Enzo and Ronnie stepped back into the cold, industrial air of the warehouse.
Inside, things were quiet. Professor Leni was near the makeshift desk, organizing files, while Proton leaned against a crate, looking bored and slightly annoyed at having been left behind for babysitting duty.
When Proton saw them, he straightened up.
"Everything's downstairs," Proton said, jerking a thumb toward the basement door. "Eggs, incubators, all of it. Hypno is watching the door. Nothing gets past him."
"Good," Enzo said simply.
Proton nodded, then his eyes drifted to Ronnie.
Ronnie was standing slightly behind Enzo. He wasn't checking the perimeter. He wasn't scowling. He was staring at a cobweb on the ceiling with a dreamy, glazed-over expression, a goofy smile stretching his jagged scar. He looked like a man who had just seen the face of God.
Proton frowned, confused. "Did... did the mission go well?"
Enzo let out a short, amused laugh.
"You could say that," Enzo replied.
Ronnie let out a long, shuddering sigh, his eyes still unfocused.
"It was so good..." Ronnie whispered to no one in particular, reliving the memory of the steam room.
Proton looked at Enzo, then back at Ronnie, clearly wondering what kind of "negotiation" involved Ronnie coming back looking like he was floating on clouds.
Enzo didn't explain. He opened the heavy bag of Poké Balls he had brought from the vendor.
He rummaged through the clutter of spheres—the Poliwags, the Zubat, the Machops—and deliberately picked out one specific Poké Ball. He didn't say what it was. He just clipped it to his own belt.
Then, he tossed the heavy sack to Proton.
Proton caught it with a grunt.
"Feed these Pokémon and put them with the rest of the stock," Enzo ordered.
"Leni," Enzo called out.
The Professor jumped slightly, then turned. "Yes, Mr. Enzo?"
"My tent is yours tonight," Enzo said, pointing to the solitary camping structure in the middle of the floor. "I'm going to sleep in a hotel."
Leni blinked, looking at the tent, then back at Enzo. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly—"
"It wasn't a suggestion," Enzo cut him off, though not unkindly. "You need rest. Tomorrow morning, the heavy equipment arrives. The Mobile Lab, the military tent, the chemical ingredients. I need you sharp."
Leni nodded, realizing the logic. "Right. Sharp. I understand."
Enzo walked to the door. He looked up toward the high rafters where a massive shadow was perched.
"Corviknight," Enzo commanded. "Maintain overwatch. Nothing comes in or out without my authorization."
The steel bird let out a low, metallic caw, its red eyes glowing in the dark. The ultimate sentry.
Enzo turned to the empty air beside him.
"Porygon2. Teleport."
A flash of blue light illuminated the alleyway, and they vanished.
They materialized in a quiet alley behind a mid-range hotel in the city center. It wasn't luxury, but it was clean, and more importantly, the manager was on the Team Rocket payroll.
Enzo walked into the lobby. The manager, a balding man who knew better than to ask questions, simply slid a key card across the counter with shaking hands.
"Room 304. Top floor. No neighbors," the manager whispered.
Enzo took the key without a word.
Up in the room, Enzo threw his jacket on the chair and locked the door. He checked the windows—secure.
"Alright," Enzo said. "Everybody out."
He unclipped the Poké Balls from his belt.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Houndoom, Krokorok, Weezing, Haunter, Froakie, Deino, and the newly acquired "Slowpoke" materialized in the room. The space instantly became crowded.
Houndoom stretched his legs. Froakie jumped onto the desk. Deino immediately bumped into the mini-fridge.
But Enzo's eyes were fixed on the corner.
There, the "Slowpoke" was lying on the carpet, staring blankly at the wall, mouth slightly open, doing a perfect impression of a lobotomized water-type.
Enzo crossed his arms.
"So," Enzo said, his voice dry. "How long are you going to keep acting stupid, Zorua?"
The room went silent.
The "Slowpoke" froze. Its vacant expression didn't change for a second, but its tail twitched.
Then, the air shimmered.
Like a mirror being smashed, the image of the pink, dopey Slowpoke shattered into fragments of light. Beneath the illusion, a small, dark-furred fox with red highlights on its mane was crouching, looking up at Enzo with wide, shocked eyes.
'How did you know?'
The voice echoed in Enzo's mind—telepathy. It sounded young, mischievous, and currently very annoyed.
Enzo smirked. "Professional secret."
