Chapter 14: Reprieve in Reflection

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Here we are, sharing a meal in the wilderness of Rocaire. It's different than I imagined. After chopping up the ripe dates atop each portion, I share the bounty with Ette and Morse.

Starting with that first warm bite, all my worries seem to melt away. What started out a simple instant noodle mix turned into a satisfying and flavorful meal. The sour citrus and sweet dates really amplify the whole dish with their unique, fresh flavors.

Not only is the blend of flavors savory, I'm also enjoying this experience with my friends. Something about eating with company always makes food taste better. I don't know why, but I don't need to understand it to know it's true.

However, we don't do much talking. We're all so hungry, it's hard to not focus on the meal.

"Delicious!" Ette says with glee between bites.

"Delizioso!" I repeat.

She grants me a large smile with her steaming bowl close under her chin. "You say a lot of weird words."

"Hah." I gulp down another savory mouthful and clear my throat. "It's nothing too weird, just a different way of expressing something, other languages are like that."

Her eyes go wide. "You can speak other languages?!"

"Nah, not perfectly, but I know some words. On my travels, I picked up a few things here and there."

"You've been all around the world then…!" She catches her breath in excitement. Her expression does little to conceal her internal thoughts of something like, "I want to see the world too!"

"Heh, all the food around the world sure is amazing too."

"Really?" She flutters her eyes. "I don't think I've ever had pasta this good."

"No way! You never ate instant?" It floors me. "Not once? In your whole life?"

She shakes her head. "Doctor Reeves said it wasn't healthy and highly addictive."

"Well, I can attest to the latter of those two statements. But by adding fresh fruit, you get your carbs, vitamins, fiber all in one sitting. Next time I'll add meat to it for protein too. Still, wouldn't recommend eating noodles every day."

"It'd be tough to do that, thinking of meals on the spot makes my head spin," replies Ette.

"Why?" I wonder.

She grins. "Because of catering."

"Catering?" My brow lifts. "As in, someone cooking for you professionally?"

"Yup, Doctor Reeves loves to cook, he's really good at it, but is so busy he can't always prepare meals." Her voice lowers. "The way he dexterously handles a sharp knife in the kitchen is what makes him such a good physician."

"Huh." Never thought of that. I guess being dexterous, understanding proportions, delivering on recipes, would all be good traits for a medically inclined man.

"I bet, with enough practice—" Ette takes another bite "—you'll get as good as him one day."

"As good as the Doc? Me? Impossible."

Her ears wriggle happily as she eats, making my heart melt. "Mmm! At this rate, you'll surpass the good doctor one day!"

My face becomes warm, and not from the food. "Naw way. I'm not even worthy of being a sous chef."

"So modest about your hidden skills, you're arrogant about just about everything else."

"Am not!"

She chuckles. "You're all red."

"Pff, the food's fiery." It's not, but I still blow over my spoon to pretend the temperature's there.

"So—" Ette lowers her eyelids "—what's your secret? How'd you figure out how to make this with fruits from the trees?"

"You know, I'm a spontaneous fella." I shrug. "And this here is one of my spontaneous recipes."

"Hm…'my recipe'…now you're talking like a chef."

"Oh, come on." My eyes roll. "You can't call this respectable cooking. Don't even got a proper stove!"

"No." Her lips form a sly smirk. "You said it yourself earlier, 'This is a meal—a simple one, yes—but must be respected.'"

Wow, she got me there. I thought in her ravenous hunger she would have forgotten my justification for not letting her eat the noodles raw like she wanted to. "True, and it is good."

"Weren't you going to tell me what was on your phone?" asks Ette.

"Oh, right."

Morse looks over in interest as well.

"See," I start to say, "I'm not originally from Rocaire, but I wound up stationed in Dezear."

"That's the capital of Rocaire!"

"Yeah, far to the east, on the edge of the Great Plains." I shake my head. "A major thoroughfare, an airport, a city that doesn't sleep. It's where the new League HQ is too. To be honest, the city's gotten so built-up in such a short amount of time, it's not like the rest of the region at all. Or, what I remember about it anyway…"

"Oh!" Ette's ears perk up. "Then you've been to Rocaire before!"

She caught that, didn't she? She's clever when she wants to be. "Yeah, it was a long time ago."

"How long ago?" Her brow furrows.

"Tough to say. Things weren't as developed. Must've been young when I visited."

