CHAPTER 14: CHASING GHOSTS, PART 3
Noon. It is often considered to be one of the most significant and meaningful times of the day; a time when ultimatums are to be met, the lone gunfighter steps out to face his opponent, or, in the case of Ocean Shores, a time when the sun rests perfectly above the sky and gives a full coverage of light across the city.
Universal to almost everywhere on the planet, however, is that noon is the time for lunchtime and breaks from work, two events which clash with each other more often than not. Even in the town of Ocean Shores, where its population dwindles by the week like characters dying off in a bad soap opera, there are plenty enough who are hungry, and still look to fast food establishments to get their fill of food.
Though Good Burger steals what is left of the majority of customers in the city, the family-owned business of the Shore Shack still has its own loyal customers, and the occasional tourist who comes through Ocean Shores by accident or incidence on their way to other tourist traps or while on a road trip.
Regardless of the reason why people still come to his restaurant, Ray Rocket is grateful for each and everyone who comes to eat his food, and more than happy to cook and serve it to them... so long, of course, if they will pay for it. And pay for it every customer does, hungry and willing to exchange paper and plastic for meat, vegetable, and bread (and starch, if fries are included with their order).
There are not many customers who come, as has always been the case since the economic decline of Ocean Shores has taken place, but they are more than enough in number to keep Ray Rocket quick on his feet and with his hands to keep his customers fed. This is somewhat in part because of a fact that is unusual for his business:
Tito is not in, and is not there to assist him.
Pushing himself to complete every order coming in, fulfilling the duties of taking orders, cooking the food, and subsequently serving it to the customers, he has finally managed to fulfill the initial lunch rush to reach his phone and contact Tito regarding his unusual absence.
Discreetly stepping away from the counter, he frantically dialed Tito's number, impatiently waiting for the man on the other end to pick up.
Tito's current whereabouts are far from the Shore Shack, the upper floor of the building also doubling as his home, for he is now in Otto and Twister's home instead. He is here on the initial attempt at making a peace mission between Otto and Ray, between son and father, but that mission soon and unexpectedly landed him feet-first into a conspiracy regarding a millionaire's plan for Ocean Shores.
Most of Team Rocket is all at work on their part to unravel the conspiracy, but Tito is one of the two left over to clean the house. The task of bringing order and cleanliness to a complete pigsty that was Otto and Twister's home is one that sounds counter-intuitive and unrelated to the greater task at hand, to anyone looking in on this development from the outside in...
...but were any of them inside the house, they would have a much different take, and agree that Tito's work is absolutely necessary if the greater good will be done here.
Sifting through the various belonging on the floor, Tito filtered through to find any and all items he could identify as clothing, setting aside anything within that category to wash it later. Anything that does not pass this basic litmus test is either set aside for Otto and Twister to sort later, or be thrown away as trash.
Picking up a shirt off the floor, Tito makes one easy decision from the selected item.
"Laundry." Tito said.
Putting the shirt in a laundry basket, Tito reached to the floor to pick up an empty can of soda, once again coming to an easy decision to make.
"Trash." Tito said.
Tossing away the empty soda can, Tito reached in and took out a hockey stick, setting it aside against a collection of other items.
"Sort for later." Tito said.
Reaching into the mess once again, he pulled out a pair of underwear with not only stains of yellow, red, and brown, but also an ungodly stench that reeked of dried semen and urine, as well as the permanence left over from years of flatulence. His decision regarding this item is once again easy to make, but is an exception to what judgements he has already made regarding articles of clothing.
"Trash." Tito groaned.
Throwing the underwear away with prejudice, Tito breathed out a sigh of relief once the filthy undergarments were gone from his sight.
Before he could move on to the next item within the trash, his cell phone began to ring, prompting him to take it out of his pocket and check the call. The incoming call was displayed to have come from Ray Rocket, a call he knew he could not ignore, but nonetheless required a careful strategy not to expose anything regarding the hoverboard nor the conspiracy behind it.
Pressing the 'ANSWER CALL' button, Tito put his phone up to his face to speak to Ray.
"Hey, brotha, what's up?" Tito asked.
"Tito, where the hell are you, man?" Ray asked.
"Huh?"
"It's noon. We might not have as many customers as we used to, but we still do have customers. And dealing with them all by myself's still not that easy."
Reminded of his shift at work, forgetting to go on account of the night before, Tito began attempting to come up with a lie, improvising what excuse he could in response.
"Oh! Uh... Truth is, I'm not feeling so good, brotha. I think I got sick." Tito said.
