Z2H
Junior Trainer
Chapter 49
Musketeers Of A New Millennium
Musketeers Of A New Millennium
"Get a good look at that cute ole face. But stare too long and your heart might stop."
Shoved in Robert's face was a small, grainy photograph. He took a sip of his canned beer before grabbing the photo with his other hand, glancing at it. Pictured was a small girl in a white dress surrounded by colorful balloons, opened presents, and streamers in what appeared to be a birthday celebration. Her blonde hair was done up in a ponytail as she smiled at the camera capturing this moment, her arms wrapped tightly around an orange fox plush. His eyes then flicked to the bottom of the photograph, where small text was inscribed.
'HAPPY 10TH BIRTHDAY, GLORIA!'
It was a shock to him that this seemingly well-mannered girl was at all related to the loud-mouthed and cocky young man standing in front of him. Rorke snatched the photograph back before tucking it back into his wallet. "Quite a little sister, huh? Bet you wish she was yours," he said.
"No - just curious if ya bugged that girl as much as ya bug us," Robert retorted.
Rorke rolled his eyes as a rich chuckle filled the air, belonging to Jackson as he sat with his boots propped up on his plain desk. "As much as I'd love to ship the little bastard back to the Seattle coasts, he brings me too much money," he added with a puff of his cigarette.
Weeks after their business with the vice president of the SPMC, things appeared to settle down in the city. Though Robert figured the worst was yet to come, given how quiet it seemed in the streets. Jackson, however, seized the opportunity to bolster his forces immensely and consolidate power. Any chance there was to strip away the influence of the SPMC, he took it. From set-ups to ambushes that he heard down the grapevine, it seemed Jackson was deathly serious about prying control of the city's underworld from his former customers.
'David and Goliath…' Robert mused. 'Just how long can Jackson keep fightin' 'em, though? God knows we've tried before; one man's not gonna cut it.'
But calling Jackson just a man felt wrong; he was more of a force of nature. Memories of the old days flooded in, seeing that shy boy from the orphanage morph and mutate into an expert thief and partner in crime. At the time, they felt unstoppable.
Even now, as they celebrated their latest triumphs over the SPMC - lounging around in Jackson's office, sharing cold beers and stories like a simple hangout between friends. It stirred more memories of him and Jackson sharing those stolen cigarettes under that broken bridge after every successful robbery they committed.
Was it wrong to consider these thoughts 'nostalgic'? Perhaps, but they were to him.
He had to hand it to Jackson, however, for he kept his promise of keeping him above water. Every week, he got a generous payout - a paycheck he would never think of getting as an officer of the law, no matter how above and beyond he went. All sorts of ideas of what he could do with this newfound wealth clouded his mind, but one idea was constant.
It all needed to go toward Liam. If there was one thing he could do as a father, it would be to ensure his son would have a future past all this awfulness.
'Speaking of which,' he muttered, his attention grabbed by a nearby nuisance.
"So, blue, Jack told me you got a son," Rorke said. "What's his name? Billybob? Little Joe? Bobb-"
"His name's Liam. That's all I'm sharin' 'cause that's all you'll ever know about him."
Rorke elbowed him, wearing a coy expression. "Aw, c'mon - we're all buddies here, right? You saw my sister and I know your son - we're like a family now!" He saw the blank, unamused look Robert gave him and continued. "Don't you think we should all learn about each other if we're side by side out in these streets. Earn each other's trust, y'know?"
It seemed a novel concept if it were not for the fact that it was Rorke of all people. Before he could offer a rebuttal, Jackson thankfully interjected.
"Hey, Rorke, go outside for a bit - get some air. Got some things I wanna discuss with James."
Rorke let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god, man. This place is starting to smell like my aunt's house." He ambled to the doorway before snapping his fingers and turning. "Oh! And I need a ride back-"
"You'll get one," Jackson answered curtly, shooing him away with a hand as he returned to reading a newspaper.
"I'd better," was the young man's response before the door closed behind him.
"That kid… man." Robert shook his head. "And you said you wanted him in charge if somethin' ever happened to ya?"
Jackson shrugged, crushing an empty beer can and tossing it into a wastebasket behind him. "It was a thought at the time - still is. Kid's still green, but he can shoot straight and follow orders. That by itself is worth putting more time and effort into than most of the others under my employment."
"I don't see it. But you and I always thought differently, didn't we?"
"Right." Jackson's quizzical stare lingered on him. "I've refrained from askin', but how's your boy holdin' up? Liam."
"He's… He's doing…"
How could he answer that? Though the brave face his son put on whenever they would talk was one thing, how the boy was truly feeling inside was a mystery.
"To tell you the truth, I don't rightly know. He's been bottlin' it up for a while, but one thing I do know is that whenever I pick him up from your home, he's right as rain. Hell, last time I saw a smile on his face. That wife of yours… She's certainly got a way with children."
