Back in the present, shortly after his serendipitous run-in, Wile sets out on his grand scheme. With the help of Sylvester's connections and the team's discoveries, he manages to forge a working ID card to prove his position as a member of ACME Corp. Looking down at the face on it, a well of mixed emotions stir in his heart. Dad and I really look alike, don't we?
His chest puffed out with confidence, he struts towards the library's front desk. "Excuse me, I would like to obtain the Special Membership," he orders the receptionist while displaying the ID. "The name's Trick E. Coyote."
The receptionist inspects the card, typing something in the PC at the same time. Their face contorts with bewilderment, and they look at it once again. "I'm sorry, but it appears your employee benefits expired recently. You'll have to contact ACME Corp's HR department to check on your employment status and ask for a renewal."
Shocked by the news, he asks them to check again, to no avail. Fighting back the urge to protest, he pockets the card and walks off, shoulders slumped in disappointment.
Treading down the library steps, he stops short when he feels a tug on his jacket sleeve. He turns around and finds himself locking eyes with the grey coyote from the other day. The coyote's tablet reads, "Any luck with getting the membership?"
"No luck. Higher ups must've terminated Dad's contract to keep me from snooping through the archives."
The younger coyote cocked his head, then, suddenly struck with an idea, typed rapidly on his tablet. "If you need anything, I can get it for you. You know the bookstore café on NQ Main St.?"
Recognizing the street's name, Wile cracks a smile. "Yeah. I go there often in my free time. Shall we meet over the weekend?"
The coyote nods, then he digs through his bag, swapping out his tablet for a notebook. He writes something down and rips out the page for Wile E. to see. On it is the name "Calamity", followed by a phone number and email address. Calamity gives Wile a thumbs-up and walks off.
The next few days pass by, with Wile E. and Calamity exchanging texts and emails between work shifts. As it turns out, the two have a lot in common, despite their differing backgrounds and occupations. In the short time they've been corresponding, they have grown close enough that Wile treats him like the brother he never had.
Of course, there is still business to be had, and much to still learn. About ACME, about Illudium, about Sapient-kind as a whole. He read through every book tangentially related to Sapient history, but eventually hit a wall when it came to the history surrounding ACME Corp's creation. Aside from what Ralph mentioned about its start as an animal sanctuary, much of the company's past is shrouded in mystery. Cal theorizes ACME might be covering up something important, but refuses to elaborate out of fear of losing his job security. An understandable reason, but a frustrating situation regardless.
Coming back home from their most recent meeting, he tosses himself on the couch and cracks open a book on Ancient Egypt that he bought from the store. While flipping through its pages, he stumbles across a familiar face. An aged painting of a bipedal figure with a black canine's head. Curious, he reads the short blurb beside it.
"Anubis was a jackal-headed deity with close ties to death and the afterlife. Once known as god of the underworld, he later served a role in funerary rites, most famously as a guardian and guide for the dead."
He lets out a heavy sigh. Try as he might, he cannot stop thinking about the strange encounter from his youth. Could he have met a god of death that day, or was it a mere coincidence? Then again, if the documentary was true, then perhaps he met a descendant, or even saw an image of a past life. He shakes his head. What nonsense, he grumbles to himself. I must be losing my mind if I'm coming up with outlandish theories.
As he lies, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, his ears pick up Pepé's voice from behind the lab door. "Yes, I'll have someone bring it over right away," he says. The door opens, and the skunk's head peeks out. "Wile, I need to run some errands in the West Quarter. Would you mind joining me?"
"Of course. I don't have anything else going on, anyway." Wile stands up and looks around. "Where did Ralph go off to?"
Pepé shrugs. "All he told me is he's going to visit a friend."
Elsewhere, at a far-off table in Miss Prissy's Coop, Ralph is having lunch with an old friend. He and Sam chat happily about mundane things, and the conversation is going well until one question throws off the mood.
"Ralph, I have to ask," Sam says, "Where were you the night of the ACME Corp break-in last week?"
Ralph, frozen stiff, drops his fork, and it lands on the plate with a clatter. "I… Wha… How… What would make you say that?"
"I received a testimony from Lola Bunny. She claims she saw a coyote-like figure stealing from the employee records and tried to stop him. Forensics also found traces of her blood on the carpet, confirming she was attacked in the process." The sheepdog leans in closer, an intimidating aura burning behind his stoic demeanor. "Tell me everything."
Realizing there's no way to wriggle out of this situation, Ralph sighs. "Wile and I were at the docks, that much is true. But Wile wasn't involved with the heist. I was asked to retrieve some files for a client, but I had ulterior motives. I thought if I could read into his dad's past business, I could get to know him better, learn what goes on in his head." His face contorts when he recalls the field notes he read, especially the one from November 5th. "Instead, I learned things I was better off not knowing about."