"Then why weren't you upstairs?" Ray asked.
"Because... I... I'm at Otto's house."
"Otto's house?"
"Yeah. I, uh, left last night to see if I could make some kind of peace between you and the cuz, like you tried to do with the dinner party. I know how much the whole thing meant to you, and I came over to give it my best shot. Looks like I undercooked the hotdurgers a little, and it's starting to come back to me in my old age."
Back at the Shore Shack, Ray listened to his best friend with care, taking in the lie without question, even when the lie itself was merely partial in untruth. Nodding along on the phone, Ray spoke up his approval, responding to Tito regarded his nonexistent sickness and giving what good will he could.
"Alright. Just rest up and get better, okay? I don't want my best bud going down because of a little stomach bug. Looks bad for the Shore Shack's food safety record." Ray joked.
"Ha-ha-ha... Of course, brotha. I'll probably show up tomorrow if I'm better. In the meantime, I'll try my best to talk to Otto, too." Tito said.
"Thanks, Tito. Listen, can you tell Otto-"
Ray then paused in the midst of his request, stopping short at the opportunity to have Tito relay a message on his behalf. What could he say to his son now that might hopefully repair the damage done? 'I'm sorry'? 'I love you, son'? 'I was wrong to yell at you'? 'I'll always love you now matter what'? 'Let's try to talk again'?
There are a many things that Ray thinks to say that he could have Tito say on his behalf, but there are none that he can think to ask that would properly convey his feelings or desires regarding Otto and the relationship with his son. He laid in pause for a long minute, lost in his own thought over what to say before Tito finally spoke up.
"Hello? Brotha? You still there?" Tito asked.
"N-No, nothing, it's nothing, Tito. You just rest and get better." Ray said.
"Will do, Raymundo. See you soon."
"Yeah, you too."
Hanging up his phone, Ray leaned up against a wall, once again catching himself deep in thought regarding the broken relationship that he and his only son shared. He cannot have any other thoughts other than the scene at dinner playing over and over in his head, hanging his head low with regret and lamentation.
The emotions serve him no purpose; they do not constructively criticize nor do they push him in any better direction that could lead to a better outcome, but instead simply make him wince in an inner pain that he refuses to acknowledge aloud, citing his age and adulthood as reasons not to show his pain.
Instead, all he expresses is a sigh.
But even that small refuge of peace is broken by the interruption of a ringing bell at the counter, with a customer calling for service.
"Excuse me? I think I'm ready to order now." The customer said.
"Oh, uh, be right there, sir!" Ray called.
Swallowing his pride and emotions once again, Ray stepped out to take his customer's order, carrying on the business day like usual for the sake of business.
And that decision to swallow his thoughts do not make them leave, but keep them inside, where they continue to fester and grow into a hideous, deadly new weed.
The hunt is on for Lars Rodriguez.
He is the one and only connection that Team Rocket has in hopes to find more about the mysterious group of supercriminals that destroyed Sam's store, and threaten to destroy more. Otto and Twister are the ones doing the work on the ground, splitting up their search to cover every possible area where Lars may be.
Otto agreed to check the skate park known as Zero Gravity Zone, owned by his new supposed benefactor of Alex Gravity to keep him away from the law, where Twister opted to check the hospitals for Lars, as he was missing an arm and liable to be in one, despite Otto's theory regarding his whereabouts having more logical merit.
The latter of the two is also the younger brother of the criminal, connected to their target by blood, leading him to carry out his own search with a personal vigilance. However, Twister's dedication to find his delinquent brother soon showed itself to not being the same as having more luck in his journey.
Ocean Shores General Hospital is the first location that he chose to check, starting with the first, closest, and most frequented hospital among those in the city, a most likely candidate for Lars' current whereabouts. Heading to the hospital's check-in station, he stepped to the front counter to ask about his brother.
He looked at the staff worker with an awkward silence, unsure about how to begin the conversation and make his request.
"Uh... Hey, excuse me, have you guys... Uh... had somebody with only one arm come in here?" Twister asked.
"With one arm, sir?" The front desk worker asked.
"Yeah, he, like, lost an arm, and he might have come in here."
"And who is this person to you, sir?"
"He's my brother. He's an asshole... and a drug dealer... and a sex offender... but, he's my brother, so, that, like, makes me his next of kin or something. That means I'm allowed to see him, right?"
The desk worker then looked at Twister with an uncertain facial expression, calmly attempting to digest the bizarre request and extraneous information given.
"Uh... sure. What's his name, sir?" The front desk worker asked.