Jackson briefly clenched his fists. "Yeah… She sure does. I'm glad Elena was able to connect with your boy; she doesn't talk to much folk anymore, and I think she needed someone to talk to whenever I'm gone."
Robert bit his tongue to avoid saying what he really wanted to say. Truthfully, he would have preferred if Liam had not interacted with Elena while he was there. Something about that woman irked him, even in the past.
"Took the boy fishin' for the first time," he changed the subject.
"Oh yeah?"
"Lake Jocassee - the boy bagged a Rainbow Trout first try - a five-pounder. Then we took the boat to a nice little secluded spot where I used to teach myself how to fish."
He felt like a true father in that moment, where none of the horrors that surrounded their family penetrated through. He wondered if he could somehow replicate that again.
"I've been there before with some of the boys here. Good fishin', so I'm guessin' you and Liam had a nice time."
"Between his visits to your home and this fishing trip, he seems to be in better spirits. Before the year is out, I was thinkin' of takin' him along to a hike up the Blue Ridge; I think he'd love that."
Jackson only grunted in confirmation, his attention focused on the newspaper in his grasp. He smirked. "Heh, come take a look at this."
Robert stood up and walked over to his desk, leaning over as the newspaper flipped to meet his gaze. 'MERCENARY CONGLOMERATE 'SPMC' STOCK PLUMMETS AS VICE PRESIDENT WYATT BANKS GOES MISSING!' one bolded headline read before Jackson flipped the page to another headliner. 'SPMC PRESIDENT AND FOUNDER, JAMES FALDEN, SAYS COMPANY IS CONSIDERING MOVING OPERATIONS OUT OF NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA.'
"Ya see that? They're fuckin' scared now,' Jackson proclaimed with a cocky grin. His hand gravitated to the cigarette resting on an ashtray as he took a drag of it in an almost victorious way. "Take out their VP and prod 'em with a stick, and they keel over like a mangy dog. We've only just begun, James, and they're already retreatin' with their tail between their legs."
As if it were ever that easy.
"Sure," Robert began, "but I'm still not exactly keen on this angle we're takin'. It's been quiet in these streets - a bit too quiet. I reckon the SPMC ain't just gonna roll over and let you do as ya please."
Jackson smudged his cigarette into the ashtray. "Way I see it… 'Member all those banks we've robbed back in the day?"
"'Course I do."
"SPMC is just another bank to me - one filled with more bullshit than usual that waves a lot of guns around like they own the place. I'm just here to correct the narrative in the streets."
"So what's our next move, then? Seems like escalation is the only thing left from here on out."
"You'd be right, but there's still more work to do before we really hurt 'em. Later today, I'll give you a call 'bout this next job with you and Rorke. And speakin' of the kid… You're gonna have to give him a ride back to his place."
"What? The hell I will! Get one of your goons to do it - Miles, or whatever his name was."
Jackson let out a chuckle. "My boys are busy in the shop right now and I've got an appointment in about-" He checked his watch, "thirty minutes, so throw the kid a bone, why don't ya?"
Robert sighed. "I'll do it, but I ain't gonna like it - got it?"
"All I needed to hear. Maybe you'll finally get along."
Groaning at his future prospects, Robert downed what little remained of his beer before tossing his empty can into the trash. Unfortunately, he was still sober enough to drive, lamenting that fact as he ambled to the doorway. But as he opened it, Jackson's voice picked up behind him.
"Musketeers of a new millennium, James."
He turned. "What?"
"That's what we are; this thing of ours. Taking on these big fishes like the SPMC at the dawn of a new millennium. With you, Rorke, and I, we're like an iron fist; we're the ones bringin' the fight to 'em - not these lousy cops, the media, or these politicians. Like Robin Hood, we're stealin' from the rich."
"And not givin' it back to the poor, huh?"
"Heh, now you're startin' to get it."
"Sure…"
Closing the door behind him, Robert winced at the harsh, discordant buzzing of various power tools and flying sparks going off around him. Car parts and illicit weaponry alike were carried around as he maneuvered through the body shop to the exit. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he took in the warm, therapeutic breeze that swayed the palm trees dotting the street.
Seeing Jackson yammer on and wax poetic at him about their crimes on occasion was strange to witness. It was more than clear at this point that the man held ambitions far greater than anyone else with skin in the game, but to prattle off such ancient terms and flowery stories like they were some heroes defending the city felt silly and misguided.
'Jack's gotta get into his head I'm not here just to fuck around and cause chaos like before; I got a son to protect from these crazy mercs, and to provide for.'
It was agonizing even thinking about navigating this messy business he was now in. Right now, he just wanted to light up and burn away such thoughts from his head.