Seeing the pitiful look on his old pal's face, Sam gives himself a moment to contemplate his next words. "Ralph, we've known each other for a very long time, and I know that you're a professional in what you do. But these past few years, I'm starting to see otherwise. Behind that villainous façade you put on is the same sensitive young pup I met in the meadow."
Ralph, pouting in reaction to being called a pup, asks, "What're you getting at, Sam?"
"What I mean is, while I don't condone what you've been up to, I'm glad you're enjoying your newfound freedom." He gives a Mona Lisa smile before continuing. "Back to the subject, I spoke with Lola and Bugs, and they're willing to drop the charges on a couple of conditions. One, you must not break into ACME Corp ever again. Two, you are to return the stolen files ASAP. And three…"
Wile E. and Pepé hitch a Youver ride to the West Quarter, stopping before a building marked with a sign that reads, "West Quarter Funeral Parlor". The doorbell chimes as they enter the lobby, a monochromatic room of antiquated, minimalist design. Wile looks around the room, and as his eyes catch sight of someone entering from the main hall, his heart stops.
Standing before them is a tall, golden-furred wolf, bespectacled and clad in formal black and white. Though he's not wearing a mask of any sort, the faint smell of rotting corpses gives away his true self. The stranger's honeyed eyes turn to them as he hears the bell's chime. "Oh, hello there! Welcome to West Quarter Funeral Parlor," he greets them with a warm smile. "Mr. Le Pew, I assume?"
"Oui," Pepé answers. "This is my friend and assistant, Wile E. Coyote." He hands the stranger a small box, which, when opened, is revealed to contain a perfume bottle made of amber glass. "Some of the ingredients were too difficult and expensive to find, so I substituted them with ones that most resembled their essence. I hope it's to your liking, Mr. Blakesley."
The wolf dabs a small amount on his bare wrist and sniffs it. A warm smile spreads across his face as he embraces the sweet, sophisticated scent. "It smells just like home," he sighs. "The perfumers in Mendes would be jealous of your talent. From the bottom of my heart, I give my sincerest thanks." His gaze shifts to the coyote, and his brows rise subtly. "Oh, dearie me, I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Herman Blakesley. I'm the funeral director of this parlor." He holds his hand out. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Coyote."
Hesitant, Wile accepts his hand and shakes it. "Likewise, Mr. Blakesley."
"Please, call me Herman. I like to be on friendly terms with my fellow Canidae."
"As much as I would like to chat," Pepé cuts in, "we really have to get going."
"You go on ahead," Wile replies. "I'd like a minute to speak with Mr. Blakes... Herman."
Pepé pauses to observe the atmosphere, then nods. "I'll be heading over to Sylvester's. You two enjoy yourselves. Salut!"
The two dogs wait until the skunk is out of bounds, then Wile breaks the silence. "I've seen you around before."
Herman flashes a sly grin. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing. You've grown a lot over the past fifteen years. Then again, you were pretty tall for a coyote your age…"
"Quit beating around the bush! Who are you really?"
His expression turns grim. "They call me a god of death, but is that the truth? I suppose it's inevitable for one to be deified when they're capable of outlasting injury, plague, even death itself. But am I a god incarnate, or just a lucky beast?" He claps his hands, and instantly, his demeanor changes back to its lighthearted self. "But enough about me. You must be curious about your father, am I correct?"
Wile E., startled by the sudden shift in attitude and mention of his father, becomes tongue-tied. Once he regains his speaking ability, he mutters, "What do you know about him?"
He drops his jovial mask again, this time replaced with a smile of nostalgia and pity. "We were hardly more than acquaintances. I happened to be passing by during his dying moments; I am drawn to death, whether I intend to or not. I even remember his final words."
Herman recalls this memory from fifteen years ago, of him kneeling before the dying Trick E. Coyote.
From the image in his mind's eye, Trick E., his throat hoarse from dehydration, whispered, "Y… You're the grim reaper, aren't you? I suppose… I deserve this fate. My son… Wiley… I should have loved him more. He was starving… He kept begging for my attention… and I kept pushing him away. I shouldn't have devoted my whole self to ACME. I know that now. Mr. Reaper… If you ever see my son… if he's still alive somehow… tell him… that I will always… love him."
"Your father was a fool," the wolf concludes. "But he was a loving fool." He wipes the tears streaming from the coyote's eyes. "I cannot say if his soul is resting peacefully in the afterlife or not, but I can say that part of him continues to live on in your heart."
