Chapter 22:
I turn back to look at the crowd of journalists fighting amongst each other to stick microphones and cameras through the gates in hopes of getting some kind of scoop. I can't spot the source of the familiar voice though. Maybe it's a stranger with a similar sounding voice. It is bothering me, but I can't do much about it.
I am about to head into the hotel when the unmistakable flash of light from an opening Poké Ball catches my eye. A Bug Pokémon with icy blue wing flutters above the crowd. The Vivillon begins to scatter spores over the journalists who all freeze in position. I can't contain a chuckle at the sight of all the people stuck in position crying for help. The security guard looks stunned at the situation, but he isn't paralysed like the rest of them and quickly grabs a Poké Ball to retaliate.
A man forces his way through the forest of awkward bodies to the sounds of displeased groans. The others are stood around me watching things unfold and I have to bury my face in my hands when I get a look at the man. Short. Dark but greying trimmed hair. Glasses. A coat that's long out of style. There is no mistaking who it is. Harvey Wexler. My dad.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stay where you are," the security guard says and sends out a threatening looking Arcanine.
My dad isn't scared by it though. "Sleep Powder," he says confidently.
Vivillon flutters over him and sprays its powder towards the Arcanine. The security guard's Pokémon counters with a Flamethrower to burn through the attempt to put it out of commission.
"Sir, I won't ask you again," the guard says.
"It's alright, he's with me," I sigh.
All attention turns to me. I can feel the gazes fixed on me from all directions. This is so embarrassing for me. In front of my fellow elite trainers is bad enough. With the world's press being present, it's even worse. There will be a camera rolling somewhere in that paralysed crowd capturing this. This is the worst thing that has happened. Everything else to shame my reputation has been my own doing and I have overcome it. This is out of my hands. Why did he have to show up like this? I was hoping he'd make it here, just not to turn up in such a scene.
"I'm afraid it's not so simple," the guard says, "His unprovoked attacks can't go unpunished."
"They were hardly attacking moves," Thomas laughs.
"I guess we know where Holly gets it from," Flourette says.
"It doesn't matter, he…"
"Now Edmond, I think that is enough of that," a voice says. We turn back towards the hotel to see Lancelot Elderidge himself approaching. The plot thickens. "He is a guest and you should treat him as such."
"He what?" the security guard, Edmond, stammers. He looks from Lancelot to my dad and reluctantly lowers his guard.
"Mr Wexler," Lancelot says, turning his attention to my dad, "I believe you have some catching up to do with your daughter. By all means, come in and do so. All I ask is that you wait for me inside while I deal with the situation out here. I have been dying to meet you."
My dad returns his Vivillon and steps through the gate. We run into each other's arms and share an embrace for a moment. It feels like so long since we've been together. Getting my own place in Camphrier Town had meant seeing him less. It hadn't occurred to me how much I missed having him around.
Our hug ends fairly quickly. He looks me in the eyes with concern. He knows there's something on my mind. He probably suspects that I'm a bit embarrassed by being surrounded by people. I'm actually wondering how Lancelot Elderidge knows him.
"I think we should go inside now," he says.
"That would be a good plan for all of you," Lancelot says, "I think Miss Barrestein needs a rest and there is some liquor with Mr Byrne's name on."
"You don't need to tell me twice. See you around Psycho, nice to meet you Psycho Senior," Thomas says and waves as he makes his way inside, likely with the bar as his destination.
The rest of us follow him into the hotel, leaving Lancelot to deal with the paralysed press. I wait in the entrance hall with my dad while the others disperse. I hear talk of a girls against boys game of pool as several of the group head for the bar. The two of us stand in awkward silence until we're alone.
"I am so proud of you," my dad says, "You did it. You made it to the final and you rebuilt your connection with Goodra."
"I should have listened to you though," I say, pointing to the bruise on my face, "I tried to force it when you warned me against it."
"That doesn't matter now," he says, "What matters is that you two keep working on it together. Goodra may have started to listen to you, but it isn't problem over just yet. As I said before though, I know you can do it."
"Yeah, Goodra may be my only hope in the final," I say.
My dad's cheeriness fades. He can sense the dejection in my voice. There's no hiding from it. He's made it all the way here to watch me lose. He then cracks a smile.
"That's not true," he says.
"Thomas figured me out and stopped me battling how I wanted and Mark did the same to Flourette even more effectively," I say, "What hope do I realistically have?"
"You are one of the finest strategists in the world, your ability to read a battle is second to none. Mark, like Thomas, will expect you to go into the battle with a strategy, not for you to strategize as the battle unfolds," he explains.
"Take heart, Miss Wexler," a voice says. I look over my dad's shoulder to see Lancelot Elderidge walk in. "Your father's inspirational words are filled with truth and love."
"So, what did you want to talk to us about?" my dad asks turning to face Lancelot.
