False Gods | The Prime Archives #3 ✓

thirty-five

Oscar loved Los Angeles.

But it wasn't because of the weather or the fact that half the population looked like him. It wasn't because of the plethora of Mexican restaurants in his neighborhood or the sunny beaches or anything else that attracted tourists from all over.

It wasn't because of any of that.

It's because it was home.

Truly home. Not a pitstop on his journey to revenge against Atlas. Not a place of refuge from the Jaegers. He'd be staying indefinitely.

And this time, he would have company.

Before leaving Fort Carson, Victoria managed to work out a deal with the United States government to pardon Oscar and hook him up with a sweet pad in Downtown Los Angeles. They figured his previous acts of service for their country and his involvement in helping defeat Orion was enough to clean his slate.

He knew that wasn't the case, though. There was a lot he had to do if he wanted to wipe the red from his ledger.

The first of which included raising Xiomara. She might've already been a preteen, but there was still a lot she had to learn. About the world, about their culture, her powers, and—most importantly—herself. He would do his best to teach her.

That day in The Acropolis taught him something about himself that he'd been meaning to learn for a long time. Father Vincent had been right; his quest for revenge would consume him. It would've burned him alive had he let it.

But he didn't.

The fire of vengeance no longer burned in his heart. A different kind of flame had replaced it. It was one of hope—hope that he could become a better person than the one he was yesterday. In the end, that's all that mattered.

Oscar smiled. His fingers curled around the worn leather steering wheel of Sister Maria's red Mustang as he cruised down the sunbathed streets of the fabric district in downtown. After the battle, Atlas found it parked in the woods covered in frost and pine needles. It was a miracle it still ran.

He knew it wasn't a miracle, though.

It was Sister Maria speaking to him from beyond the grave.

That car was all he had left of her. When he had been forced to leave it behind, he felt like had let her down. She trusted him with that car, and he abandoned it. But it came back to him. That had to mean something.

Since moving back to Los Angeles, he had been tuning it up; buying new parts with money he earned from working at a local blacksmith's shop in his city. Adjusting to life as a civilian—and not a fugitive—wasn't as easy as he'd thought it be, but he was starting to come to terms with it. Having a job helped. It gave him time to think. Time to reflect.

He glanced at Xiomara in the passenger's seat. She had her face pressed against the window, her bright eyes taking in the sites of the city.

She had never seen it before. Having grown up in El Salvador all her life, all she was used to was farmlands, rural towns, and cartel-run cities.

A big smile stretched between her ears.

Warmth spread across Oscar's face as he watched her.

He thought back to a few months back in the conference room with his friends. Or, rather, acquaintances. Frankly, he wasn't sure what to call them anymore.

He hadn't spoken to any of them since they parted. Victoria checked in on him now and then, but there had been no other communication with his past apart from her. Last he heard, Emily, Andre, and the remaining Exiles started their search for an unhabituated island to start their new nation on. The United Nations had given them the green light to begin building a safe haven for all Primes. It met resistance in the media and among the public, but plans were still slated to go ahead.

As for Stella, Theo, and those who remained with Atlas, they began to rebuild. Schematics for a new headquarters just outside of Washington D.C. had been sanctioned. From what Oscar had seen, it was set to put The Acropolis to shame.

Chase was the only one Oscar hadn't heard anything about.

Victoria told him he was 'laying low'. He had retired to his parents' farm up north. Oscar wondered how things were going with his former captain

The Sentinel.

Chase was a good man. Oscar wished him the best.

To tell the truth, he wasn't bothered by the lack of updates from his old friends. They had their lives, and he had his. It was about time he distanced himself from his past life, anyways. Inferno—the angry, misguided version of himself—was dead. But so was Fuego, the naïve boy who made so, so many mistakes.

He was someone else now. Hopefully someone better.

A new name was in order. He'd let it come to him whenever it did/

"Are we almost there yet?" Xiomara whined as she wriggled in her seat.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Xio. We've only been driving for twenty minutes."

While he loved Los Angeles, the traffic was a pain in the ass.

"It feels like a lifetime," she complained.

Laughing, he ruffled her brown hair. He stared out ahead of him, watching as the setting sun stretched across the iconic skyline in the distance. In the golden clouds, he saw his parents. They smiled down at him. He saw his sister and uncle. They let him know that they were okay.

He saw Sister Maria.

She forgave him for his sins.

Tears welled in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away before Xiomara could see.

As he continued driving, he thought about the future. He wasn't sure what it would hold, but he knew he was in for a hell of a ride. The old Oscar—the one who had just lost his parents and goofed off in school—would've been afraid.

But not this Oscar.

No.

This time, he couldn't wait for what the future held.