Enzo floated in silence.
There was no ground beneath him, no sky above him, no sense of up or down, only stars stretched in every direction, cold and impossibly distant, scattered across a darkness so deep that it seemed to swallow even the idea of sound.
He drifted through it without weight, without purpose, without the faintest idea of where he was meant to go, and after a while even that question began to lose its meaning.
The strangest part was not the emptiness itself. It was the feeling inside it. A solitude so complete it no longer hurt. An absence so total it had passed beyond fear and entered something deeper.
There was nothing to fight, nothing to hold, nothing to chase. Just endless dark, endless stars, and himself suspended between them like a thought the universe had forgotten to finish.
Little by little, Enzo stopped resisting it.
His body drifted. His mind quieted. He began to accept that perhaps this was all there was now. No movement. No future. No voices. No weight. Just a vast and frozen stillness that would go on forever.
Then, very faintly, he heard his name.
"Enzo…"
The sound barely reached him, so thin and distant that for a second he thought he had imagined it.
"Enzo…"
This time it was clearer, still far away, but real enough to cut through the void like the first crack in ice.
"Enzo…"
The stars seemed to dim around him.
Something tugged at his awareness. The emptiness shivered.
And then the voice exploded through the silence with all the grace of a brick through glass.
"Wake the fuck up, ENZO!"
Enzo's eyes snapped open.
For one disorienting second, the stars were still there, but they were not stars at all. They were points of light in a pale morning sky, blurred by sleep and the sting of cold wind across his face.
The hard surface beneath him was not emptiness, but the top of the container, and leaning over him with varying degrees of concern were Ronnie, Proton, and Anna.
He blinked once, then pushed himself upright, still dragging the last scraps of that strange dream out of his head.
Ronnie let out a breath that sounded halfway between relief and annoyance. "Fuck, you were out hard. I was starting to think you'd died in your sleep."
Enzo rubbed a hand over his face and looked between them. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened," Ronnie said. "That's the problem. You were sleeping like a corpse."
Proton, who looked less amused and more genuinely concerned, lifted his chin toward the horizon. "We're arriving."
That was enough to pull the rest of the fog from Enzo's mind. He turned, and there it was. Viridian, still distant but unmistakable, rising ahead through the morning haze like a promise he had been waiting to reach for far too long.
A real sense of relief moved through him. The last three days had been miserable. Wind, cold, bad sleep, constant vigilance, and the discomfort of traveling on top of a loaded container with too much value inside it and too many things that could still go wrong. But it was almost over now.
Enzo exhaled slowly and sat up straighter. "Finally," he said.
Anna studied him for a moment, perhaps noticing how tired he still looked despite the calm in his voice, but said nothing. Proton only gave a short nod. Ronnie, having confirmed that Enzo was not dead after all, looked far more interested in getting moving than in discussing his sleeping habits any further.
Enzo had Corviknight set down outside the city rather than risk bringing the full container too close to the usual routes.
Once they touched down, he was on his feet almost immediately, scanning the outskirts of Viridian with the kind of habit that had long since stopped feeling deliberate.
He turned first to Proton and Ronnie.
"You two stay with the container," he said. "Nothing moves, nobody gets close."
Neither of them argued. At this point the importance of what they were carrying had gone far beyond explanation.
Then Enzo looked at Anna. "You're with me."
Together they headed toward the city, leaving the container, the cargo, and the rest of the team behind for the moment. Viridian greeted them with a kind of ordinary life that felt almost absurd after everything they had been hauling across regions.
Streets were busy, voices overlapped, shops were open, and people moved about their day with no idea how much danger, profit, and insanity had just arrived on the edge of their city.
As they walked, Enzo glanced sideways at Anna. "So," he said, "how does it feel to be back in Kanto?"
She shrugged. "It hasn't been that long. I don't think I've had time to miss it yet."
That got a quiet laugh out of him.
"Fair enough," he said.
They kept walking through the flow of people until they reached the metro station, slipping inside with the rest of the crowd as though they were nothing more than two ordinary travelers moving through Viridian.
