Raythanya's: Like Father, Like Son

Indira Duquesne sat up slowly, head still spinning. As he realized he was not in the same place he’d fallen asleep, his thoughts began racing.

Wait, where’s Gadi? Where’s the gang? Where am I? Oh, fuck, is it another “when am I?”

The aasimar looked around, still wide-eyed. He found himself in a secluded corner booth of a mostly empty bar. He could feel the Weave in the room, its energy unfamiliar and wild.

No, I’m still there. They’re all still there. I’m in some sort of dream. Maybe a trip? I haven’t cracked back into my stash, so it’s out of place. Stranger things have happened, however.

Indy stood up and noticed the bar was nearly empty, save for the bartender and a single exhausted patron at the bar across from him. When the bartender noticed the winged man wandering over, he nodded and turned to his customer.

“Thanks for keeping me company until the kid woke up, Remy. I’ve been anxious ‘bout what comes next."

The man nodded and tipped his hat. “Of course, Ray. You’re a friend to my mercs, and you’re family to me and the missus. Breathe, pal. You’re gonna do great.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Give Leah and gang my love. Except for Kreiya. Give her the proper sly wink on my behalf.”

As the men parted ways, Rialto Duquesne turned back to Indy with a grin, waving him over to the bar. The young Duquesne took a seat across the bar from the old Duquesne, and a father slid a drink across his bar to his son for the first time. “Damn, kid… can’t believe it’s you.”

Unfortunately, only one of them realized the true nature of the moment.

Indy knew he was in another state, and his first assumption, after drugs, was that his celestial guide had pulled him into a vision somehow. It seemed his suspicions had been realized, as here he was, faced with the celestial who kept claiming to be his long-dead father.

“Strange, I figured you’d claim a family resemblance.”

Rialto shifted a bit, acutely aware of his son’s disbelief but casually drying his whisky glasses with a bar towel as he spoke. “You were always your mother’s gorgeous reflection, Indira.”

Indy smirked in a manner that was more jeering than welcoming. “Speaking of, dad, where’s mom?”

Ray waved a hand off to the side at his son’s question. “Probably getting into a fistfight with a combat mech somewhere. I didn’t know if I could pull you here, and I didn’t want to fuck it up with an audience. Next time, kid.”

Indira Duquesne shook his head and sighed, then took a swig of his drink. He nearly spit out the smooth, sweet concoction as an unknown liquor hit his lips.

“C’mon, Indy. It’s an amaretto sour, something with some actual flavor to it. Igle told me he caught you drinking Malort behind the Goose, and it’s important a Duquesne has some standards of taste. Don’t want you ending up like Killian.”

Ray chuckled at his own joke, as the old bartender was known to, and he lit a joint, passing it to his son as he spoke.

“The thing about it all, Indira, is that it doesn’t matter who I am, I’m who you’ve got. I’ve been watching you since day one, kid. That much you know. So I know what I’m talking about when I tell you who you are, even if I am a liar. And I am, just not with you, so I know why you don’t buy it. I am the last person in this or any universe that will fault you for being your father’s son.”

Indy took a deep drag of the joint he’d been offered, listening to Rialto’s impromptu speech. When the man had finished, the younger Duquesne took a measured sip of his drink, and leaned back on the barstool, flexing his wings as he exhaled.

“I’m glad we can agree on one thing.”

“Oh?”

“You are a liar.”

“One of the best, son.”

Indira Duquesne chuckled and passed Ray’s joint back to the bartender, before leaning forward with an elbow on the bar and a smirk.

“Look, Ray. I’ll call you that, we can work with it enough. It’s a dead name to me, anyway. I can barely remember you… him and mom these days. Fyg and Al and Sam have all done a great job keeping their memory close, I know them as if they were here. But they weren’t.”

He straightened up a bit, took a drink, and relaxed, ever so slightly. The sheepish grin on his face betrayed the faintest hint of hope that somehow this Ray was, in fact, telling the truth.

“That sounded too harsh, Ray. If you have some celestial connections, and you can get them the message, I’d want them to know I’m not angry about it. Things have to get a little jumbled sometimes, especially when the gods get involved. Stories get shuffled around, and sometimes the time we get isn’t the time we were expecting. But any time we have is a damned treasure, and they made sure I got some.”

Ray leaned back against the liquor shelf and lit another joint, leaving the first to his son as he continued opening up to his bartender that evening.

“But that doesn’t mean that the thought of it doesn’t hurt like all the hells’ torment stuffed into a little ball and shoved into my chest. And I know it had to do the same to them. I mean, you’re supposed to get to raise your child. Nobody won when we played the cards we were dealt. And that hurts me more. I want to make them happy, Ray. And knowing that none of us got that time, I feel like someone took that from me…”

Indira Duquesne looked up at Ray with a cold gaze as he finished his drink.

“So if you could maybe just tone down the dead dad act, I think we may actually be able to get along.”

Rialto Duquesne sighed. His face turned pensive as he rolled his joint across his lips with his tongue. Then, after a moment, he smiled.

“We’ll play it your way, Indira. I will get the message to your parents, that’ll be simple. They’ve been here the whole time, kid. The only reason they agreed to the whole thing is because the timing of it gave me the opportunity to do this job, as your celestial guide. I’m here to keep them close to you as much as to keep you out of trouble.”

His curiosity piqued, Indy raised an eyebrow at the bartender. “Timing. That’s an odd word, Ray. What did the timing have to do with you and me?”

“Timing is everything, Indira. I’d have been alive to guide your path had things gone how they normally do, kid. This way, at least I get to be here for you in some manner. We… I mean, your folks and I… we’d never leave you high and dry.”

The lights of the bar began to flicker and dim, and Indy felt his awareness fading alongside them.

“That’s the cue, kid. Listen, next time I’ll make sure your mother’s around, so I can prove you still can’t read everyone for bullshit… yet.”

Some time later, following Indy’s travels through the deserts…

Rialto sat at the bar with Leah “Mama Bear” Duciel, not behind the counter, but alongside the retired mercenary and wife of his best friend. As the two sat with scotch and cigars, he chuckled aloud.

“The kid’s green, but impressive, Mama Bear. I’m gonna feed that spark, I think. He’s embracing it better than I did back in Kowloon, that’s for sure. The Weave scared the hells out of me when I first stumbled on the sacred chords Mr. Cohen referenced, y’know. I didn't want to give in to the melody. But that’s why we’re all here, ain’t it? We exist to make a little noise."
Ray smiled as he finished his drink.
"I think the kids are alright, Mama Duciel.”