Pokémon Obsidian | An Orre Fanfiction

Chapter 55: Father

Even through the winter, the desert sun scorched Eclo Town. Its furthest-flung suburb was one of run-down shacks, where disillusioned occupants seemed to be permanent fixtures in the faded and creaky deck chairs on their verandas. The warm wind carried cigarette smoke. Dirty pet Pokémon skulked around empty gas cans and broken wagon wheels.

Wes and his bizarre, one-wheeled motorbike didn't look out of place. He grew up there, after all, but the residents weren't as emotionally absent as they wished to appear. They never forgave him for the last time they saw him. He rounded up and snagged their Pokémon, sparing only his mother. That was no use. A neighbour seized her Grovyle while she was too drunk to notice. It was sold to Cipher as revenge.

Even those who were too young to remember considered Wes a sellout. Every eye that surveyed him was cold... or at least they were until he approached a shack with boarded-up windows and a stained, corrugated iron roof. Two sets of amber eyes, identical in colour and shock as they glanced up, were momentarily glued to him. Horace hastily stood.

'Later.'

He passed with a whiff of booze. That wasn't the most startling sight to Wes. He barely registered Horace's presence. His eyes were fixed on the elderly man beside him on the veranda. Cigarette smoke almost obscured his face, but there was no way Wes could ever mistake anyone else for his father.

An engine gurgled. Horace's equally odd motorbike screeched away. Even the International Police couldn't know whether Carlos was still alive. As Carlos, he remained an undocumented immigrant who was never recorded to be reported as missing; but as his new identity, Zed, he was a retired rancher with a perfect Orrean accent and ID to back it up.

Neither he nor Wes knew what to say. The latter could hardly feel morally superior when he was unaware of his first son's existence, but he was still the first to speak.

'How the fuck old are you?'

Carlos tossed his cigarette aside. His Vaporeon, only two years younger than he was, extinguished it.

'102... I don't remember how old you are, either.'

He was lying. Carlos knew exactly how old his son was. Wes never expected to have no doubt that his 102 year-old father knew everything about him that he could know from a distance, but he did. Whatever Horace's business there was, that distant, unexpected love was exactly why Carlos was sitting on the veranda of Tommy's shack, smoking with his great-grandson.

So Tommy did know who his dad was. He never knew him, but the dad Wes hardly knew was there to be the father he couldn't be to his own son. Desiree must have known Tommy, too. It took Wes a while to recognise the repainted, but shabbier, shack as the same one he grew up in.

'Is he here?'

The door was unlocked. It swung on its hinges when Carlos knocked. He apparently thought Wes wouldn't understand his mother tongue, but it was the only class he passed. He knew 'padre' meant 'father.'

'¿Qué carajo?'

Wes also knew that meant 'what the fuck?' The amber eyes that peered around the door, before Tommy shoved it open in shock, looked worried.

'How do you even know who I am...?'

'Thanks to your nephew... who made a fuss about not being my only grandchild.'

'I told him.'

That was the first time Wes ever saw distress in his father's eyes.

'Tommy, that is... that if you knew he existed, you'd want to know him.'

'If you knew, why the hell didn't you reach out to me? For him, if not for me?'

'Pride.'

Carlos paused. 'I used to think it was stupid that they call pride the most deadly sin. Now I'm a shitty old man. And I get it.'

The battered wooden steps creaked. A Sandile scampered after Tommy as he stepped down to face his father. Wes knew why Carlos didn't stand. It wasn't a lack of fitness. It was because he, like his son, was only 5'5". Tommy was two inches taller than them both.

'I'm not gonna stand here and make apologies you probably don't want...'

'I'm not so irrationally proud I don't want an apology – or explanation – actually.'

'Then... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I joined Team Snagem and never looked back. I'm sorry I was such a monster that your mom was probably too scared to approach me...'

'She wasn't.'

Tommy shrugged. 'Rejection scared her more than Team Snagem. No-one in this was perfect. And I'm not, either. My son's a professional shitty boyfriend and Cipher Admin. But my girls are alright.'

'You have daughters...?'

'Three. I don't think any of 'em are in Cipher.'

'I sure hope you're not running Cipher from this shithole.'

Wes managed a smile. 'Because if you are, I'm gonna have to act like a dad.'

'I don't even get Cipher, man. What's the point? They know they're gonna lose.'

Tommy had an even thicker Orrean accent than his dad. 'I tried to tell the cops about Ryland. He killed his mom, y'know.'

'What?! The International Police said she died of a heroin overdose!'

'Well, yeah, that's what her death certificate says. They should know better after Laila Raco, right? But he's famous and I'm the loser dad in his shitty songs. They won't listen. That's his whole life – shittin' on people and blamin' them. Don't go tryin' to introduce yourself to him. He'll kill you.'

Carlos leaned in. 'And if you know who this "GoD" is, you can tell him that his top hitman's waiting for him to get killed, so he can be the next Grand Master.'

'It's not Horace...?'

It was impossible to judge their expressions. They were distant, though perhaps a little guarded. Did that tell Wes anything? He didn't know anymore.

'Not to my knowledge.'

'What was he doing here?'

'He visits every Saturday. Delivers some of that shitty food. Do you want any? One of our neighbours dumped a whole box.'

Ultimately, Wes didn't go to meet Tommy, let alone Carlos. That was all he wanted to do, but he didn't live in an alternate universe where everything could be as he wanted. He went to ask about Ryland, because Reira feared he would do exactly what Tommy warned: replace GoD as soon as he was arrested, leaving Cipher's enemies as powerless as they were without knowledge of GoD's identity and plans.

'I have plenty of Impidimp Ready Dinner. Thanks. I came here because... I wasn't there for you, Tommy. But I wondered... just like your grandpa here filled my place... if there's any chance I could help Ryland. Because I'm sure he's responsible for Horace's doubts about his family.'

'Sure he is.'

Tommy shrugged. 'Horace knows Ryland. That's how he found out about us.'