The station was busy, full of voices, footsteps, and the constant movement of trains arriving and leaving beneath the city. Small shops were scattered along the interior, selling drinks, newspapers, snacks, and cheap souvenirs for passing tourists.
Enzo did not slow down.
He led Anna past a kiosk and a small coffee stand before turning toward one of the souvenir shops built into the station wall. It was the sort of place nobody looked at twice, bright, cluttered, and forgettable in exactly the way it was meant to be. Shelves were packed with postcards, keychains, novelty mugs, fridge magnets with "Viridian" printed across them, and all the usual junk travelers bought to prove they had been somewhere without bringing back anything that actually mattered.
To anyone else, it was just another shop inside the station.
To Team Rocket, it was an access point.
He ignored the displays completely and headed straight for the back, where an unremarkable storage room sat behind a plain door that no normal customer would have found interesting enough to notice. Anna followed him in without a word.
The room was smaller than it had looked from outside, and the moment the door shut behind them, the lack of space became impossible to ignore. Anna ended up standing so close to Enzo that the air between them felt warmer than it should have, the narrow little room holding that closeness in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
For one suspended second, neither of them moved.
The silence deepened, turning the nearness into something awkward and unspoken, as though both of them were pretending not to notice what was happening.
Then Enzo cleared his throat and let his eyes flick briefly around the cramped space.
"This was probably made for one person at a time," he said. "But it's fine."
Anna blinked and turned her face slightly away, trying to hide the color that had touched her cheeks. Enzo, mercifully, did not comment. He simply pulled out his TR Device and passed it over a hidden reader set into the wall.
The room shuddered.
A second later, the floor beneath them began to descend.
Then the door opened. Beyond it stretched a corridor leading to a vast underground space filled with movement.
People in identical clothing crossed from one side to the other carrying crates, paperwork, parts, sealed containers, food, equipment, and things Anna probably could not identify at a glance.
The place was not loud in the usual sense, but it was never still. Everything about it carried the cold rhythm of an organization too large to ever truly rest. Some workers moved with dull efficiency, others with clear exhaustion, and more than a few looked half starved, sick, or physically broken in ways that suggested nobody expected them to remain whole for very long.
Her gaze swept across the room, observing the scene. When she finally looked at Enzo, she noticed a cold expression on his artificial face.
"Who are they?" she asked.
"Material grunts," Enzo replied.
She frowned, confused. "What does that mean?"
"It means they handle logistics—supplies, transfers, records, packing, movement, and basic support. They're responsible for tasks that are too important to neglect but too mundane to assign to skilled professionals."
That answer did not satisfy her. "Why do they look like that?"
Enzo's eyes stayed ahead as he walked. "Because most of them are not here by choice."
Anna looked back at the workers again, this time more carefully. "You mean they're forced?"
"Yes."
The word was simple enough, but it landed hard.
Enzo continued in the same calm tone, as if he were explaining warehouse policy instead of human misery. "Most of them are debt assets. Ten years minimum. Longer if the debt remains useful. They stay until they pay it off, someone pays it for them, or they die."
Anna stared at him. "That's slavery."
Enzo did not disagree. "Functionally, yes."
For a few steps, she said nothing. Then, quieter, "How do they end up here?"
"There are a lot of ways," he said. "The common ones are simple enough. They lose their Pokémon on Trial Island. Or they owe money elsewhere, and Team Rocket buys the debt. Once that happens, they're moved here and made to pay it with their lives."
Anna's expression tightened.
The sight of the underground floor had already unsettled her. Hearing it explained made it worse. Enzo could tell she wanted to keep looking, even though every additional second seemed to disgust her more than the last.
He let her look.
This was part of the organization, too. Not the glamorous parts. Not the clever heists or the profitable operations. The machinery beneath all of it. The broken people who kept the whole structure fed, stocked, documented, and moving.
Anna walked beside him a little more quietly after that.
