Felicity stood against the counter of the Classy Cat Café in Viridian City,
holding a glass of ice water in the dim lights of the room. She could smell
the warm coffee beans roasting, and could sense the calm excitement of the
occupants of the tables around the stage where a six member jazz band was
playing their own kind of music.
Her icy blue-green eyes searched the place for something, anything, that
might for some reason make her jump, but found nothing. That didn’t really
surprise her, though, because she didn’t really think anyone could scare her
with the way she felt.
Because Felicity felt good, really good. Despite the fact that the Rockets
had gone down, she felt that she could taste success on the wind, just as
she could taste the clear smoothness of the water and ice.
After all, she had never liked being a Rocket. Sure, she liked what she had
done for a job; killing had been good for her. She had not yet failed in it,
and had decided long ago that she got some sort of pleasure from it.
Being part of an organized group, however, had dragged her down as far as
she was concerned. Being forced to obey the rules and go with what she was
told and no more or less than that had never gone over very well with her,
and she had been planning to leave for quite some time.
Then this had happened, with a stroke of good luck for her. With the team
out of the way, she could do what she wanted without worrying about anyone
getting in her way.
She had been taken in with a group of loyal Rockets who apparently didn’t
suspect anything. Felicity believed that if she could listen in on what
these people were doing and benefit from it. If they were planning to do
something, she would know, and would be able to find out and possibly stop
them.
While she was glad that the Rockets had been busted, she had been
disappointed by the results of the trial. It was true that Giovanni was in
jail, but to her that wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough…
So what she planned to do was to walk into the jail, shoot him, and run
out. Or something along those lines. Once there was no more Boss, there
would be no more team at all.
Grinning, she tightened her grip on the glass. After she killed Giovanni,
why not kill the others? After all, then there would be no more problems
from them, and the Rockets would be out for good.
Reflecting back on that morning, she remembered the letter from Giovanni.
She remembered the gleam in the eyes of the others when it had been read
that they were to reorganize the team. In fact, she had almost seen them
recreating that smothering team…
Seeing all this, she had felt an unusual bolt of panic, the kind that came
with realization. This had only lasted for a moment, though, because she had
been hit by the idea of ruining them before they restarted at that very
moment.
Yes, she would ruin them. She would kill them all, starting with that bitch
Trae. After all, she had nothing to fear from them. Every one was too jumpy
or worried, and would make a mistake if they tried to do something about
her. The whole team had been like that. There were very few people she
feared, and she hadn’t seen any of them in quite some time. Thank God for
that.
As the music continued to drift over the room, Felicity moved a piece of
ice around her mouth, still thinking. “They won’t resist me,” she thought.
“Because they don’t see it coming.”
And she supposed this was true, because no one had acted as though she were
against them. They treated her like a fellow Rocket, despite the fact that
she was going to betray them…
“It’s all so magical,” she muttered than laughed out loud. A couple of
people who were sitting nearby looked at her, then shrugged, looked away,
and said nothing.
“People…” Felicity thought, her eyes grinning. “Are trusting. And trust is
something that’ll help on my side…”
Looking up at the clock, she realized that the time was about midnight. Not
that she cared. They wouldn’t either. She could stay out as late as she
wanted and no one would find I strange or suspicious.
All of the others were too busy worrying to have fun, or to even get out.
They were all inside, twitching their noses like frightened cats… “As they
should be,” her mind laughed, and she snickered silently.
Everything that was happening seemed quite amusing to her, for some reason,
but that didn’t matter.
What really mattered, what counted, was that she was smart, that she was
swift and silent. What mattered was that she could kill them all off before
one of them even blinked.
The blond-haired young woman found this strangely hilarious. As she stood
there, leaning against the black marble wall, she knew she could go out with
her plan, and knew she would.
“After all, there’s no point in living if you can’t feel alive,” she
muttered, than burst out laughing.
This time, people did look and stare at her, afraid. Because the laughter
that escaped her throat was icy, laced with contempt and a sadistic iciness.