As Herman—Anubis—comforts him, Wile's own memory starts jogging. Fifteen years ago, when the two first met, he spoke to the death god.
"You smell like Dad did. Are you here to take me away, too?"
Anubis paused, then: "No. I'm here to help you, on your father's behalf." He pointed his scepter towards the horizon. "The road is that way. I will watch over you until then."
So he did—from a distance, at the coyote pup's insistence—and when his deed was done, he disappeared, like a mirage in the desert.
"Thank you," current day Wile says, wiping away the remaining tears. "But I can handle it from here."
Herman lets out a soft chuckle. "Just as stubborn as ever. Very well, then. If you ever need me, you know where I am. If I don't find you first, that is."
As the previous events proceeded, up on the highest floor of ACME Corporation's Executive building, Bugs is at his desk, casually looking over various business documents while listening to the male voice clamoring from his phone's speaker.
"I gotta say, you outdid yourselves with this Three Kingdoms collection," says the boisterous voice. "Since they came out, they've been selling like hotcakes! Maybe teaming up with you wasn't such a bad idea after all."
Bugs smirks. "Thanks, but I can't take all the credit. ACME wouldn't have been able to pull it off if not for Lycopolis' efforts. We may have built the inventions, but you're the ones who designed them."
"If anyone deserves credit, it's Zhuge Liang and the other great minds from the Three Kingdoms," the voice responds with a chuckle. "Changing the subject, you got that big Halloween party coming up, right? You don't happen to have an extra invite sitting around, do you?"
"I have plenty to go around. And why wouldn't I invite the CEO-slash-Founder of the world's second-largest weapons manufacturer?"
"You keep telling yourself that, rabbit." A sound akin to a gunshot rings over the speaker. "Now, about your other business partner, she wouldn't happen to be coming, right?"
"Oh, she's coming, alright. This will be her first public appearance as an ACME co-partner."
"Perfect! I've been wanting to see her again after all this time. She probably won't recognize me in my current state, but she'll figure it out soon enough. Reserve a spot for me, Mr. Bunny. Don't worry about the plus one—I'm more than enough for two guests." The voice lets out a hearty laugh.
"Sure thing, Mr. Wolfgang! Just don't think of arriving in that oversized cruise ship of yours. It'll crowd up the dock."
"Fine, I'll just use the second-biggest boat I've got. What's eight-hundred-ish feet to ACME City's entire South Quarter dock?"
"Just use a normal-sized boat, dammit!" Bugs hangs up and lets out a deep, exasperated sigh as he slouches in his chair.
Lola enters the office, and sees the state her fiancé is in. "I take it your meeting with Mr. Wolfgang didn't go well?"
"Oh, it went well, alright," Bugs replies, straightening himself up. "Wyatt's good for business, but he's too much to deal with."
Lola giggles. "With a big personality like that, it's a wonder he hasn't had more of a public presence. Speaking of which, I have some really good news. Wolf & Coyote have accepted our conditions, so we'll be seeing them in the upcoming All Hallow's Fête."
The gray rabbit cracks a smile. "You sound more excited about this than I am."
"Why shouldn't I be? This is my chance to learn their weaknesses and use that knowledge to have my vengeance—I mean, protect you more efficiently."
"A good enough reason, though not a particularly difficult one."
"I am curious, though: why are you inviting them over? They've already caused all kinds of trouble, both within and without the company. For all we know, they could be plotting to assassinate us!"
"I'm not worried about that. Even if that was the case, they'll fail anyway. Lola… I'm starting Operation Isis."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Guess who's back? Back again? Sullen's back. Tell a friend~
As I mentioned in my ANs previously, I was going out of town and wouldn't be able to work on this fic much during that time. Well... While I didn't do any work during the trip, I did manage to squeeze an extra chapter's worth of effort shortly beforehand. So what you're reading here is already about a week old, uploaded with minimal edits.
The previous two entries, while bringing in elements that would play out further here and/or in the future, I felt like they were written rather awkwardly, as far as pacing and scene arrangements go. With that in mind, I wrote this entry with the intent of steering the story back on-course, building upon previously-introduced bits and dropping hints of things to come. I apologize if this piecemeal method of storytelling is a bit frustrating; my ideas for relevant plot points and character arcs are a bit disorganized in practice (especially the more I add to it), so I'm trying my best to sort them out in as close to a sensible order as possible.
Rather than dropping the usual sort of trivia, I'm going to leave you all to theorize about some of the details I introduced in recent chapters. I won't spoil too much, but I will say that I've gone down quite the rabbit hole while researching.