"What do you remember about it?" she asks.

I'd rather not remember. "Oh. Uh. Not too much. Fewer people maybe. Since you haven't been to a capital city, that'd be tough for me to describe to you."

"Hm, I've seen pictures…Our patients from the countryside always say bad things about that place." Ette paws her chin in thought. "Do they really have steel towers and planes that reach up to touch the stars in the sky?"

"Skyscrapers and jet planes, yeah. It's a sight alright." I take a breath of crisp air, somewhat amused by her innocence. "But there's also a lot of pollution. Noise too. Gotten worse over time."

"O-Oh." Her ears wilt. "Why's that?"

"Because there's a lot of people there. The League forming in Dezear is special in a way, it's relying on a huge artificial population growth of 'Ambassadors' to spread its influence. Since the region's so spacious and there's barriers everywhere with the mountains, the capital is very centralized. Mountains, deserts, plains, all those natural obstacles, coupled with distance, makes spreading the culture of badge hunting and other nuance rules difficult to do. Not to mention the murderous scorpions, vultures, and spirits. And don't forget, since the Ancient Path is deeply rooted in the territory's culture, it's difficult to implement the League's ideals with the natives of Rocaire. Ambassadors, people not born in Rocaire from other Leagues, they're the New League's solution."

She glares suspiciously at me. "You say you're not a trainer, but you sure know a lot about the Leagues."

"Had to learn the ins-and-outs, being a trainer was once a thought I entertained." I shrug. "Now I'm just a second-rate delivery-boy."

That quizzical look in her eyes won't go away. "So, delivery-boy, why'd you visit Cortex?"

"Truth is, it never was supposed to turn out like this. Once I got the stone I was meant to be leaving. Cortex happened to be close to where my original target was."

"Which was?"

"Had to do with missing Ambassadors. You know, part of the New League."

"From what I understand, they're special trainers, and their medical fees are covered in part by insurance."

Covered by insurance, must be nice. I grunt to myself. "The New Rocaire League invites trainers from other region's Leagues. Flies 'em to Dezear's huge airport. Gives them a cute little title of 'Ambassador' while here in Rocaire, whole thing's advertised like a dang tourism gig."

"Ooh, tourism! That's all about seeing new places!" She takes another big bite and makes an equally sized grin. "I love that idea!"

Can't help but smile at her genuineness. At least she's listening. Or is she? She might be fantasizing again. "Yeah, but the Ambassador Program only sponsors trainers who will help the New League spread 'League culture' throughout Rocaire."

"League…culture?" she asks with food in her mouth.

"Stuff like collecting badges, following specific rules, and establishing a hierarchy of trainers." I shake my head and laugh. "Buncha bullshit."

"No wonder." She blows her bangs up out of her face. "Someone like you would never do that."

I try to laugh it off, but it hits me in a serious way how well she seems to know me so damn well.

"What?" Her head cocks. "Isn't it true?"

"Yeah, totally. I've always done things my own way. Gotten me into so much trouble, especially when I…" The white sheet of light starts to shimmer, closing in from my peripheral. Stop. I halt my thoughts before I go down that road. The moment I do it disappears.

"What?" Ette looks concerned. Can she feel something is wrong with me?

"It's nothing."

But her worried glare doesn't go away.

I try to focus on my explanation. "Rocaire has the Trials of the Pathwalker, you know, where you walk the Path of the Ancients. It's kind of hard to convince people to abandon their long-held traditions in exchange for collecting a couple shiny pieces of aluminum. Yet, in the shadow of the war, many of the older generation are gone, so there's a unique opportunity to replace the old ways with a new system on the backs of trainers from other regions, which - conveniently - consolidates power in the New League."

"Doctor Reeves never spoke about the war." Ette gives a growl. "But patients at the clinic who were old enough to witness it would mention how different the world was back then. There were more Pathwalkers?"

"Probably were."

"Then, that's why the New League is making their power-grab in Rocaire now, it's because they have an advantage?" Ette deduces.

"Well said." I give her a roguish smirk. "However, they're hamstrung by centralization near the capital. Rocaire is spread out, has a lot of wilderness, and is sparsely populated outside the metropolitan area. That's where the Ambassador Program comes into play. Trainers in the Ambassador Program are vetted for following the rules of their home League. Registration, ID, 'mons in the database, for example. There's also the requirement to adhere to New League rules during their time in Rocaire and serve as the League's agent, follow all orders, whatever crap that means."