They had barely gone much farther before the atmosphere changed.
The open movement of the logistics floor gave way to a narrower corridor, cleaner and quieter, with fewer people and more eyes on who passed through. At the entrance to the restricted section stood two grunts in standard security gear, both armed, both bored, and both carrying the kind of petty authority that only ever seemed to make small men louder.
One of them lifted a hand as Enzo and Anna approached.
"Identification."
Anna was already reaching for her TR Device before the sentence had fully landed. She pulled it out and held it forward without protest, but the grunt barely glanced at it. His eyes slid past her almost immediately and settled on Enzo instead.
The second guard gave him a long look and frowned. "I've never seen you around here."
Enzo did not answer.
The first one smirked. "What's the matter? Got something wrong with your ears? You look lost."
His partner laughed under his breath.
It ended there.
Before either of them could add anything else, Enzo stepped in and drove a punch into the first guard's face with enough force to send him crashing sideways into the wall before he hit the ground unconscious.
The sound of the impact cracked through the corridor, leaving the second guard frozen in place.
He took one step back at once, all the cheap arrogance gone from his face. Then his eyes dropped to the device still in Anna's hand. He read the designation on the screen.
Shadow Unit.
Everything in him shifted. He turned pale and dropped to one knee so quickly that it appeared less like obedience and more like a collapse.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice breaking at the edges. "I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know. Please, I spoke out of line. It won't happen again."
Anna turned to look at Enzo, clearly caught between shock and the need to decide whether what she had just seen was normal here.
Enzo didn't even spare the kneeling guard a second glance.
"Let's go," he said.
And that was it. They walked past the man who was still begging for forgiveness and the one lying unconscious on the floor, continuing deeper into the base without breaking stride.
The next elevator was set apart from everything else around it.
There was no crowd here, no endless movement of cargo and bodies, no sense of machinery chewing through people by the hour. Only a polished wall, a silent panel, and the sort of stillness that made it obvious this part of the base existed for an entirely different class of person.
Enzo raised his TR Device and held it over the reader.
For a brief moment, the panel displayed the usual limited set of floors associated with an ordinary clearance. Then the screen flickered, revealing another level beneath the others, as if it had been concealed all along.
Enzo selected that level.
Neither of them spoke as the elevator rose. When the doors opened, the difference was immediate.
The corridor beyond was white, clean, and almost unnaturally quiet. The lighting was soft without being warm. The floor gleamed. To one side stood a small waiting area with carefully arranged chairs and a low table that looked expensive without trying too hard. Opposite it sat a reception desk behind which a woman worked in calm silence, and farther ahead stood a pair of double wooden doors that seemed almost too elegant for the underground world surrounding them.
Anna slowed slightly, taking it all in.
The whole place felt detached from the rest of the base, not just physically but socially, as though the rules themselves had changed the moment the elevator doors had opened.
Enzo turned to her. "Wait here."
She nodded and moved toward one of the chairs while he crossed to the desk.
"Good afternoon," he said, polite without sounding servile. "I'm here for a meeting with the boss. My name is Enzo."
The woman looked up at him, and there was no confusion on her face at all.
"I know who you are," she said. "Sit down for a moment. He's just finishing another meeting."
Enzo inclined his head once in acknowledgment.
He hurried back to the waiting area and sat beside Anna, maintaining the same quiet control he had exhibited throughout the rest of the base.
Anna watched him for a second, then glanced around again.
"This place really does make an impression," she said under her breath.
"How strong do you have to be to build this kind of silence around yourself? Even you go quiet here."
That got the faintest smile out of him.
"Are you provoking me?"
She shook her head at once. "No. I'm serious. I'm just impressed."
Enzo leaned back slightly, his eyes drifting toward the double doors ahead. "Yeah, I get it," he said.
And for a little while, the two of them spoke in low voices and waited while the air itself seemed to hold its breath around the room.
When the doors finally opened, the shift in the room was immediate.
Two women emerged, and neither looked like the kind of person anyone sane would ever want to inconvenience.
