Author's Notes
Wow, June sure revealed a plethora of information regarding the upcoming Pokémon games! It's so exciting!
Anyway, on with the fic!
I don't own Pokémon. Even if X and Y are still four months away, the amount of information that came from E3 and CoroCoro is enough to last me for this next drought.
- x x x -
CHAPTER 27
A cascade of vines faced the four of them. Daith wouldn't have been surprised if his younger brother had used this as some form of gate which he could manipulate with his power. Perhaps it was also a marker for what lay ahead, and their pokémon seemed to be aware of this: Skye's Zubat and Wade's Wooper had stilled and were staring expectantly at those vines.
He was about to tell Arbok to fire a Gunk Shot when a pillar of whirling winds as tall and unyielding as an Empoleon emerged from the ground in front of Skye. Daith's hair thrashed, and flecks of dust and dirt that had been caught up in the gusts threatened to either smother them or make them sneeze. Without warning, the whirling winds soared and tore through the vines like scissors on paper.
Daith observed Skye for a moment. He was willing to bet that the long-haired boy had conjured that Gust attack. Even though Daith was still astounded that there were other wielders in the world aside from him and his younger brother, Skye's own sibling, Wade, didn't seem impressed at all. Wade had simply rolled his eyes and stepped through the new opening without slowing down. Agnes, though, couldn't seem to get over such alien powers and stared at Skye as if he were going to sprout an extra head.
The new chamber seemed to spread out endlessly before them. This massive space was perhaps the most illuminated place in Coast Cave, as several lamps burned in small corners and cast romping shadows on the towering stalagmites and hanging stalactites. The air felt humid and hot, a little less than the level of a sauna or a really bad summer day, something that made that cold, iron hand clamping on his insides, the numbness in his hands, and his nausea worse.
"Daith," came Wade's breathless call a few feet in the distance. "Over here."
He wasn't sure what to make of Wade's unease. Dragging his feet, he followed the teen, who had his hand on a cluster of stalagmites that seemed to be covering something from view. Swallowing and failing miserably from removing that lump in his throat, he rounded the craggy stone structures then found himself stopping in his tracks at the sight before him.
Sprawled on a tatty reed mat beside a solitary lamp, staring emptily at the world around him with his hands tied behind his back, lay his father. The one who had abandoned him when the Village Elders discovered his Poison-wielding ability and sentenced him to banishment. The one who had let his son be hauled off by the villagers like a rabid Drapion without even fighting for his sake. Tossed into the merciless desert, under the ruthless sun, he had searched the angry throng and hoped that his father would be there and raging at the others for treating his son this way.
But delusions were delusions. After all, his father hadn't arrived. Not even when Daith had waited, slumped on the sand, after the mob had gone back to their homes. Even when the chill of the desert night had sunk deep into his bones and the sun had been replaced by the impassive moon, even when thirst and dehydration had threatened to take his then sixteen-year old life away.
He had never been there.
Daith wondered how he could stay silent when his entire being screamed in protest at the mere thought of rescuing this man.
Then he remembered. The image of his trembling younger brother clinging to him and pleading, a moment that had burned his eyes. Willing his feet to move forward, he stood in front of his father.
"Leave me alone, Dennison," said the man, his voice cracking. "Isn't it enough that you had my boy killed? Why must you continue to torment me? Won't you just leave me alone to die?"
Daith stared. Was he talking about his younger brother?
"Guido is safe," he replied softly. "And there will be no one dying today."
The man on the mat took in a ragged breath, and his head jerked towards him. He saw his father's emaciated face for the first time. Feeling a small gasp breaking out from his lips, he almost took a step back. Where was that firm jaw, those solid, sure eyes, and rugged countenance that he remembered from all those years ago? Mesmerized by the other's unfamiliar features, Daith felt himself rooted to the spot.
"Who…?"
He wanted to yell, "It's Daith! Can't you even recognize your other child? Or have you really forgotten?" but somehow couldn't find any words.
[Daith,] Arbok suddenly said. [People are coming.]
The man on the mat shifted his attention to the Poison pokémon. "An Arbok…?" he murmured. Another jagged gasp, this time louder than the first, tore out from him. "It can't be…
"… Are you Daith…?"
He couldn't answer even if he wanted to. Distant voices and countless footsteps were drawing near them.
"—they're over here!—"
"—where…?"
"—beside those rocks, you nitwit!—"
"—get them!—"
Daith peeled his attention away from the man on the mat. He shifted his weight and cocked his head towards the ruckus.