Those who heard it felt chills strangle at them for a moment, and they
quickly turned around. Many assumed that she was insane, while others
assumed she had had a few too many good drinks.
Whatever the case was, no one questioned her, all too afraid to move.
Instead, they turned back toward the stage, trying to mind their own
business.
Felicity didn’t really care either way.
Giovanni sighed heavily, shaking his head in absent motions. Swirling
around mysteriously, the deep veil of darkness that encircled him, shrouding
the mixed misery and subtle hope he felt stirring inside of him.
So Geoffrey was going to try and get him out. One of the main thoughts
sliding through his mind was about his brother. Had he gone insane? Why was
he suddenly trying to help?
After all, neither of them had gotten along since Geoffrey had left after
his graduation. With a slight shudder, Giovanni felt the piercing horrors of
that night, in the form of both words and discoveries.
“Not brother…” he muttered absently, hardly realizing he was even doing it.
“Half brother.”
Somehow, saying it hurt even more than thinking about it, and he cringed
back against the grimy wall of the cell, than leaned forward quickly. The
cell was far from clean, though it didn’t seem important to him.
Everything seemed surreal, in fact. The whole concept of reality itself
seemed lost to him. Nothing was going the way it should have been, as far as
he knew. It was all a jumbled mass of confusion to him.
How could it all be so confusing? It seemed to him that nothing possible
could be; yet it was. There he was, in jail. Most of the agents were in
jail. And his brother had come to get him out.
“What in the hell is going on?” his mind screamed, though he managed to
control himself from yelling out loud. Yelling wouldn’t have gone over too
well; he was already at bad ends with the others in the jail. Waking them up
in the middle of the night would’ve been a sort of death wish.
How was Geoffrey going to get him out, anyway? The whole place was guarded.
He guessed that the only way out would be by some sort of brute force or
trick, but what sort would work?
“Well, what if I did get out?” he thought, and another thought hit him
hard.
What then? The police would be after him the second they realized that he
was missing, and they would undoubtedly find him, since people were willing
to talk.
What did Geoffrey expect to obtain from it anyway? Giovanni’s mind kept
turning this question over and over, though it did no good. His brother had
testified for him, putting quite a bit on the line.
So didn’t that mean he expected something? Of course, it had to.
Despite what the large part of his mind insisted, a smaller part felt
differently. Geoffrey wasn’t stupid; he always seemed to know what to
expect. So of course he would know that nothing could be gained.
Another quality Geoffrey had was that he took risks. Deep in his mind,
Giovanni knew this was one of those risks. He knew there was a reason behind
Geoffrey’s actions, but couldn’t find it, no matter how hard he tried.
“I’ll find out anyway,” he thought, and decided to push the thoughts aside.
For the first time that night, it actually worked. The whole question about
Geoffrey was shoved away. Unfortunately, it was replaced by more thoughts.
This time they were about someone else, someone he longed to see… This
time, the thoughts centered on Ashley.
Ashley, with her seemingly unending kindness. Ashley, with her silky auburn
hair, and her glowing eyes. Ashley, with her warm smile and her caressing
hands. Ashley, the woman he had married what seemed like a lifetime ago, and
had lost much too soon.
These thoughts brought a strange tremor to him, but he let them stay,
running around and over him, bringing recognition back into his mind. As his
mind drifted back, he felt a strange sensation of disconnection from the
world, which he ignored purposefully.
First his mind fell back to his graduation, which had been, incidentally,
hers. They had known each other since they were freshmen, had, in fact, been
boyfriend and girlfriend since they had been sophomores. On that night, they
had truly fallen in love. He knew they had, he had felt it like an electric
spark.
After they had attended a party filled with tearful goodbyes of friends, he
had taken her back to her house, and they had sat on the bench swing in her
back yard, holding hands and nuzzling each other contentedly. Ashley had
looked into his eyes and asked a question, probably one that she had hoped
for a good answer too. “What’s the one thing you want to keep with you
forever?” she had asked in her sweet voice.