"Lars Rodriguez." Twister said.
"And yours, sir?"
"Twister."
The desk worker paused once again, trying to process the unusual response given.
"...Your name is 'Twister'?" The front desk worker asked.
"Yeah. Well, it's my nickname." Twister said.
"And what is your real name, sir?"
"It's... uh... uh... Maurice."
"...I see. Do you know when he might have been admitted, sir?"
"Last night."
"Very well. Give me a moment, sir."
The desk worker took to his computer, looking through the most recently admitted patients to the hospital, seeking to find any matches to Twister's description of Lars. However, after a few minutes of searching, no matches were found in the hospital records, to which the staff member spoke out in response.
"I'm sorry, sir, but it appears your brother has not been admitted here. No matches came up under the name you provided or description of injury." The front desk worker said.
"Are you sure? Did you see if anyone with that description came as a John Don?" Twister asked.
"...'John Don', sir?"
"Yeah, you know, like in those cop shows where somebody doesn't have a name, they call them 'John Don'."
"Sir, I believe you're thinking of 'John Doe', and, no, I have no matches of that injury either."
"Are you sure? Maybe he's, like, off the books or something."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, see, the thing is, we think he's, like, involved with some shady criminal group. So we think he might have been admitted here, but his boss, like, didn't want anyone to know about it, and had him admitted under a fake name, or hid him in another room."
The front desk worker then stood in silence for nearly a full minute, looking back at Twister incredulously after a vain attempt to decipher his request.
"...I have no idea what you're talking about." The front desk worker said.
"C'mon, you know, it's like in the movies where the bad guy tries to- Oh! Oh, now I get it. Hang on a second." Twister said.
"Huh?"
Twister then dug into his pocket and pulled out a large stack of what seemed like multiple dollar bills ranging in the hundreds...
...but upon further inspection from the worker, was found to indeed be large stacks of hundred-dollar bills...
...in Monopoly money.
"Whatever the guys are paying you, I guarantee that's better money." Twister said.
The worker then looked back and forth at the 'money' and Twister, attempting to comprehend the situation at hand.
"...Are you attempting to bribe me? With Monopoly money?" The front desk worker asked.
"That's all the money in the board game. You know how many hotels you can buy for that much money?" Twister asked.
"Are you also aware that bribery is a crime, no matter how stupid and pathetic the attempt is?"
Twister then pulled out a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card from the board game, presenting it alongside the 'money'.
"Why do you think I brought this?" Twister asked.
The front desk worker then dropped all signs of professionalism, responding with a face and tone with no sense of friendliness.
"Get the fuck out of here, stupid." The front desk worker said.
Responding back with a scowl, taking back his bribe offer and stuffing it back in his pockets.
"Well, fine, but I'm taking my money with me." Twister said.
Finding himself out of luck at this particular hospital, Twister left the building, skating off to search other hospitals in Ocean Shores.
Another hospital across town named Ocean Shores Health Care is where Twister goes next, asking a long line of similar questions. The result behind this hospital's front desk worker is far less impolite than the first, but nonetheless is not impressed with Twister's attempt at bribery.
"Are you crazy? I told you there's no Lars Rodriguez here. We're not hiding him or something. What do you think this is, a movie?" The front desk worker asked.
"...Apparently?" Twister asked.
The front desk worker then let out a sigh, attempting to maintain her patience with the obviously confused and misguided Twister.
"I'm sorry, sir, but your brother's not here. Maybe you'd like to check another hospital. Preferably one with mental health facilities." The front desk worker said.
"But Lars doesn't have any mental problems. Or... Okay, yeah, he does, but that's not why he'd be at the hospital." Twister said.
"That's not what I- Oh, nevermind."
A religious hospital named St. Csupo is his next destination, trying once again the same line of questions and bribery tactics, and once again getting...
"You seem very misguided. Have you always felt this way? Like you don't know where you're going in life?" The front desk worker asked.
"Uh... Well, there was this one time when I tried to get to the gas station to get a burrito, but I took a wrong turn at the bike trail and ended up walking all the way to Sacramento instead. Huh. Come to think of it, I've never really known where I was going my whole life." Twister said.
"Sounds like you need the lord more than ever."
"The who? Can he help me find Lars?"
"He can help you find who you are. That's the biggest gift any of us could ask for."
"But I know where I am. I'm right here."
"We might say that, but, more often than not, we don't know our own hearts as much as we'd like to think. Our hearts are for Jesus to know."
"Uh, no, no, no. It's pronounced 'hey-zoos'. Believe me, I'm Mexican."
