Love Lost, Chapter 9b: Dispositions, concluded.
#18 of Love Lost
Love Lost, Chapter 9b: Dispositions, concluded.
Percival sat between Joe and Burner: physically, as they were crowded around Joe's video game console; and skillfully, as Percival was giving Joe the business in-game, but was receiving equal treatment from Burner, who had seemed to have fittingly mastered the tall, swift, and seemingly ungainly character he controlled. Joe at least had an excuse for losing, for Marianne's tendrils were wrapped around him something like a scarf that made you feel colder instead of warmer and slept leaning against and over the back of his head.
It was Percival's turn to sit out and handed his controller to Joe. "I don't get it. Whenever you mentioned this ghost, you made her out to be some terror. She seems pretty cool to me."
"You want her? Here, free to good home." Joe dropped the controller to the floor and tried to lift her away.
Marianne's tendrils quickly tensed and wove together much more tightly, making Joe choke while she whined, "Not a good home. His sheep is mean to me." She loosened her grip, lassoed Joe's controller, and forced it into his hands. "Play now, I'm getting bored."
Percival remembered back to Frankie's unexplained evolution and started wondering if Marianne was to blame for a number of mysterious events around his house.
Grace drifted in with a large plate of nachos and a soda crate to rest them on within reach of the gamesters before settling on Joe's bed. "Ghost. Isn't that my spot?"
"You get to have him anytime you want. I'm pooped, let me recharge."
"Okay, okay." She sprang from the bed and contorted in the air, drifting behind Percival. "Well, Percy, if the ghost is going to hog Joe's mind, let's see if that trainer video game helped you any."
Percival twitched when Grace locked her palms on his temples, causing him to miss his mouth thus smearing hot cheese sauce across his upper lip and nose.
After a few seconds, she released him, snatched away his broken chip, and took the plate, too, as she left. "You don't deserve any, Mr. Finnegan."
Burner's character took a nasty uppercut as he looked away from the screen. "What about the Rainiers in here?"
Grace leaned backwards into the doorway at an impossible angle were her feet touching the floor. "Accomplices, until they think to ask why he's been playing video games all day while Sam, Frankie, and Fiona wait in their balls."
Joe and Burner turned to face Percival.
Marianne unraveled her tendrils and drifted through Percival, making him shiver. "Hmm, I bet those are some tasty nachos she made. I think I'll go be Grace's friend for a while."
Alice tossed a small towel over it, but that did nothing to hide it, and the Chief flung the rag in her face a couple seconds later.
"That's not the reaction I'm paying for, Alice."
"Sir; that... is not part of my job description, despite what you may have--"
"You work at Song's. Don't you think we know what happens there?"
Alice suppressed an embarrassed snarl. "I know what happens there, and who does it. I don't."
"You do tonight."
She quit suppressing her snarl and turned to pack Mrs. Song's product and materials in the bag.
"Get back over here, bitch. You've got a job to finish."
Alice ignored him as he rolled halfway over and thrust his hips forward slightly with a lecherous grin on his face.
"I'm done here. You can tell Mrs. Song to send someone else if you're not happy with my technique."
"Oh, I can tell Mrs. Song to fire your ass unless she wants my boys to raid her joint. Papers love it when we take down a place like that. Come to think of it, damn! I shouldn't have said anything and just done it. Come in on one of your shifts, collect you and any other pokemon there as evidence. Sitting in a justice ball in the evidence locker for a few days, months, years maybe, till someone came to claim you," he noticed her ears twitch and aura organs splay at that, "yeah, that got your attention. That'd be about right for an uppity bitch like you."
Alice zipped the bag shut. "Goodnight, Chief."
"Come on. It only takes a few minutes. Make an old man smile, get a bigger tip than that wrinkled old bag pays you for two weeks of providing unhappy endings. Hell! I'll let you brush up and use my mouthwash before you go."