“Thing isn’t the word I would use, honey,” he smiled slightly. “I want you
beside me for the rest of my life.”
They had both smiled, than she had simply exclaimed, “Giovanni! I want you,
too!”
With that, he had kissed her, and they had stayed outside for a long time,
reluctant to leave each other.
Giovanni found himself back in the cell in a flash, and his eyes looked
around slowly at the dark, grimy walls encompassing him. He moved his left
foot slightly, and heard the gritty grains of sand underneath rub against
each other.
Inside of the dark and lonely prison, such a contrast to that moonlit
night, Giovanni felt a swell of emotions burst inside of him. For the first
time since he had became the head of the Rockets, he wondered why he had
done what he had done. At that moment, he felt as if he would rather die
than be trapped with his emotions.
Sighing deeply, Geoffrey took another sip of the drink in front of him. He
had absolutely no clue what it was, only that he had poured it, it had a
slightly bitter taste, and it was starting to take effect. That basically
left for any alcoholic beverage.
Not that it mattered to him. Whatever it was, it was helping, or so it
seemed. He knew that drinking wasn’t the best thing to do, especially when
in deep confusion or depression, but what the hell did he care?
“Not like anyone would care if I did die,” he muttered thickly, half from
exhaustion, partly from confusion, partly from being sick of his life, and
partly from the drink.
Taking another drink, he rubbed his temple roughly with his left hand in an
attempt to ward off the headache that had been plaguing him. “Great,” part
of his mind spoke. “Ward off a headache by creating a hangover. S-mart.
That’ll really work..”
Then again, as far as he was concerned, a headache from the alcohol would
be better than the one from life. Headaches from life seemed to strike twice
as fast, and there was no way of getting rid of them.
He’d been getting a lot of those in his lifetime. Well, comparatively he
had, especially lately. The headaches had started after Mable had died…
Mable. Her very name brought both light and sadness into Geoffrey’s mind,
and he moaned at the conflicting emotions. Still, he could remember her, his
wife… She had been beautiful, and had retained a nature so kind, so gentle
that it had affected everyone around her, always in a good way.
She had been one of those women who would brighten up everyone’s day, who
would stop and help if someone needed it. She had always been there, ready
to work, willing to do what was needed. It was Mable that had always been in
control of them, he realized, and it was Mable who had taken real care of
the kids…
The kids, another touchy subject. Only they didn’t come with many good
feelings, because he had done a horrible thing to them. After Mable had
died, he had been unable to take the pain of it himself, let alone bear the
tears of the kids. He remembered this with painful clarity, and took another
sip.
Less than a year after Mable’s death, he had left the kids with a woman who
he still paid to watch over them, though never personally. He preferred to
stay away from that, keeping away from what he had left…
God, he hadn’t seen them in eight years. Gary and May. He wondered without
the least bit of humor what they were doing, and suddenly wanted to know,
and wanted to know very badly.
Why did he want to know so badly? The thought hadn’t crossed his mind in
years. In fact, he didn’t think it had ever crossed his mind. And, suddenly,
he realized why. Even through the depressing clouds of the alcohol, he knew
why he hadn’t thought of them.
He had been busy with his job, working for the government. He had had
something to do, always had something to do, and had never stopped to think
about what he had done.
And, now that he had lost his job, the past was returning to haunt him. It
was returning, and he had a strong feeling that it wouldn’t go away, no
matter how hard he tried to make it. There was simply no way of stopping it
from its course.
Sitting in the small kitchen of his small ‘house’, Geoffrey realized what
he had done, and what he must’ve done to the kids. He had left them without
parents, with a woman they had never known. With any luck they were used to
her, but she wasn’t their mother… And their father wasn’t there.
In fact, he had abandoned them. “Jesus Christ…” he muttered, shaking his
head firmly.
