The alley was dark, damp, and smelled faintly of mildew. The Grunt’s boots splashed in shallow puddles as he hurried toward the rundown warehouse. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, a mix of exhaustion and unease. He glanced nervously over his shoulder, ensuring no one had followed him, before slipping through the rusted side door. The metal groaned softly, echoing in the quiet night.

  Inside, the warehouse was as decrepit as its exterior suggested—broken crates, scattered debris, and faintly flickering overhead lights. But the Grunt knew better than to let the facade fool him. This wasn’t a place for anyone who got cold feet.

  His heart pounded as he reached a loose floorboard in the far corner. Kneeling, he pried it up to reveal a concealed keypad glowing faintly with blue light. Above the screen, the bold emblem of Team Eclipse gleamed—stark and unyielding.

  With trembling fingers, he entered the eight-digit code. Each soft beep seemed deafening in the stillness. As the final digit clicked, the floor beneath him shifted with a low rumble, revealing a hidden staircase spiraling downward. Without hesitation, he darted into the shadows below.

  The underground labyrinth sprawled beneath the warehouse, its sterile, fluorescent-lit corridors a stark contrast to the world above. The Grunt’s steps echoed faintly as he hurried past closed doors, some humming with machinery, others muffling sharp voices in heated discussion. He avoided eye contact with the other operatives, though he caught a few nods of recognition.

  This wasn’t just a hideout—it was a sanctuary for those abandoned by the surface world. The people here—grunts, researchers, technicians—shared a common thread: abandonment by the world above. They were outcasts, rejects, people who had slipped through society's cracks. Here, under Team Eclipse, they had found purpose, or at least, the illusion of it.

  The Grunt entered the central chamber, a vast space buzzing with tension. Dozens of black-clad figures milled about, murmuring in low voices, their faces obscured by masks or shadows. The atmosphere grew heavier as three imposing figures stepped onto the stage, their presence demanding silence.

  The underground chamber buzzed faintly with tension as the spotlight snapped onto the central stage. All movement ceased, every grunt frozen in place as the unmistakable authority of Team Eclipse’s Commanders descended upon them like a storm. The air itself seemed to tremble, heavy with the weight of power and expectation.

  At the center of the stage stood Elara Veil, her emerald eyes gleaming with an unhinged light. Her Chandelure hovered behind her, its ghostly flames licking at the shadows. Elara’s asymmetrical coat swept dramatically around her as she stepped forward, the sharp click of her boots echoing through the chamber.

  Her smirk was sharp, predatory, and without humor. “Let me make this clear,” she began, her voice dripping with venomous amusement. “I don’t give a flying fuck how much this place feels like a warm hug to you rejects. If you think for a second that failure will go unnoticed, let me remind you of how I handle mistakes.” Her Chandelure flared its flames, casting a horrifying glow across her face.

  The room was silent. No one dared breathe too loudly.

  To her left, Caelum Drayke leaned against the railing, his perpetual storm-gray eyes flickering with manic energy. His unkempt black-and-silver hair looked like it had been caught in a lightning storm, and his asymmetrical cloak mirrored the jagged chaos of his personality. Jolteon prowled at his feet, sparks flicking from its fur as Caelum chuckled softly.

  “Elara,” he drawled, his voice oscillating between sarcasm and biting precision, “as much as I love your little pep talks, let’s not scare all the grunts into pissing themselves. We still need them functional.”

  Elara’s gaze snapped to him, her smirk widening dangerously. “You think I give a shit if they’re scared, Caelum? Fear makes them better. If they can’t handle it, then they don’t belong here. Weakness doesn’t get results.”

  Caelum shrugged, his grin sharpening. “Fair point. But chaos gets better results, don’t you think? Let them squirm—they’ll work harder to impress us.” He reached down to scratch Jolteon’s head, the sparks intensifying as if sharing his chaotic excitement.