The first was Ariana.
Tall, red-haired, and carrying herself with the kind of perfect posture that made power look effortless, she moved across the polished floor as though the space had been designed around her rather than the other way around. Everything about her was controlled. Not cold exactly, but measured enough that warmth would only ever appear if she personally decided it was useful.
Behind her came Elanor Grace.
For one brief second, Enzo felt every muscle in his body tighten beneath the mask.
Her eyes bright green, sharp, and unreadable. She did not need to do anything dramatic to feel dangerous. The certainty in the way she moved was enough, she was Elise Grace Older sister and one of the strongest squad leaders in Team Rocket, and someone who would have very good reason to hate him if she ever knew exactly what had happened to her younger sister because of him.
Even with that thought flashing through his mind, Enzo did not let a single thing show on the surface. The mask helped.
Ariana's eyes passed over him and then over Anna with the detached speed of someone accustomed to evaluating people in fractions of a second. Elanor's glance followed a moment later, just as brief, just as uninterested. Neither woman paused. Neither recognized him. Not like this.
They continued down the corridor and disappeared past the elevator without a word.
Only when they were gone did Enzo let the tension inside him ease by the smallest possible degree.
Across the room, the receptionist lifted a hand and gave him a subtle signal.
It was his turn.
Enzo rose at once, and he turned back toward Anna.
"Wish me luck."
She smiled. "You won't need it."
Then he turned, crossed the room, and went in.
The office beyond the double doors felt exactly like the room at the center of an empire should feel.
It was spacious without being wasteful, elegant without trying to impress, and so controlled in every visible detail that the silence itself seemed arranged. The lighting was warm enough to keep the room from feeling cold, but not soft enough to make anyone forget where they were.
Shelves, cabinets, and wall pieces had all been chosen with the kind of taste that came not from luxury alone, but from a man who had long since reached the point where he no longer needed to prove he could afford it.
At the center of that calm sat Giovanni.
He was reading through a stack of documents as if the entire world outside the room existed only when he decided it did, one hand resting lightly against the arm of his chair while Persian lay stretched at his feet in total ease, the great cat looking almost decorative until one noticed the eyes. Half closed, yes, but alert in the way only predators could be alert while pretending to rest.
Enzo stepped forward, stopped at the appropriate distance, and inclined his head.
"Good afternoon, boss."
Giovanni lifted his gaze from the papers and looked at him properly. There was no wasted movement in him, no theatrical pause, no need to manufacture presence where none was lacking.
"Enzo," he said. "Welcome. Sit."
That was all.
No raised voice. No gesture sharpened for effect. No need.
Enzo sat.
Giovanni did not waste time on small talk.
"Before anything else," he said, folding his hands together, "let me congratulate you. The Fairy-type operation exceeded expectations. The timing was excellent, the market response was predictable, and your execution was clean enough to be useful on a much larger scale."
Enzo kept his face composed, though hearing it stated that plainly by Giovanni himself sent a sharp current of satisfaction through him.
Giovanni continued as though discussing the weather.
"As a reward, I am giving you direct support."
He opened a drawer at his desk, removed a black transaction card, and placed it on the polished surface between them.
"There are two hundred million Pokédollars on that card. Fully clean. Spend them where you want, how you want."
For one fraction of a second, Enzo forgot to breathe.
He did not reach for the card immediately. That helped. It gave him just enough time to keep his expression steady while his thoughts moved all at once behind the mask of control.
Two hundred million clean.
Not dirty money. Not value tied up in stock. Not capital that still needed laundering, reshaping, disguising, or bleeding through layers of Rocket handling. Clean money.
And Giovanni was not finished.
"In addition," Giovanni said, "whatever dirty funds you still want converted, I will have them washed without penalty."
That hit even harder.
Inside, Enzo's mind moved through the numbers almost instantly.
He already had 3.3 million clean. He still held 148.845 million in dirty funds. Add another 200 million in clean support from Giovanni, and with the laundering process stripped of the usual bite, that placed him at 352.145 million Pokédollars in clean capital.
