Chapter Two
by
DemonicKazoo and Pixyparker
The glimmer of Saffron City's vibrant skyline scarcely caught his attention as he shifted his gaze back to the papers sprawled across the lacquered, solid oak desk. He reached for the porcelain white mug of unfinished coffee and curled his upper lip contemptuously when it proved to be ice cold. That had been the second time today.
Jonathan Archer sighed and leaned back into the leather office chair, massaging his temples.
So many forms required his seal of approval, and so many decisions regarding the firm were required with the utmost urgency-decisions he'd make in isolation. Overworked and sipping cold coffee, such was his life. The law firm was always a part of the family's cover, and though he was named junior partner recently, he was the one left to run it for the past several years while his father traipsed about to play his mob games.
"Jonathan?"
Speak of the devil, he mused, looking back down to the papers on his desk and scrawling across the paper where his signatures were needed. His presence in the late hours usually meant trouble, or inconvenience at the very least.
"Jonathan, my boy," his father crooned as he sauntered by his desk, moving upon the liquor cabinet by the bookshelf full of law texts. "Why ever are you working so late on your birthday?"
"The firm won't run itself, father," Jonathan replied coolly, not looking from the work he so desperately tried to escape. "Aside from that, my birthday isn't until the clock reads-"
He glanced up to the clock to see that the hour hand on XII and the minute hand passing it ever so slightly.
"-well, then."
He watched the old man glide across the office, two glasses of bourbon in hand. How he managed to move like that, Jonathan would never know.
"A drink for the nerves, son. I have some news."
Jonathan reluctantly accepted and leaned back into his chair, sipping the elixir.
"At least I'm already sitting down, father. What is it?"
John Archer smiled wryly, the lines on his face deepening with such a smile. He balanced the weight of the glass in his hand and sighed wearily as his countenance grew solemn.
"The leaders of the families are missing and Shahrivar is dead."
Jonathan coughed as he heard the news, setting his glass on the desk and choking on the alcohol as his throat burned. His eyes watered as he continued to cough. It couldn't be so. How? What about Salvatore. Dear Arceus, Salvatore was out there. They had to find him. Didn't they? Nox. Would Nox be okay? How was Nox handling this news? There were questions, so much to ask his father, but words could not come to pass. Jonathan clenched his chest, his breath still weak from choking, while his heart began to race. His father watched unperturbed, simply waiting for his opportunity to speak.
"Salvatore," Archer continued, taking advantage of the lapse in Jonathan's coughing fit, "is presumed dead as well. They all are."
"How?" Jonathan asked, his voice gravelly, a sting behind his eyes. "How did you know?"
"Your sister has confirmed Shahrivar's death and it's further corroborated by the storm that happened right when contact was lost with Salvatore's yacht."
Archer turned away to look out at Saffron City, his imposing silhouette against the twinkling neon.
"What were they doing out there?" Jonathan shot back, his voice returning to him.
"Oh," Archer answered, not looking back, appearing to have forgotten that he neglected to fill Jonathan in on these details. "Discussing the future, ironically."
Callous. The man he called father was so callous.
Jonathan stood from the desk and began hurriedly filing papers into manilla folders. His father turned around and afforded him a weak smile.
"I can look after that, son."
He ignored his father and continued organizing the papers. As soon as he put them away, he'd get on the phone with Nox to confirm this revelation.
"I think your sister needs her brother during this difficult time. She did not seem well when I saw her tonight."
"I'm going now," Jonathan huffed, taking his leave of his father and racing past the empty receptionists desk and post modern decor his father had lavished upon the lobby.
Earth toned vases, a lone oran berry tree in a pot, and abstract pieces depicting the time of creation occupied the otherwise white room dimly lit by the security lights that gleamed after hours.
As he stepped into the elevator, he drew his smartphone and sought out Nox in his directory. The car began to descend and the ringing began until his cousin's distinct voice resounded through the speaker held to his ear.
"What do you want?" Nox asked, aloof and already bored with the conversation.