Her ears flattened and she shuddered at the thought, but his promise of payment did get her thinking. She dropped her bag in the hallway and turned back.
"You've got a lot of connections, don't you, Chief?"
He almost laughed. "Too many to count."
She returned to the bed and pushed his shoulders down. "I'm not a whore, but there is something you can do for me that would be worth--this." She reached across his fat belly and grasped his re-stiffening erection. "There's someone in prison who I want to visit. They won't let me because I'm a pokemon. Regulations."
Chief nodded. "I can get you in."
Alice patted him on the cheek. "Deal." She walked back to the hallway and sifted through the bag again to reach within a hidden pocket.
The Chief watched her back-lit silhouette as she put the corner of something in her mouth and tore it away. "You sure do plan for what happens there." He grunted as she rolled a condom down his organ's length.
"You said it yourself: I'm the kind who always comes prepared."
Sam was stunned. He said what he said because he figured that he had no possible means to beat a blaziken, yet telling Burner that he did not want to spar with him--despite an earlier promise to do so after evolving--defeated the brave bird with one hit. He approached the weight bench upon which Burner now sat doubly distracted. Once, by the sound of his now leafy tail brushing the floor, and twice, by the fact that the Fire-type seated was almost as tall as Sam was standing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I meant to say, I don't think either of us would get much out of it; my kind don't stand much of a chance against any Fire-type, and you're not an average Fire-type, either."
Burner looked up to Sam. "I didn't stand much of a chance against you, at first." Burner stopped looking up to Sam and left the room.
Sam made a conscious effort to keep his tail from dragging with its added weight and entered the living room. Grace and Joe were on the love-seat, Burner was in the kitchen shaking salt into a glass of soda water. "Why am I here?"
Marianne dove through the ceiling. "Ah, the eternal question that has plagued philosophers for generations. Since you and Percy were being dicks to each other, Burner thought it might be nice if he threw a little sleep-over for you, no trainers allowed, so you could clear your head."
Burner brushed past the two, re-entered his room, lobbed Sam's ball through the doorway, and locked his door shut.
Marianne swatted Sam in the back of his turned head. "And by the looks of things, everything is going exactly according to plan."
With a grunt, the Chief took a long drag from a pricey cigarette. "You must have come to Mrs. Song highly recommended."
Alice emerged from the Chief's bathroom. Although not immediately necessary, she took up the offer of his mouthwash out of convenience. "Not at all. I guess I'm just naturally talented."
"Lucky girl."
"Sometimes I am. Now, for your part of the bargain."
"Yeah, yeah, let me get a pen." He fumbled about his nightstand for a moment. "What's the name."
Upon hearing the name Alice gave him, the Chief dropped his yellow pencil and turned slowly to face her. "You've got to be kidding me." His emotional state was undefined, lodged somewhere between shock and outrage.
Alice's ears drooped as she crawled onto the bed and knelt beside the Chief. "I recognized your son in some of the photos on your walls downstairs and they make it clear you loved him very much. Promise me you'll let me see my daddy, and I'll give you something no one else can."
The Chief could hardly speak. "And, what's that?"
"I'll tell you what really happened that night, from the perspective of someone who could sense auras behind the illusions."
James entered his home looking pale and exhausted. "Any more broken furniture?"
Grace blushed a bit with embarrassment. "No."
"Good. Don't stay up too late, tomorrow's your last day off." James did not notice Sam, or did not have the energy to care about an unannounced guest. Marianne appeared within James' chamber as he settled into bed. "I'm not in the mood for any of your crap, tonight, Ghost."
"Hey, you pay the piper to hear the song. Besides, you haven't been letting me actually help you."
"You don't know what you're doing."
"I know what I'm trying to do."
"Do you have any idea how weird it feels?"
"Intimately. I got used to it decades ago; it's part of being a ghost. Now it's your turn to get used to it."
James lifted up his pillow and held it to his face. It was intended as a gesture and a way to not see how creepy her face was becoming, but it also served to make him wonder if he could smother himself with a pillow and escape his plight.