It was not just generosity. It was faith. Not trust in the sentimental sense, but something much more valuable inside Team Rocket. Confidence. Investment.
A decision from Giovanni himself that Enzo was no longer merely useful on small operations. He was worth arming properly.
Enzo lowered his head in a clean, respectful bow.
"Thank you, boss."
Giovanni's mouth curved very slightly, not quite a smile and not far from one either.
"It is the minimum," he said. "You made me a great deal of money. I see no reason to be stingy with people who do that well."
Enzo finally took the card.
Even through all his self-control, the weight of it felt different.
Giovanni studied him for a second longer, then asked in a tone so casual it almost disguised the importance of the question, "Have you used my gift yet?"
Enzo knew exactly what he meant.
He shook his head once. "Not in public. I've been training with it in secret, but I haven't shown it."
That answer seemed to please Giovanni.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand drifting toward Persian's head for a brief, absent stroke before his eyes returned to Enzo.
"Good," he said. "The best card is always the one hidden."
The line was simple. It did not need to be more than that.
Enzo understood it immediately.
Giovanni did not believe in strength for the sake of spectacle. He believed in revealed force only when revelation itself could win something. A hidden weapon was not merely safer. It was more valuable. More dangerous. More flexible. The thing nobody accounted for was always worth more than the thing everyone had already prepared to counter.
Enzo gave a small nod. "Understood."
"I know," Giovanni said.
That response, quiet and confident, landed with its own kind of weight.
Then Giovanni's expression changed.
Not dramatically, but enough for the room's temperature to shift with it.
His eyes grew more focused, his posture no less relaxed yet somehow more dangerous in its stillness, and when he spoke again, it was clear the conversation had moved beyond reward and into strategy.
"I received reports from Orre," he said. "You were right."
Enzo's attention sharpened at once.
"Cypher is in possession of a minor legendary with considerable strength," Giovanni continued. "More importantly, the creature appears to be a direct descendant of a true legendary."
For the first time since entering the office, something close to real unease moved through Enzo.
A direct descendant.
His mind jumped to the answer almost before the thought had fully formed.
Shadow Lugia.
Enzo brought one hand to his chin, out of habit. "If that's true," he said carefully, "then the data they're collecting would be extremely valuable to us. I could go to Orre and try to take it. If we had access to their research, it could accelerate parts of Project Mewtwo."
Giovanni's gaze remained fixed on him.
"A subordinate under Ariana believes she can handle the situation alone," he said. "Perhaps she can. I am not interested in betting everything on one line of competence when other pieces are available."
Giovanni reached for another file, opened it, and continued without pause.
"For now, you are not going to Orre."
That surprised Enzo, though he did not show it.
Giovanni went on. "You are going to collect the incubator for your Pokémon. Then you are going to Hoenn."
That made Enzo's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.
Giovanni either knew more than he was saying, or he simply understood his problems so well that the difference no longer mattered.
"Go meet with your friend Steven," he said. " Secure a location for your base. Begin establishing infrastructure there rather than improvising it as you go."
He slid a small card with a phone number across the desk. "If you need construction support, contact this number. They are expensive but very discreet."
Enzo took the number and looked at it for a moment before lifting his eyes again.
Enzo had only just started to organize his thoughts when Giovanni had already anticipated, categorized, and solved the same problems.
That was the real difference between them.
Enzo nodded in acknowledgment.
"I understand," he said.
Giovanni gave a single nod in response, as if that answer was the only one that truly mattered.
For a moment, it looked as though the meeting was over.
Giovanni had already given him more than Enzo had expected to receive in one sitting, most people would have taken that as their cue to stand, thank him, and leave before they accidentally made themselves look greedy.
Enzo did not move.
"There is one more thing," he said.
Giovanni's eyes settled on him again. "Go on."
Enzo chose his words carefully, not because the point itself was difficult to make, but because this was the sort of request that defined how a man wanted to be seen from then onward.