'But I gotta drive that kid home, don't I?'
Glancing over to his right, he saw Rorke standing along the edges of the sidewalk, wearing a set of headphones over his ears and watching the cars whizz by as he slowly bobbed his head, tapping his fingers to an inaudible rhythm. Robert shook his head dismissively before cupping his hands over his mouth.
"Hey, kid!"
Rorke lifted an ear cup up and turned to the source of the voice. "Hey, blue!" He flicked the Walkman nestled in his pockets off, forming a smile. "You know you're my favorite double agent cop, right?"
"That's, uh, real funny, but I gotta-" Robert clasped his car keys in one hand, motioning to the truck behind Rorke, "-take you home, so let's get goin'."
"Oh, you're my chauffeur for the day? That sounds exciting."
A drawn-out sigh. "Sure is…"
Robert walked to his truck while Rorke tagged along beside him. "So, I have a question," the young man said. "If we happen to survive all this Y2K apocalypse shit, do you think Jack would put me in charge of an op one of these days? Has he, uh, said anything along those lines to you in private?"
"Ignorin' that other comment, how should I know? It's his business and it ain't mine to tell. Frankly, if I had a say, you would never."
"Aw, c'mon - he had to have said somethin' right? I bet he shares everything with you since you're the old best friend who's come back from retirement. You know he talks about you all the time?"
Robert furrowed his brow. "What?"
"Yeah! Well, not all the time, but he speaks pretty damn highly of you to me in hopes I pick up some of your amazing skills or whatever. Which - no offense - I haven't seen any of."
While he was aware Jackson was fond of their old partnership, he was surprised to be held in such high regard. What he looked at as a stain on his past and character to be seen as a positive disturbed him greatly, though his bemused expression hid it well.
"Whatever. Fact of the matter is, we both do the jobs Jack wants us to do. We get paid and go home. Were there any more burnin' questions, kid?"
"Sheesh, were you always this uptight as a cop?"
"We all have to be - perks of the job," Robert said as he threw open the driver's side door of his truck, resting an arm on it. "But I got a question of my own; how come a kid like you wants to take charge 'round here when ya don't even got a ride?"
Rorke chuckled. "Hey, man, those driving tests are hard! But I'm getting close to passing 'em, don't you worry. Give it a year and you'll see me driving around here in a Lambo."
"A boy who can shoot but can't drive," Robert muttered as he entered his truck. "Not exactly uncommon here, I'll give ya that."
He dug into his pocket for a set of keys as Rorke nestled into the passenger side seat. The young man felt the seats and messed with the courtesy lights. "Real leather seats, huh? You country boys sure go crazy for that stuff." He flicked the tiny racehorse statue dangling from his rear side mirror by a chain. "Oh, that's cute."
The engine roared to life as Robert turned the key in the ignition. Immediately, Rorke's hands were fiddling with the stereo dials until he happened upon a station blasting some cacophony of harsh rock.
"Woah, woah-" Robert swatted away the fingers hovering over his stereo as he switched to a much calmer country station. "When you're in my truck, you ain't messin' with my system - got it?"
Rorke's back hit the seat as he groaned at the slow, boring tunes. "Ugggghhh… Did you torture all the guys you arrested with this shit?"
He cracked a smile. "Maybe."
Rorke glanced over before instantly sitting up. "Oh!" He snapped his fingers and pointed. "I got you to smile!" He rested back into his seat. "Yeah, I'm thinking we'll be best buds in no time."
Robert rolled his eyes as he shifted his vehicle into drive. "Whatever you say, kid. Now, where are we goin' so I can get rid of you faster?"
"The Red Willow apartments on Fox Street. You know 'em?"
"That place? That was my go-to spot for busting drug dealers."
The young man laughed. "If you're implying it's a dump, I can assure you that plenty of girls were impressed with my place."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure they were."
Tires screeched against the asphalt as he pulled out and merged with the light traffic. Rorke also decided to crack his window down, which he allowed to happen, letting in a gale that coursed through his hair as he picked up speed.
'Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe I'm just worryin' so damn much like usual. If I play it safe, then we can get out of this unscathed. He's strong enough to get over Angelica... And he'll have a nice nest egg if somethin' ever happens to me.'
He was dragged out of his thoughts as Rorke leaned over. "Yeah, you're gonna wanna take a left here and-"
"I lived here my whole damn life, kid, meanin' I know where I'm goin'."
"Just saying! It would be faster if…"
The car door swung open as he leapt from his seat, his feet crunching upon the gravel-paved driveway that was becoming more and more familiar as the days went on.
Liam turned to wave at the blue pickup. "See ya later, Pa!"
His father waved back before the truck rolled back down the driveway, vanishing beyond the tall grass of the abundant fields. Walking up to the large house, he knocked upon the front door, only to be met with the usual silence.