"Go ahead and try, James. I'll pull fresh air through your body if I have to."
He mumbled through the pillow. "I hate you, Marianne."
Marianne smiled gently as James' comment brought forth a fond memory. Then, she set about the task of weaving her essence around every bit of his body in search of the many tiny troubles that plagued him.
The truck's rear door opened. She opened her eyes and saw a strange man standing there.
"Vivian?" he asked the gardevoir standing before himself. The man climbed into the truck and hugged her, much to her dismay. "I'm so glad you came back! It's been forever; I thought you would never forgi--"
She should have either hugged him back or shoved him away. He realized that this was not his gardevoir as it froze within his embrace, stunned by it. He stepped back, disappointed. Then, he made a snap decision. He knew it had to be fast so this creature would not have time to read it off of his mind. He flung a pokeball at her, and caught off-guard by their queer interaction a moment before, she failed to escape its scanning beam.
Darkness. Muffled sounds. Energy being drained--no, pacified. She patiently resisted its effect. As time started losing meaning, she knew she had to make her move and she forced herself free. She looked up and saw a large, red glowing eye. She tried to teleport, anywhere but here would do. She felt heavy--it had pursued her. Her energy seemed to claw at the æther as it was drawn backwards. Her entire body felt like it was being slammed by a charging beast from the inside out as she reconstituted. Collapsed to the floor, she saw a red scanning beam flash through her eyelids. She could not break free this time. At least the artificial grass she had lain upon so briefly was plush and comfortable.
Once released from confinement, she retched. She felt like she needed to empty her stomach, yet it also felt as though she had never eaten in her life. An attempt to rise at least to her feet brought her to stumble. Caught not by her powers--they too weak to assist--but by the arms of another, she felt a man's hands fumble upon her torso before guiding her down into a seated pose.
"Take it easy. You'll be okay in an hour or two. Then, have a look around. I want you to be comfortable in your new home."
When her head finally stopped spinning, she slid her body up the thing behind her and glanced around. It was a human's personal dwelling, certainly. She looked to the window. The landscape was very different from what she was accustomed to. The distance being only a few meters, she prepared to teleport outside, if only to have a look around, when a heavy palm gripped her shoulder. She turned to face it, and saw a large, red glowing eye. The dusclops grunted dismissively, and she accepted his warning.
Content with viewing through the window, she looked out across a vast lake and surrounding woodlands. It was a nice place, but not her home. Her longing to leave was stymied by the same problem she faced earlier at the station: she had nowhere to go. There was nobody left.
A voice sounded behind her. "Gardevoir! Come, please, you should eat something for your health."
She floated into the man's kitchen and was presented with a bowl of kibble.
"You have been in stasis for many weeks. I know, I should've let you out sooner, but I was too busy with the move and my new job, you understand. Now, eat. If you wait for your appetite to come back, you'll already be malnourished."
She touched one chunk of the kibble. This was not food, it was contempt. She threw the bowl across the kitchen, scattering chunks all across a brand-new range and bolted for the door.
"Fouroughs!" Once again, Pierre's dusclops pursued her, and once again, he brought her back into the home at a minimal state of consciousness.
When she recovered again, she was in the dark, beneath the scarlet glow of Fouroughs' eye. He spoke to her in the language that pokemon did not share with their human masters: "Eat these." He gave her a cluster of grapes.
"I want to leave."
"I know. I, too. He has us. We won't."
"You, maybe. I will."
"You won't. I will keep you here."
"Why?"
"His orders."
"I don't listen to humans."
"Eat."
"No."
"You will." Fouroughs plodded away.
She looked around again; she was in the room with the window that overlooked the lake. An admission of defeat, she popped a grape into her mouth. When she finished the last, she laid herself back. The human's furniture was comfortable. That fact annoyed her as she fell asleep.