"I take it that he's your father?" Wade asked softly as he regarded the man.
"Now where in Regirock's rump did you get that conclusion?" Agnes remarked snarkily.
"Hi, Mr. Redspike," Skye greeted as he jogged to him and worked on the rope binding the man's wrists. "Guido's okay. He's at the Seaside Hotel with Mrs. Redspike. Whatever it is that that stupid psychic told you isn't true; he just lost his hold over Guido's mind and thinks that the reason for that was he got killed."
Why did Daith feel relieved that someone else had uttered those words to his father? He tried to shut off the exclamations of disbelief wheezing from the man but found himself spellbound by the other's mere voice.
"I don't like this," Wade suddenly muttered.
Now that jolted him out of nostalgia, melancholy, or whatever it was that had taken a hold of him. Out of instinct his hand slid into his pocket and crunched over his box of cigarettes. Realizing that there was no reason to hold back, he fished a stick out and promptly lit it. He took a long drag that nearly finished half the cigarette and blew out the smoke into the shadows above.
With his nerves no longer going haywire, Daith surveyed the scene before them. His forehead furrowed. Consable thugs surrounded them from all sides of the vast chamber and had even blocked their exit. Filthy-looking in appearance but menacing in demeanor, they had suddenly quieted down and were leering at them as if waiting from some signal to strike.
A new set of footsteps echoed. This one took its time, as if ambling to a soiree.
"It's Dennison…" he heard his father murmured from behind him.
Daith lifted his hand to just below his chest and gathered his power. He didn't even bother looking at the small, amorphous, violet blob that had materialized above his palm. Nor did he reply to Wade when the teen whispered a hesitant "Daith…?" He squinted his eyes and strained his ears until he could seize either sight or sound of this Dennison character.
"Now who would be so ridiculous as to storm through the Consable Clan's temporary hideout without even any bother for the consequences?"
There! Daith flung the purple blob, which transformed into a ribbon of noxious sludge that whipped out to encircle a man with a stick-like nose, a pointed chin, a long-sleeved button-down, and a pair of trousers. The whirling tendrils of poison also ensnared a lean pokémon sporting a prolific moustache and twin spoons in its hand.
"What in Lugia's name—?" Dennison began.
The pop of opening pokéballs reverberated throughout the chamber. Out of the corner of his eye, Daith saw that the Consable henchmen had released their pokémon and looked ready to pounce at them. He only allowed himself a moment to marvel at the accuracy of Wade's information about these thugs; their pokémon were indeed mostly Ground types: spiky Sandslash, solid Graveler, diminutive Dugtrio, bulky Donphan, slimy Quagsire, bone-toting Marowak, and lumbering Camerupt. Oddly enough, among the multitudes of Ground pokémon was the occasional Murkrow, small birds that seemed to flit in and out of the dancing shadows that the lamps cast.
The silence that ensued was deafening. A low rumble sounded in the distance, but Daith paid it no heed. He was a mere second away from snuffing the life out of this vile man who had forced his gentle younger brother to commit deeds that could twist a soul. Guido had nearly died because of it.
"You're Dennison, aren't you?" Beside him, Arbok hissed and bared its fangs.
The psychic had somehow managed to bury his shock. He scrutinized Daith with the vulturine air of a Staraptor.
"Ah… the older sibling that little Guido had informed me about." Those calculating eyes never left him. Dennison spoke slowly and surely, as if he were the predator and not the other way around. "Such a remarkable genealogy, to have brothers in the same family who can wield the pokémon elements." Dennison's eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "Is that a tragic past I see? It seems that certain authorities discovered such deliciously bizarre powers and deemed you as a danger…"
Daith gritted his teeth but didn't speak.
"Judgment fell, and you… were exiled… But why didn't your parents come to your rescue? Why hadn't Daddy intervened? Maybe he was ashamed of you? Or perhaps he was horrified at his own son, a monster who could communicate with Poison pokémon and use their ghastly techniques…? A boy who could drain life by inflicting horrible diseases and debilitations would surely be the end of them all, now wouldn't he…?
Daith realized that the cigarette was no longer in his hand. His fist shook.
"So then, why are you here, Mr. Poison wielder? Why bother to rescue your father at all? He's the reason why you've been flung to such a far place, without family to come home to, without a sibling to act a big brother to. Wouldn't it be better to…
"… kill him instead…?"
Surely his father was hearing everything? Why wasn't the damned man saying anything at all?
