Enzo stepped out of the Exchange Center, as he belonged to a different tier of oxygen.
The new thermal suit sat tight on his frame—black Rocket issue, the silver R catching light whenever he moved. The tactical backpack rode high and close, built for sprinting, not surviving. The magnetic belt hugged his waist with a faint hum, slots occupied, weight balanced, ready to quick-draw like an actual operative.
He didn't look like a recruit anymore.
He looked like someone who had already decided the island was his.
Outside, the plaza was still packed. Not as loud as before—Day 50 had chewed the bravado out of most of them—but full of bodies pretending they weren't watching him.
They were watching.
Some stared openly. Some pretended to check their TR Devices. Some kept their eyes down like that would make their envy invisible. And somewhere in the mess, the old crater still smoked, the broken machine still sat there like a corpse that hadn't been buried, and the number 560 still echoed in everyone's head.
The whispers followed him like flies.
"He spent everything…"
"His Koffing's probably in a coma…"
"Now we can take him…"
Enzo didn't react. He just walked.
But his eyes tracked the real danger.
Near the base entrance, half a dozen recruits were pressed against the wall in lazy poses—arms crossed, one foot up, faces blank. They were doing a good job pretending to wait for someone.
Too good.
Their shoulders were tense. Their gaze kept sliding, not to the door, but to the path leading out of the safe zone. They weren't waiting for a friend.
They were waiting for Enzo to leave.
They wanted to follow him until the rules stopped protecting him, then jump him the moment he was "alone."
Enzo almost smiled.
Predators always thought they were subtle.
Then one person broke the pattern.
A figure stepped away from the crowd and walked straight toward him.
No fake lean. No pretending. No attempt to hide the intent.
Proton.
He looked like he was still processing the last ten minutes of his life—eyes sharper than before, posture less loose, the expression of someone who'd realized he'd been standing beside a wildfire and calling it a candle.
He stopped in front of Enzo and exhaled through his nose like he was trying to keep his pride from doing something stupid.
"So…" Proton said carefully. "Enzo, right?"
Enzo's mouth twitched. A small, controlled amusement.
He nodded once. "Yeah."
Proton hesitated for half a beat, then forced himself to continue, as if speaking first was safer than letting silence stretch.
Enzo leaned slightly toward him, voice low. "Well? You decided?"
That finally cracked something in Proton's expression—like he hated that the choice was obvious.
He glanced sideways at the plaza. At the crowd. At the scoreboard still blinking in his memory.
Then back to Enzo.
"After what you just did?" Proton muttered. "It'd be stupid to stay alone when I've got this opportunity." His eyes flicked to Enzo's belt, then back up. "plus the food you promised for my zulbat."
He sounded half-bitter, half-practical.
Then he nodded once, more firmly. "I'm in."
Enzo didn't celebrate. He didn't clap him on the shoulder. He just accepted it like a contract being signed.
Proton's gaze slid past Enzo—toward the ones by the wall.
The "waiting" predators.
His voice dropped. "But… we've got a problem."
Enzo didn't ask. He already knew.
Proton continued anyway, because he was worried.
"They think you're vulnerable," Proton said. "They think your Koffing is out. They think you blew your only weapon and now you're trying to hide behind a partner."
"They're going to follow us."
Enzo's eyes didn't move, but his attention did.
He watched one of them adjust his stance as if he'd just remembered he was supposed to look casual. Another scratched his neck, fake-bored, eyes too alert.
Proton's jaw tightened. "Your Koffing can't be recovered that fast. So what's the plan? Two of us against…" he glanced around, counting silhouettes, "…a whole pack?"
Enzo's answer came without hesitation.
"They won't follow," he said.
Proton blinked. "What?"
Enzo finally looked at Proton properly.
Not cold. Not kind.
Just… certain.
"They think I'm prey," Enzo said calmly. "We're going to correct that."
Proton's eyes narrowed. "How?"
Enzo didn't explain.
He reached for his belt and took a Poké Ball in one smooth motion.
Enzo flicked the release.
Light burst outward.
Corvisquire materialized in a rush of shadow and mass—too big, too dense, feathers like hammered metal plates layered over muscle.
The bird let out a metallic shriek that scraped across the plaza and made the air vibrate. Then it beat its wings once—just once—and a gust rolled outward, kicking dust and grit across boots and making the closest recruits instinctively step back.
The predators at the wall froze.
For half a second, they forgot to pretend.
Then their faces rearranged themselves at the speed of survival.
One of them laughed too loudly as if he'd been waiting for a joke to land.
Another suddenly looked very interested in the sky.
Two of them straightened their posture, trying to look like respectful civilians rather than wolves caught stalking.
They weren't bold anymore.
They were careful.
Careful, like someone who'd almost offended the wrong person.
