The heavy metal door of the warehouse slammed shut behind him with a thud that seemed to seal away the last three weeks of hell.
The morning sun of Cerulean hit his face, bright and clean, but the plain red cap, pulled low, kept his red eyes in the shadow.
He began to walk through the paved streets of the city. Cerulean was known for its tranquility, for its Water-type trainers with glittering Staryus and light summer clothes. Enzo, dressed in black and leather, looked like an oil stain on the city's clean water.
By his side, Zorua trotted with a natural arrogance, his fluffy tail held high like a flag of defiance. When the sidewalk became slightly more crowded, the small black fox jumped agilely, landing on Enzo's left shoulder. From there, his bright blue eyes analyzed the crowd with contained malice.
The reaction was immediate. People on the street physically moved away, opening a corridor for his passage. Mothers pulled their children closer upon seeing the Dark Pokémon and the unmistakably dangerous air of its trainer. Nervous whispers followed in his wake.
Enzo felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated this cheap attention. It wasn't respect earned in battle; it was just the superficial fear of civilians who had never seen a true predator. He kept his chin up, ignoring the stares with an icy indifference, walking with a focused purpose that clearly said: "Don't get in my way."
He was halfway to the city center, focused on the League building in the distance, when the air vibrated in front of him.
A low, guttural growl, one that didn't belong to any house pet, echoed through the street.
"Grrrrr..."
Enzo stopped.
Two meters away, completely blocking the sidewalk, stood a majestic Arcanine. Its fire-orange fur and black stripes gleamed in the sun, and the dog bared huge fangs, its posture radiating unquestionable authority.
Enzo didn't flinch. He simply sighed, a sound of pure boredom at having his commute interrupted, and slowly turned his head to the left.
Leaning against a lamppost, arms crossed and wearing a stern expression, was an Officer Jenny. Her blue uniform was immaculate, the police cap perfectly placed over her turquoise hair.
She pushed herself off the post, walked two steps toward him, and pointed a gloved finger directly at his chest.
"Stop right there!" she ordered, her voice cutting and authoritative. "Not another step."
Enzo looked slowly, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
In another life this situation would have been the most terrifying thing imaginable. A Rocket Grunt caught by a Jenny with an Arcanine? That was a one-way ticket to a cell, or worse.
But in this life? In this life, where his ID was clean and his criminal record non-existent? This was a joke. It was almost entertaining.
He looked at the Officer. She was young, likely fresh out of the Academy, trying too hard to project authority.
"Identification," Officer Jenny demanded, stepping into his personal space. Her hand hovered near her belt, aggressive and ready. "Now."
Enzo didn't reach for his pockets. instead, he tilted his head, looking her up and down with amused red eyes.
"Did I do something, Officer?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk. "Or are you just using your badge as an excuse to hit on me?"
Officer Jenny froze. Her professional mask cracked for a split second, a flush of pink rising to her cheeks against her will. She quickly stiffened, forcing her expression back into a scowl.
"My job is to protect this city from people with... bad intentions," she stated, her voice tight.
"Bad intentions?" Enzo chuckled darkly. He took a half-step closer, just enough to make her heart rate spike. "And do I look like I have bad intentions? Or maybe..." he lowered his voice to a playful whisper, "...you just have a thing for danger?"
Officer Jenny's eyes widened in indignation. She stepped back, her hand gripping her baton.
"That's enough," she snapped, her patience gone. "You fit the profile of a troublemaker. We're going to the station. You can explain your 'intentions' in an interrogation room."
"I'm afraid I have to decline your invitation," Enzo said, checking the expensive watch on his wrist. "As much as I'd love to spend time in a small room with you, I'm on a schedule."
"You don't have a choice—"
"I have to register for the Rookie Tournament," Enzo interrupted calmly. "The deadline is at noon."
Silence hung in the air for a second. Then, Officer Jenny scoffed. It wasn't just a laugh; it was a sound of pure disbelief.
"You?" She looked at his ripped jeans, the heavy chains, the Dark-type fox on his shoulder, and the sheer aggression in his style. "Don't lie to me. The Rookie Tournament is for elite trainers. It's for people with backing, with sponsors, with class. It's not for... street thugs ..."
Enzo's smile didn't falter, but his eyes sharpened.
"Then prove me wrong," Enzo challenged.
He gestured down the street toward the massive League building visible in the distance.