"Yes… just a little more… and your mind will be mine…"
Daith gasped. He saw them now. Wraithlike hands reaching towards him. Probably Dennison's way of ensnaring another's mind! It was too late to dodge them now. His breath hitched as the hands encircled his head—
Except something suddenly slammed into him from behind. Grunting, he fell forward and barely stopped from hitting his face on the pebbly ground. He felt his power wink out like a blown candle. A weight slid off to his side. After blinking a few times he found out that that weight turned out to be Wade, who was gulping for air and had both hands on each temple as if trying to crush his skull. The other's pained eyes met with his own.
"He almost got you," Wade managed to rasp out. Still clutching his head, he fell to his side and moaned.
"Wade!" Skye was instantly by the other teen's side. "You okay? What's wrong with you?"
"Now hang in there, you little urchin," Agnes barked. "I know you're made of sterner stuff."
A chill danced its way down Daith's spine as he stood up. Why was there the face of an Alakazam with empty eyes hovering around Wade's face?
"Meddling buffoon…" Dennison glided towards them with his pokémon trailing close behind. He looked as if a slice of cake that was meant for him had been snatched away. The psychic suddenly stopped and, to everyone's astonishment—Consable henchmen included—giggled like a maniac.
When his fits of laughter finally died down, he tossed a grin to Wade, who was being hauled up by Skye. The poor teen was still huffing for breath. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead.
"Look who it is, boys!" Dennison said. "The prodigal son returns. The head of the clan's banished baby! It's Wade Consable!"
Jeers and guffaws exploded from the henchmen. A little dumbfounded from Dennison's announcement, Daith found himself staring at the brown-haired youth, who watched the Consable thugs like a Wurmple about to be gobbled up by bird pokémon.
"Hey, wimp! You're taller, but I bet Sneasel are still better than you at pilfering pokémon eggs!"
"Where've you been all these years? Tryin' to get the honest livin' that your Momma taught you?"
"A crook's boy who can't steal! Pathetic, huh?"
"Hey, kid!" another goon called out. "Must be wondering why we have all these Murkrow helping us out." He grasped one of the Dark-Flying pokémon by the neck and held it up as if it were ready for slaughter. "It's their punishment, of course! This is what these stupid birds get for getting in the way of whacking you some discipline all those years ago."
"Yeah, it's all your fault that these little Murkrow have to slave their way for us," another henchman taunted.
Dennison was snickering in the midst of all the insults. "Are you here to see your father? That's what I'm seeing in your mind right now. Maybe fumble for that remote dream called revenge? But how do you plan on achieving that when you look like one little puff at you is enough to make you tumble?"
"Stop it!"
The words cracked out like a whip. Though the air was stagnant and stale, furious winds had erupted and had knocked the Consable thugs and their stunned pokémon against the walls of the chamber. Daith had to shield his face from the cutting winds and choking dust. With squinted eyes he spotted Agnes clinging for dear life to her Lunatone. Wade had his eyes tightly closed as he struggled to maintain his balance. As for Skye… Skye was beside himself with rage. The boy was surrounded by spinning columns of gusts that stretched up to the high ceiling. With his long hair thrashing, eyes glowing, teeth bared, and fists trembling, he looked like he could smash a boulder to dust.
The gales died down after a few seconds. Groaning and gasping, the Consable henchmen dropped to the ground and stared at them wide-eyed. Their pokémon appeared none the better, what with their distressed whines and tottery gaits.
Skye called back his Zubat and brought out three of his Flying pokémon arsenal: his Jumpluff, which despite its adorable appearance seemed to mirror its trainer's wrath, his Pidgeot, a powerful bird with majestic plumage, and his Honchkrow, which was a stark contrast to its pre-evolution due to its larger build, a feral confidence, and a proud stance that spoke of authority.
"There's no reasoning with any of you," the teen growled. If Daith wasn't as incensed as Skye about these thieves' behavior and how little they thought of Wade's existence, he would have smiled at the brown-haired youth's utter awe. With his eyes wide and jaw almost on the floor, Wade gawked at Skye as if seeing him for the first time.
"How could you treat someone that way?" continued the long-haired teen, his eyes afire. "If you think you can treat Wade like trash just because he doesn't believe in theft, in severing the bond that a pokémon has with its trainer, or in stepping on other people just to get rich, well then you're garbage yourself!"
"Do you fancy yourself his friend?" asked Dennison, dusting off the dirt from the sleeve of his button-up and his trousers. "Why bother being amiable with the son of a thief—?"