James sat at his breakfast table, watching the goings-on in his backyard. House-guest Sam was lounging in the sun while Grace provided Joe with a little extra psychic buoyancy so he could float as freely in the water as she does in air, while Burner sat in the shallow end and concentrated his energies toward raising his body temperature, creating a localized hot tub. The rising steam suggested that someone was cooking on open flame, and made Sam consider the potential of combining the Rainier pool with the Finnegan grill. The only trick would be passing between the neighbor's yards without getting caught or needing to widen the holes in the fences. The Parsons' could be bribed with some burgers if it were game day, but the Holbrights were terminally tight-assed.
"Feeeeeeeeling better?" Marianne held the vowel as long as she slowly rose through the surface of the table until her necklace popped through its top.
"A little," James admitted while reaching for his glass of orange juice.
"Gooooooood," she grumbled as she sunk back down. He started eating again when she tussled his hair from behind. "So, J.R., why aren't you out there? You need some sun."
"Because I'm eating breakfast."
"You could eat out there, but fine. Then what?"
"After this, I have paperwork to do, people to see, and tomorrow it's back to work."
Marianne folded her tendrils across his scalp and pressed his head forward as she leaned against him. "Booooooooring. You should go play today."
"You should make yourself scarce!"
Marianne drifted around to the seat opposite James', pulled it out, and performed the best imitation of sitting down that she could, given she has no actual body. "I know you don't want to, but it is the right thing to do."
James mumbled a "What?" between bites.
"Stop being negligent."
He did not respond.
"I've tasted your dreams, and the memories they come from. Do you remember the one you had before that first morning you woke up feeling the after-effects of a maximum dose of Vitamin M?" She altered her voice at the end to be both boastful and tinged with pride.
Caring more about getting breakfast--and this conversation--over with than about manners, James spoke with his mouth full. "Not really."
"Pretend I didn't bring it up, then. How about this. I know what's in the box."
James paused and lowered an eyebrow. "What box?"
With a broad sweeping motion, Marianne flew through the back of the chair, and then the refrigerator, returning with the small box that had rested upon it for months. "Now, do you want to open it or should I?"
"Don't you dare!"
"I'm adding a condition! You own up to this. You can choose when you think the time is right, but you kept this for a reason. You brought this home for a reason. You go through with it."
James drank slowly. "That means I can choose when it's too late for it to matter."
"Yeah. And since you've admitted that, it's already on your conscience if you do." She slowly drifted back and replaced the box before "sitting" in her chair again. She stared at him, hoping to maintain a solid visage, but her grin crept back in as she watched James try to act unaffected.
Finally he broke. "What?"
Marianne slowly faded invisible as she spoke, but could still be heard with perfect clarity throughout. "Oh, noooooooothing. I was only thinking about how, when you're a ghost, your conscience seems to be the only thing that can really get a grip on you."
Carlos received a call on his trainer's device. "Yes, I said I'm on my way. Jesus, Mr. Max--okay, I'm sorry, I'm going." Carlos hung up and hung his head. The old woman on the other side of the counter knew how he felt.
"You don't need to worry about a thing," she assured him. "We're not like some of those day-cares that forget about the second half of the word. Your Ruby won't be forced to mate with any pokemon she doesn't want to."
"But, she will have to."
"Food and shelter aren't free. If you can't pay your bill, she has to work it off somehow and she will make a wonderful dam. If you don't like it, there's always electronic storage."
"No. I know. No, she was lucky to survive what happened, I don't want her in stasis, and Rosa--she's got too much life in her to do that to her because I have a crappy job to do."
"Then it's settled. Sign here, please."
Leaving his dogs behind, Carlos traveled alone to a dock near Hexyloxy Harbor and waited until a small boat named The Sphinx drew near. Its captain called out, "Hello, friend! Did you see the stars come out last night?"
Carlos responded as he had been instructed to: "The stars I see don't come out until he lets them."
"Climb aboard."