  On Elara’s right, Lucien Dorne stood like a statue of arrogance and refinement, his high-collared jacket immaculate and his cane resting lightly in one gloved hand. His Tyranitar loomed behind him, silent but radiating menace. Lucien’s cold, calculating gaze swept across the room, settling briefly on the spotlighted grunt.

  “Elara’s right,” Lucien said, his voice smooth but dripping with disdain. “We don’t tolerate failure. But what’s more important is control. Chaos has its place, Caelum, but precision is what defines us. Every step we take must bring us closer to the Boss’s vision.”

  Elara rolled her eyes but let his words hang. “Fine,” she said, her tone dripping with mock concession. “Let’s hear from our star grunt, shall we?” She gestured sharply to the trembling figure in the spotlight. “You. Front and center. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  The Grunt felt his stomach twist into knots as he stumbled forward, every step heavier than the last. His legs threatened to give out beneath him as Elara’s piercing gaze locked onto him, her expression a twisted mix of curiosity and thinly veiled violence.

  “Report,” she snapped, her Chandelure drifting closer, its haunting flames licking the air menacingly.

  “I—I retrieved several drives from the Lumora Library, Commander Veil,” he stammered, his voice shaking. “They contained data on ancient disasters, electromagnetic anomalies, and… and information on Latios.”

  Elara tilted her head, her smile darkening. “And?”

  The Grunt hesitated, his voice faltering. “But… I lost one of the drives. The one containing the details on the Forces of Nature and the Beacon. Two kids stumbled into the restricted section. One of them grabbed it before I could secure it.”

  The silence was deafening.

  Elara’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, lethal fury. Her Chandelure flared brighter, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. “You mean to tell me,” she hissed, stepping closer, “that you let two children outsmart you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  The Grunt flinched, sweat dripping down his temple. “I—I swear, Commander, it wasn’t my fault—”

  “Not your fault?” Elara’s laugh was sharp and cruel, cutting through him like a blade. “Do you hear yourself, you pathetic piece of shit? You had one job—one job! And you let it slip through your fingers because you couldn’t handle a couple of brats?”

  Caelum’s laugh broke the tension momentarily, his chaotic energy filling the room. “Man, Elara, give the guy a break. He did get something, didn’t he? And hey, it’s not like kids can actually do anything with that drive. They’re probably using it as a coaster.”

  Lucien’s calm voice cut through Caelum’s laughter. “And yet, if the League—or anyone else—gets their hands on that file, it compromises everything. Our control, our plans, everything.” He turned to the Grunt, his icy gaze pinning him in place. “Do you have any idea who those children were?”

  The Grunt shook his head, trembling. “No, sir. They… they looked like students. I didn’t think they were Trainers, but one of them—she moved so fast, like she knew exactly what to grab. I swear, it was—”

  Elara interrupted, stepping closer, her Chandelure hovering just inches from the Grunt’s face. “Do you want to know what I think?” she hissed, her voice dangerously low. “I think you’re useless. But lucky for you, I don’t have time to deal with your incompetence.”

  She straightened, her eyes sharp. “What did you recover?”

  The Grunt fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the remaining drives and placing them on the table before the Commanders. Elara snatched one, turning it over in her hands as if weighing its worth.

  “Well,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “At least you’re not entirely useless. Dismissed.”

  The Grunt stumbled back into the shadows, his legs barely supporting him. His breathing came in sharp, uneven bursts as if the weight of Elara’s fury still clung to his chest. He leaned heavily against the cold, metallic wall of the corridor, his hands trembling.

  “That could’ve gone worse,” he muttered under his breath, but the words rang hollow. Every step away from the central chamber felt like peeling off a layer of suffocating pressure.

  As the twisting halls of the underground base stretched before him, he found himself gravitating toward one of the only places in the base where grunts could unwind—a dimly lit bar-like corner tucked deep into the labyrinth. The place was nothing fancy: cracked tiles on the floor, mismatched furniture, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. But it had drinks, and right now, that was all he needed.

