[attr="class","spiral"]The world inverts again but to what end?
His time in Regirock’s chamber, as fleeting as it was, is as vivid as the chaos around him. Despite his actions Fernando feels no bearings on his memories. Nothing’s changed. Or at least he can’t discern a difference.
Because this is nothing more than a dream, he reasons. That’s why there’s no need to panic like the others who were thrust into this Nightmare Raid. So even amidst the tragedy that was Slateport’s invasion, there’s no need to interfere.
Because no matter what happens, the future will come and Hoenn will recover.
Despite the power plant, despite the train being derailed, despite Rocket taking over, no event proves too tragic that warrants tampering with spacetime.
This complacency causes Fernando to avoid League Headquarters entirely. The only possible thing that Fernando could’ve done better was ensuring that
dahlia goode was never abducted. If he had been a bit faster, just a bit more organized, perhaps he could’ve prevented her sentence to Slateport plot prison.
But what would change?
Thomas Benoit,
Stormy Silph, and
Laurence Anderson and
kyle lopez would’ve never been set up for failure during her rescue operation but did that really affect them? Kyle and Lars were relatively unaffected. Thomas Benoit resigned from Interpol and took up residence in Hoenn, eventually becoming a member of the Elite Four. And Stormy had been pushed into taking up her role as a Gym Leader due to the incident — a contributing factor in her ascension as Elite Four.
The obvious answer is possibly altering Dahlia’s future for the better but there’s too many unknowns for Fernando to risk it.
So, he does nothing.
Rocket attacks.
Many of them gain an edge due to their sheer numbers. Those a step above, with a particular skillset, such as
dominic sinclair, will empty the League’s roster as a claim to their trophy cabinet. For every hundreds of lives lost today, the League will lose a Gym Leader, a high ranking official, even skilled Rangers. If they could’ve saved them would the League fare any better today? Undoubtedly, but apathy lines his consciousness as do the broken light fixtures along his path.
His presence is as ethereal as his body. Like the invasion, Fernando rolls in with the tide, a
MIND ALTERING FOG diverting the attention of anyone who comes too close. Rocket and civilians alike become unhinged, avoiding him for something more attention grabbing like a nearby skirmish.
It isn’t until several explosion go off that Fernando reacts. Their grounded enough to throw him off balance, revealing his momentary vulnerability. They’re not too far off and he could just as easily turn around and avoid the scene altogether. But he remembers the area.
How could he forget?
In an uncharacteristic panic, Fernando takes off, breaking into an immediate run as he doubles back down a road he’s long forgotten. His indifference only stems from his hard-headed belief that nothing he can do here will impact him. Both events went against his plans but ultimately things turn out well.
Except one thing.
“
Fuck.”
All it takes is one reminder to set him off.
Thick clouds of
MISTY TERRAIN stream from his nostrils with every labored breath. No matter how much he punished his body during the Pokeathlon, none of it hurt as bad as his current sprint. It hurts because he’s no longer racing against a clock for some trivial reward and recognition. He’s racing against time to save something — someone — that means the world to him.
“
Go!”
As sure as the Invasion throws off Hoenn’s natural balance, so does his own presence. The chaos of the night manifests in many ways. At the scene of a no-name, League science lab, it becomes undone at the presence of a sudden tropical storm. Pixie glitter illuminates the night sky as Team Rocket members stare in awe at the never-before seen attack.
The
GUARDIAN OF ALOLA comes down at Fernando’s behest. Although the Tapu Fini has never met the owner, nor seen Fernando this troubled, even the Legendary recognizes the plight of
the vindictive. Feeling their mutually shared pain, the Legendary Pokemon wipes the streets clean of such filth. Pokemon, humans, and even victims are ripped away by the maelstrom of
NATURE’S MADNESS.
But it’s already too late. The science labs has been blown apart, reduced to rubble, and before him lies the presumed grave site of
thalia black.
“
Fuck! No. Please!”
And, despite knowing what happens, Fernando tries desperate to fight fate. In every other instance, whether it be Regirock flattening his Kirlia, or Ho-oh roasting his Garchomp, there had been a way around letting his grief manifest. In the throes of danger, fight or flight kicks in. There’s no time to dwell on the dead, not when your own life isn’t guaranteed.
Grief is a burden for the living.
And by the time Fernando finds himself in a place he can let go, there’s nothing left. Dwelling on past tragedies does nothing to shape the future. That’s what allows him to go on, unfazed, uncaring. Some may call it cold but for him it’s nothing more than a practical control of emotions. Anything more is wasteful.
So why does he throw himself and disheveled block of concrete, tearing at broken pieces, bloodying his hands as they crack and tear in an effort to dig into the rubble? Because maybe this time he’s not too late. Pain torments everyone differently.
For him, it only hurts when he has to experience it again — just as helpless, just as useless.
“
Fuck. Thalia.”
———
By the time the rift calls again his tears are dry.
Only now does he notice he's not alone.
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