"Walk me to the registration desk. If I'm lying, you can drag me to a cell and throw away the key. I won't resist. But if I'm telling the truth..." he paused, raising an eyebrow, "...you have to admit you were wrong."
Officer Jenny glared at him, weighing her options. Arcanine looked from her to Enzo, waiting for a command.
"Fine," she hissed. "But if you try to run, Arcanine will catch you before you blink."
"I wouldn't dream of leaving your company," Enzo replied.
He started walking. She fell in step beside him, her hand still near her weapon, her body tense.
"Nice dog, by the way," Enzo commented casually as they walked, nodding at the massive beast flanking them. "Does he bite, or is he just for show like the hat?"
Officer Jenny stared straight ahead, her jaw clenched, refusing to dignify him with an answer.
"Tough crowd," Enzo muttered to Zorua.
The fox yipped, seemingly enjoying the tension as much as his master. They continued down the street, an odd trio: the punk, the fox, and the officer, marching toward the heart of the city's elite.
The automatic glass doors of the Cerulean League Center slid open with a soft hiss. The air inside was conditioned and smelled of floor wax and ozone.
Enzo walked straight to the main desk, with Officer Jenny trailing a step behind, her hand still hovering near her belt, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of deception.
The receptionist was the same young man from Enzo's previous visit. He looked up, adjusting his glasses, and his face lit up with recognition.
"Ah! Mr. Vance," the receptionist said, offering a polite smile. "Welcome back. I didn't expect to see you again so soon." He paused, leaning forward slightly. "How is Lt. Surge?"
Officer Jenny's eyebrows shot up. Lt. Surge? He knows the Vermilion Gym Leader?
"He's doing well," Enzo lied smoothly, leaning an elbow on the high counter. "Shocking as always."
"That is good to hear," the receptionist said, looking relieved. "So, you are here for the Rookie Tournament registration? Did you bring the Electric-types?"
"I brought my own team," Enzo corrected.
He unclipped four Poké Balls from his bandolier and placed them on the metallic scanning tray.
Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.
"Very well," the receptionist typed a command. "Scanning for verification..."
The machine hummed. A blue light swept over the capsules. The receptionist watched his screen, expecting to see the yellow icons of Electric-types—Magnemites, Voltorbs, maybe a Pikachu.
Instead, the screen turned a deep, bruised purple.
The receptionist blinked. He adjusted his glasses and leaned closer to the monitor.
"Mr. Vance..." he said, confused. "There must be a mistake. The system is reading these as... Dark types. There isn't a single Electric Pokémon here."
"I never said I followed Surge's type preference," Enzo replied, his voice calm. "I only use the best."
While the receptionist stared at the League's basic interface, Enzo's own TR Device, hidden in his pocket, synced with the balls on the tray. The data scrolled across Enzo's eyes, invisible to everyone else.
[ SYSTEM SCAN — TARGET IDENTIFIED ]
Specimen: Houndoom (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 40
Potential: DEEP BLUE
Ability: Flash Fire
Typing: Dark / Fire
Moves Detected: Flamethrower, Dark Pulse, Nasty Plot, Fire Fang...
Obs: "Combat discipline: high."
[ SYSTEM SCAN — TARGET IDENTIFIED ]
Species: Zorua (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 25
Potential: LIGHT BLUE
Bond Indicator: "Increased proximity to host detected."
Ability: Illusion
Moves: Scratch, Leer, Quick Attack, Pursuit...
Obs: "High adaptability."
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Krokorok (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 39
Potential: LIGHT BLUE
Ability: Intimidate
Typing: Ground / Dark
Moves: Bite, Mud-Slap, Power Trip, Crunch.
Obs: "Predatory posture established. Pack-leader behavior emerging."
[ POKÉMON PROFILE — UPDATED ]
Specimen: Deino (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 30
Potential: BLUE
Ability: Hustle
Moves: Earth Power, Dark Pulse...
Obs: "Growth ceiling elevated. Future evolution stability reinforced."
The receptionist frowned as he looked at the average levels on his screen. He did the math quickly in his head.
"Mr. Vance," the young man said, his tone dropping to a whisper of concern. "Look... your paperwork is in order, but... are you sure this is the team you want to lock in?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Well," the receptionist gestured to the screen. "Your average level is around 33. Most of the trainers registering for this tournament, especially the ones backed by corporations or Gyms, are bringing powerhouses.
He looked at Enzo with genuine pity.
