Who Shot Brendan Birch?

Rating: PG13 – coarse language, minor violence and some gory description (nothing too detailed)

Genre: Mystery/Humor

Disclaimer: Pokémon and other related characters do not belong to the author.

Note: This story is based around the characters of the R/S/E characters. This means NO ASH. However, other characters throughout the other gameboy/DS games, such as Steven Stone, Lance, etc. are fair play. So if you're looking for an anime based fic, you might want to take a gander somewhere else (hehe).

This is a rewrite of the former kind of glory that was the old WSBB . There are a few reasons why I didn't want to simply revamp the old version:

1. Too many characters. There are so many suspects (branching out of the original "keep it within Hoenn" that I wanted) for anyone to keep track of besides me.

2. Extremely atrocious grammar, even by my low standards. It would have been easier to re-write the story then go back and fix everything.

3. More use of forensic science and actual noticeable "clues" than reliance on eye-witness accounts.

I don't recommend reading the old WSBB as some characters and his/her alibi may change, whether it is a little or drastically. Doing so may confuse you. That and don't even think about reading the old version, cheaters! Yeah, I called you out on it. What are you going to do, punk (giggles)? We'll see how this version takes off before I post chapter I.

So enjoy. Rly.

Prologue

The autumn leaves crunched and scattered underneath the onslaught of police cars blazing down the empty streets of the sleepy town of Littleroot, rustling the slumbering Taillows from their nests and awakening the Zigzagoons who popped out from the bushes to the side of the road, entranced by the flashing red and blue of the sirens. The silver moonlight mixed with the gold light of the street lights, lighting the police officers way to the crime scene.

Swerving past a particularly rebellious Zigzagoon who sat in the middle of the road, its eyes glazed over, was a man driving a dark blue SUV, its tires screeching. He then turned into a small, suburban neighborhood where an ambulance and three other police cars were stationed. Pebbles crunching underneath his tires as he parallel parked across the crime scene, a two-story house complete with a rose garden and white picket fence, the man turned off his engine, its mighty roar fading into nothing but the sound of sizzling bugs jumping around the grill of his SUV.

The man opened the door and stepped out into the street, kicking loose asphalt around with his black leather shoes. He closed it with a satisfying slam, his tweed coat brushing behind him, before crossing the street, scaring away a baby Zigzagoon in the process. Examining the crime scene closely, he watched as one of his colleagues questioned a shivering suspects dressed in nothing except a light pink bathrobe, her hair up in curlers. A few yards away was a mother – probably the victim's – hunched over in the grass, pounding the dirt and crying hysterically, a man, who the detective recognized as the famous Hoenn researcher Professor Birch, hunched over beside her, his head close to hers as he rubbed her nightwear clad back soothingly.

The man walked and stood next to a police officer who was busily scribbling notes on a clipboard, shivering as the cold, nippy night air blew against his face.

"What took you so long?" the officer grumbled in a gruff voice, not looking up from his notes. He pushed up a pair of reading glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

"Traffic, Jacob," the man replied coolly. "It is my day off anyway. Why am I being called, especially at midnight?"

The officer shrugged. "You know we've been short on officers, Tony. We need all the help we can get, especially for a high profile case like this."

"And what exactly are we dealing with?"

The officer, known as Jacob, handed the detective his clipboard. Immediately Detective Tony began to flip through the papers, his eyebrows furrowing together. "Attempted homicide? Here? Littleroot is such a nice town too. Why would someone want to do this?"

"I don't know. You're the detective. You tell me." Officer Jacob took back his clipboard, scribbling more notes.

The detective frowned as he watched the EMT wheel out a gurney from the well-kept cherry wood porch. It was hard to take in the boy's description from his distance, but he noticed the bright white hair of the boy. "This boy," the detective muttered, watching the EMTs wheel the gurney and the boy inside the ambulance. "He's Brendan Birch, isn't he?"

"Brendan!" The two colleagues snapped their head up from the clipboard as they watched a girl, barely clad in a tank top and shorts, her hair up in a towel, run barefoot toward the ambulance, her arms outstretched as if they would reach the boy. She then tried to swipe at the gurney but was held back by another police officer. In hysterics, the girl kicked and screamed as they dragged her away.

"If that didn't answer your question, yes, that's Brendan Birch," the officer replied, absent-minded. "Fifteen years old, son of Professor Birch, Pokémon Trainer, just won the-"

"Hoenn Pokémon League," the detective interrupted. "I watched that today. I was amazed how that boy managed to knock out Steven's Pokémon so quickly at such a type advantage."

"Yeah, well ..." The police officer held the clipboard to his side and gazed upon the modest house, lights shining from every crack and cranny. "Tony, anyone could have tried to kill this guy just because he won the League. His friends, the former champion, rivals, fans, his family even."

Detective Tony cracked his knuckles and smirked. "I always liked a challenge. Did you investigate the crime scene yet?"

"Nope. We were waiting for you."

"Then let's get to it."

Detective Tony and Officer Jacob stepped forward toward the house, advancing toward the curious neighbors, the agitated family members and friends, and the sad tale of a Pokémon Master's story who's close demise would probably outlive his championship.

Needless to say, the same question revolved in every person's head involved in this case: Who shot Brendan Birch?

See, it's already different from the first version. Rawr fish!

LaTeR dAyZ!