Never a phone person, Jonathan supposed as his mouth dried. Salvatore….
"If this is an accidental dial," he threatened from the other side of the phone.
"I'm here," Jonathan shot back, fighting down the swell in his chest. "I just wanted to check in with you."
"Why would you do that?"
"Father told me about Salvatore and the others," Jonathan explained, pacing within the elevator. "He's family, you're family."
"I'm not in the mood for this," Nox said, brusque in his delivery. "I'm going to hang up now."
"Nox, wait!" Jonathan begged, his voice cutting through the airwaves. "I know you're upset right now, so-so just let me help with anything, or take care of anything you need."
A pause.
"There is something," Nox began.
"What is it?" Jonathan asked as he felt a swell in his chest. Perhaps Nox would open up, even if only a little. They did grow up together after all. Even if they weren't close now, maybe there was a shred of something now-enough to get them through this tragic event in their family.
"Fuck off."
Or not.
"Nox."
There was a click and then silence on the other side. Jonathan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between the thumb and index finger of his other hand. He groaned with exasperation as he replaced his phone into the coat of his blazer.
"Stupid, stubborn Nox."
Summer rain beat against him as the city lights pierced the darkness like a thousand arrows. His street bike roared as the tires rolled over the wet asphalt. It was past midnight here in Vermillion City, and traffic had slowed to only the occasional vehicle that met him on the streets. Tyr came to rest at a red light and thought about the way Yvette sounded on the phone. She never cried before. Something was seriously wrong. He sighed, frustrated with waiting.
He was needed now.
Fuck the red light, he thought, noting the lack of any oncoming vehicles as he blew through the intersection.
A moment later, he rolled into her driveway and killed the bike's engine, leaving the kickstand down as he hung his half helmet on the handlebars. The porch light was on, illuminating the steady fall of droplets and casting a gentle glow on the white siding of the house.
Was she in trouble?
Tyr's steps hastened up the stairs of her front porch and he pushed through the door, leaving it open as he drew his pistol, holding it close, and backed against the wall nearest the corner.
"Yvette!"
"Yes," Yvette's weak voice called out from the kitchen, he could hear her muffled sniffles carry through the hall.
Tyr extended his weapon, ready to fire, and advanced toward the kitchen. He came into the well lit room, sweeping his gaze for any threats. A hiss drew his cobalt gaze to the floor, out of the corner of his good eye. Jasper rushed toward him, claws extended.
"Jasper! It's me!"
The sableye did not heed him and ran his claws over Tyr's left calve. He stepped away to the side, but too late as he winced in pain. Jasper's claws sliced through the denim of Tyr's blue jeans and would have sliced more than just his first layer of skin had he not moved. Blood slowly trickled down his leg.
Yvette quickly returned Jasper to his pokeball and pensively approached Tyr as he lowered his weapon, holstering it.
"I thought you were in trouble. What's going on, Yvette?"
Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks still damp from tears, he could see case files filling the table behind her.
"You know I'd never do anything to hurt innocent people, right? That my heart has always been in the right place?" Yvette pleaded, her voice trembling while her eyes met his.
Tyr, not knowing what to say, stammered as he looked back forth between Yvette and the case files.
"We've been partners since we graduated at the academy," he said to her, finally able to speak. "I've been with you for ten years. You've only ever cared about protecting innocent people. I don't get what you mean."
"I've been lying to you, lying about who I am. I never had a choice," Yvette cut in, her body shaking as she handed him one of the papers from the table. It was a photograph of her as a child, to what he could recognize as John, and Jonathan Archer, standing with Nox and Salvatore Alcheri.
"Shit," he trailed off, looking at the photo, his gaze transfixed on what she had shown him.
He swallowed hard. What did this mean? She stood with John Archer and his son, both lawyers rumored to hold mafia ties, and the Alcheri brothers-bosses of the Rockets. Was this some semblance of proof to those rumors?
"Why are you with Archer and son? Why are you with the Alcheri brothers, Yvette?"