"Oh, I see. And those pesky rules come from the New League in Dezear?"

"You got it. However, there's no shortage of tension between these bona fide stooges of the New League and the native population outside the city—who'd rather the Rocaire League not form. People in the country don't fancy being ordered around by a centralized League since its policies would quash autonomy from independent municipalities, and the 'Home Rules' Rocaire is known for."

"Hm, then the towns in Rocaire, they're sort of like this oasis, they each have their own local guardian who looks out for them."

"Huh." Once again, her perceptiveness surprises me. "That's a really good way of looking at it honestly."

Her eyelids lower slightly like she's remembering something. "I think that might be why people usually don't have much good to say about Dezear and the people from there."

"Yeah. Lot of people coming from Dezear in the New League's Ambassador Program aren't Rocaire natives. Country kids," I give a short laugh, "they even got a name for the trainers in the Ambassador Program: 'Trippers'. Makes sense the longer I'm here. Trainers flocking in from far away places into my backyard, given the New League's blessing to run all over the sacred sites of the Path, so long as they follow the League's orders and do what they're told."

Ette is listening carefully, but I hope I'm not going too far into detail. Then she gasps in realization. "Alv! You should've said something earlier!"

What does she mean? Did I say something I shouldn't have?

"If you're in the Ambassador Program, then maybe your medical fees would've been waived or at least partially covered by the New League!"

"No. Couldn't be, not without a license to train. I was—" I try to remember the reason, watching ripples on the pristine water "—doing an investigation involving the program."

"Investigation!" Ette leans in and lowers her voice. "On what?"

"Stuff so scary, it'll keep you up at night." I try to pass it off as a joke, but the goosebumps on my arms suggest otherwise.

"As if!" Her head tilts forward in worry. "You don't seem like a detective, but, was it some sort of corruption in the organization?"

"If only," I huff. "That'd be an easier job. At least corrupt people are made of the same matter as me."

"Same matter?" she whispers. "What's that mean?"

"Matter comes in all shapes and sizes. But sometimes, despite it changing form, it'll retain properties of what it used to be. Memories. Qualities. Tendencies. Even, like you saw, emotions. Its past."

"Like Yamask!"

I nod. She really can be astute, it might be easier for her to get what I'm feeling with her next to me. "Ever read stories about the Great War?"

At first Ette is taken aback by the subject change, yet her wide eyes tell me she's intrigued. "Doctor Reeves served in the army when he was barely older than a boy. But he never talked about it, he didn't want me to read about it either. The war was a taboo subject in our household. The camo trunk with the weapons was one of the memories he wanted to lock away for good from his heart. When I wanted to learn about it, he insisted, 'All you need to know is the suffering of so many was too much for a heart to bear'."

"The Doc's right." I wistfully glace up at the clear blue sky and decide to sum it up. "Many, many people and monsters died on the battlefield. Over what? Dreams of distant conquest? Ushering in a New World Order? I don't even know. The point is, worldwide wars aren't about honor and glory. There was a lot of grisly death. Death gripped the whole world unlike any other time in history. Its repulsive stench stretched everywhere. Cities, towns, villages, few were spared from the chaos of conflict. War promises, and death follows."

"Death…" Her ears wilt the lowest I've ever seen.

"Something strange followed the Great War." My voice lowers. "There was a noticeable increase in the number of a certain type of monster. An unprecedented amount, really. The Ghost Type."

Morse squeaks.

"Ghosts?" Ette looks over at him, as do I. "Like Morse?" she asks.

"Morse is Morse." I force a smile to cheer him up. "He's a weird one, but he's not the variety of ghost I'm after—though, boy, am I happy I met him. He changed my perspective. When you're dealing with vicious ghost monsters…" There's a harsh throbbing in the front of my head and my voice unexpectedly cracks. My vision turns murky for a moment, the blue sky loses all hue. I don't know what spell came over me, I have to fight through it. Blinking, my headache subsides and the color returns, but I still feel this raw sense of dread buried deep inside my chest. "…Like Yamask, it's stupid easy to develop a dogmatic view."

Ette's jaw drops. "So that's how you knew so much, you were hunting ghosts!"

My fingernails tap roughly on my cast. "Secret's out, I guess."

