Chapter Twenty-Six:

All We Need

It was twilight and the air was uncharacteristically cool. Natasha opened her eyes to darkness, her head ringing in horrible, searing pain. She tried moving, but she very quickly realized that her hands and feet were bound. She heard voices, but they were indistinct and hazy, like if they were being filtered through water. Let out a shallow breath and in an instant, the darkness dissipated into waxing sunlight. The black bag was pulled from her head and she looked around. She was tied to a wooden chair, on a steep cliff that faced the ocean. The wooden chair was secured to several cinderblocks. Her eye grew wide, as if they'd been inflated and she turned her head to look forward, her blurry vision becoming focused as the headache started to quell. Standing before her was Jasper, who looked exhausted, ragged and furious. Behind him was his crew, looking like a whole mess, but they were there—alive at the very least. She struggled against her restraints, but just for a moment before she relented, spitting angrily. She could taste blood in her mouth. There was a sense of cruel irony lingering in the back of her mind. She used to do shit like this also. She would drown people, set them on fire, have them shot execution style, lynch them, saw them up or poison them. Their end was always a grisly end, never dignified, never honorable. Rather, painful, shameful and disgraceful. Yet, she would not allow them to satisfaction of seeing her beg or cry. She would never allow her enemies any sort of gratification.

"Oh, how original," she mocked, "Yes, how very original."

"Ay," Jasper said shrugging, "I know yo niggas gonna sniff around here after you gone. I think this a good message to send."

Natasha stared at him and shook her head, laughing, "Fuck you."

"Nah, fuck you, bitch," Jasper snarled, baring his little fangs, "You fuckin' with me. I ain't do shit to you. But you wanna boss up. Iight, fine, bitch. You used to killin' small timers in Kalos, eatin' they shit and growing big like you some sort of a big ass monster. NPC ain't like Kalos, fam. And I survived this long, I ain't goin' out by some spoiled fuckin' bitch like you."

"I see right through you," Natasha said.

"You're such a cliché," Chanel called out, smoking.

"I do see through you," Natasha said, "And if you kill me, you will know how far my name goes. For your sake, you should let me go."

"Weak bluff you vodka sippin', fake orange tan headass scunt," Jasper said, "Niggas really think I'm goin' fall for that."

"It was nothing personal," Natasha said, smiling, "If it was…well…that would be a different matter."

Jasper gave her an unreadable, dry look. It was so jaded and devoid of empathy it made her shiver. He walked up to her, looking her in the face.

"If yo niggas come looking for me, let 'em. I'ma peel their caps too. And as for you? Well sweetheart, it's been fun." He snapped his fingers and Haze sauntered over to her, flicking his cigarette. He stared at her for a moment. Natasha closed her eyes, giving up and Haze nodded. He pushed the cinderblocks over the edge of the cliff, one by one. Natasha was eerily quiet as she was dragged over the edge and fell into the water below. Jasper watched her go, waving contemptuously at her. Natasha finally screamed when she hit the surface and went under. Water rushed into her lungs, suffocating her instantly. In her last moments, she saw all the faces of the people she'd dismembered and murdered. Was it really worth it? She couldn't tell at this point. All she could see was a watery darkness and all she could feel was her chest cavity starting to collapse. There is nothing on the other side, she remembered. And then, there was only oblivion. When no remains of hers floated back up, Jasper lit a cigarette and took a tired drag. He still stared at the water, thinking to himself, how deep could his cruelty run. She tried killin' me, he rationalized. He never had the stomach to kill until he reached New Palm City. Not that blood made him queasy, but although he fought people within an inch of their lives, he never pulled the trigger until this city swallowed him. The glamour, the glitz, the wonder of this shining city, begging to be conquered, to be controlled—it was enough to change anyone. I am changed, for better or worse, I don't know. When he shot Skyfall, it was horrifying image. He couldn't believe what he'd actually done. But as the body count steadily rose, the less… appalling it was. He'd seen death and now, as he looked into the water, he could not feel anything. No horror, no pain, no guilt…nothing. I changed, but I ain't gonna back off now. I'm in too deep.

