Wile E.'s boastful claim is not without merit, for he can back it up, thanks to a surprising recent discovery.

A few nights ago, Ralph called Wile over to Sylvester's abode for a surprise meeting. "Gentlemen, feast your eyes on this!"

He threw down a thick envelope on the table. Right away, Wile recognized the name branded on it: Coyote, T.E. "Looks like your father's been busy, Wiles," he commented.

Wile picked up the envelope, brows furrowed. "I appreciate the effort, but what does this have to do with the Illudium case?"

Ralph scoffed. "Forget that crap for now, let the skunk handle it. Papa Coyote here was a long-time employee for ACME, that much we can gather. If there's something juicy in these files, we can get our hands in something even bigger than some weird goop."

"Hold on a minute," Sylvester interjects. "We shouldn't be digging through this stuff willy-nilly. This is Wiley's business, not ours."

"Wiles' business is my business," Ralph lashed out. He shot the tomcat a deadly glare, as if to say, "Look who's talking, Mr. Pussycat."

"I don't agree with the idea, but Ralph's got a point," the coyote cut in calmly. "There's probably something in these files that could work in our favor, and the sooner we get it over with, the better." And if there is a connection between ACME and the Road Runner, I have to know about it.

Wile opened the envelope and took out the documents tightly stored within. He skimmed through the contents and divided them into three piles—an easy task, as they were already sorted by document type. He handed Sylvester one of the piles. "You're the most business-savvy, so you can handle the mail order receipts. As for you…" Smirking, he pushed the largest pile towards Ralph. "You can read through these notes. This was your idea, after all." He grabbed the last pile, a stack of envelopes held together by a rubber band, then stood up. "I'm going to need some privacy. Mind if I borrow your office?"

The tomcat agreed, though he noticed Wile heading in that direction regardless. As soon as he heard the door close, he immediately got to work.

At first, the receipts seemed straightforward, tedious even. Gadgets, traps, explosives, guns, bird feed… It didn't take much to gather Trick E.'s motive. But not all of them fit the narrative being created.

Some early orders, dating back almost thirty years ago, were for blankets, food, books, and baby toys. This pattern continued until a decade later, when he gradually prioritized work over his own child. Each and every receipt contained his signature, until the ones dating back to fifteen years ago, when he noticed a change in the pattern. On the bottom of the receipts that followed, etched in crude handwriting, was the name "Wile E. Coyote".

Meanwhile, the documents Ralph was responsible for, he learned, were observation reports on Trick E., as written by a third party. He felt perturbed, imagining a stranger watching him and recording his every move. He skimmed through several entries which were redundant and mundane. Then, as he flipped to the entries from fifteen years ago, that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach grew stronger. He read on.

Date: June 6, ■■■■: Subject wrote another complaint letter to ACME. Subject is showing obvious signs of distress. We must observe his behavior more closely before taking further action.

August 23, ■■■■: Subject is accompanied by his son, Wile E., but appears to be neglecting him. Subject is seen muttering under his breath and mood swings are increasingly frequent. Subject has not eaten or slept today. Intervention might become necessary.

September 17, ■■■■: Subject has gone missing. Subject's son is still alive, albeit suffering from malnutrition. We shall continue to observe Wile E. while our search team looks for his father.

October 30, ■■■■: Subject is still missing. Wile E. has also gone missing. We shall continue searching until one or both turn up.

The lump in his throat was threatening to choke him. He swallowed and flipped to the following page. His blood turned cold at the words before him.

November 5, ■■■■: Subject's body has been found. Based on the torn-off flesh and lack of organs, he was most likely eaten by a scavenger. Earlier today, a call was made to ACME from a landline located in a southwestern state. The caller was an adolescent who went by the name "Wile E. Coyote". A member of ACME's delivery staff later found the child, reporting that he was "covered in blood, crying, and looks halfway to death". The child has resisted attempts to take him into custody, stating, "I have to find it! I have to catch that Road Runner!" With respect to his wishes, we will provide distant support until he comes of age, and consider having him take over as ACME's primary on-field QA tester.


In the office, Wile sifted through the letters as if they meant nothing. After all, nothing in them was news to him… or so he thought. Amidst all the complaints of faulty products and madman's ramblings was a letter dating back to September 17th, twenty-eight years ago. He started to read.