Proton stared at Corvisquire as if his brain needed a reboot.
"What the hell…?" he whispered.
Enzo's voice was calm. Almost lazy.
"You think that's enough?"
Proton swallowed.
Corvisquire turned its head slightly, one blade-sharp eye locking onto the wall crew. The message wasn't even subtle.
Try it.
The predators didn't move.
Enzo watched their micro-reactions like a man watching a fire choose where to spread.
Then he looked back at Proton.
Proton exhaled slowly. "Yeah," he admitted. "I think… yeah. That should do it."
He started to shift his weight like he was ready to leave.
Enzo stopped him with two words.
"Not yet."
Proton paused. "What?"
Enzo's eyes flicked over Proton's gear—old strap, worn fabric, belt that looked like it had been scavenged. A recruit trying to act like an operator.
It didn't match.
If Proton was walking with him, then Proton was a statement too.
Enzo reached into his backpack and pulled out a second tactical bag.
He tossed it to Proton.
Proton caught it on instinct, then immediately looked inside—
And his expression broke.
"A thermal suit?" Proton hissed, like the words were illegal. His hands tightened on the fabric. "And a magnetic belt?"
Enzo didn't look impressed.
He looked annoyed, like Proton was wasting time.
"You're with me now," Enzo said, voice flat. "You don't walk around looking like a beginner."
Proton shook his head hard. "I can't accept this. This is expensive."
Enzo waved a hand like he was brushing off a fly.
"It's nothing," he said. "It's efficiency."
Proton stared at him, caught between pride and logic.
Enzo leaned in slightly, tone sharpening—quiet, controlled, absolute.
"Consider it a signing bonus," Enzo said. "Go gear up. Fast."
Proton hesitated one last second, then went.
Enzo stayed where he was, shoulder against the cold concrete near the Exchange Center exit, letting Corvisquire's presence do the talking for him.
The plaza kept pretending it wasn't watching.
The wall-predators kept pretending they weren't predators.
And somewhere to the side, Proton had vanished to gear up—fast, like Enzo told him to.
Enzo finally let his focus drift inward.
His TR Device buzzed once in his pocket, but he ignored it. The real itch was behind his eyes—an old notification he'd swatted away earlier, still waiting like an unpaid debt.
He exhaled through his nose and opened the System window.
The blue frame flared into his vision again.
[ CONGRATULATIONS ]
Mission Completed: KING OF THE HILL
Status: COMPLETE
Enzo's gaze slid over it without emotion.
Then he tapped the reward section.
For half a second—just a fraction—his body remembered.
The psychic awakening. The rewiring. The nausea. The blood.
His throat tightened.
A stupid, involuntary thought flashed through him:
If this is another "99%…" thing, I'm going to drop in the plaza.
His eyes flicked once, scanning his surroundings. If he went limp, he had Gastly in his shadow and Corvisquire to defend him.
Then the System loaded.
99%…
Enzo's jaw set.
And instead of pain, instead of light, instead of that skull-splitting violence—
A menu appeared.
Clean. Clinical. Almost gentle in comparison.
[ REWARD — CHOOSE 1 TM ]
TM: Substitute
TM: Light Screen
TM: Teleport
Enzo blinked once.
No screaming neurons.
No blackout.
Just… choice.
He stared at the three options, and his mind immediately did what it always did.
It stopped feeling and started building scenarios.
Substitute: body insurance. A decoy to eat hits. Great in a duel. Great for baiting.
Light Screen: special mitigation. Useful for a team. Useful against psychics, ghosts, and anything with range.
Teleport…
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Teleport wasn't just "defense."
Teleport was a means to travel long distances.
A reset button.
A reposition.
An escape that turned traps into jokes—if you could use it correctly.
And now he had a Porygon.
With Teleport, he could do things that weren't possible for normal recruits.
Break encirclements.
Dodge ambushes.
Appear where the opponent wasn't ready.
His lips barely moved.
"Teleport," Enzo selected.
The option locked in with a soft System chime.
[ REWARD — TM SELECTION CONFIRMED ]
Selected: TM — TELEPORT
…Processing…
…Validating ownership…
…Encoding complete…
[ TM ACQUIRED ]
TM: TELEPORT
[ IMPORTANT ]
TM usage is restricted.
To install this TM, you must select a Pokémon with:
— VIRUS STATUS: ACTIVE
Non-VIRUS targets cannot synchronize with this TM file.
Enzo blinked—surprised.
He wasn't going to "receive" the TM the same way he'd received the Great Balls.
This TM came with a condition.
To use it, he'd have to select a Pokémon carrying the Virus.
Enzo tried to ask the System if he could teach his team more moves.
No response.
Then a red window slammed into his vision.
[ NEW MISSION ]
Objective: Maintain Rank #1 on Day 100 (Final Exam)
Reward: ???