He was aching all over and he was pretty sure he tore some muscles and so, he slowly walked back to the van. All he wanted was a cold hard drink and to lie in his bed. The sun was rising now, drowning the landscape in summery glow. Thirteen hours, he thought, exhausted, thirteen fuckin' hours dealin' with this shit. He leaned against the van, yawning and groaning. Haze walked over, opening the door for him. He helped Jasper inside, letting the Jolteon man take a well-earned seat in the back to simply just….rest. Everyone else got in their respective vans, also fatigued and wanting to do nothing else but go to their homes and sleep off the aches and pains. Jasper soon passed out in the backseat as Haze took the opportunity to be the driver this time. Chanel sat in the front, her feet up on the dash as she laid back, her eyes becoming heavy as she drifted off to sleep. Barry looked out the window, placing on his shades as the sun peeked over the shadowed horizon. He enjoyed the lovely view as a feeling of nostalgia washed over him. Sticks, on the other hand, stretched out in his seat, folded his hands neatly across his stomach and took a hard-earned nap. He couldn't wait to get home and just have some iced tea and a sandwich and head right to bed. Thirteen hours of this bullshit would run anyone ragged, he knew. Rapier was in the other van, in the passenger the seat while Glen got behind the wheel. He wiped the blood that was dripping from his horn with a cloth napkin and tossed it aside. He pushed the chair back and put his feet up on the dashboard as he put on his shades. He didn't sleep, but rather rested. His whole body was sore and his legs felt like lead. Lil Pac, conversely, was curled up in the back, taking a nap. In the last van, Parker threw his head back and began snoring, sitting in the middle seat in the back. Indy stayed awake, deciding to smoke while Suva remained on their phone, scrolling languidly through their feed with no clear purpose. Chance drove this one, feeling wiped out but also… somewhat relieved. He glanced into the rearview mirror, looking at Indy and Suva and was grateful that they were here, backing them up. And he was even more grateful that the loan would be dropped. Everybody wants to rule the world, he thought, cutting on the engine. He followed the other vans onto the freeway, sliding on his mirrored shades. But that's how it always is. The sun was now high above the horizon.

It was a new dawn

A new day.

When Jasper got in, he groggily went to his room, kicked off his loafers and stripped down to his boxers. He flopped into bed as if he hadn't slept for months. Without any hesitation, he burrowed his face into the soft pillow, knowing that once he awoke, he would be sore from head to toe. But before he could close his eyes and get even a modicum of sleep, someone knocked on his door. His ears twitched in mild irritation.

"What," he moaned.

"It's me."

The door creaked open and Diddy went to greet him. Jasper turned around and sat up, rubbing his eyes. She winced at the sight of him—he looked terrible.

"Ooof…you look like shit my guy."

"I've literally been through hell and back Diddy…the hell you want now," he said, feeling his ears droop from sheer exhaustion.

"Umm…my mom called," Diddy said, wringing her fingers, "She wants me to…come back to Los Lados…to come home."

Jasper raised an eyebrow, "…Deadass?"

"Yeah…" Diddy whispered. She sat on the bed, looking at her smartphone, holding it tightly as if it would slip out her grasp. "They kicked me out a year ago…these niggas told me that if I could smoke, drink, fuck around and not do well in school…then I'm grown enough to be doin' my own shit."

"You…gonna go back?"

Diddy shook her head, "Ion wanna go back to them niggas. My mom and pops stay fightin', bro. My brother on some wild shit and they didn't kick his ass out. But yeah, I get fuckin' tossed cuz…well, ion know." She patted her headscarf to relieve an itch. She looked distressed and on the verge of tears.

"Then don't go back."

"…I… miss them," she admitted, "But…the only reason my moms callin' me now is cuz my pops up and left." Tears started to fall and she covered her face with her hands, shuddering as she wept. Jasper sighed, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"You could….visit—"

Diddy wiped her eyes and shook her head. She hugged Jasper, crying into his chest. His ears perked up, briefly surprised, but then he returned her embrace. She bawled and bawled until all the tears in her were gone. She hiccupped softly and let go, rubbing her eyes again. Jasper gave her his handkerchief and she took it, dabbing around her eyes.

"Can…I just…stay with you?"

"You already been stayin'," Jasper said, petting her head. Diddy smiled at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She got up from his bed and walked out his room, giving him one more look before leaving. Jasper smiled at her as well. When she shut the door, he went back to bed, welcoming sleep. The sun poured into his room, but he didn't mind it. Sleep. Thank Arceus. Just feel, deal and be real.