"With a level 25 Zorua and a level 30 Deino... you're going to be at a severe disadvantage. Do you have any higher-level reserves you'd like to swap in?"
Enzo didn't even blink. He smirked.
"No, thank you," Enzo said dismissively. "Levels are just numbers for people who don't know how to strategize."
The receptionist sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Very well. It's your funeral... I mean, your registration."
He hit the ENTER key.
PING.
Enzo's phone buzzed in his pocket. A green notification flashed on the screen: [REGISTRATION CONFIRMED: Enzo Vance. Bracket A. Report to Cerulean Gym at 08:00 AM.]
Enzo picked up his Poké Balls, clipping them back onto his magnetic belt with practiced ease. The magnetic clicks echoed in the silence.
He turned slowly to face Officer Jenny, who had been watching the entire exchange with a mixture of shock (at the Lt. Surge connection) and confusion (at the under-leveled team).
Enzo held up his phone, showing her the official confirmation screen.
"Satisfied?" he asked.
Lilian stood frozen in the middle of the lobby, the light from Enzo's phone screen still shining in her face. The registration confirmation was undeniable.
She felt the heat rise up her neck, staining her pale cheeks a vivid red. She had profiled a citizen, threatened to arrest him, and worst of all, publicly doubted his legitimacy in front of League staff. For an officer in her first month of duty, this was a disaster.
"So..." she began, her voice slightly shaky, losing the steel authority she had tried to project on the street. "It seems there was a... misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?" Enzo put his phone away and crossed his arms, leaning in slightly. "You called me a criminal and said I belonged in a cell. I call that 'rushing to judgment.'"
Lilian straightened her posture, desperately trying to salvage her dignity.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Vance. My duty is to be vigilant, and given the visual circumstances..."
Enzo raised a hand, cutting off her formal speech.
"I don't want an apology from 'Officer Jenny.' I want an apology from the woman under that hat."
She blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"
"I showed you my ID. I know your last name, I know your rank. But I only accept the apology if you tell me your first name."
She hesitated, glancing around. The receptionist was pretending to be very busy typing.
"Protocol dictates we address civilians by—"
"Protocol ended when you tried to arrest me for being 'too well dressed,'" Enzo retorted with a crooked smile.
She sighed, defeated. He was right, and she knew it.
"Lilian," she murmured.
Enzo raised an eyebrow, savoring the information.
"Lilian..." He rolled the name around on his tongue as if tasting wine. "Sounds like a grandmother's name. But it's actually cute."
Lilian's eyes went wide with indignation.
"It is not a grandmother's name!" she snapped, forgetting her professional stance for a second. "It is a classic name!"
Enzo laughed, a genuine sound that caught her off guard.
"Easy, easy. No need to get nervous."
Lilian composed herself, adjusting her uniform tie with excessive force.
"You need to show more respect," she said, returning to her stern tone. "For the authority and for the uniform. You can't just mock an officer of the law after... after all this."
Enzo took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"You're right. I apologize. Total respect for the uniform." He paused dramatically. "But respect doesn't erase the fact that you wasted twenty minutes of my time and almost stained my reputation with the League staff."
He leaned in again, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I forgive you, Lilian. But only if you buy me a coffee to compensate for the moral damages."
Lilian looked at him, incredulous.
"A coffee? I am on duty! That's impossible."
"Then that's a shame," Enzo said, shrugging and turning toward the exit. "I guess I'll have to fill out that complaint form regarding 'Abuse of Authority and Profiling.' I hear Lt. Surge hates it when his recommended trainers are harassed by the local police..."
Lilian went pale. A formal complaint on her first posting? With Surge's name attached? That would be the end of her career before it even started.
"Wait!" she called out.
Enzo stopped and looked back, smiling.
"Yes?"
"After work," she said quickly, through gritted teeth. "I get off at 7:00 PM. I can... buy that coffee. To settle the matter."
"7:00 PM sounds perfect," Enzo agreed. "Don't be late, Lilian. I hate when you make me waste time."
He turned his back and walked out through the automatic glass doors, with Zorua skipping happily behind him.
As he stepped out into the sunlight, Enzo's smile shifted into something more calculating.
Perfect, he thought. Having a personal connection inside the Jenny Family... that is worth more than gold.
The automatic doors of the Cerulean Police Station slid open at 7:05 PM.