Mrs. Lachaise was never one to answer the door; usually preoccupied somewhere around the house. Though he never held it against her; he came to understand this shy, sheltered woman who was unable to greet her guests.
Still, it never hurt to try.
The unlocked door swung open as he entered. Strangely, the usually eerily quiet home was now replaced by the sounds of soft, muffled piano strokes. He stood still, taking in the haunting melody that permeated the halls.
'That must be Mrs. Lachaise playin'…'
He followed the trail of the music, the piano notes growing louder and clearer as he ascended the staircase. There, at the end of the hallway, was that peculiar woman in her white sundress, sitting on a bench as her fingers glided across the grand piano with such dexterity only befitting that of a precise sturgeon. He slowed his pace as he walked over, trying to not disturb the woman enraptured in her own space.
It took her a few moments to see the boy standing beside her in the corners of her eye. She suddenly stopped to offer him a warm, welcoming smile. "Hello once again, Liam. My apologies for being distracted. We can begin our activities in the garden now if you desire."
Liam shook his head. "Nah, it's fine - keep playin'!"
"Oh… Of course."
She resumed, once again filling the house with gorgeous music, only occasionally stopping as Elena changed her sheet music. Liam closed his eyes so he could hear nothing but the piano's cry. It was different from what he was used to, but it was a good kind of difference. Rather than something he could bob his head to or dance to, there was raw emotion on display, like this woman was pouring her soul into the keys she pressed.
Suddenly, an out-of-tune note broke that wonderful rhythm as the room fell silent, Elena letting out a frustrated sigh. "It always caused me trouble…" she said. "It's not perfect - not yet."
"But ya played great! It's just one little hiccup, ain't it? Heck, you play a lot better than I do."
"Have you played piano?"
"Oh, uh, no." Liam scratched the back of his neck, now suddenly embarrassed by his musical selection. "I play the banjo sometimes. My Pa says I'll be the next Earl Scruggs if I practice a lot, but I know he's just bein' nice."
"A banjo… That sounds lovely." Elena laid a hand on the fine wood of the piano. "Learnin' to play an instrument is one of the hardest things there is. You should take pride in knowin' that, Liam."
The boy puffed out his chest. "I sure do, ma'am. But what made you wanna play the piano in the first place?"
"Well, it was a suggestion from my husband, actually. The stress of nursin' school was causin' me a lot of difficulty, and learnin' somethin' new was a good distraction from all that pressure. Even all these years later, I still haven't given it up."
"Wow… You were a nurse, too?"
Elena nodded. "For a few years, yes. But because of a certain... 'disagreement', I had to make my leave." He felt there was more to her story, but he didn't want to press. She stood up from the bench. "I'm quite parched from all this practice. Would you care for some sweet tea?"
His eyes lit up. "I've been fixin' for some the whole ride over here! Yes, please!"
She laughed tenderly. "Let's go get some, then."
As Liam followed the woman down the hall to the staircase, his gaze flicked to the door covered in cartoonish animal drawings. Despite already knowing what was inside it, he stopped to stare. It was like it was calling to him.
Elena noticed his absence behind her as she turned around as well. "Is something the matter?" she asked.
"Uh, no. It's just…"
He did not want to ask, but he wanted to know. He just had no idea how to phrase, how to broach such a topic.
Elena quietly walked over to the door that captured his attention and opened it. "Please, come in…"
"O-okay."
Liam once again entered the small room as Elena walked in behind him. Everything inside was just as he remembered it - untouched. The dusty plushes on the ground, the starry purple ceiling, and the wall paint job left unfinished. He remained where he was as Elena brushed past him, stepping over to the crib in the middle of the room and resting her hands along the wooden railings. Her head lowered as she was silent, Liam biting his lip in response.
"We can, um, leave if you want to, Mrs-"
"No, it's fine," she interrupted. "You were curious about this room, and it's only fair you know why it exists. Like you might have inferred already, my husband and I wished to have a child of our own. Truthfully, it was my husband's desire, and I agreed. We married not long after, and he was… He was so excited to become a father. Never before had I seen him act so enthusiastic and positive about the future. It was strange to see, but what made him happy made me happy."
He could certainly understand her husband's excitement about becoming a father. His mother once told him that bringing new life into this world was the most beautiful thing in all of existence. But as Elena recounted these events with such a neutral, uncaring expression, he wondered what her thoughts were on such a thing.
"Eventually, I became pregnant." Elena ran a hand across her flat stomach as if to relive the events of that day. "It was difficult for me, but my husband was there to sate every need, every request, every cravin' I had. He wanted it badly. And when we found out it was a boy, he was quick to act." She gestured to their surroundings. "But when my water broke and we rushed to the hospital, there was an unfortunate discovery…"
Liam knew what was coming, but it still did not lessen the blow.
