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This is it. This is his moment.
It’s hard to believe that a moment like this would come around at a moment like this, but that’s sort of the point, Corbeau supposes: moments like this don’t just come around every day.
He’s known for a while that something was coming. This is his city – the city he loves and the city he’s sworn to protect, no matter the cost. Lumiose is in pain, and when his city calls Corbeau will always answer.
Still, it’s nice when their interests align.
The shoulders beneath his feet twitch minutely, obviously straining as the human ladder of Rust Syndicate grunts wobbles precariously, threatening to collapse.
But he’s ready for it.
Corbeau knows how to land a fall. And he knows how to look cool doing it.
This is his moment.
“Go get ‘em,” he says to the kid he’s begrudgingly come to respect. He’d have preferred a better line to see them off – to really cement his moment – but it turns out inspiration is a little hard to come by when massive tentacles start swallowing up the buildings around you. He settles for a suave tilt of his head, and a nod in place of any further words.
And with that he leans back, arms spread wide, and lets Lumiose catch him.
–
“You fell off?!”
–
“We’re all counting on you, chief!”
It’s still not a perfect line, but it’s better than last time. It gets across the gravity of the situation at least, but Corbeau worries it’s a little too jaunty.
He should probably cut himself some slack though – his parting shot is the one element of this production he’s never been able to plan for. The fall is a given; he perfected that long ago, at the circus skills class he and Philippe take on a Wednesday evening. And a private mirror can do wonders to help a man style a parting nod and a suave tilt of the head.
But the words… The words have been much harder to anticipate. After all, he’s never known exactly what kind of moment would bring about his moment.
So it’s not the best he could do, if given proper time to plan, but he shouldn’t be too hard on himself for it. He quite likes the addition of the word ‘chief’, anyway; it’s not something you hear every day, and it makes him sound like the kid’s mentor.
Corbeau likes the idea that his grunts might see him as a mentor. Maybe this time, now that he’s improved his parting shot, they might notice his fall.
Satisfied with his choice, he stops ruminating on it and delivers his nod. Then he leans back again, arms spread wide, and lets Lumiose catch him.
–
“Seriously, you fell off AGAIN?!”
–
“Stop making me do all this physical labour, OK?”
He regrets that one almost as soon as he’s said it, but this top-of-the-ladder business is a lot more strenuous than he was expecting. Five years of circus classes, and his core still strains with the effort of holding himself up here.
At least Philippe probably didn’t hear – not from his place at the bottom of the ladder.
He nods his suave nod – a bit brusque this time out of embarrassment (he just doesn’t want anyone to focus too hard on his parting shot, okay?). Then he leans back, arms spread wide, and lets Lumiose catch him.
(He regrets it all the way down. None of his grunts are going to think he’s cool if he ends things with a parting shot like that, no matter how perfect his fall.
He should have said something more dignified or sophisticated, he thinks, as he dusts himself off once he’s back on the ground. Something like, the fate of Lumiose is on your shoulders now. That’s what he’d say if he got another shot.
He’s probably blown it though. Who falls off a building three times?)
–
“... ... ...”
–
“The fate of Lumiose is on your shoulders now.”
That’s the one. A perfect line to suit the moment. To frame his moment.
“And you’re seriously testing MY shoulders, as well as my patience! Fall off again, and we’re having that Pokemon showdown at Hotel Z! Don’t you dare fall off again, kid!”
No, wait…
Why?
Why did he add that?
He let his emotions get the better of him, and now Corbeau’s ruined the only satisfactory parting shot he managed to come up with. His grunts are going to think he’s a laughing stock – and they’d be right to.
To think he’s been waiting for a moment like this for years. Tonight he’s had four separate attempts at it and he hasn’t managed to nail it a single time. What a wasted opportunity.
Corbeau sighs, and almost climbs down the normal way. He doesn’t, of course; he isn’t a man who’s accustomed to giving in, even when it’s hard.
For a final time he leans back, arms spread wide, and lets Lumiose catch him.
–
“Nice fall, boss,” says a voice from behind him.
Corbeau freezes. He turns around slowly, and finds one of his grunts – Pierre, Corbeau thinks his name is – smiling at him hesitantly.
“Hmm?” Corbeau hums, trying to play it cool. His heart is hammering.
“The way you fell, with your arms spread out and everything... Looked amazing.”
This man noticed. He noticed.
Trust, Corbeau thinks suddenly. It was a trust fall all along.
He should have realised sooner – after all, that ladder was never just a ladder. It was an expression of the bonds between them all.
Corbeau should have realised that his loyal Rust Syndicate would always catch him.
“Thank you,” he says, and his voice doesn’t shake, even though it wants to. “But we have bigger things to deal with right now.”
He pushes the swell of emotion down and tilts his head to the side, making eye contact with each of his grunts in turn for maximum effect, just like he practiced. He finishes with a suave nod in Philippe’s direction. “Come on. Let’s go save our city.”