"That doesn't matter," Skye snapped. "We may not be blood-related, but he's still my kid brother. If you try to destroy him, then I'll bring you down. It's that simple—Ow, ow, ow! What was that for? You didn't need to fracture my arm!"
Daith blinked. Wade's fist had connected with Skye's arm. Hard. Apparently, the boy still had enough spunk to do that despite his haggard countenance.
"Could you get any schmaltzier, Birdbrain?" Wade murmured. "Pipe down. You're getting too worked up, and it's freaking me out."
"Well, I don't care! They piss me off so much—"
"Well, don't get a heart attack on my account."
"What is wrong with you? Here I am, acting as moral support for this stupid field trip just because you can't let go of these thugs, and I get a busted arm because you think I'm running amok?"
"Oh, go kiss a Qwilfish! Speaking of, I just got one. Wanna try?"
"Why do boys have to be boys?" Agnes grumbled, her palm on her forehead. Not bothering with beleaguered quips, Daith settled for a sigh. Rescue operation, indeed…
The ground suddenly shuddered. Then stopped. Then another tremor. Then stopped again. Daith seriously considered either grabbing for their Escape Ropes or teleporting outside to safety in case the cave seemed ready to collapse. The sequence of quakes punctuated by short periods of quiescence continued until a man trailed by a hulking Camerupt emerged from the darkness to stand a short distance behind Dennison. Daith identified the lumbering Fire-Ground pokémon as the cause of those tremors. As for its trainer… The way the Consable henchmen regarded this new figure told him that this was a higher power than the Clan psychic.
"What's all this racket, Dennison?"
The Clan psychic offered a perfunctory bow. "Just some intruders. We'll dispatch them shortly and have operations resume—"
"You spend too much time with your mind games when you should be dealing with these trespassers quick." The Camerupt behind the man rumbled in what seemed to be agreement.
"I apologize, Quodo."
"Then there's no point dawdling." The man called Quodo took a step forward and glared at them. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Wade, but only for a moment. With a stomp of his foot, he issued his order.
"Alright, men! Take 'em out!"
Chaos exploded.
- x x x -
Cassius believed that he had probably led Mr. Andies astray long enough. Besides, he was getting tired of winding his way through shops, tourists, Fair attractions, and the occasional idiot Ludicolo prancing about to a fast beat. He couldn't guide the other man too far, as the pokémart owner needed to return to his shop at high-speed once he agreed to pay the imaginary ransom for his boys. He also couldn't go to a place with too many people, as extortion was a craft better practiced without witnesses. And this clearing on the perimeter of Ebony, just behind a tall brick building that was being used as a warehouse, satisfied his requirements.
"Are you sure they're here?" asked Mr. Andies, anxiety making him breathless. "You really saw the whole thing?"
"Oh, I saw it, alright." Cassius tossed a pokéball and released the massive pokémon that had earned him first place at the Angler's Cup: his Wailmer. The bare ground shook a little as the gigantic, round Water pokémon bounced a little. "After all, I was the one who told those thieves to beat them up."
Mr. Andies stared at him.
"But don't worry, they're still alive. Barely, I might add." His hands tingled with excitement. "You want them back? Then here are my terms, Mr. Andies." He held up a bony finger. "One, bring me all the revenue you've gained since the beginning of the Fair. And two," he continued, adding another finger, "get me a minimum of ten bags of Chinchou Chow. No, make it twenty. You can always make up some story about finding a space to store them. And three," he said with a third finger, "ensure that no one knows about our little bargain. Once you've acquired everything I need, then I'll tell you where your precious boys are. Though if you refuse or fail any of my conditions, then we can always let them bleed to death. And you get to be squashed flat by my sweet Wailmer."
The man was silent. Probably feeling indecisive and helpless, with a smattering of shock. Cassius almost crowed.
"Corsola, help me out."
An eyebrow went up. Now where did that pokéball come from? Cassius frowned. He should have known that those oversized pockets in the pokémart owner's apron could hold an entire collection of pokémon knickknacks, capture balls included.
"Ancient Power."
The gall of this man! How dare he defy him! Unfortunately for him, surprise had already consumed too much time. The blasted chunk of pink coral had already chucked a volley of mystical rocks at his Wailmer.
"You upstart!" Cassius snarled. "This'll teach you! Earthquake!"
The ground trembled. Mr. Andies's Corsola shrilled before plopping down.