"The procedure was carried out as normal, but the infant was unresponsive at birth and was later deemed deceased. My husband took it the worst. He dug himself deeper into his work, and we stopped talkin' for a long time. He once lashed out at me for suggestin' to renovate this room into something else."
"But… What about you?" Liam mentally slapped himself for asking such a thing.
"I endured it," she answered calmly. "The trials of motherhood were perhaps somethin' I couldn't do. My husband could not believe my reaction, thinkin' I was callous or uncarin'; our marriage suffered much hardship because of this. And I…" Her mouth hung open as she pursed her lips, gripping the crib's railings tight. "I wondered if I could truly call myself a woman; that God himself would poison me and this child as some sort of punishment. I feared my husband would leave, that he would find someone who could give him what I could not."
"But he didn't…"
Elena shook her head. "He stuck by me, and I stuck by him. He gave me everythin' that I've ever wanted in this home, but nothin' that he needed."
'That's love - true love, at least,' Liam thought. 'Goin' through somethin' as awful as losing a child but still stayin' together when they need each other most.'
It hit uncomfortably close to home for him. But it brought him to a level of understanding with this household that was clearly just as broken as his was.
At first, he heard a sniffling noise, and then a choked sob. He snapped out of his thoughts as Elena rose both hands to her face to cry into them as quietly as possible. Liam quickly moved to her side, laying a comforting hand on her shoulders. While he was not good at dealing with emotions, he was able to see a woman barely able to conceal her inner pain.
"Hey, I'm, uh, real sorry I brought all of this up…"
"N-no," she replied, wiping away the tears and smudging her makeup into black smears. "You deserved to know, and now you do…"
He contemplated his next words. "It-it wasn't your fault that it, um, happened."
Elena sniffled, finally ceasing her waterworks as she smiled gently at him. "Thank you, Liam." She knelt slightly to embrace him, which he gratefully accepted. "You're a kind boy, but I don't blame myself - not anymore."
Liam melted into the hug, being reminded of those bone-crushing hugs his mother used to give him like candy. To think that he was never going to get one of those hugs again almost brought him to tears as well.
"I came to understand that it was this awful, godless world we inhabit that was the true error of design."
"That's Jack's truck up ahead, along with his beloved henchmen twins - Miles and Tucker. What a bunch of losers…"
"Yeah, I can see 'em, kid."
With the city outskirts far behind them and night falling, their detour onto a side road of indented, wet plant life brought them to the dark wilderness surrounding Charleston. Robert slowly drove his truck toward the cluster of lights deep within the wetlands shrouded by a full moon.
Rolling into a secluded clearing, he could see a parked black SUV shining its headlights upon Jackson's gray pickup. The man himself was smoking a cigarette and beckoned them over with a nod. Robert then parked his truck next to the SUV as he and Rorke swiftly exited.
"Gentlemen! It's great to see y'all on such a nice evenin'," Jackson said.
"Mind tellin' me why we're all the way out here in the sticks this late at night?" Robert asked.
Rorke yawned. "Yeah, I really need my beauty sleep, and this whole arrangement steals that away from me."
"In all honesty, I just needed Rorke to tag along so he can get a better understandin' of what I do in situations like this," Robert explained. "But with James here, both of you can get a sneak peek at what's next."
"Sounds great," Robert grunted. "And what is that exactly?"
"I'll show ya." Jackson walked alongside the black SUV before pounding on one of its windows. "Let 'em out!"
Miles and Tucker immediately stepped out of the vehicle and walked to its backside. As they opened the trunk, the nature of the mission here became readily apparent as Robert heard muffled noises of distress. He could see two men in plain-clothes being dragged out from the trunk and forced to stand. Their heads on a swivel, they looked around in a mix of confusion and horror. Duct tape wrapped around their mouths prevented their onslaught of spoken words from being understood as they were corralled forward.
"Woah! You didn't tell me this was gonna be a party!" Rorke yelled.
Robert briefly glared at the young man before following the bruised prisoners. "This is what we're doing now? Who are these guys?" Now he was wondering if there were two shallow graves nearby as well.
"You'll see soon enough," Jackson answered plainly.
The two men were then forced onto their knees in front of the SUV's bright headlights. Jackson hopped up on the back of his truck, taking a seat on the tailgate cover as the two men stared up at him in bewilderment. "Evenin' gentlemen," he said to them. "I'm guessin' you're wonderin' why you're out here, kneelin' in the grass and not at home sippin' a beer and watchin' the game or whatever. And the reason is that I have some things to request of you." He gave a nod to Miles and Tucker.
As the duct tape was ripped off their mouths, one of the men stood up and rushed Jackson. "You motherfu-" Miles pulled the irate man backwards before he could reach his target. "My house?!" he screamed. "You came to my house, where my wife and kids are?!"