Diddy sat in the living room, looking at her phone. She sighed, setting aside as she walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge. She grabbed the eggs and frying pan, and cooked herself some easy overs and buttered toast. She was always the first one up and the last one to sleep. She attributed her early rising to her nature, which was said to boost special attack, but in truth, she also wondered about the anxiety of returning to Los Lados. Ion wanna go back, she told herself. I hate 'em. They kicked me out for bullshit. Ion need to go back. She entertained the idea of living separate from them forever. It would be better than speculating if they missed her or not. Could I really cut these niggas off? When they threw her out, they gave her no money, no direction, nothing. They simply packed her clothes and left them on the porch, telling her to beat it. At the age of fourteen, she knew now, that was them closing the door forever. You don't gotta stay with family forever, she considered. Los Lados was in the past. I never wanna see them again. She took a bite of her eggs as she deleted their contacts from her phone and blocked their numbers. She stared at the screen and then smiled to herself as she ate up. She heard footsteps going towards the kitchen: it was Festival, yawning, her hair wrapped up a headscarf as well.

"Mornin'," she said to Diddy.

"Sup," she said, nibbling on her toast. Festival went in the fridge and reached for the orange juice and milk. Then she opened the cabinet, pulling out a box of Appletun Jacks. She poured herself a bowl and a glass of juice and sat around the table.

"I'm goin' to the beach early," Diddy said to her, "You wanna tag along?"

"Umm…sure."

"Iight, and please…" Diddy said, "Don't dress like you ain't got no drip. That mean ditch them light up shoes, my guy. You too old for that shit."

"…I like them," Festival said between mouthfuls of cereal, "You're the one who dresses like a streetwalker."

"Yeah, it's called streetwalker chic," Diddy said, grabbing the orange juice. She drank straight from the bottle, finishing the little bit that was left.

"Yeah…sure," Festival said, taking another bite. There was a bit of silence between them and Diddy got up, washing the plate and setting it aside. She stretched and patted her headscarf again.

"Can I ask you something?" Festival started.

"Yeah sure," Diddy said, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

"Am I…typist cuz…I don't really like steel types?"

Diddy raised a partially amused eyebrow, "…What? Um…yeah nigga. What steel types ever do to you?"

"Ah…oh…nothing," Festival said, feeling the hairs on her body rising as she recalled a horrible memory, "It's nothing!"

"…Iight…weirdo," Diddy said, "I'm gonna get dressed."

Festival drank the remaining milk and set the bowl in the sink, washing it out as well, "Alright. Wait up for me."

Diddy had called a Drop using Jasper's card. They were sitting in the back of a black Toyota, on their phones and chatting with each other. Festival opted to wear black dolphin shorts and black sneakers, a tank top and a light hoodie, leaving her curly hair out. Diddy wore something a lot more…flamboyant. She styled her weave in long drop curls, wore a sequined crop top, her usual hot pants, furry slides and her fluffy faux feather coat. She sprinkled glitter over her cheeks and eyelids.

"You gonna stay by the boardwalk?" Diddy asked.

"Yeah...I don't wanna get close to the water."

"Yeah, yeah, you a big ol' puss, I get it," Diddy teased, popping in some gum in her mouth. Festival gave her a contemptuous look but said nothing.

The Drop pulled up to the designated parking for the beach. The driver turned around, smiling at the both of them.

"Here you are," he said, "Five stars?"

"…Ay…I'll think 'bout it," Diddy said, stepping out of the car with Festival. She slung the tote bag around her shoulder while Festival had her backpack and carried their beach umbrella. She checked the Drop app on her phone and generously gave the driver five stars. They made their way to the boardwalk, looking around at the people who were here earlier than normal. Some storefronts were still setting up, but others looked like they'd been open for a while. During these hours, the beach was only fairly crowded, instead of packed to the brim like it would usually be during the midafternoon. Diddy hopped skipped as she walked, blowing a bubble with her gum. Festival looked around, feeling more confident now since there were less people crowding around the boardwalk or lounging on the sand. Diddy jogged ahead a bit, finding a spot that she liked—near a tide pool with less humans around. Festival, on the other hand, had her eyes on the milkshake shack that was sandwiched between a hot dog vendor and a storefront that sold soft specialty pretzels. Diddy took the umbrella from Festival and skirted away. She leapt off the boardwalk and into the beach, making her way to that spot she picked out. The Dedenne girl popped the umbrella into the sand and laid out the beach towel and sighed in delight as she laid down. She put on her shades and enjoyed the morning sun. Festival decided to go to the milkshake shack. It was given a luau theme, as if it was from Alola. The smoothies and milkshakes were served in coconut cups and there were wooden stools by the countertop that she could sit on. She hopped on one, looking around, a big smile on her face.