Penalty: DEATH
Enzo stared at it for half a second.
Then his mouth twitched.
Not amusement. Not joy.
Just fatigue shaped like sarcasm.
"…Deoxys," he muttered under his breath, "nothing new..."
He closed the window mentally, like shutting a door.
No ceremony.
No panic.
A moment later, footsteps approached—faster, more confident than before.
Proton returned.
And Enzo didn't need the System to see the difference.
The thermal suit fit Proton's frame a little awkwardly—still new, still stiff—but it made him look heavier, sharper. The black Rocket fabric erased the "random recruit" vibe instantly. The magnetic belt sat at his waist like a promise, slots clean, ready.
Proton's posture had changed, too.
Not arrogance.
Just… less apologetic.
He stopped in front of Enzo, adjusting one strap like he was getting used to the idea of being allowed to look dangerous.
Enzo looked him over once and delivered the verdict, dry and simple:
"Now you look like Team Rocket."
Proton huffed a short laugh, half embarrassed, half pleased.
He lifted his belt slightly, showing the new arrangement—two Poké Balls clipped cleanly into the magnetic slots. And adjusting his new bag.
Enzo nodded once.
"Good," he said. "Let's move."
They left the Exchange Center and crossed the plaza like they owned the concrete.
Corvisquire moved above them—low enough to cast a shadow, heavy enough that the wind from its wings shoved dust across the ground. Every time it beat once, the nearest recruits flinched like the air itself had warned them.
The "predators" by the gate kept pretending. Arms crossed. Eyes elsewhere. Talking too loudly, laughing too forced.
None of them stepped off the wall.
None of them took the first step outside the safe zone.
Enzo didn't look at them.
He didn't need to.
Proton walked beside him, still adjusting to the weight of the new belt, still watching the crowd from the corner of his eye like he expected teeth.
Once they passed the outer checkpoint and the jungle line opened ahead, Proton finally spoke.
"Where are we going?"
Enzo lifted his chin and pointed—no drama, just direction.
"North."
Proton's step hesitated. "North?" He glanced at the treeline as it might bite back. "That's the most dangerous zone for recruits."
Enzo's voice didn't change.
"We're not normal recruits."
Corvisquire's shadow slid over them again, and the recruits behind the fence suddenly looked very busy not watching.
Enzo kept walking.
"And North is perfect," he added. "No one bothers you there."
Proton swallowed, then nodded once.
"Okay," he said, quieter. "North."
And with Corvisquire above them like a moving warning sign, the gate closed behind.
No footsteps followed.
They hadn't even gone ten minutes before the weight from the camping gear became annoying.
The tent. The field kit. The packed supplies.
Enzo stopped, dropped the heavy camping bag onto the ground, and looked down at his own shadow.
"Gastly," he said, calm. "Hold this."
The shadow rippled.
Not like light changing—like something underneath it opened its mouth.
The bag slid an inch… then vanished straight down, swallowed by darkness that shouldn't have been able to swallow anything.
Proton jumped so hard he almost punched the air.
"What the—!"
Enzo didn't even turn.
"Relax," he said. "He's a good guy."
A faint, smug giggle echoed inside Proton's head—too close, too cold.
Proton froze, eyes wide.
Enzo sighed like this was normal.
"He just likes scaring people."
The shadow seemed to quiver with pride.
As they pushed deeper into the path, Proton released his Zubat for air support.
The bat appeared clean and sharp—wings strong, posture controlled, not the sloppy panic-flier most recruits dragged around.
Enzo stepped close.
The System responded instantly.
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — ]
Specimen: Zubat
Level: 15
Potential: GREEN
Moves: Wing Attack (Flying) | Bite (Dark) | Confuse Ray (Ghost)
Enzo withdrew his hand.
"Good training," he said, eyes still on the Zubat. "Clean form."
"…Thanks," he muttered.
Enzo's gaze flicked to Proton's belt—two Poké Balls.
"And the second one?" Enzo already knew the answer.
Proton rubbed the back of his neck.
"It's a Koffing," he said, but he didn't release it. "Found it in the pocket of a recruit who tried to rob me while I was sleeping."
Enzo's mouth twitched, almost in approval.
"You did right."
Enzo kept walking, voice flat like a rule written in stone.
"On Team Rocket, there's no forgiveness."
Proton didn't argue.
He just nodded once, like he understood the world he lived in.
And inside Enzo's head, behind the calm, a colder thought clicked into place:
Maybe Proton's Koffing can teach mine something.
Enzo's eyes stayed forward.
North waited.
(Author's Note: To everyone who gave me Power Stones, thank you so much. I'm having a ton of fun writing this, and I've already got some great ideas for what's coming next. I hope you're having fun reading it too!)