"Then, the banner with your initials—" Ette points a finger into her open palm like she's holding an invisible cell "—on your phone, Ops. Para. A. P."

"Operations Paranormal Alvin Paine—that does have a nice ring to it, huh?" I reply, waving my hand and bowing my chin. "I'm…well, I used to be at least…an operator tasked with determining the reason for the surge in paranormal activity."

"No way!" She shakes her head, ruffling her bangs. "I thought 'Para.' meant paratrooper. Would explain why you knew how to use Doctor Reeves's rifle."

"Yeah, no." I gulp. "Not in a million years. See, I'm really, really not good with heights. Thought for sure I was gonna die riding Mandibuzz."

Ette twirls hair around her finger. "Oh, so, you've got a fear of high places. Acrophobia."

"Nah, just a normal, healthy fear of hitting the ground real hard," I stress. However, she smirks and raises a brow. "What's so funny?"

"I was just brainstorming ways to cure you of your phobia. Maybe, if I lifted you high into the air, then dropped you into the water…"

"—Then I'll never cook another meal for you again!" I glower.

"Fine," she huffs. "But what about the ghosts? Why is Ops. Para. searching for them?"

I furrow my brow. "The official reason is knowledge. If there's a correlation between the number of deaths from the war and the spike in ghosts, there's implications about the source of those ghosts. Supposedly, that'd be valuable on a philosophical level."

"Philosophical?" Ette tilts her head.

"Oh, y'know, askin' questions that go like: Ever wonder why we're here?"

She scrutinizes the area. "Well…where else would we be?"

"I dunno, one of those big mysteries in life without a clear answer, isn't it? Could be a cosmic coincidence or maybe there's a plan for everything. Hmm. Yeah. That kinda stuff'll keep ya up all night wondering."

She contemplates a split-second then reacts in surprise. "What?! I thought you meant why are we out here, in this desert?"

I smirk at her innocent outlook. "Didn't take you to be much of a philosopher either. See, powerful people who fancy themselves as such, by their esoteric persuasions, they're the ones willing to pay big bucks for answers on their quest to unravel the world's secrets. However, can't be getting your fine linen vestments all scuffed up out in the field, oh no, ivory towers are much more suitable. The system works like this: Operators do the dirty work and get a lump of cash for their finds. To get information about something supernatural, there needs to be a lot of troops on the ground scouring for clues. All sorts of skills are on the table, mine included."

Her posture slumps. "So, Alv, what you're telling me is…you're basically a grunt."

"No!" Heat gathers beneath my collar. "Am not!"

"You're angry," she points out. "Convince me otherwise."

"I'm researching a phenomenon. That makes me a field researcher, got it?"

"Researcher?" She laughs. "You?"

"Field researcher." I scoff, "Not some goon in a dingy lab. Big difference!"

"I never mentioned a lab." Sighing, she wonders, "What do you even study?"

"I study ghosts, by huntin' 'em down and Anchor Breaking the rotten ones before they cause too much trouble."

"Anchor Breaking?" Ette tilts her head to the side. "You've used that term before."

"Technically, the science term is 'Apparition Partition'. Whatever. Names don't matter when you gotta problem. The something that ties a spirit here to our world, that is known as the Anchor, gotta break that to be rid of the apparition."

"Is that how you deal with it?" She continues to make a perplexed face. "By destroying their connection to the world?"

"Sorta. There's no exact science to it, it's all about finding an exploitable weakness, a chink in the armor." My expression sours. "You think bottles of Holy Water work? Here's a juicy hint: No, sure doesn't. There's no magic bullet I know of. Each specimen is different, you saw how we incorrectly assumed Yamask's mask was an anchor, but it was the eye."

Morse lets out a weary yawn and looks inquisitively our way. I can sense he's feeling uneasy.

"Oh!" She stares at Morse, who is lounging nearby in the shade while we talk, and then back to me. "What if you use his powers to…!"

"Chuck a Shadow Ball and be done with it? Wrong. Sure, you can knock one out in an official match with that strategy. But you gotta remember, things that're not living don't often play by the rules of the living." I catch my breath. "Except, there's one rule they follow."

Her ears wiggle under her hair.

"Like I said before, despite matter changing its form, it'll retain…pieces of that other self. Certain qualities seem to carry over. Those properties…of the past. Its past. You saw them as emotions. Whatever it is that ties a violent ghost to the world, that is the key…to exorcising them."