"My team is good," he said. "But it's too small. If I'm going to handle Hoenn properly, I need more people."
Giovanni gave no immediate reaction. Then he pressed a button on the desk intercom.
"Send Mauricius in."
The response came at once from the other side. "Yes, boss."
A short while later, the door opened, and a man stepped into the office, dressed more neatly than most Rocket personnel and carrying the clipped, cautious posture of someone used to balancing obedience against unpleasant news. Mauricius, Director of Personnel.
Enzo knew who he was immediately.
The man greeted Giovanni first, then acknowledged Enzo with the appropriate level of professional respect. Not excessive. Not careless. Just enough to reflect the fact that however young Enzo looked beneath the mask, his current position already placed him above men like Mauricius in the hierarchy that actually mattered.
Giovanni got straight to the point.
"Enzo needs people."
Mauricius folded his hands in front of him. "How many?"
"Five standard slots," Giovanni said. Then his gaze shifted back to Enzo.
"And if you accept three recommendations from me, I'll also release fifteen material grunts into your service."
Enzo did not let the surprise show.
Five proper members were already useful. Fifteen material grunts on top of that was not generosity. It was leverage disguised as support.
His mind immediately moved through the possibilities. Spies. Dead weight. Damaged goods. Problematic personalities.
Still, fifteen bodies with even partial utility could become something dangerous in the right hands.
Enzo looked from Giovanni to Mauricius and then back again.
"Can I choose the material grunts myself?"
That got a reaction from both of them.
It was slight, but real. Mauricius's brows shifted first, and even Giovanni's stillness altered just enough to make it clear the request had not been what they expected. Most squad leaders asked for names from rankings, referrals, or direct recommendations. They did not ask to choose from the material level unless they either knew something unusual or were making a mistake.
Enzo anticipated the suspicion before it could settle.
"Ronnie used to be a material grunt," he said. "He knows some of them. Enough to know which ones are actually worth taking."
That explanation seemed to resolve the question.
Mauricius gave a small nod. Giovanni's expression remained unreadable for a second longer, then he leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Very well," he said. "You may review the list."
And just like that, the request was no longer whether Enzo could build a larger operation.
It had become what kind of operation he wanted to build.
Enzo did not answer immediately.
He let the offer settle into place in his mind, weighing what mattered more in the short term: freedom or volume, purity of selection or strategic growth. Under normal circumstances, accepting three names chosen by Giovanni himself might have sounded like a dangerous way to invite monitoring into the heart of his team.
Under normal circumstances, Enzo would have worried about that more.
But he was no longer operating under normal circumstances. He was leaving for Hoenn with a legendary egg, a mobile stockpile, an expanding network, and far too many active fronts to pretend he could manage everything through a tiny trusted core forever.
He needed people.
And if Giovanni wanted three placements in exchange for fifteen more assets, then the smarter move was not rejection. It was an adaptation.
"I accept the three recommendations," Enzo said.
Mauricius glanced at Giovanni. Giovanni only inclined his head once, which was apparently all the confirmation needed.
Enzo continued before either of them could fill the silence. "In that case, I want Xedron and Xenon."
This time, the reaction was more visible.
Mauricius looked genuinely surprised. Giovanni did not, but the smallest flicker of approval passed through his expression before disappearing again.
"A good choice," Giovanni said.
Enzo kept his face still, though inwardly the relief was immediate. If he was going to build strength fast, then talent mattered more than comfort.
The brothers were not attached to any major faction, had strong battle rankings, and had a reputation for competence rather than politics.
That alone made them worth more than most of the names he could have asked for.
Mauricius recovered his composure and nodded once. "With your authorization and Executive Nero's confirmation, they can be reassigned to Lambda Squad."
Giovanni's eyes returned to Enzo. "Done."
The word landed with the finality of a signed order.
Enzo gave a slight nod. "And I want the list of material grunts."
Mauricius made a note of that at once.