Zorua wrinkled its nose, letting out a huff of frustration. It hated losing the game. It was the master of tricks, and this human had seen through it instantly.
"From now on," Enzo said, extending a hand, "you're on the team. No more hiding. Behave yourself."
Zorua sniffed Enzo's hand, then looked around the room at his new "family."
Suddenly, Froakie hopped down from the desk. He landed gracefully on Deino's back. The blind dragon paused his chewing, sensing the weight, but didn't shake him off.
Enzo heard the telepathic projection as Froakie spoke to the newcomer.
'Welcome,' Froakie projected, his mental voice calm and serious, like a seasoned warrior. 'I couldn't help but notice your incredible ability. My visually challenged companion and I would like to invite you to join our Order.'
Zorua tilted his head, intrigued. He looked at Deino—he could sense the raw, brute power inside the small dragon—and then at the ninja frog.
'What Order?' Zorua asked.
'Nothing major,' Froakie replied casually. 'We simply unite to help our "allies" strengthen their survival instincts.'
Enzo rolled his eyes. It was a polite way of saying "we pull cruel pranks on people."
'Who else belongs to this Order?' Zorua asked, his tail wagging. He liked chaos.
Froakie pointed a webbed hand toward Weezing, who was floating near the ceiling fan, staring into the void with a happy, vacant expression.
'Him,' Froakie said solemnly. 'That is our secret weapon.'
Enzo looked up. Weezing's main face looked as empty as usual, but the small head was twitching violently, screaming into everyone's minds:
'GO! DETONATE! PRESENT YOURSELF WITH POWER!'
Zorua's eyes widened.
Weezing's body suddenly began to glow bright red. He started to inflate, gas hissing from his pores. He was actually going to use Self-Destruct inside a hotel room.
'Wait—' Zorua started to panic.
PLAF!
Enzo stepped in and delivered a firm, open-palm slap to the top of Weezing's main head.
The glowing stopped instantly. Weezing deflated like a sad balloon.
Five seconds passed in silence.
"Owww..." Weezing droned, rubbing his head with a puff of smoke.
Zorua stared for a moment, then burst into a yipping laughter. He rolled on the floor, cackling at the chaos. This group was insane. He loved it.
He walked over and rubbed his head against Enzo's leg, claiming his spot.
"Since you're staying," Enzo said, grabbing Zorua's Poké Ball. "Let's make sure you can keep up."
He returned the fox to the ball. He held the sphere in his palm, closing his eyes for a second. He didn't need needles or machines. The System was a part of him now.
Injecting Virus.
A pulse of dark, violet energy surged from his hand, coating the Poké Ball. The metal hummed, vibrating as the genetic data inside was forcibly rewritten by the energy. The light pulsed purple, then stabilized.
Enzo released him.
[ SYSTEM SCAN — TARGET IDENTIFIED ]
Species: Zorua (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 15
Potential: Light Blue (Upgraded)
Bond Indicator: "Increased proximity to host detected."
Ability: Illusion
Moves: Scratch, Leer, Quick Attack, Pursuit...
Obs: "High adaptability. Stress response: controlled. Masking behavior: advanced."
Zorua shook his fur, feeling the surge of new power running through his veins. His eyes gleamed with a sharper, more dangerous light.
Within minutes, the room turned into a playground. Froakie, Haunter, Deino, and Zorua started a game of hide-and-seek. Zorua was changing shape every five seconds—turning into a pillow, a lamp, a shoe—while Haunter phased through walls to find him.
Enzo left them to it and sat on the edge of the bed. He signaled for the heavy hitters.
Houndoom and Krokorok approached.
They were the backbone of the team. While the others played, these two stood guard.
"Listen," Enzo said quietly, looking them in the eyes. "We have a tournament coming up. It's not going to be street fights. We're going against elite trainers who have been preparing for this their whole lives."
Houndoom's ears perked up. Krokorok adjusted his sunglasses, listening intently.
"I need to make history," Enzo said. "And I chose you two—and those kids playing over there—to do it. I need you to carry this team on your backs."
He looked at the ground croc.
"Krokorok, I need you at Level 39 by the end of the month. You know what that means."
Krokorok stiffened. Evolution. The final form. To become a Krookodile.
Both Pokémon looked at Enzo, their chests swelling with pride. They had often felt that Enzo had a special, unbreakable bond with Corviknight and Weezing because they were his first. But in this moment, hearing him rely on them, they felt just as important. They were the pillars.
Krokorok nodded firmly. He would eat rocks if he had to. He would evolve.