"Hi," Festival said to the man behind the counter who was wiping down the ice machines. He turned around and waved at Festival. He was a young human man, with the typical beach tan of someone from New Palm City, brown hair and brown eyes.

"What would you like, miss?" He asked.

"Umm…can I get a mango and strawberry milkshake?"

He nodded, "That'll be five bucks."

Festival reached into her pocket and gave him a ten. He slid it into the register and handed her back a five dollar bill. Once gave her back the change, he went to the cooler, taking out fresh fruit and milk to blend together. He chopped up the mangos into thin slices and then the strawberries, added mango juice and strawberry milk into the mix and topped it off with regular whole milk. He blended it together, waiting for exactly one minute before stopping. He reached for a coconut cup and poured the mix in, adding ice, a curly straw and a paper umbrella, handing it to Festival. She took it, smiling gratefully and took a big ol' sip, sighing in delight as the cool, refreshing, sugary drink hit the spot. The young man went on his phone, waiting for any other customers. Festival took a picture of her drink and continued slurping on it, her tail wagging happily as she did. When she was halfway through, she noticed someone approaching the shack as well. She did a double take at the young man who sat two seats down from her. Holy moly, he's cute! She thought, trying her hardest not to stare. He was a slim to medium build, medium height with fair skin, wavy silver hair and a dashing countenance. His eyes were gold and resembled that of a hawk. He wore a sports jacket, vest and button down, black jeans and designer sneakers, looking fresh from head to toe. Festival took note that he wore black leather gloves, as if trying to hide something. He also had the wedged shape tail of someone from a mon lineage—specifically, the Skarmory line. She went back to sipping her drink, looking down at her phone, trying to pretend like she wasn't just staring.

"Yeah boss," the Skarmory man said, "Lemme get a Sitrus berry shake," he gave the man behind the counter a five.

"Alright, coming up!"

As he waited, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through it. Festival kept sneaking glances, blushing every so often when he'd look around. Oh, who am I kidding? She thought. He's a steel type. He's probably insane or a weirdo. The Skarmory man smiled when he received his drink, complete with a curly straw and paper umbrella. He sipped it, sighing happily when the sweet-sour taste hit him like a truck. He noticed Festival staring and looked back at her.

"…" Festival blinked, not knowing what to do now that she was caught.

"…Hi…?"

"Um…hi!" She squeaked, her cheeks growing hot and red. The man behind the counter turned around, texting on his phone about the hilarious sight of a young Flareon girl flustered in the presence of this dashing steel type.

"…Can I help you?" He asked, chuckling.

"Oh no, no," Festival shook her head, gulping down the rest of her drink now, "You can't help me."

"I can't?"

"N-no, you can't," she maintained, pushing the coconut cup aside. She was done with her shake and ready to go.

"Wait, wait," he said to her, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, why?"

"You seem nervous," he said, laughing, "Did I scare you?"

Festival's eyes became wide as she wracked her brain for the right words. The man behind the counter was doing his best not to laugh out loud. She wasn't sure what to say at this point. Her eyes darted around as if trying to search for a way out.

"Hey, relax," he said, "You're so skittish."

"I'm not a Skitty, I'm a Flareon girl," she said.

He laughed and the man behind the counter laughed too, wiping down the blender. He got off the stool and walked up to Festival. He had to be six feet tall, because she was much shorter than him and had to look up.

"I'm Steven," he said, "And you?"

"F-Festival," she stammered, shrinking back. Her ears were drooping in both apprehension and embarrassment.

"…That's an interesting name," he said, smiling at her, "Aw, you are scared. Your tail is going between your legs."

Festival noticed and covered her face. What's wrong with me! Why am I scared of him! He's just a kid! He can't be older than eighteen!

"Hey, hey, it's alright," he said, "Arceus…you must be young. How old are you?"

"F-fourteen," she squeaked.

"I'm seventeen," Steven said, "Here, have a seat. Just…relax, I'm not going to bite you."

Festival nodded, hopping back up on a stool. He grabbed his drink and sat next to her, slurping up the Sitrus shake.

"So…" Steven began, "You alright?"

"Y-yeah, I'll be okay," Festival said, twiddling her fingers, "I-I just don't talk to a lot of boys."

"Oh? Hmm, alright," Steven said, sipping his drink again.