"You're an exorcist then!?" Ette curls her braids around her fingers with such tension her fingertips turn pale blue. "Alv?"

"Whatever you wanna call it." I hang my head. "It's not like in the movies. There aren't any prayer beads. No sacred rituals. No sacramental oils. Only you, a mortal, and a being, immortal, vying to exist. Whoever loses, loses everything."

Morse wimpers. I should've said something sooner. But how could I? We became such good friends. How could I tell him, a ghost, what I do? I'm not just a ghost hunter. I'm an exorcist. A ghost executioner.

"I never asked to walk this path. But. When a malevolent ghost is wreaking havoc on the world around you, you gotta use your goddamn head. Study them. Why are they here? It means identifying the Anchor which holds them here to our world. Once you figure that out, you know where their beating heart is. And if you want them gone, just like with us mortals, you have to destroy their heart!"

Ette seizes up and clutches her heart.

Seeing her react like this, I sense I misspoke. "What's wrong?"

"It's not a good thing for me to think about." She tenderly holds her chest. It's hard not to stare as she does so. "I don't like that analogy."

Dammit, I keep fucking up. First with Morse and now with Ette. Can't I do anything right?! "Sorry, I know your heart's important to you."

She frowns at me. "You have no idea, Alv."

How important is it to her species? Humans have our hearts inside our chest, so we don't visually see them like Ette can. Her heart has a certain mystical quality to it. It's mesmerizing in a way I can't exactly describe. The few times I've actually touched it, I was too close to her to actually see it. However, when my chest was against hers, it felt like a smooth, elliptical gem or warm jewel nestled near her breastbone just where the valley of her softness began. It didn't feel jagged or sharp, or even hard. Did it physically change when I held her close? Was my perception altered? I have no idea, it felt so surreal to hold her close. My mind might've been playing tricks on me.

Ette must have caught me staring because she shifts her body.

"Ette, Morse, I've turned over a new leaf." I sit up straight. "I was with Ops. Para., but I've decided to be strong on my own. That means I'm gonna put you, my friends, first when I make any decisions."

Morse waddles toward me. He makes a firm expression before sticking a wax hand out. I smack it in a high five. Then he smiles and cheers.

"You could've said something sooner." Ette hesitates to partake in our reaffirmation of friendship. "Still, your story is consistent with your actions."

"Obviously it's consistent," I growl. "Besides, what do I gain by lying to you?"

Ette sways back and forth, yet her eyes remain focused on the oasis in front of her finished plate. With two fingers she presses pink welts on her forearm. "I don't know."

"Nothing, that's what! That's why I'm telling you in the first place. It's the same thing I said to you in the cave about opening up. I want you to know about me so we're not weird strangers on this adventure."

Her fingers coil together. "We're weird strangers?"

"Not anymore," I reply. "Why, you'd rather be?"

"No."

"Good. Because that's the type of thing friends would say." After I speak, Morse slides toward my knee. My hand pats the bandages Ette applied this afternoon.

"Friends," repeats Ette as she makes a nervous yet happy smile.

"Sure. You, Morse, and me. The three of us are friends. We all got one thing in common, y'know?"

"Destiny's Knot," she whispers.

"It brought us together, that's true. But, we don't even have the dang thing. Not like it's what's keeping us together. We got each other's support as friends, we've each decided to do our own thing, be true to ourselves, and not let our pasts dictate our future."

Morse squeaks enthusiastically in concurrence.

"Well? How's that sound, Ette?"

In a rattled voice, she answers, "Of course." Then under her breath she mutters, "Why'd you make it sound so simple?"

I shrug. "C'mon, you ought to know by now, I like things simple."

Morse's flame flickers brightly.

"Ops. Para." Ette repeats. "Death. Ghosts. Nothing simple about that."

The gloomy cloud of the past follows me around despite my desire to cast it away. But I can't be rid of what I feel. Not until I accomplish my mission. "There's one hint I have concerning my last mission. A single word. Necrosis."

"Necrosis!" Ette yelps.

"What's it mean to you?"

"That's…well, it's a medical condition. A premature cell death, caused by a flaw in the ordinary course of cellular decommission," responds my nurse. "It stops healing from working normally."

"Uh-huh, go on."

"Gangrene is the most common example." She glares at my cast. "Destruction of the infected cell's membrane releases toxins into the space outside the cell. The inflammation that follows destroys other tissue surrounding the dead tissue, spreading the disease of death. Eventually, there is nothing left but decomposing flesh."