"Shit, still a little fire left in ya, huh?" Jackson commented. "Now I know my boys roughed the two of you up tryin' to get you here, and for that I'm sorry. I'm just here to talk business - not put lead in your skulls. But be difficult with me, and maybe I won't be here to do business."
His words did little to alleviate the fears of the two men.
Jackson made sure Robert and Rorke were paying attention before he pointed at the kneeling men. "These two are researchers. More importantly, they're the head researchers of a chemical facility owned by the SPMC in East Charleston. Their names aren't important, but they are of importance themselves." He pointed at himself. "And who we are doesn't matter either - just what we want."
'A chemical plant?' Robert questioned. 'I've heard the rumors, but the SPMC ownin' it? Just what the hell does a mercenary company need that for?'
"You guys are a secretive bunch, hiding your operations from the state and your shareholders. Took a lot of effort to track you two down. So it'd be a real help if you cooperated with me."
"Y-yes, we are researchers at the plant," one of the men answered, ignoring the scathing look his coworker gave him. "Why, um, w-why have you kidnapped us and brought us here... sir?"
"'Cause you're gonna give a few things."
"P-pardon?"
"Specifically, I want a copy of the research materials of your latest project." There was a long stint of silence. "The nerve agent," he specified upon seeing the shocked look on the man's face.
"But the project is not even finished! It's unstable, sir! It's-"
"It doesn't matter. Whatever you have on it, I want. Oh, and throw in the building schematics of the plant in there, too. I want all of this ready and to be sent to me within about a week. And hey, maybe you'll even get paid for services rendered."
The more aggressive man scoffed. "A week?! We don't have the clearance for any of this! We can't do this!"
"You can, and you will. Otherwise…" Jackson jabbed a finger at Rorke. "Otherwise, you're not much use to me, and I think that'll make some of my boys here a bit upset."
"Yeah, you guys better listen!" Rorke chimed in, smirking. "They call me the Butcher of the South!"
Jackson chuckled. "Yeah, that." He spread his arms out. "So what's it gonna be? Ya gonna work with me? I mean, you both like money, right? I can be a generous man given the circumstances."
The two men exchanged worried glances before both of them begrudgingly nodded. "W-we'll do it," the nervous one muttered.
"Perfect. Oh, and one other small detail - there's gonna be a break-in not long after I get this research of yours."
"A break-in?!"
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry 'bout it. Maybe there'll be a gas leak or somethin' like that and you raise the alarm to evacuate the buildin'." Jackson raised a finger. "But you do that without tellin' your bosses until a few hours have passed - got it?"
"U-understood, sir."
"Great." Jackson clapped his hands. "Miles, Tucker send 'em back. And you two - we got a deal - so don't break it and you won't have to see me again."
Duct tape was slapped back on the mouths of the two men as they were then lifted by their shoulders and escorted back to the SUV's trunk. Jackson surveyed with a prideful smile as he dug into a cigarette pack.
Rorke walked over - visible awe on his face. "Wow. That was fast."
"That's how ya do it, kid," Jackson said. "Get to the point - cut and dry - tell 'em what you want and what'll happen if ya don't get it. You'll learn to do it someday."
"What's this chemical plant business all about, Jack?" Robert questioned. "You got somethin' planned there with this 'break in'?"
"You could say that. And it's a three-man job," Jackson said, splitting his gaze between the two men. "I'll give ya both a call when it's time to act."
"Man, I don't even know what the hell we're doing, but I'm pumped!" Rorke exclaimed.
Jackson snorted and patted the young man's shoulder. "Keep that enthusiasm," he said before walking to his truck. "Get outta here!"
"An hour's drive for a five minute encounter…" Robert grumbled as he trudged back to his own vehicle. "Let's go, kid."
"Think we could pick up some food on the way back?"
"No."
The car doors slammed closed as Robert twisted his key into the ignition. As the courtesy light flicked on, he braced himself for the inevitable stupid question he was going to receive.
"So what was Jack talking about back there?" Rorke asked. "Like, what the hell is a 'nerve agent'?"
Robert sighed. "It's nothing good - that's what it is."
"And why does Jack want its research from those scientist guys?"
"I don't know, and I don't think he's too keen on lettin' us know before we go in."
"Hey, as long as we're getting paid, right?"
"Right…"
Nothing sat right with him inside. The fact that the SPMC was secretly developing a nerve agent for usage in combat, or the fact that Jackson wanted them to break into the facility storing said nerve agent. This was becoming more and more something he wanted no involvement in.
"You're looking a bit glum over there, blue. How about we go treat ourselves and go get a drink?"
He could really use one right now.
"You know what? Just this once - sure."