She looked down and pulled at the bottom of her sweater vest.
"It's-My father, my twin brother, and my cousins." Yvette exhaled, barely making out the words. "My father came here, that's why Jasper is so upset."
Tyr's throat suddenly dried as he returned the photo to her and shook his head, advancing to the table. "I-I gotta sit."
"He threatened me," she trailed off, hesitating. "He said…."
He looked to her, shock, pain, and worry swimming in his eyes. She looked away from him.
"He said that if we don't stop our investigation of the case-" Yvette covered her mouth, letting out muffled cries as tears welled in her eyes, "-you, me, and anyone close to this would meet a similar fate."
Tyr buried his face into his hands, his elbows resting on the table. Everything he ever thought he knew about her….
"How deep do his ties with the mob go, Yvette?" Tyr asked, pulling his face from his hands, his jaw set and clenched.
Her sad gaze rose from the floor to meet his.
"Everyone is his puppet," she told him, her voice brittle, as she moved to the other side of the table and slid a case file across to him. "This is everything I've ever gathered to try and take him down."
"Are you helping them?" Tyr probed, his voice gravelly from his dried throat, as he took the case file and examined the contents-his gaze skimming over different photographs and newspaper clippings. None of it could be tied to Archer, nothing.
"Only when I don't have a choice. My loyalty was expected since I was born. I never chose this, I never wanted it, but if I try to get too far," she hesitated, "people die."
Tyr brought his fists down on the table and cursed, using the name of Arceus in vain. He looked away from Yvette, saying nothing more. She was one of them all along. He didn't know, he just didn't know.
"Can I get some water?"
A cold bottle tapped his elbow and he took hold of it. The rush of cool water soothed his parched throat as he drank half of it at once. Silence fell between them as the building wind and rain crashed against the roof of her house, and the large window panes.
"I only ever wanted to protect you," she disclosed, weakly. "If you didn't know, they had no reason to hurt you. I never wanted to deceive you, I just-"
Her voice shook.
"-I wouldn't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you. I-I'm sorry."
"You," he murmured, lowering his voice as he screwed the plastic cap back onto the bottle, his gaze vacant and all but glazed over, "you told me your parents were dead all this time."
She nodded.
"You have every right to be angry with me-"
"My parents are dead," Tyr interrupted her, his voice rumbling in his throat as he rambled. "I told you that. I told you they were murdered, but I never told you by who. It was the Rockets, Yvette. Your family killed mine, and I hate them for it."
"You don't think I hate them too? My mother is dead, I didn't lie about that!" Yvette shot back as she looked him in the eyes. "As for my father, he never cared about me, just what I could do to benefit him. He just threatened to kill us both. Look at what they've done to me, I'm their puppet that they guilt trip and send death threats to when I don't do what makes them happy. I'm practically a prisoner. I'm only trying to protect everyone from them."
Tyr swallowed hard, rubbing the nape of his neck with his free hand. This was heavy, this was so fucking heavy. "I don't know what to do with all of this."
"Do what you need to. I just thought you deserved to know that they have an eye on you, and ignorance wouldn't protect you anymore."
"Did your fath-did Archer kill the other mob leaders?" Tyr asked, trying to make sense of a world shaken apart in one fell swoop. "Is this why he wants us to back off?"
Yvette's sad, broken gaze looked upon him and she nodded.
There would be no sleep for him tonight. He had a lot to contemplate, pieces of the puzzle that needed to fit together, and memories he needed to revisit. Yvette, a Rocket. No, she was a cop, a good cop. A dirty cop now, he thought, bitterly. No, he couldn't make that call-not yet. Tyr had nothing left to say to her, not tonight.
"We'll talk tomorrow," Tyr stated in a firm tone, his voice regaining its strength as he poised to rise up from the table and go. "Okay?"
"Okay," She whispered in understanding. "be careful."