"Good," Enzo said. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we start the real training."
The next morning, Enzo grabbed a quick breakfast from the hotel buffet, packed some meat for the team, and teleported back to the alleyway behind the warehouse.
When he stepped inside the main doors, the place was transformed.
It was a hive of activity. Several burly men in nondescript uniforms were unloading heavy black crates from a truck.
And standing in the center of it all, holding a clipboard and directing traffic, was a girl.
She had blonde hair tied back in a practical ponytail and wore simple work clothes—jeans and a thick jacket. But even in the dull morning light, her beauty was striking.
Enzo paused. The dots connected instantly.
It was the blonde girl from the bathhouse. The one who had been too shy to look him in the eye.
Now, she looked different. Focused. Efficient.
Enzo walked over. "Good morning."
She jumped, startled. She clutched the clipboard to her chest and spun around.
"Oh! Mr. Enzo!" she stammered, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Your colleagues said you weren't here... I didn't expect to see you."
Enzo smiled slightly. "I came back early."
She took a breath, composing herself. She tried to summon the professional demeanor of the Madam's lieutenant.
"Right. Well. The delivery is almost complete," she said, holding out the clipboard. "If you could just sign here... and here."
Enzo took the clipboard. As he signed, he glanced at her.
"Can I know your name?" he asked casually. "Since you know mine."
She lowered her head, the shyness returning for a split second.
"Anna," she said softly.
"Beautiful name," Enzo said, handing the clipboard back.
Suddenly, a massive shadow swept over them. The wind picked up, blowing dust across the concrete floor.
THUD.
Corviknight dropped from the ceiling rafters, landing right next to them with a ground-shaking metallic impact. He folded his massive steel wings, letting out a screech that echoed through the warehouse.
Anna gasped and shrank back, terrified. The bird was enormous—2.5 meters of armored nightmare, taller than a Tyranitar.
Enzo didn't flinch. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of Pokéblocks. Corviknight lowered his terrifying beak and ate them gently from Enzo's hand.
"Don't be afraid," Enzo said to her, stroking the bird's steel plating. "He looks scary, but not long ago, he was small enough to fit in the palm of your hand."
Anna stared at the creature, her eyes wide.
"You have Pokémon?" Enzo asked.
Anna looked down, her expression darkening slightly.
"No," she said quietly. "I... I don't have the talent for training."
Enzo looked at her. He didn't just hear the words; he heard the resignation in them.
He fell silent, thinking.
Unconsciously, he raised his hand to his chin, furrowing his brow and tapping his finger against his jawline. It was a habit he had developed as a child whenever he was trying to solve a complex puzzle.
Anna looked up. She saw the gesture—the frown, the hand on the chin.
She froze.
Then, a soft, involuntary laugh escaped her lips. It wasn't a laugh of humor; it was a laugh of painful recognition.
Enzo stopped thinking and looked at her, confused.
"Did I say something funny?"
Anna's eyes were shining, but she quickly looked away, forcing a smile.
"No... nothing," she lied. "I was just thinking."
She quickly changed the subject, her voice trembling slightly. "If... if it is a problem to not have talent... what kind of Pokémon do you think a person like me should have?"
Enzo considered the question. He looked at her—smart, organized, but seemingly fragile.
"Hmm," Enzo mused. "Possibly a Meowth."
Anna blinked. "A Meowth?"
"They are highly intelligent," Enzo explained. "They know how to take care of themselves, they are independent, and honestly... most of them end up bossing their trainers around rather than the other way around."
Anna smiled. A genuine, warm smile.
"I'll think about that, Enzo."
Enzo felt a strange pang in his chest. A sense of déjà vu.
Why does this feel familiar?
He looked at her. The way she stood, the way she smiled... it tugged at a memory that wasn't quite there.
But then, his cynicism kicked in.
She works for the Madam, Enzo reminded himself. She's a trained spy. She's probably an expert at making men feel comfortable. Don't fall for the 'shy girl' act.
He pushed the feeling down.
"We're done here," the lead delivery man shouted, closing the back of the truck.
Anna nodded to the men, then turned back to Enzo.
"Everything is accounted for," she said. "Goodbye, Mr. Enzo."
"Goodbye, Anna."
She climbed into the passenger seat of the truck. As the vehicle drove away, Enzo stood there with Corviknight, watching the taillights disappear.
He felt like he had missed something important. But he shook his head.
He turned back to the warehouse. He had a lab to build and a team to prepare.