"It doesn't matter what you call the lord, as long as you do it with praise. He is always deserving of our praise."
"Well, if he can't help me find my brother, then he's not that much help, is he?"
A walk-in clinic named Ocean Shores Health Services is where Twister goes next, receiving a reply of...
"Son, are you out your damn mind? We don't got no Lars Rodriguez here, flashing board game money at me ain't gonna make him show up here." The front desk worker said.
"Well, what if I had some real money to give you?" Twister asked.
"Boy, you don't look like you got any money on you."
"I had enough to buy a copy of Monopoly."
"And you thought that was gonna give you money to bribe someone with?"
"Uh... I guess so?"
"Well, you guess wrong, son."
"Oh. Well... You wanna play Monopoly with me?"
His last stop is at Ocean Shores Pharmacy, a far cry from any hospital or medical facility, but nonetheless a location worth checking in the mind of Twister.
"The fuck are you talking about? For the last time, this isn't a hospital. It's a pharmacy." The clerk said.
"What's the difference?" Twister asked.
"We sell, like, medications and stuff. We don't do anything else."
"But I got my ear wax cleaned out last time I was here."
"Yeah, we do, like, little stuff for the smallest injuries you can think of, and some glasses work and stuff. We don't deal with people who lost their fucking limbs. Do we look like we're equipped to do any of that?"
"Uh... No?"
"Exactly. Your brother ain't here."
Having yielded no results in the last of the possible locations he checked, Twister let out a defeated groan.
"Damn it. This was the last place I thought I could find him." Twister said.
"Then I guess your brother ain't in a hospital. Now, is there anything I can actually do for you?" The clerk asked.
"Uh... Yeah, gimme a bag of FunYums and some Cheeze-O's."
After a quick transaction at the counter, Twister walked out of the pharmacy with his bags of highly processed snacks, munching down on the contents. As he consumed his snack foods, he began to grow frustrated with his efforts producing little to no fruit, sitting on the sidewalk in sadness as he ate his troubles away.
"Well, that's all the hospitals in the area, and nobody's got him. I wish I got to check the skate parks with Otto. I wonder how he's doing right now?" Twister thought aloud.
Across town, Otto Rocket also searches out for Lars Rodriguez, attempting to find his attacker from the previous night. To say he is as dedicated to his search as his best friend is would be a statement that discredits Twister's efforts, for he is, as he has always been, a man of free spirit and living only for the moment, allowing himself to be sidetracked from the mission.
In an excuse to find more opportunities to skate for himself, he has expanded his search across the other skate parks in Ocean Shores, constructing for himself a rationalization that Lars may have spent time in one of the other parks to also indulge in his beloved sport of skating.
His search across the skate parks in Ocean Shores is a short search to make, for Zero Gravity Zone has managed to nearly monopolize the sport of skating not only for this city, but for the majority of the country. Of the remaining commercial skate parks remaining in Ocean Shores, it is one of two, the other being a lesser park known as Skatopia, a park with a poor reputation among other skating enthusiasts.
Otto Rocket is not only among the dissenting voices of the park, but it is from there that he departed from, relieved to be far away from the inferior park. Finally arriving at the front entrance of Zero Gravity Zone, holding his skateboard under his arm, Otto stepped inside the building, ready to begin his search for Lars Rodriguez.
Upon stepping inside the building, Otto was immediately greeted with the sights of multiple skating courses, all ranging from themes like science fiction to fantasy, ancient times to modern; a far cry from the simplicity and strictness of Skatopia, and a welcome departure from the dullness he left behind.
How sad is it that in the face of monopolization, the sake of convenience and strength in money are enough to overtake all concerns of the consumer? How can one hope to survive in a game that has been rigged towards a certain few players? It is small wonder how smaller, individual-owned businesses like Conroy Blanc's Madtown is long gone, its owner forced to move out of his home town just to survive?
For Otto Rocket, these are of no concern to him. He is but a simple consumer, interested only in what he wants without the consequences. He fashions himself a rebel, willing to defy and strike back against any system of society he dislikes, but is more than willing to participate in any that are part of his own lifestyle.
To him, there is nothing wrong to be found with Zero Gravity Zone and its show; the show is all he cares for. It is all too good for Otto to simply look upon. As long as the system works for him, the system is perfectly fine with him. Is there any true such thing as an all-American rebel these days?
Perhaps not to be found in Otto Rocket, who can do nothing but take in the sights with a deep breath.