"Leave it to you to be spot-on with the definition."

She coddles my injury in her arms. "What, are you worried you have it? I've been keeping an eye on it!" Ette's defensiveness, how she speaks with such dedication, it's a little embarrassing for me.

"No, that's not it at all." Despite my embarrassment, I'm reluctant to lose her tender attention. "I asked because someone in Ops. Para. once described the phenomenon leading to the increase in ghosts as the very same condition, but not in the corporeal sense."

"Someone?" Ette's head tilts to the side.

"Yeah. Remember when I mentioned Eric, the older guy who lost a leg when he saw combat on the West Front?"

She nods. "Your war-buddy?"

"Bet he'd blow a gasket at you for calling him that." My fond memories of talking with him bring a small smirk. "I'm not even old enough to have been around back then. Anyways, Eric was one of my seniors in Ops. Para."

"Ohh…" replies Ette.

"He lost half his leg to infection—gangrene. Couldn't walk after amputating, medical supplies were running thin too, he didn't even have crutches. After the operation, the field facility he was at fell under enemy siege and had to be evacuated. The attack was so sudden and brutal, the medical staff couldn't save everyone during the evacuation. Eric was left behind enemy lines, unable to flee without a leg and left for dead."

Ette and Morse look at me with wide eyes.

"How did he live?" she asks.

"A 'mon helped him walk again. A Marowak gave up her bone club to fashion a prosthetic limb. Eric was able to escape before the enemy torched the facility. If it weren't for the selfless monster, he would have burned to death crawling from a bed."

Ette sits there silently pondering the selfless act.

"At first, I didn't believe it, but he had the charred club to prove it. She didn't owe him anything, but still rescued him like she would one of her own children. That's when I started thinking seriously about how people and monsters get along."

Leaning forward as the gentle breeze caresses her hair, Ette's eyes are lost in her thoughts.

"Thing is, the higher-ups in Ops. Para. were talking about how Eric's physical condition prior to amputation, Necrosis, was similar, some way, to the phenomenon which gave rise to more ghosts."

Her ears rise. "You mean…"

"Yeah, this so-called 'grunt'—" I sarcastically bring my thumb to my chest "—overheard the analogy. And it makes some sense, because supernatural stuff needs to be broiled down to concrete examples so us mortal folks can wrap our head around it."

"That's very sensible!" Her eyes flutter with blinks.

"Supposedly, comparing the ghost phenomenon in Rocaire to Necrosis makes it easier to understand what's occurring. But that's where the shore my knowledge ends and the sea of speculation begins."

After a moment of contemplation, Ette says, "What's it all mean?"

"Been tryin' ta figure it out," I grumble.

"Won't your old friends help you?"

"Not exactly on the best of terms with the old gang."

Ette plants her hands in her lap and asks pointedly, "Why'd you leave Ops. Para. before figuring it out?"

"Huh? Oh. We had an…irreconcilable difference of opinion. Didn't like, uh, being the low man on the totem pole. Yeah, that's it. Wasn't anything special." My breath catches tightly in my chest as I fiddle with my flip phone attached to a small apparatus with a panel. Fortunately, Reeves had an old solar charger to feed it juice and there's plenty of sun for that.

Ette leers. "I'm surprised your phone didn't help them to find the ghosts. Since it shakes whenever one is nearby."

Damn, is she shrewd. "That'd be pretty handy for any ghost hunter, huh?" I nervously force a laugh. "Almost like cheating, wouldn't ya say?"

Again she sends me a piercing glare. She might not be reading my thoughts, but she did say something about being able to read hearts. I wonder if she's trying that on me. How would I even know?

"Yeah, uh-huh, right, so, reckoned I'd solve the ghost mystery on my own. Part of getting stronger is standing tall on your own two feet." Doubt she completely believes me, but she did fall for the fortune tellers earlier. Better keep talking so she doesn't think too hard on it. "Back in Dezear, with Ops. Para., I started researching this surge of ghosts. Turns out, I'd been beaten to the punch. Investigation was already underway, locally. But the news hadn't reached my ear from within Rocaire. It had to do with the Ambassador Program, which, as luck would have it, is also headquartered in the capital of the New Rocaire League."

"These are the people from outside Rocaire, the trippers?" she asks.