  He pushed through the creaky door, his boots dragging slightly as he entered. The space was small but lively, filled with the low buzz of murmured conversations and the occasional clink of glasses. Behind the bar stood a fellow Eclipse member, a tall woman with short, spiky purple hair and a sharp, angular face. She wore the Eclipse uniform, though her sleeves were rolled up, revealing faint scars on her forearms.

  “Rough night?” she asked without looking up, her hands busy wiping down a glass.

  “You have no idea, Leena,” the Grunt said, slumping onto one of the stools.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Leena finally glanced up, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in his disheveled state. “Let me guess—Commander Veil?”

  “Who else?” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

  Leena smirked faintly, setting the glass down and grabbing a bottle from the shelf. She poured him a drink without asking what he wanted, sliding it across the counter with practiced ease. “Here. On the house. You look like you’ve earned it.”

  The Grunt took a long sip, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through him like a salve. “Thanks,” he said, his voice muffled against the glass. “I swear, if I hear the words ‘failure is not an option’ one more time, I’m going to lose it.”

  A laugh came from one of the nearby tables. “At least she didn’t put you in one of her illusions,” a voice called out. “You’d still be screaming in the hallway if she had.”

  The Grunt turned to see a man about his age lounging in one of the chairs. He had dark skin, a shaved head, and an easy grin that didn’t quite match the sharpness in his eyes. His name was Darrin, and like Leena, he’d only joined Team Eclipse a few months ago.

  “Gee, thanks, Darrin,” the Grunt shot back, raising his glass in mock appreciation.

  Darrin laughed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Hey, I’m just saying, you’re still standing. That’s a win in this place.”

  “Barely,” the Grunt muttered, draining the rest of his drink.

  Another figure approached the bar, a petite woman with short blond hair and wide, bright eyes that seemed too innocent for a place like this. She plopped onto the stool beside him, her Eclipse uniform jacket tied around her waist. “What happened this time, Rowan?” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

  Rowan—the Grunt—sighed, setting his empty glass on the counter. “Two kids. They grabbed one of the drives I was supposed to recover. Elara practically roasted me alive for it.”

  Leena smirked as she poured him another drink. “Well, you didn’t get literally roasted. Chandelure’s still hovering around the Commanders’ meeting room.”

  “Comforting,” Rowan muttered.

  Darrin chuckled, motioning for Leena to pour him a drink too. “So, what’s your next move, genius? You know Elara doesn’t forget shit like this.”

  “I don’t know,” Rowan admitted, his voice heavy. “They’re already tracing the drive. Technicians think it might’ve been synced to something—probably one of the kids’ devices. But until then, I just get to sit around and stew in my own failure.”

  The blonde woman, who Rowan remembered was named Keira, nudged him lightly with her elbow. “Hey, it happens to everyone. First week here, I tripped on the stairs and spilled coffee all over one of the research terminals. Thought Elara was going to incinerate me on the spot.”

  “She probably considered it,” Leena said with a smirk.

  Keira laughed nervously, glancing at Darrin. “Why’d you have to say that? Now I’m re-living the horror.”

  Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle, though it came out tired. The camaraderie here wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but it was better than nothing.

  The conversation shifted as the group settled in, their drinks in hand. Rowan leaned against the bar, glancing between Darrin and Keira.

  “So why are you here, anyway?” he asked, his curiosity cutting through the haze of his exhaustion. “You’ve only been around a couple of months, right? What made you join this circus?”

  Darrin shrugged, his grin fading slightly. “Didn’t have much of a choice. Lost my job when the factory shut down, couldn’t find anything else. You’d think there’d be work in a place like Lumora, but every door I knocked on slammed shut in my face. Bills don’t stop, you know? Eclipse was the only place that didn’t turn me away.”