"First of all, I must say, what an honour it is to meet Harvey Wexler," Lancelot says, "In your time, you were one of the top trainers in the world. In fact, you were an inspiration behind this tournament. I wanted to give trainers like yourself the recognition they deserved. You have also done a marvellous job of raising a daughter more than capable of following in your footsteps."
"Were you really that famous?" I ask.
"Not knowingly," he replies.
"Of course, it was a different time. Fame was difficult to come by without an Elite title, but those who took interest most certainly knew who you were," Lancelot says.
"As flattering as this is, Mr Elderidge…" my dad begins.
"Of course, shall we go somewhere more private?" Lancelot asks and gestures for us to follow.
"I think not," my dad argues, "A place where we can be overheard will do fine."
"Oh?" Lancelot looks at him curiously.
"There's something going on, people are starting to notice and you need calling out on it," he says.
"Whatever could you mean?" Lancelot asks.
"Don't play dumb," my dad says, raising his voice with every sentence, "Two people have passed out in this tournament, including my daughter. No matter how intense the battles are, no amount of exertion should cause that. Then we get on to what that boy said today. You have answers about his missing father and you only promised him them if he wins?"
My dad is almost shouting now. He has got very serious over this. I haven't seen him act this way in a long time. Not since the arguments over me.
"I… what?" I ask, "When did I…?"
It occurs to me what my dad said. He said two people passed out, including me. I don't remember this happening. I don't remember the other person either. He seems so sure about what he's saying, but I have no idea what he's on about.
"What?" my dad asks, turning back to me.
"What are you talking about, passing out?" I ask.
"After your first round battle," he says.
I think back to my battle with Elin. It's a bit of a blur after all of the battles I've seen over the past few days. I remember the crowd turning against me and eventually winning. I remember talking to Elin and Thomas afterwards. I shake my head. I can't think of anything unusual about it, let alone passing out.
"Well, that is rather unfortunate," Lancelot says.
"Oh no, you're not getting out of this just yet," my dad says, "What about what Mark called you out on today? The world saw that and they're going to ask questions."
"That was a motivator," Lancelot says, "As Mr Young said, the difference in today's encounter was the motivation. It was quite an effective motivator, don't you think? Unfortunately, a repeat of today's result will not suit the final. Your daughter will need a motivator of her own."
"She's plenty motivated without you getting involved," my dad says, "What does it matter to you? Do you get more money if the final is more exciting?"
"If you like," Lancelot says. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and removes a smartphone. He taps at the screen a few times. "Now, what would get Miss Wexler motivated to win? Ah, yes, she would never let her father down regardless of her own feelings."
"What are you doing?" my dad shouts.
I continue to stand and watch. The whole situation is confusing me. I'm still trying to get my head around what my dad was saying. The introduction of what Lancelot says about motivators has just thrown me off even more. Then the realisation dawns on me. He wants to make me do everything I can to win like Mark. The idea of what he could do is terrifying.
Lancelot pauses and then turns his phone for us to see. On the screen is a picture of Melissa. She is tied up and tears are streaming down her face. My dad and I both freeze in place.
"Melissa Wexler," Lancelot says, "It is such a shame for her to get involved."
"What have you done, you bastard?" my dad shouts.
"She is not far from being old enough to receive her first Pokémon. I am sure she would have the potential to follow in the footsteps of her family. It would be unfortunate if her older sister lost in the final as she would never see that family again," Lancelot says with a smile across his face that suggested pure malice.
"That's Holly's motivator?" my dad shouts, "How do you expect to get away with this?"
"The police and the press can be controlled, I am a very influential man if you had failed to notice," Lancelot says simply.
Suddenly, we are interrupted by muffled classical music. My dad quickly reaches into his pocket and answers his phone immediately. I can make out the sounds of a woman crying at the other end. Lancelot's threat is very real. Melissa had been taken and her mother's first reaction would be to call her husband.
"Honey, are you alright?" he asks, there is a pause for the expected response, "I know, I'm on it right now."
"And just what are you going to do about it?" Lancelot asks mockingly.
"I'm really sorry, I'm going to have to call you back," my dad says and reluctantly hangs up.
"You do know that the only way for you to see your daughter again is for your other one to defeat Mr Young in battle," Lancelot says.
"Oh no, if you're going to use force, then so am I," my dad counters, "Go, Venomoth!"
Venomoth is by far my dad's most powerful Pokémon. It was his first like Crobat was mine. Its presence means things are serious. As if the situation isn't clear enough.
"If that is how you wish to be, then I will humour you," Lancelot says, "Dragonite!"
A swift arm movement brings a Poké Ball from Lancelot's jacket and the large Dragon Pokémon appears before us. I don't know whether I should step in. My dad hasn't asked for my help. I've not even said anything for a while. It isn't really my fight though. It's strange. I feel so powerless.