Cassius sneered. "All this cheekiness is futile. Now hurry up before I change my mind about revealing your boys' whereabouts—"
"Crobat, come."
Now, what—?
"Cross Poison."
The fact that Cassius couldn't read Mr. Andies's expression made his mouth go a little dry. Shouldn't the man be reduced to a useless pile of worry? As the Poison-Flying pokémon hurtled towards his Wailmer, he grappled with the dilemma of whether to drown his opponent with a Water Gun or work on the type advantage and order a Rollout.
He decided on the latter. But as Wailmer prepared to crush the flying pest, Crobat slashed his pokémon with the Poison technique.
"What are you waiting for, you dolt! Rollout now!"
Wailmer spun and collided with its opponent. Still, the lack of momentum barely caused a dent. After one more Cross Poison, his Wailmer crashed down with a cry and stopped moving.
"Now, you've done it! I won't be placated until I've driven you bankrupt!" He hurled his next pokéball. "Quagsire, get rid of that winged nuisance!"
"Where are my sons?"
Cassius frowned. "Sons? Little Wade isn't your boy. He's the worthless child of our boss, the head of the criminal syndicate called the Consable Cla—"
Mr. Andies's reply mowed over the rest of what he was about to say. "Really? So Wade has a father? Where was this man when Skye found him drenched in the rain with nowhere to go? Where was he when he refused to eat, talk, or play outside with the rest of the kids and the meadow pokémon as children ought to do while growing up? Was he there to watch when Wade would sneak out at night to train his pokémon at such a feverish pace, as if the very act would drive away whatever demons that were tormenting him? Was it because of him that every time I tried to pat the boy's head or rub his back, he expected to be struck?"
Cassius could only gape. For a man whose knuckles were going white from quivering, his voice seemed unnaturally steady.
"Wing Attack!"
Cassius swallowed. "Quagsire, Mud Bomb!" Oh no, wait, that won't work—
Before he could change the command, the Crobat had already swooped down on his idiot pokémon and batted it with its wings. Quagsire opened its mouth and fired a ball of mud, but the attack hardly reached the Poison-Flying pokémon. His error directed the battle to an inevitable end: Quagsire's loss at it was pummeled by another Wing Attack.
Growling, Cassius recalled his rubbish pokémon and flung daggers at the pokémart owner with his eyes. "So you think you can play family and pretend to be the righteous father? What a farce! Fact of the matter is, you're not blood-related! Does Wade even call you 'Daddy?'"
"We may not be blood-related," Mr. Andies answered, "but I consider him every bit my son. You made a mistake in hurting my boys. I'll have you regret the day you first laid eyes on them!"
Mouth dry and teeth gritted, Cassius released his last pokémon: a dumb Wooper. The slimy creature chirruped as it observed the Crobat flapping beside the pokémart owner. He wondered if the silly Water-Ground pokémon had any idea what in blazes was going on.
"Wing Attack!"
"Move it, you stupid pokémon!" he gnarled, not even caring that spittle was flying out. "Slam it to kingdom come!"
The Crobat dived and slugged his Wooper with its wings. Dazed, it attempted a Slam attack that missed its swift opponent.
"You fool!" Cassius cried. "Your idiocy will be the end of us! Alright, fire a Water Pulse!"
"One last Wing Attack, Crobat!"
How dare he? One last Wing Attack? The nerve of this man, thinking he could steal his last chance of recovery from that humiliating series of events with the Consable Clan. Here he was, at the final step to an opportunity for wealth and power, yet this man just had to ruin everything!
His Wooper fainting jolted him back to reality. Dreams of owning his own syndicate shattered. Fantasies of living in mansions on tropical beaches crumbled. There was no other choice now.
He fled.
Something struck his back. Losing his balance, he thudded into the ground and scraped his elbows and knees. He craned his neck up and gasped as Mr. Andies's Crobat hovered in front of him. Scrambling to his feet didn't work well, as he suddenly felt his vest being yanked, resulting in his nose being a few uncomfortable centimeters away from the pokémart owner's. With his face so close, Cassius finally understood the expression radiating from the other's eyes. And for the first time in his life, he quailed in sheer terror.
"Now, I won't ask again…
"Where. Are. My. Sons?"
- x x x -
Author's Notes
I'd like to thank a reviewer from some years ago who requested for a more active role for the father. Even though Mr. Andies didn't go with Skye and Wade into Coast Cave, I gave him a fight of his own, a chance to lay his claim on the kids.
Thoughts? :)