Rorke pumped a fist in the air. "Hell yeah! Booze town, here we come!"
"If anyone asks, you're twenty-one, Butcher of the South."
The blue pickup rolled out of the now empty clearing and onto the side roads where only the moon shone down.
A loud crashing noise was an indication that he was getting closer.
Scizor steeled himself for whatever draconic rage he was about to experience as he neared the door that concealed a furious temper. He had seen instances before of when she was angry within a Mystery Dungeon, almost being a recipient of her much feared Outrage before, but this was on a different, more personal level.
'If I don't talk with her now about this, we may never get the chance again…'
Creaking the door open, he popped his head in. Inside was a scene of utter destruction. The storage closet that was once used to store all the unusable furniture or damaged objects was now the personal playground of an enraged Garchomp. Wooden chairs flew from her talons and smashed against the walls while she effortlessly pulverized a table into a pile of woodchips with a single stomp of her foot.
"G-garchomp?"
The dragoness turned to the doorway. "Hey, Sciz," she said calmly before resuming her wanton carnage. "Just blowing out some much-needed steam."
He winced as a mangled clock slammed into the door. "Is it all right if we talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about? The Council's most likely dead, and those damn cultists have taken over Elysium. No, everything is just peachy!"
"It's about Kommo-o, isn't it?"
Her nostrils flared as she stopped. "Was it really that obvious?"
Scizor stepped into the room, maneuvering through a sea of destruction to reach her. "A bit. You understand that his death is not confirmed, yes? Corviknight has only revealed what he was told."
Garchomp shook her head. "I don't wanna believe it to be true, but I know it is." She plopped herself on a felled, cracked marble column, tapping the spot next to her. "Take a seat."
Scizor obliged as he sat on the greatly uncomfortable decor. "It's not often that you talk about him. Even if you had your differences, he was still your village elder for many years."
Garchomp scoffed. "Please. I hated that old bastard. Every rebellious young drake from Dragging Claw did. But yeah, he did keep the peace around the area, and he was a hero of many battles. Arceus, I can't even imagine how the 'mons back home are gonna take this news - all the instability this is gonna create. But…"
"But?"
"What's got me so worked up is that after everything he's put me through, hearing all the times he insulted my mom for doing what she loved, I never got to tell him off. I never got to show him just how far I've succeeded without him and his stupid rules and his stupid history." She stood and began stomping around the room. "I wanted to rub it in his face all these years, but now I can't! He's gone and I've got nothing to show for it."
"You, er, have strong feelings about this."
"You could say that again." She sighed. "But you know what? At the end of the day, all I wanted was for him to understand me, to understand my mother as well and see that I was a product of success because of her. But no - he was too damn stubborn, and when I stood up against him in support of you and the guild, he refused to see any other way but his own! And that's probably what got him killed by those… damn cultists!" The room rattled as she cleaved a nearby bookshelf in two with her talons. "They stole my closure!" She paced back-and-forth before sitting back down on the collapsed pillar. "So there - now you know why I'm acting like a hatchling."
"I don't blame you for feeling this way. I'm rather thankful you decided to take it out on the junk and not the Pokemon here."
"Heh, I don't go that far. And, uh, I'm sorry for yelling over you earlier. I know you've got a better idea than taking on the Alignment head on."
"Actually, that's what we're doing."
Garchomp's jaw dropped. "... You're kidding."
"I am not. The Alignment has forced us into a position where we must fight to protect this continent, even if that means supporting the Council. Elysium has still not fallen if Corviknight's report is valid, which means there's a chance."
"A chance for us to fight 'em back… Not like they gave us a choice in the matter." She grinned viciously. "These cultists better watch out, because they've already made me very angry."
Scizor smiled in return. "I wish it were easier for me to add more fire to this conflict without any dissenting thoughts. But I can't help but wonder if there was a way to avoid all this from happening."
"... I got a question for you, Sciz."
"That is?"
"Do you ever think you'll have the chance to speak to Jackson again? That he won't just attack you on sight, or vice versa?"
That was certainly a question to pose. And it was one he asked himself many times in that courthouse jail cell as he awaited his fate. Of course, he had so many conflicted emotions regarding the Shiny Lucario - anger, sadness, confusion - but he had no idea if he would ever have the chance to express just how hurt he was by the Pokemon he called his best friend.
"I… I think if I go off how Jackson had acted in the later years of the guild, he would not entertain a moment where our paths would peacefully cross again."
It was hard even to imagine, but that was the outcome he saw as most predictable of that enigmatic Pokemon.
Garchomp sighed. "You're probably right. All I know is that I won't give him the chance to speak before I'm wailing on him."
Scizor suppressed a smile at the thought. "At the very least, I can always count on you to be on my side."
"Same to you."
