving through the shadows like wolves on the hunt.
Nicola didn't sleep.
She planned.
And when the sun rose, she would be ready.
---
She rose before dawn.
She dressed in silence.
She strapped her pokéballs to her belt.
She walked to the training grounds.
Briv was already there.
Monferno stood beside him, flames licking at its tail, its blue facial markings catching the first light of day. Turtwig was planted nearby, its tiny sprout twitching in the breeze.
"Morning," Briv said.
"Morning."
He looked at her.
She looked at him.
Neither spoke about Malcolm.
Neither needed to.
"Let's train," she said.
He nodded.
"Let's train."
She pulled Shieldon's ball from her belt.
And she got to work.