Tyr got up from the table and turned from her, slowly stepping towards the front door he never closed. When he crossed the threshold, into the growing storm, and closed the door behind him, silent tears began to flow-washed away in the rain.
Yvette sat on her large couch wrapped in a large fleece throw with Jasper, and her Phantump, Willow. Their presence offered some comfort as they nuzzled against her, sensing her unease. She took a generous amount of wine in a single sip, straight from the bottle, as she flipped through the channels again. Her rotations through her entire cable package were countless. Nothing caught her attention, and nothing could while in this state. In spite of that, she refused to sit in silence.
Midnight had passed an hour ago, though it remained impossible to think of today as her birthday. Thirty was hitting her like a train. Her fate remained uncertain. By daylight, her identity as a cop may easily be lost forever. Tyr may turn her in, or, even worse, hate her. His reaction...she just didn't know.
"Arceus, what a fucking mess," she exhaled, a gentle sigh.
Yvette heard the rustling outside, but Jasper heard it first. He began to growl, becoming more and more agitated.
"Calm down, Jasper. It's probably the neighbor's skitty again," Yvette hissed, scolding the Sableye.
The front door opened and she quickly picked up the gun from the coffee table, turning off the safety.
"I'm armed and I'm not afraid to shoot!" Yvette barked, far too on edge for any surprise visitors, even if they did have the key.
"Well, if Dad dropped in," Jonathan began, smirking as he stepped into the light, "I can't exactly blame you for waving a gun around."
The light of the television revealed her tow headed brother's fair features as Jasper ran up to sniff him and caress the fabric of his slacks. He bent down and scratched Jasper on the head, digging a piece of quartz out of his pocket to feed it to the greedy pokemon before he stood again.
A sigh of relief escaped Yvette, as she secured the gun and set it down.
"Dammit Jonathan," she began in a weak laugh, then stumbled to her feet, and tightened her large fleece robe. "I nearly blew your head off."
"It wouldn't be the first time, now would it?"
"Maybe if you'd stop sneaking up on me, it'd be the last."
Yvette smiled bitterly before carefully making her way over to her brother.
"Dad told me what happened with Salvatore," Jonathan trailed off, his voice cracking despite his best efforts to contain it.
Yvette hugged Jonathan, trying to hold back tears. She hadn't let herself think of Salvatore, or even that their father had forbid her from looking for him. Jonathan and Salvatore, they were best friends. This had to be tearing him apart. He reluctantly hugged back.
"The coast guard is still looking. Even Dad can't stop them from searching."
Jonathan pulled back, his hazel eyes met her own cobal gaze with confusion.
"Stop them? Why would he try to stop them?"
She looked up at him, puzzled; this was some kind of power play their father was making.
Her mouth dried at the thought, and made it difficult for her to explain.
"Dad he, told me to back off of the case, threatened me even. Told me if I didn't stop Tyr and I would die. In short anyway. As far as he is concerned, they're all dead and there is nothing to look into."
He took a step back and shook his head, holding his curled forefinger to his lips as he furrowed his brow.
"That makes no sense, Yvette. Telling you not to look and making threats. You'd almost think…."
Jonathan trailed off.
"No. No, that can't be right."
"No, Jonathan I am telling you, He came here for dinner, sat right across from me at that table, insulted my home, told me that I should leave it be, and stop before I meet a similar fate. Dad all but told me he fucking did it. But guess what? Nobody believes Yvette, she's crazy, and hates her dad, she can't be right, she's just lying. He's trying his hardest to estrange me from everyone," Yvette choked as she began to hyperventilate, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Jonathan frowned and closed the distance to hold her close, stroking her hair as she sobbed against his lean frame. Though her brother wasn't built as strong as someone like Tyr, he made her feel safe when he hugged her like this.
"I believe you," he reassured her, "I just don't know how he could even-"
"I-I-I don't know either, but he won't let me find out. He's taunting me. I just, sometimes I wish I was just as ignorant as everyone else when it comes to him. He spoils everyone else. Fuck, I bet he's baking cookies for Kokori, 'Oh your father died, I'm so sorry dear. Here everything will be alright.' Here I am, knowing damn well he did this, and I'm helpless to do anything about it because-"
"Nobody will believe you," Jonathan sighed against her, still tense by her remarks.