What would Mable have thought of him for doing hat? She certainly wouldn’t
have hated him, Mable wasn’t that kind of woman, but she would’ve made it
known that she disagreed. Mable had her ways, and Mable wouldn’t have liked
it.
Hell, Mable would’ve stopped loving him.
“Why did I do it…?” he moaned painfully, feeling the sadness stabbing
ferociously at his heart. “Why?”
No answer came to him besides pain. He had left the kids to live in their
own pain because he couldn’t handle it. “I don’t even rate being a decent
parent,” he snapped his eyes shut as fast as someone who has been affected
by alcohol can. “I’m a God-damned bastard, and that’s the truth.”
And, unfortunately, it was. Another bad memory hit him like a bolt of
lightening, this one hurting as much as, maybe even worse than, the others.
He remembered the night it had happened…
It had been the night of his graduation, which had also been,
coincidentally, his birthday, and he had been having a great time. Back in
high school, he had just been a regular guy, athletic, with a nice-looking
future, and a great girlfriend. After a wild party with his old friends,
Geoffrey had returned home only to find his father, the God-damned
Professor, waiting for him.
He remembered the sneer on his father’s face, remember the dread he had
immediately felt replace the joy of the night’s events. The Professor had
looked up at him and spoke quite easily, “I’m going to tell you something.”
Beneath the sly look, however, Geoffrey saw a kind of regret, one he had
never seen in the man’s face.
“What?” he had remained standing in the doorway to the living room.
“It’s about your mother.”
“What?” he had been astounded. His mother had disappeared years before,
many years before, and hadn’t been heard from since. “Maria?”
“No,” the man shook his head sadly, and at that moment Geoffrey remembered
thinking that he had looked almost twenty years older. “Agatha.”
“Agatha?!?” Geoffrey had nearly screamed, but tried to remain calm, telling
himself that it was a joke. Then again, he had remembered, the Professor had
never really been the joking type with him.
“Yes, Agatha Rocke,” the older man had taken a deep breath, and then began.
“Before Maria and I married, I was in love with Agatha. After we married, I
couldn’t stand being away from her, so I went to her again. We, uh… we had a
very passionate night, and the result was that she became pregnant,” he had
looked up, but Geoffrey was standing still, too shocked to say anything.
“The result of that was that you were born. Agatha wasn’t too happy, and
said that if Maria and I kept you as our son, she would promote me as a
great professor. She is, after all, a very influential woman. Maria wasn’t
very happy, but she stuck with it. She didn’t agree to the terms, either.
Neither of us was allowed to tell you what had happened until your
eighteenth birthday, so I tell you today,” he had paused and looked up
again, but received only a single word of response.
“No…” Geoffrey had murmured vaguely.
“Yes, it’s all true,” the Professor had nodded. “I wish I could say
differently, because after Giovanni was born, she left, saying she couldn’t
take it anymore. So, in short, I suppose I’ll just say that your real mother
is Agatha of the Elite.”
Geoffrey remembered staring straight at his father for five minutes before
speaking, and when he finally spoke, he had been so extremely angry that he
hadn’t been able to control himself. “So what you’re saying is that I’m a
BASTARD?” he had yelled angrily, and the Professor had stood up quickly.
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” he snapped. “And you needn’t take it so
hard!”
“I shouldn’t take it so hard? I shouldn’t take it so HARD?” Geoffrey had
screamed back even louder than before. “What am I SUPPOSED to do? Just go
along with it? Like nothing happened? Any respect I ever had for you is
GONE!”
What had followed was basically a contest between the two of them to see
who could yell loudest, and who could come up with the most profanities.
Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity but in reality been about
forty-five minutes, Geoffrey had shoved some of his possessions into a
suitcase and left, never to return.
It had all happened so quickly, so damn quickly… Just as everything else in
his life. It seemed that whenever his life looked to be getting better, he
hit a cliff, and dropped off, plunging into the depths of despair.
Swallowing the rest of the drink, Geoffrey sat the glass down on the table
and shook his head slowly as the images around him blurred slightly. “Why do
I bother?”