"Yep. Like I said, the Ambassador Program welcomes licensed trainers from other regions to tour Rocaire, while the New League gauges their behavior to establish official gyms. However, local folks begrudge the New League for threatening to overhaul the traditions here by using the Ambassador Program to force a shift in regional culture." I draw in the arid air and exhale. "Now that's outta the way, I didn't want to take sides, I'm here to do a job and get paid."

"If you lived here all your life, I bet you'd change your mind, be a little more opinionated!" Ette scowls.

"Yeah-huh, I do have an opinion, if not for all this regional drama we wouldn't've met," I counter.

She's got no answer to that one other than a pursing of her lips. Good.

"The New League kept losing contact with a location, a hot-spot. There were plans for constructing a gym, cementing ties of a place on the Ancient Path to the League, all that jazz." My expression sours. "Only one problem. People and 'mons in the Ambassador Program who venture there just…disappear. And, wouldn't you know, the type of gym it was supposed to be: Ghost. Well whaddya know, that's my speciality."

"That means!" Her eyes go wide. "The New Rocaire League in Dezear requested Ops. Para. to investigate what's happening to people in the Ambassador Program?"

"Bingo, Ette. That's where I come in. The operation had to be clandestine to avoid stirring a panic, and have zero official ties to the New League, in case things went awry. They needed mercs. Guys who don't have affiliation with the Leagues."

"Outlaws." Ette grimaces.

I shake my head. "Hey, don't lump me with bandits and murderers. Only wound up in this gig from trying to clear my name."

"But, the officers in town said you didn't have a name in their records! So, how can you do that?"

She's pretty sharp when it comes to me. "Dunno." I stretch and yawn. "Funny thing is the longer I travel the less important it seems. Doesn't matter what people call me, I'm making my own way, on my own terms. Yeah…My way."

"Way to sidestep my question, you jerk." She huffs with mild irritation. "What makes you any different than the trippers?"

"Licensed trainers carry with them certain equipment, which tracks them and their 'mons, it's regularly inspected by the bureaucracy of the New League. However, all the regulations didn't do them a damn bit of good, since people were vanishing off the face of the map even with state-of-the-art GPS."

"State-of-the-art?" Ette's squinting gives away how confused she is.

"It's older tech now that I think about it. From the war, used for ballistic missiles, submarines, and other weapon systems where time and position are critical. After, it became a civilian and League technology. You've got an array of these satellites up in space, they're able to communicate with newer phones and pinpoint your location on a map. Older models—like my flip here—don't have this feature."

"You might get lost without it?" Ette grabs hold of the charging phone and admits, "That's scary."

"Guess that's possible, but I'd rather phrase it as I can't be found. However, it's more about what my phone in particular can find — ghosts."

"Mhm," Ette groans, "that's right, you're wanted."

"An inconvenience. I'm gonna clear my name and prove they were wrong, all wrong—!" I abruptly catch myself veering further into the past than necessary.

"They?" She squints.

"Talking about the authorities." I wonder if she can see how much I'm sweating, lying to her, even in half-truths, is really getting difficult for me. "Don't worry Ette, I'm gonna pay back my debt to the clinic, even without the trove of gems we found underground. See, a crook wants to get away with it, I want to make things right on my own terms, my way."

Ette frowns. "Alv, you're just a rebel."

"Sure." I laugh in response, but inside I get this noxious, festering feeling right down to my bones. Where, no, when, did it all go so wrong?

Ette picks up on my melancholy and asks, "What's the matter?"

"I'm tired." Getting up, I run a hand through my windswept hair. "Gonna clean up, take a well-earned nap."

After thoroughly washing our camp utensils, I go for a dip in the oasis water. It's cool, refreshing, and exactly what I need to sooth my sore muscles. Floating on my back, the endless, pure blue sky captivates my marvel. It's like being inside a giant sapphire.

I clean my clothes, put them on the bank for Morse's flame to quickly dry. Taking a bar of soap, I scrub deep into the pores below a bristly stubble. With my flat blade, I shave those stubborn hairs on my neck beneath my face, peering at my reflection until satisfied with the rough-yet-tidy appearance of a properly groomed five o'clock shadow. What a difference it makes! Going from scraggly hobo to presentable gent in a matter of minutes feels great. Hoisting myself from the water, I get dressed. If only I had a hat or some sunshades. Then I'd be all set.