What pleased Enzo most was not merely that he had secured names. It was that he had done it without choosing for sentiment, ego, or simple familiarity. He had picked useful people. Dangerous people. People who could become force multipliers if handled correctly.
That was the only kind worth bringing into Hoenn.
Again, the meeting seemed to be reaching its natural end.
Again, Enzo did not stand.
"There's something else," he said.
Mauricius looked up from his notes. Giovanni, by contrast, only watched.
"This one is private."
That got the Director of Personnel out of the room faster than any dismissal would have.
Giovanni gave a slight motion with one hand. "Leave the list with the girl outside."
Mauricius rose at once. "Of course, boss."
A moment later, the door closed behind him, and the room returned to silence.
Only Giovanni. Persian. Enzo.
Now the real weight of the next words mattered.
Enzo did not rush them.
"I may have a lead concerning a possible influence connected to Darkrai," he said. "Not certainty. But enough to be worth mentioning."
That was all it took.
Giovanni's attention sharpened instantly, not in movement, but in focus. Whatever subject had been sitting on top of the pile before, this one now sat above it.
"Who?"
"Chairman Rose," Enzo said first. "And a trainer from Sinnoh. Tobias."
Giovanni's gaze remained fixed on him. "Tobias."
"He's strong," Enzo said. "Too strong to ignore, he is hiding his strength. He has a Darkrai and another minor legendary."
Giovanni's fingers rested lightly against the desk. "I've heard the name. There are rumors in Sinnoh. Including one that places him close to Cynthia."
Enzo had to suppress the reaction that rose inside him at hearing it stated so plainly. Close to Cynthia. That matched too much too easily.
He kept his voice even.
"That makes sense," he said. "The last time I was near her, I felt something was wrong. But it wasn't Darkrai."
Giovanni waited.
Enzo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Something stronger. Worse."
Giovanni gave a single, slow nod. "I'll keep watch on Tobias. If I learn anything useful, you'll know."
"Thank you."
This time, when the meeting came to its end, Enzo did rise.
Giovanni's final instructions were concise.
"Collect the list. Go to Gate 5. My three recommendations will be waiting there. The brothers as well. And your incubator."
Enzo inclined his head. "Understood."
"Be careful in Hoenn," Giovanni added. "The region is unstable. If possible, improve the balance."
Enzo left the office with far more than he had entered with, and not all of it could be measured in money.
Out in the waiting area, Anna was already leaning over a tablet with the kind of expression people wore when they had been handed far too much information and told it was now their problem. The moment she saw him, she lifted the screen slightly in complaint.
"There are hundreds of thousands of names on this."
Enzo glanced at it, then at her. "Then you'd better start dividing them by category."
She stared at him. "You're serious?"
"Yes."
"What categories?"
"Useful. Possibly useful. Worth training. Worth moving. Worth spending on. Worth ignoring." He gave the faintest shrug. "You'll figure it out."
Anna gave him a look that suggested she was deciding whether to be offended or impressed.
Enzo's mouth curved slightly. "We don't have time right now. We're going to meet the new additions first."
That got her full attention. "New additions?"
He nodded once and started walking.
Anna quickly fell into step beside him, tablet still in hand. As they ventured deeper into the restricted sections, Enzo became increasingly aware of his own pulse. He had remained calm in Giovanni's office, except during the discussion about the Darkrai matter. Using knowledge from anime could be dangerous without verification first, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
Now, approaching Gate 5, he found himself uncharacteristically tense.
Who exactly had Giovanni chosen?
That question followed him all the way to the door.
The gate itself was plain enough, industrial and unremarkable, but the space beyond it felt heavier before it even opened, as though anticipation had already reached through the metal and settled into the corridor ahead of time.
Anna glanced at him and said, "You look worried."
"I'm thinking," he replied.
"That's usually worse."
Enzo nearly responded, but the doors were already opening.
As the room beyond came into view, he saw five figures waiting inside.
For one perfectly controlled second, his face showed no emotion.
Inside, however, his mind screamed just one thing: Fuck.