Dear ACME Corporation,

I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity, and for all the support you've provided. Thanks to you, my son has lived to celebrate his first birthday. He's still young, but he's already shown so much cleverness and willpower for his age. I hope you will continue to support my family for as long as I live—nay, even after I'm long gone.

To Mr. Bunny and all the employees at ACME Corp, I will serve you to the end.

Sincerely,

Trick E. Coyote, On-Field QA Tester

Wile crumpled up the letter and tossed it aside. He rested his head against his clasped hands, tense with frustration. Thoughts ran through his mind, memories blurring together into a confusing mess.

He recalled the simple days of his youth: the childish contraptions he created, his first successful hunt, his mother's folk tales, even the first book he read.

He also recalled the unpleasant times: the grief he felt witnessing his mother's slow death, the confusion and pity he expressed while watching his father's descent into madness, the reeking smell of death…

Briefly, the mental image of an ebony-masked stranger crossed his mind. His memory of the moments leading up to the encounter was hazy and dim, but his encounter with them was clear as day. Perhaps it was for the best that he forgot it. Still, the mystery of the masked wolf in the desert captivated him. The stranger smelled of death, yet he sensed no malice from them. If anything, he sensed something… comforting about them. Was that just a mirage, or some form of divine intervention? Whatever it was, it must have meant something.

Wile's thoughts returned to the contents of the letter. Try as he might to deny it, he could not ignore the fact that, at some point, his father did care about him. But to swear fealty to a soulless corporation, and push his burdens and responsibilities onto his own child, that was what angered him the most.

His train of thought derailed at the sound of the door knocking. "Can I come in?" Sylvester's voice rang out.

"Door's locked," Wile lied.

From behind him, he could hear the door opening and closing, followed by the lock's click and a jiggle of the knob. "It is now," the cat retorted. This was followed by the sound of footsteps, and the rustle of paper being picked up and unfurled.

"Why are you here?"

"I had a hunch you needed someone to vent to, and I figured you needed a father's touch."

Wile's ears twitched, and he tilted his head slightly. "Sylv, if you were in Dad's position, would you have done the same as him?"

Sylv paused for a second, then he gave his answer. "Can't say for certain. What I do know is I've done some less-than-desirable things for my kid, and even then, I was able to give it up for his sake. Your situation was different, though, so maybe there's that small chance of things going downhill for us. But even if I were to lose my mind and leave Junior, I would've made sure that he could survive without me."

This response reminded him of something his father told him: "You're old enough. Go hunt for yourself." To think that words so cold could be read in a remotely sympathetic light, it seemed inconceivable. Yet Sylvester was able to turn the notion on its head, offering a perspective he himself never considered. Perhaps that was his motive for stepping in.

"You're a good father, Sylv," Wile admitted. "I doubt you'd ever resort to what Dad did."

Sylvester didn't respond, but instead stepped over to rustle the coyote's hair. "You're a good kid yourself, Wile. You've been through Hell and back and still have the courage to keep going. That's more than anyone your age could say. I know your dad would be proud if he was here to see you."

The gesture felt out of place, yet it felt comforting. Was this the tomcat's paternal instincts seeping through, or was he caving in to his own sentiments? Fighting back tears, Wile's quivering voice whispered, "Thank you."


AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey, hey, hey! It's another fine day! And as promised, here's the latter half of the work I've been up to lately. It has a lot of note-reading with no action to accompany it, so I hope it doesn't come across as dull, plot twists or no.

As for today's trivia, I might as well dip a bit into the current theme and shed a bit of light on the gang's familial relations.

A section that got cut from the final product has Ralph mentioning his own dad, whom he doesn't have the best relationship with. He does, however, have a strong admiration for his older sister, who currently lives as a nun in his hometown's church. Meanwhile, Sylvester lost his parents at a young age, making him responsible for his and his half-sister's well-being. Pepé's family I won't spoil too much of, but one thing I think is safe to reveal is that both of his parents were doctors.

With all that set, I hope you enjoy the story so far, even with its rougher sections. This might be the last chapter I will upload for the month, as I'll be out of town on the week of Halloween. Hypothetically, I can still work on the next entry (Hooray, technology!), but I won't be able to put it up until I return. So until then, thank you for your patience and I'll see you next time!