Lilian stepped out, looking nothing like the stern officer from that morning. She had traded the stiff blue uniform for a simple white blouse, a beige skirt that reached her knees, and comfortable ballet flats. Her turquoise hair was let down, falling straight over her shoulders, softening her sharp features.
She paused on the top step, scanning the sidewalk. A part of her—the part that dreaded social interactions with people she had almost arrested—hoped he had forgotten. Hoped he had just been talking big and wouldn't actually show up.
"Going somewhere?"
Lilian jumped slightly.
Leaning casually against the brick wall, arms crossed and looking effortlessly cool in the fading light, was Enzo. Zorua was sitting at his feet, grooming a paw.
"You came," Lilian said, clutching her small handbag a little tighter.
"I never miss a debt collection," Enzo teased, pushing himself off the wall. "Ready?"
Lilian hesitated, looking up and down the street.
"Since you are the local..." she admitted, feeling a bit out of her depth without her badge. "I don't actually know any good places. I haven't had time to explore."
Enzo smirked. "Don't worry. I know the perfect spot."
Ten minutes later, they were seated on the terrace of The Cerulean Summit, a high-end café perched on one of the hills overlooking the city.
The view was breathtaking. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of violet and burnt orange, reflecting beautifully off the river and the famous Nugget Bridge in the distance.
It was romantic. It was exclusive. And, though Lilian didn't check the menu prices, it was exorbitantly expensive.
"This view is... incredible," Lilian admitted, relaxing into her chair.
"It's not bad," Enzo agreed, leaning back. "So, you don't know the city? If you ask nicely, I might be persuaded to give you a tour. I know all the best spots."
Lilian straightened up, her police instincts kicking in slightly.
"I didn't come here for a vacation," she said seriously. "I came here to fight crime and clean up the streets."
Enzo chuckled, swirling his drink.
"Well, you certainly started strong. I hear the best place to hunt for dangerous criminals is the registration desk for the Rookie Tournament."
Lilian choked on her water. She coughed, face turning bright red.
"Okay, okay! I get it," she stammered, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "I already admitted I was wrong. Are you going to hold that over my head forever?"
"Only until I finish this coffee," Enzo replied with a grin. "So, if you're not from here, where are you from?"
"Pallet Town," Lilian replied, regaining her composure. "Born and raised."
Enzo paused, his cup hovering halfway to his lips. He lowered it slowly, looking at her with genuine surprise.
"Pallet Town?" He let out a low whistle of appreciation. "That's not just a town. That is the research heart of Kanto. The home of Professor Oak. It's basically holy ground for any Pokémon professor."
He smiled.
"I've never been there, but I've always wanted to go," Enzo admitted, his voice holding a longing that sounded surprisingly genuine. "Just to see the Pokémon Research Center. The rumors say the preservation area behind the lab is gigantic, practically its own ecosystem. It must be incredible to see it in person."
Lilian's face lit up instantly. A genuine, bright smile broke through her professional mask. Who doesn't like hearing that someone dreams of visiting their home?
"It is!" she exclaimed, leaning forward slightly, eager to share. "You have to go one day. The Corral is massive. It stretches all the way to the mountains. The winds from the sea, the open fields... it's the most beautiful place in the world."
She looked proud, happy that this "city boy" appreciated the reputation of her home.
"My aunt... she is the Officer Jenny stationed there," Lilian added, her chest swelling slightly with pride. "She's the one who guards the Professor's Lab. She knows everything about Pokémon."
"Your aunt is the Pallet Jenny?" Enzo looked impressed, and for once, he didn't have to fake it. That was a high-security clearance position. "That is a serious responsibility. She must be elite."
"She is the best," Lilian agreed softly. "She is my idol. I became a police officer because of her."
But as the words left her mouth, the brightness in her eyes faded a little. She looked down at her coffee cup, her shoulders sagging.
"But... that is exactly the problem," she sighed. "There is so much pressure. Coming from the Jenny Family, you aren't just expected to be good. You are expected to be identical."
She looked up at him to see if he understood.
"We wear the same hair, the same makeup, the same uniform. It's about 'Brand Consistency.' People need to trust that Officer Jenny is the same everywhere. But trying to live up to my aunt... to be a carbon copy of her..." She shook her head. "It's suffocating."
Enzo nodded slowly, his expression sympathetic, though his mind was racing with the tactical value of this information.
"Losing your individuality for a brand," Enzo noted. "That sounds like a heavy burden."