"I'm sorry," Festival whimpered, "I've…been through a lot and I…don't…really, like…steel types. I'm sorry! I know its typist! I'm so sorry…"

"I mean...isn't everyone typist these days," Steven said dryly between a sigh. He looked put off as he slurped his drink.

"No, no, no, everybody isn't. I'm not typist," Festival quickly explained. She felt like she was about to cry, "I-I don't like steel types not c-cuz I'm a fire type. I-I just had a really b-bad experience with one. I'm generalizing…and t-that's stupid, I'm sorry. I'm not typist. I'm just so dumb and I'm sorry—"

"Arceus…calm down," he said to her, "It's like you're going to overheat and blow up. Relax…"

"I'm…really bad at talking to boys," Festival said, "I'm bad at talking to everyone, honestly."

"It's fine," he said, "I'm not going to do…whatever that other steel type did. We're not all alike, you know?"

She sighed lowly in relief, "Okay…okay…"

He slurped up the rest of his drink and stretched, "Let's take a walk." He got up, waving bye to the man behind the counter. Festival followed him onto the boardwalk, taking a simple stroll.

"So…" he began, "What do you like doing?"

"Umm…I…like to draw…but I haven't been drawing much. I also like shopping. And I like the movies."

"Oh? Nice, nice," he said.

"What do you do?"

"Ah…not much…my dad runs an oil company," he said, "So my family kinda…is a little…wealthy. We're visiting my aunt for the end of the summer. I actually live in Hoenn…Rustboro, to be exact."

"So you don't live in New Palm City."

"Nope," he said, "Do you?"

"Y-yeah, but I'm from Scion City," Festival said, "Los Lados."

Steven whistled, "Los Lados…I heard some shit about that place. Heard it's pretty rough."

"Yeah…it's the hood," Festival shrugged, "But my mom is from Stillwood. I've been back and forth between Los Lados and Stillwood…but…yeah."

"Aw, Stillwood," Steven chuckled, "That's cute."

"…It's cute?"

"Stillwood is like a suburban Rustboro," he said, "You should come sometime. You'd like it… a lot of shit to do…very metropolitan."

"I'm…sure…" Festival said, wringing her fingers, "Do you like New Palm City?"

"Oh yeah, it's beautiful," Steven said, "Nice weather, nice beaches…I love this…aesthetic it has and of course, the girls are cute."

Festival giggled, feeling a blush rising in her cheeks, "Oh…yeah."

"What part of NPC do you stay at?"

I shouldn't reveal that…

"Um…."

"If you don't wanna tell me, that's fine," Steven said, "But I'll tell you where I'm staying. We're staying at the Outrun Hotel… it's not too far from here, actually."

"Oh! I heard of that place…it's really pretty and trippy."

"Yeah," Steven said with a smile, "Nice aesthetic, I really dig it."

Festival smiled back at him, her tail wagging. Steven noticed and laughed a little.

"You're very pretty," he said to her, "Your hair…it's nice and you have…nice skin. Wow, look at me sounding like a dork…"

"I…thank you," Festival said, giggling at him.

"No problem," Steven replied. He was heading towards the parking lot. He reached into his pocket for his car keys, unlocking the door remotely. He drove a silver Audi convertible. Festival stopped, watching him.

"T-that's your car?"

"Yeah," he said, "What's up?"

"Oh…nothing…well…I'll see you around, I guess."

He folded his arms, smirking, "What? Don't wanna take a drive?"

"I don't think I should go places with strangers," Festival said. Steven chuckled softly and walked back over to her. He took out his phone and gave it to her.

"Well, let me get your number then?"

Festival felt her cheeks becoming hot again. She took his phone and put in her number and gave it back to him, saving the number under Festival. He shot her a text and her phone buzzed. He smiled at her and made his way back to his car.

"I'll see you around," he said to her, hopping in. He put on his shades and backed out of his parking space and drove onto the local roads. Festival watched him leave, her eyes big and bold.

"Who the hell was that nigga?"

Festival jumped and turned around. Diddy was behind her, smoking a cigarette.

"Oh…um…hi Diddy. Uh, his name was Steven."

"Pretty boy, eh," Diddy said, nudging Festival, "He mad cute and he drives an Audi. Ay!"

"Yeah…um…" Festival rubbed her head, "You think he's nice?"

"Ion know," Diddy said, "Only way to find way to find out, yeah?"

"…Yeah," Festival said, taking out her phone.

Only one way to find out.