"Tyr does."
"Yes, because that Slaking has so much pull," Jonathan scoffed, leaning away from her. There was something different about his eyes as he looked at her. She knew that look. He'd made up his mind about something. "You need my help for this. I'm going to Hoenn tomorrow."
"I might need your help for more than just this." Her brows arched, a pit burrowing in her stomach. "I told Tyr."
Jonathan blanched at her revelation, yet regained his composure quickly.
"Do you want me to kill him?"
"No," she replied, fighting a smile. "I don't know what he will do, but he didn't haul me off to the station, or even yell at me. He said we would talk tomorrow, he needed to think. I need his help if we are gonna do this off the record."
"If he doesn't cooperate," Jonathan began, sighing as though this complicated matters, "can you be counted on to do what needs to be done?"
She sighed and her gaze darkened.
"As much as I hate it, Jasper can erase everything I told him. The one handy thing Dad taught us."
"Good," he replied, matter-of-fact. "Because I was going to call in the hit, just in case. But, I trust you."
She nodded.
"I wasn't expecting you to be involved in this, I'm sorry, force of habit to think I'm on my own for everything. I suppose," she paused, "I've done a good enough job of estranging myself."
"You're not alone. You have me," he offered with a smile. "No matter what."
Yvette afforded him a weak smile as he attempted to comfort her.
"Dad might have told you to stop the investigation, and he might even have pull with the cops," Jonathan began, a crooked smile sprawling over his face, "but let me remind you that he doesn't control the Magmas or Aquas."
"Yeah, I'm afraid they might set aside their differences over this one. Nox and Kokori planned that trip for everyone. Targets are on their backs, dad is going to have his hands full."
"Don't worry about that," he advised, a telltale glint in his eye of a risky gambit he concocted. "I'm going to the Aquas first. By tomorrow, they'll know that father coerced the police in Kanto to halt the investigation. That should take his focus off you and Tyr for now. You can't go to the other families, but I can. I've defended both Aquas and Magma in court. No matter who helps us, they owe me."
"But what happens when they tell him that you informed them of this? What will dad do to you?"
"We keep everyone else in the dark about this," he cautioned.
"If Nox catches wind of this, a lot of people are going to needlessly die."
"Agreed," Jonathan replied, nodding once. "We can't tell anyone what we're up to. This could go south in a hurry. We could easily die."
"Salvatore is dead, and I'd gladly die trying to bring it to justice."
His gaze darkened as he smiled maliciously.
"Happy Birthday, sis. Let's take down our father."
"Happy Birthday," she laughed wryly. "You can stay in the guest room. It's late, and you can be here if shit hits the fan with Tyr."
"Thank you. I'll be leaving as soon as I know he's not a Mankey on our backs."
Kokori lay curled upon soft cloth of the lavish red sofa, her cheek pressed against her palm while she leaned against the armrest. Nox sat at her feet, in the listless silence, for hours and had occasionally flashed a concerned look her way as the night wore on. Perhaps, the somber silence, even during one's favorite programming was a symptom of grief. He didn't know for sure and wondered if he was grieving as well. Part of him refused to believe anything, even though Shahrivar's body served as a reminder all too real. Something happened out there and nobody knew what, not even the nosy cops.
Nobody knew who lived, or who died. Nobody knew anything.
The glow of the television casted a pale blue light on them as neither bothered to get up and turn on a lamp. He absently sipped his gin and returned his focus to 'My Strange Addiction' as the subject of this vignette confessed to his penchant for eating drywall.
Disgusting, Nox thought as his nose wrinkled in distaste, especially when the subject went on to describe his uncomfortable bowel movements.
A heavy sigh escaped Kokori, as a commercial break began.