Finding two palm trees at the right distance, I get to work setting up a hammock. It's surprisingly easy. It'll be comfy, nice to keep the sand off my body by being off the ground. While working on it, I'm imagining rocking to sleep by the waterside in the shade of the rustling leaves above. Once it's all set up, I grin at my work, and look over at Morse. The little guy is positively bushed from fighting. So am I. On the other hand, the campfire beside him crackles with life. My gaze languidly wanders from him to the rifle leaning within arm's reach against the tree. "Just watching you snore is making me too tired."

Ette already rinsed off while we were gathering firewood. Her new outfit is cuter than her last, though the differences are subtle. She likes those frilly skirts and thigh-highs. Her top is like the corset from earlier, except it's a bit shorter, appropriate for the desert heat. Fabric is thin and glossy, like silk. When my senses zero in on her, it's really striking what little control I have over my thoughts. Ette is interesting. She's got a genuine personality along with her looks. In my heart there's an attraction I can't so easily dispel.

Conscious of my wandering thoughts, I sit down on my quickly constructed sleeping arrangement. The soft cloth of the hammock is warm from the sun but breathes with the gentle wind. Just as I'm about to lay down, something softer than the hammock bumps my back.

"Ette?"

She's sitting on the opposite side looking out at the oasis. "What?"

"Huh…?" Her hair has a pleasant scent of spicy sweet citrus—the essence of spring and summer. It flows free in the breeze and around me.

"I'm NOT sleeping on the ground," she says with authority.

"That's, well, I don't want you to do that." I force a cough. "We only got one of these though."

"You shouldn't be on the ground with your condition." She crosses her arms. "We could…sha—"

"Say what?" Didn't catch that last part. It sounded like she was going to say share. However, I can't imagine Ette being the type to insist we sleep together—

And yet, without warning, she tosses her legs up and head back, laying down and nearly kicking me out. I manage to hold on as her motion causes us to swing back and forth.

Great. Just great. She stole my comfy spot. However, the more we sway, the more I realize it's become more comfortable with her.

She settles with her back facing me, looking out to the water, totally quiet.

I kick up my legs and lay down next to her. My back bumps against her long hair and braids as I look out in the opposite direction toward the desert, campfire, and sleeping Morse.

Her hair feels like an incredibly puffy pillow. The way the hammock is set up squeezes us together toward the middle, that's simple gravity at work. However, what I did not consider was what having my body against her would do. I'm not even facing her, simply feeling her warmth is more than enough to make my blood pressure rise. When her legs twist around mine as she tries to adjust herself, I suddenly get the feeling we're going to be getting a lot closer.

There's something strange about this too. She's got her back flush against mine, I'm not being jabbed by the red protrusion on her back. There's still something there, but it doesn't feel the way I remember it looking. It's sort of like a smooth, shallow mound resting on the middle of my spine. Almost like a warm, round gem about the same width as my backbone. Which is strange since it seems to fit right into a place where it doesn't hurt or feel the least bit uncomfortable.

How can that be? I start to adjust myself to look, but before I catch a glimpse of what happened to her heart, she whacks me on the side of my head with one of her braids.

"Take it easy, would you?" She lets out a laugh and tells me, "I'm not used to sleeping like this."

She probably thought I wanted to face her for a different reason.

In hopes to change the course of my thoughts orbiting around her, I imagine Mareep in a field, jumping over a wooden turnstile. Hundreds of them. All in a line, jumping over a dumb little fence in a big green field. While Ette's sweet hair blows in my face.

What!? Why is she there in my imagination? Oh, right, because her head's bumping into mine as she squirms to find her comfort.

Looks like this is going to be more trouble than I thought. Hopefully she falls asleep soon so she'll stop wriggling and making me feel so aware of her. Everything she does, even the puniest of nudges, makes me want to concentrate on her more.

Can't really do much, my eyelids start to sink. After eating so many carbs I can't fight the inevitable slumber. Please, sleep, come to my rescue. Not because I don't like this, but because I don't know where it might lead.

The afternoon sun is starting to sink in the sky, basking the oasis in a warm glow beneath the rustling of foxtail palms. The picturesque view, her sweet aroma carried by a soothing breeze, sends me into a trance.

My breaths are synching with hers. The feeling's unreal. As my mind starts to daydream, I realize I wouldn't be in this situation if I wasn't so stubborn. Suppose there are worse things.