Lilian blinked, suddenly snapping out of her daze. She realized she was venting her deepest professional insecurities to a stranger—a stranger she had threatened to arrest less than ten hours ago.
Her face flushed a deep crimson, and she quickly sat up straighter, tucking a strand of turquoise hair behind her ear nervously.
"Oh god, I... I don't know why I am telling you this," she stammered, avoiding his gaze. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't be burdening you with my family drama. Please, just forget I said anything. It's unprofessional."
She cleared her throat loudly, desperate to change the subject and put the spotlight back on him.
"Anyway! speaking of... reputation..." She looked at him with genuine curiosity, trying to recover her composure. "Why do you use Dark types? You have to know they have a bad stigma. People assume things. Like I did."
Enzo looked at Zorua, who had hopped onto the empty chair beside him.
"Because, like me, they are misunderstood," Enzo said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding vulnerable and sincere. "People see 'Dark' and think 'Evil.' But they are just intelligent. Pragmatic. They don't rely on brute force; they rely on wit."
He reached out and scratched Zorua behind the ears.
"I like proving people wrong," Enzo finished, looking directly into Lilian's eyes.
As if on cue, Zorua decided to sell the performance. The little fox let out a happy, high-pitched yip, stood on his hind legs, and rested his front paws on the edge of the table, blinking his big blue eyes at Lilian. He looked less like a monster of the night and more like a puppy begging for a treat.
Lilian's heart melted.
"Oh, he is actually really sweet," she said, reaching out to pet Zorua's soft fur. The fox nuzzled into her hand.
She looked back at Enzo, her guard finally dropping completely. She smiled—a real, soft smile.
"I guess I really did judge you two wrong," she admitted softly. "You're just... a guy trying to make it, aren't you?"
Enzo smiled back. It was a perfect smile.
"Exactly," he lied. "Just a guy."
Enzo checked the expensive watch on his wrist and stood up in one fluid motion.
"Well, as much as I am enjoying the view, and the company. I have an early start tomorrow," he said, adjusting his leather jacket. "I have a tournament to win."
Lilian stood up as well, feeling a strange sense of disappointment that the evening was over.
"Right. The Rookie Tournament," she said, managing a smile. "Good luck. Although, with that confidence, I don't think you need it."
"I never rely on luck," Enzo replied with a wink. He whistled for Zorua, who jumped off the chair and trotted to his side. "Thank you for the coffee, Officer Lilian. It was... enlightening."
"You're welcome," she replied earnestly. "And... sorry again. About earlier."
"Water under the bridge," Enzo said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll see you around."
He turned and walked away, his silhouette blending into the shadows of the street, disappearing into the night.
Lilian watched him go, letting out a soft sigh. She felt relieved. She had diffused a tense situation, made a peace offering, and maybe even made a friend. Her aunt would be proud of her diplomacy.
"Your check, Madam."
Lilian turned. The waiter, dressed in a tuxedo that probably cost more than her monthly rent, held out a small, elegant black leather folder on a silver tray.
"Oh, right. Thank you," she said, reaching for her wallet.
She was still smiling as she opened the folder.
Let's see. Two coffees, a sparkling water...
Her smile froze.
She blinked. She took the receipt out of the folder and held it closer to the candlelight, hoping it was a trick of the light.
It wasn't.
[ THE CERULEAN SUMMIT ]
2x Blue Mountain Reserve Brew ..... ₽ 1,8001x Sparkling Spring Water (Imp) ... ₽ 800Service Charge (15%) ... ₽ 390TOTAL ... ₽ 2,990
Lilian felt the blood drain from her face. nearly three thousand Pokédollars? For coffee?
The realization hit her like a bucket of ice water.
Enzo had chosen the place. Enzo had ordered for them while she was admiring the view. Enzo had specifically said: "I forgive you. But only if you buy me a coffee."
He hadn't been being charming. He hadn't been being flirtatious.
He had been hungry. And broke. And he had just maneuvered her into paying for the most expensive caffeine in Kanto.
Lilian looked up at the waiter, who was waiting patiently for her card. Then she looked back at the empty street where Enzo had vanished into the night.
Her romanticized image of the "misunderstood trainer" shattered instantly, replaced by cold, hard reality.
She gritted her teeth, her grip tightening on the receipt until the paper crumpled.
"My initial judgment wasn't wrong," she hissed to herself, reaching for her credit card with a trembling hand. "He is a bastard."
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