"God, it feels good to be in a real skate park. I still can't get over how much this place kicks ass. It almost doesn't make me miss Madtown anymore." Otto thought aloud.
However, as much as he wanted to do nothing more than skate, to indulge in his favorite sport, he remembered his mission, the primary reason for his visit here, and returned his mind to fulfill the greater good. Walking inside the park, he prepared his search for Lars Rodriguez.
Heading to the entrance to the park, Otto walked to the line to purchase a ticket, still needing to overcome the final obstacle in his path. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a large helping of cash, rubber-banded together with a paper note written out from the one who loaned him the money: Reggie Rocket, his sister.
DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT BUYING AN ANNUAL PASS WITH THIS MONEY. YOU'RE GOING IN TO FIND LARS AND GET OUT, NOT SKATE. DO THE RIGHT THING! -YOUR SISTER. The note read.
Sighing at the angry note left by his sister, Otto made his way up to the box office, presenting the money to purchase...
"One annual pass, please." Otto said.
Handing the loaned money to the cashier, he purchased the pass, patiently awaiting for it to be processed and printed for him. Once the cashier finished the transaction, he then handed the pass to Otto, along with a receipt. Taking the pass, Otto thanked the cashier with a nod, subsequently moving past the box office into the park.
Displaying the pass to a security guard standing between him and the park, the guard took Otto's pass and scanned it into a machine, watching its screen to see if it would be confirmed. As the pass succeeded the required check, the security guard stepped aside, allowing Otto inside Zero Gravity Zone.
"Have fun." The security guard said.
"Yeah, thanks." Otto said.
Thanking the security guard as he left, Otto stepped inside the park, making his way down to the locker rooms, hoping ot find a decent start to begin inquiring about Lars Rodriguez. Selecting a locker and putting his belongings into it, taking with him only a skateboard and picture of Lars, Otto began his investigation.
Heading to a young man putting his protective gear on, Otto asked the young man about his target, displaying the picture.
"Hey, excuse me, you seen a guy named Lars Rodriguez? Should only have one arm?" Otto asked.
"Nope, sorry, dude." The young man said.
With no information found with the young man, Otto continued his inquiry around Zero Gravity Zone, checking whoever else in the locker room he ran into. His search then led him heading to the main park, bumping into another individual and asking him the same question with the picture displayed.
"Hey, dude, you see a guy with only one arm named Lars Rodriguez?" Otto asked.
"Say what?" The man asked.
"You seen a guy named Lars Rodriguez? He looks like this dipshit and he's only got one arm, he's not hard to miss."
"No, sorry, man."
"Crap. Thanks anyway."
After continuing to search around Zero Gravity Zone for a while, initially trying to stick to his promise of searching for the target, Otto decided to take a small break from his search by skating. Having put himself through the torture of looking around the park and not partaking in skating himself, the immense temptation finally made him pressure, seeking out a course to skate.
Selecting a simple pit, one not specially themed like the other courses, he began to let out his inner need to skate. His decision to find a pit without a theme is one made out of a bare need to simply feel himself moving along concrete and hear his board, to feel a connection to the ground by balancing himself, wishing for no extra sensory input to interrupt his sacred tribute to the sport.
This one simple expression is all he needs to find some peace, and he finds more than enough here.
However, his own self-acquired zen state came at the price of his own attention to the rest of the world, and still did it throw itself at him. While riding down the course for a good few minutes, trying to vent out his frustrations of lack of progress on his search, Otto accidentally began riding next to another skater, one that rode his board in a much more aggressive and careless manner than him.
With the one rider growing more detached and the other more tense in their perpendicular paths, their paths beginning to cross dangerously very suddenly, Otto finally met with the inevitable. Accidentally did he run into the other skater, colliding with him and knocking the both of them to the ground.
The impact is enough to make both silent as they fell, but the other is more than willing to share his discontent when getting back up.
"Hey, watch where the hell you're going!" The skater said.
"Whoops, sorry, dude. My bad." Otto said.
"Fuckin' 'A' it was! Why don't you try to stay on planet Earth like the rest of us, you fucking space-brain?!"
The enraged skater then took his skateboard off the ground and angrily marched off, throwing his board back to the ground. Stepping back on his board, he began skating off, finding an area far away from his transgressor to ride in peace. Likewise, Otto stepped away from the scene of the incident, hopping back on his own skateboard to keep up his search.
Putting the event in the past, he looks forward and towards the future, hoping that a time in which Lars is brought to justice is within it.
But the reality about past events is that they always catch up with you, and hindsight is always 20/20.