"You-you don't have to go to Unova with me tomorrow." she said solemnly, a hint of hesitation in her weary voice.
"I want to," Nox replied steadily, setting the weighted crystal glass upon the coaster of the mahogany coffee table.
"I know you do, but, I can't ask you to put your responsibilities aside to be with me. I heard what Yvette told you. She's right. . . They need you, and the Plasmas need me-"
"You need me, too," he interrupted evenly, his crimson gaze locking with hers as the television show faded into white noise.
"Everything is a mess, I just got out and now I have to dive back in. My mother, and, everything-I don't know if I can," she exhaled in a brittle voice which only broke as she had continued to speak.
Nox watched her sit up and grip at her sides as she shuddered, silent sobs escaping her. He slid closer and took her in his arms as she shook against him. Her soft locks smelled like lavender as he stroked the back of her neck. As she wept, his throat dried and he found himself lost for words. What could he tell her? Cheer up? Stop? There, there? Nothing fit.
"I just-don't want to drag you down." Kokori whispered into his shoulder, through the sobs.
Nox held her tighter, closing his eyes against the unyielding wave of whatever it was that washed over him. Nothing she could ever do would drag him down-nothing. He needed her near, ached for her.
"You won't."
"I know what they think of me, Jonathan and the capos, all of them. If you're to be Don-they already think so poorly of me because I'm a Plasma." Kokori confessed as she wrapped her arms around him.
A sigh was all he could muster. The cruelty, the politics. Solving a beef with old fashioned violence was just so much simpler. Why the mind games and veiled threats?
"I could kill them," Nox offered in earnest. "I don't want anyone under me running their mouths and disrespecting my woman."
A small smile pulled at her cheeks.
"Maybe just one, to get the message across. You'll need lackies to do something."
"Okay," he returned with a smile, "I can be happy with just one."
They rested in each other's grasp in a comforting silence, like that of the one they shared on the shore of Cinnabar island. A crashing noise from outside broke overpowered the television and Nox lunged for the remote to mute it.
"What was that?" Kokori asked as she sat up to go investigate.
"Oh, for Arceus' sake," Nox growled, his gaze alight with the realization. "That damn pikachu is back again."
"What?! Where is it?" He noted her excitement. She went in the direction of the noises outside, leaving him wondering if she even intended to wait for his reply as a door opened and closed. He stood from the sofa and began in her direction, though he heard the door as it had opened and shut once more.
"Nox! Come here!"
Her elation was enough to force a weak smile as he strode towards her voice.
Nox came into the now lit kitchen to find her standing in the doorway with a filthy, fat pikachu in her arms. Her crimson eyes glittered with a sort of joy he hadn't thought possible after all that happened today.
"Isn't he just the sweetest little dumplin'? There isn't a vicious bone in his body."
"I hope he's not rabid," Nox jested as he came closer and reached out to the rodent, scratching under its chin as it let out a playful squeak. "Dumplin. I like it."
"I can keep him?!"
"Will you wash him?"
"Yes." Kokori laughed, smiling wide. "I can't tell you how many pokemon I've had to bathe back when we used to traffic them."
He watched her set Dumplin in the sink and cocked an eyebrow.
"Eh, don't die?"
"I know what I'm doing," she shot back with a teasing look as she snooped through the cabinets. Once she found the rubber gloves and put them on, she went to turn the water on and scrubbed the pikachu's dirty fir without injury or incident. "See? Get me a hair dryer, you won't be able to touch him while he's wet."
"Give me a minute," Nox beamed, turning away to set off for a hair dryer.
Maybe, even with all the shit blowing in, they could find sanctuary in one another. To see her happy like this-it was worth letting that filthy rodent inside. It was going to be a rough go from here on out, but he felt lucky to have her near. For that, he'd follow her to hell and back. Whether Kokori liked to admit it or not, she wanted him to come with her to Unova tomorrow.
He'd go, no matter her protests. When Nox made a decision, there was no talking him out of it. He knew that, and so did everyone else.
End Chapter