  Rowan nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

  Keira twirled her glass in her hands, her gaze dropping to the counter. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted something bigger. Something more than just working at some café or running errands. Eclipse gave me a purpose, you know? Like… finally, I’m part of something that matters.”

  Rowan studied her for a moment, then sighed. “Yeah. That’s why I stuck around too. Not like I had anywhere else to go.”

  Leena leaned against the bar, crossing her arms. “No one comes here because they’re living the dream. But at least here, you’ve got a shot at making something of yourself. Even if it means working with psychos like Elara.”

  Rowan raised his glass in a half-hearted toast. “Here’s to not getting roasted alive.”

  “Cheers to that,” Darrin said with a laugh, clinking his glass against Rowan’s.

  Keira smiled faintly, lifting her own drink. For a moment, the heaviness of the day lifted, replaced by the fleeting comfort of shared misery. The hum of the bar continued around him, but Rowan couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this was far from over.

  The stage lights dimmed as the three Commanders exited the hall, leaving behind the murmurs of the gathered grunts. The air in the corridor buzzed faintly with the hum of hidden machinery as Elara strode ahead, her boots clicking sharply against the polished metal floor. Her Chandelure drifted behind her, its ghostly flames casting unsettling shadows that danced across the walls.

  Caelum and Lucien exchanged a glance before falling into step, their contrasting personalities evident even in their silence. Caelum’s storm-gray eyes flickered with chaotic energy, his unkempt black-and-silver hair giving him the appearance of someone who had walked through a lightning storm. Lucien, by contrast, exuded composure, his tailored jacket immaculate, his movements calculated.

  They entered the private meeting room, the stark black-and-silver decor radiating quiet authority. Glowing maps and screens displayed various regions of Virelia, their landmarks pulsing faintly in neon hues. The centerpiece was a holographic projection of the region, its details brought to life by rotating data streams and glowing markers.

  The door hissed shut behind them, sealing them in a world of cold precision and unyielding ambition.

  Caelum broke the silence first, slamming his palm onto the table, his Jolteon hopping onto a chair beside him. “We need those Legendaries,” he snapped, his voice tinged with both urgency and frustration. “Tornadus, Thundurus, Landorus—those Forces of Nature are crucial. Without them, the Boss’s vision of reshaping the world will never happen.”

  Elara leaned casually against the table, her emerald eyes glinting with dark amusement. “You sound like a broken record, Drayke. You’ve been whining about those three since the beginning.”

  Caelum’s storm-gray eyes sparked as he leaned closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, I’m sorry, Elara. Should I be focusing on blowing up tunnels and throwing tantrums instead? Maybe I’ll get the Boss’s special attention that way.”

  Chandelure floated between them, its flames flickering dangerously as Elara straightened, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Careful, Caelum,” she said, her voice low and venomous. “You don’t want me to test your gadgets on you.”

  Lucien cleared his throat, his tone calm but carrying an edge of disdain. “As much as I enjoy your little spats, perhaps we could focus on the matter at hand? The loss of that file is a complication we can’t afford. If it gets into the wrong hands—”

  Elara cut him off with a laugh, sharp and cruel. “Oh, please, Lucien. Children grabbed the file. What are they going to do, write a school report on it? If anything, this just proves how pathetic that grunt was.”

  Lucien’s pale fingers drummed lightly on the head of his cane. “You’re underestimating the potential fallout. Those ‘children’ could have connections. And the League is always eager to insert themselves into matters they don’t understand.”

  Elara rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “The League can shove their holier-than-thou attitudes up their own asses. I’ll deal with it if they come sniffing around.” She jabbed a finger at the holographic map, its glowing outline of Blazebrook City flickering as her Chandelure’s flames cast eerie patterns across the room.

  “Blazebrook City,” she continued, her voice dropping into a lower, more commanding tone. “The Volcanic Tunnels. The energy fluctuations we’ve detected there align perfectly with Groudon’s dormant power. That’s where my focus is. I don’t need distractions.”