The door to the room swung open as Aggron popped his head into frame. "Aye. It looks like the lass has finished her temper tantrum," he said to an unseen figure.
"Tell the boss lady we gotta prepare for tomorrow's fight!" the unseen figure replied, presumably Tyranitar.
"I hear you boys loud and clear," Garchomp replied, lumbering to the doorway. "We're making sure my saddlebags are full this time around." She cocked her head back. "See ya around, Sciz."
"Goodbye, Garchomp."
Left to his lonesome, Scizor contemplated long and hard about tomorrow. It was going to be dangerous - deadly, even. He did not want it to be this way, but as Garchomp and Gloria said, there was no choice. He thought back to the dragoness' question.
'If I had to ask Jackson one thing…'
There were a lot of things he could ask, but there was only one question on his mind.
'Was anything about our past, about our friendship real?'
Perhaps he would never get that answer.
The midday sun was beaming intensely on the sparse clearing just a few paces away from the Rescue Society headquarters. Though the dozens of Mudsdale that were sprawled out and resting on the grass took it in stride.
Liam surveyed the efforts of Excadrill and Zoroark's workers from atop a Mudsdale as they filled saddlebags with items and boxed supplies onto carriages. He saw Monferno helping Braixen clamber atop a Mudsdale they shared together while Roark was lying supine on his own steed and lazing about as they awaited orders.
Very soon, all of them were going to take off in the direction of Elysium City to face the Alignment.
He pressed a paw against his golden orange 'scarf', finding that connection in a blank abyss of nothingness that led him to her voice. 'We're almost ready to get going. Did the Alignment commander respond?' he asked.
Moments later, the scarf flickered as her voice emanated in his mind. "Blaziken has received my message. He will do his best to ensure your arrival, though he is distracted by his efforts in the invasion plan."
If everything worked out, he would have the perfect avenue to sneak into the city and grab the Arc Fragment. But it all depended on this one commander to fulfill his role, without the aid of Jackson. If they stalled any longer, the fragment would surely become unattainable, and everything would be for naught.
That could not happen.
'Okay. Let him know we're coming, and tell him…' He gritted his teeth. 'Never mind.'
"The Pokemon that have lived under the Alignment banner are ferocious in defending what they deem theirs. They will fight bitterly against you, unaware that you are their savior. I wish you good luck in your endeavor, my dear Liam."
He smiled warmly. "Thank you..."
"Hey!"
Liam's body jerked in surprise as he looked down at the ground to see a giggling Ninetales looking up at him. "Oh, uh… hey!" he said upon regaining his bearings.
"Is that seat behind you taken?" Gloria asked.
"I don't know… I was thinking of taking Roark along. He's pretty old and frail, y'know?"
She giggled again. "Please?"
Liam laughed before he lowered his body and grabbed her sides. She let out a faint squeak as he used his superior Fighting-type strength to lift and place the lithe fox on the back of the saddle behind him. She instinctively hooked her paws over his shoulders. He winced as her tiny yet sharp claws dug into his fur, though he didn't have the heart to tell her to ease up.
"Make sure you hold on tight," he said.
She nodded. "No matter what happens once we reach Elysium, I-I want to protect you. I couldn't protect you when you were all alone."
"Gloria, you don'-"
"And you need to protect me, okay? We're partners, and that means we have to watch our backs." She nuzzled his jaw from behind. "I feel a lot safer when we're together…"
The feeling was very mutual. "Me too. I promise. I won't let any of those crazy Alignment 'mons hurt you."
There was a sudden shout from Zoroark before the Mudsdale suddenly sprang into action. Liam grabbed the reins as his Mudsdale merged into the stampeding equines forming a speeding column that stormed through the clearing into the thick forest. Trees and other tangling foliage became a blur, the typically serene environment overwhelmed by the sound of stomping hooves.
Only when they emerged from the tree line did he see it - giant plumes of smoke rising from a smoldering yet still standing Elysium City on the horizon. Peering up at the skies, he bore witness to dozens, if not hundreds, of flying Pokemon heading toward the active warzone of a city or breaking off to join other distant battles.
It only reinforced the idea that this was not just a battle for a city, but a war for the entire continent.
Everything that we have ever wanted, but nothing that we truly needed. What has been offered will bridge the gap; stitch together what has been broken into something fantastical.
Author's Note: Here are a few pieces of amazing fanart of The Phantasmagoria from the artist smomloveleon. Thank you very much for creating and sending this fanart! Any future fanart sent to me via my Discord will be featured in the newest chapter of the story if the artist consents.
The character art of Rorke featured in this chapter was created by sandstell8 on Discord.
Want to discuss anything related to The Phantasmagoria with the author himself? If so, send a friend request to my Discord linked below!
Discord: z2h2z
Next Time: Counterstrike