  Lucien straightened, his Tyranitar growling softly at his side. “And while you’re chasing Groudon, the rest of us will ensure that missing file doesn’t derail everything. I’ve already instructed the tech division to begin hacking into Virelia Energy Solutions. Their collaboration with VireTech provides an ideal opening—security will be focused on the demonstration tomorrow, leaving their systems vulnerable.”

  “About time you did something useful,” Elara muttered, smirking as she crossed her arms. “If your fancy plans don’t pan out, you’re the one explaining it to the Boss.”

  Lucien’s lips twitched in a faint sneer. “Unlike you, I don’t operate on brute force and theatrics. Subtlety achieves far more than your… shall we say, explosive tendencies.”

  Elara took a step closer, her Chandelure flaring with intensity as it hovered beside her. “Subtlety doesn’t scare people, Lucien. Fear gets results. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

  Caelum leaned back in his chair, his grin wide as sparks flickered along Jolteon’s fur. “You two are adorable. But while you’re measuring who’s more effective, I’ll be over here testing tech that actually matters.”

  Elara shot him a glare. “Like your half-functional frequency emitters? If they’re so great, why haven’t you brought me Tornadus yet?”

  Caelum’s grin sharpened. “Because you keep dragging us into your messes. If I wasn’t cleaning up after your pyromaniac bullshit, I’d already have Tornadus bending to my will.”

  “Keep dreaming, Stormbringer,” Elara said with a mocking laugh.

  Lucien adjusted his cane, his patience wearing thin. The back-and-forth between Elara and Caelum was as predictable as it was grating. He wondered, not for the first time, how the other Commanders operated in their respective units. Surely, they weren’t subjected to Elara’s sadistic tirades or Caelum’s manic energy.

  Still, as much as he loathed working with them, he couldn’t deny Elara’s effectiveness. She was the Boss’s favorite, after all, and her relentless pursuit of his approval bordered on obsessive. It gave her an edge—and a dangerous unpredictability.

  Lucien exhaled softly, his pale fingers tapping the cane rhythmically. “Focus on your respective tasks,” he said finally, his voice cold but commanding. “The file will be traced. The demonstration will serve as our distraction. And if we do this correctly, the Forces of Nature will soon belong to us.”

  Elara smirked, her emerald eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “For your sake, Lucien, I hope you’re right. Otherwise, I might have to redecorate with that fancy Tyranitar of yours.”

  Lucien’s Tyranitar growled low, but Lucien remained composed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  As the meeting wound down, Elara turned toward the door, her Chandelure following like a shadow. She paused briefly, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Don’t screw this up,” she said, her voice laced with venom. “The Boss doesn’t care how it’s done—just that it is done. I don’t plan on being the one explaining failure.”

  The door hissed shut behind her, leaving Caelum and Lucien alone.

  Caelum leaned against the table, Jolteon hopping up beside him. “You ever wonder if she just burns shit for fun?”

  Lucien smirked faintly, his pale features unreadable. “Undoubtedly. But as much as she grates on me, she gets results. The Boss values that more than anything.”

  Caelum’s grin widened, his storm-gray eyes flickering with anticipation. “Fine. Let her chase her Groudon. I’ve got bigger plans. Tornadus, Thundurus, Landorus… they’ll fall in line. And when they do, the League won’t even see us coming.”

  He straightened, his Jolteon sparking beside him. “Time to make some noise.”

  The room fell silent as the holographic map continued to glow, its neon markers pulsing faintly. In the shadows of Team Eclipse, chaos brewed, each Commander preparing to play their part in the storm to come.

  The Orbital Clique had stumbled onto something far bigger than any of them had imagined.

  And the wheels were already turning.

  The shadows of the city deepened, and in the distance, the faint hum of something larger stirred, unseen but imminent.

  Team Eclipse. The League. The Forces of Nature.

  The game was on.