Disclaimer

Pokemon is owned by Nintendo/Game Freak

Jessica clutched her notebook close to her chest as Officer Jenny led her through the halls of the prison, her blue eyes nervously looking at each of the cells. Most were empty, but on occasion someone would be glaring back at her. Thankfully they reached the door at the end of the holding block, and entered a long, white hallway. A clear window showed another officer at some sort of console, and after she pressed a few buttons there was a loud buzz and the door at the end swung open. The two of them walked into a grey-walled room, a simple table and two chairs bolted to the floor.

"Alright," she turned around, brushing a strand of her long black hair out of her sight to see Officer Jenny looking down at her, "I going to be in here with you to make sure he doesn't try anything, and another officer will be behind him."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

The officer frowned and sighed, a worried look taking over, "Are you sure you want to do this? He's not like the petty thieves and punks we passed. He's… he's killed."

Jessica closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and put on what she hoped looked like a determined face, "I'm sure."

The officer opened her mouth to argue, but just sighed, "Alright," she brought up her walkie-talkie, "Bring him in."

Jessica sat down in the chair closest to her, opening her notebook and making sure the batteries in her small recorder were fully charged. She couldn't afford to mess this up, not after her mother went through the trouble of convincing her police friends for this chance. If she could successfully interview this man, it would guarantee her a job at any news station she wanted! Every other person sent to interview him had broken down, some of them needing drastic therapy to recover. But she would succeed, even if she was just a step short of bolting for the door.

The door opened, and she prepared for the worst, ugliest, scariest looking-

"Wait, what?"

The Officer Jenny that just came in pushed a young boy in a wheelchair, straightjacket, and muzzle forward, an Arcanine at her side. The boy couldn't be any older than eighteen, straight, black hair framing two tired, bloodshot amber eyes. When the officer stopped, he stood and sat in the bolted chair. His officer then cuffed his ankles to the chair, a heavy chain wrapping around his stomach. Finally, she undid the muzzle, showing the small frown on his face. She stepped back before speaking.

"You will not ask any personal questions, such as her address, phone number, or the names of her family members. You will-"

The boy rolled his head to look at her, and she backed up while the Arcanine growled. He stared at them before rolling his head to look at Jessica. She had to admit, he didn't look threatening, just… bored and tired.

"Let's get this over with. One of the interviewers barely made it past listing my crimes, let's see how you do." He yawned, and the Officers glared at him.

Jessica blinked before she coughed into her hand. She took a calming breath before she turned on her recorder.

"Hello, I'm Jessica Tara. Would you be so kind as to tell me your name?"

"Devon Black," he yawned again, "Interesting start, at least. Most don't give their names, or act like I should already know. Speaking of, what outfit do you belong to? Too young to be one of the major networks, probably even local, not that I know, seeing as they won't even let me have a damn radio."

"Well, a-actually, I'm conducting a personal interview." She flushed red at the reminder she wasn't quite famous yet.

He blinked, before looking to his Officer, "Finally got that shrink you always threatened me with?"

Jessica looked between the two, confused, "They threatened you with a therapist?"

He looked back to her, "They wanted to 'fix me', I insisted I'm not broken. Agreed to stop trying if I stopped breaking the clones."

"Clones?"

"They're practically carbon copies of each other," he nodded to his officer, who looked like she was fighting back the urge to hit him, "And you've let me derail this whole thing."

She blushed harder, "A-ah, my apologies. Let's get back to the interview, shall we?"

He looked at her before sighing and shaking his head side to side, "I'm counting the seconds. Go on."

She took another calming breath before continuing, "Mr. Black-"

"Devon or Black. I'm not old enough to be called 'Mister'."

"Well, Devon, I'm here to ask you about… everything, really," he tilted his head, but said nothing, "What your life was like before you committed any crimes, what life was like as a criminal, and your motivations."

He blinked twice, and then tilted his head upright, "I'll tell, if you can make it through the list."

"The… list?"

"Remember what I said, about that one interviewer?"

She thought for a moment, and when she realized what he meant she felt herself go pale. She looked down at her notebook, where her notes on her subject were written. She steeled herself before speaking, deciding to work from lightest to worst.

"Multiple counts of grand theft, petty theft, pickpocketing-"

"Skip those. No one cares about the little crimes."

She felt a trickle of sweat run down her cheek, "…M-m-multiple counts of… of… m-m… murder…" She finished quietly.

He nodded, "And?"

She began shaking, "M-m-m-multiple… counts of… poaching and h-hunting Pokemon…"

"Skip the 'multiple counts' part. It'll make this longer than necessary."

Her face flushed redder than a tamato berry, "P-p-p-poke… p-p-p-poke… p-pokephilia!" She finally forced out, and the officers blushed.

He shook his head, "They had no evidence on that one, just a rumor the press threw in, but continue."

She felt her herself shake harder. This… this was a horrible idea! She could barely handle seeing people kissing in public, or watching Pokemon battles, and she wanted to report on this!? There was no way she could-

She stopped shaking, her eyes widening…

"I'm sorry, Ms. Tara, but there's no way you could get into the program now.

"Sorry, Jessica, but there's no way we could bring you on as an intern."

"Sorry, Jess, guess you could never be a real reporter, huh?"

She clenched her fist, looking up into Devon's amber eyes. She could do this. She. Will. Do. This.

"Serving Pokemon and Pokemon byproducts to the public."

"…And there it is. The crime that is not a crime... You'll have your story…"

He sat up straight, and leaned forward as much as he could.

"…of the boy who would become 'The Gourmet'."

Well, this is a thing now. This story spawned off the infamous 'what does [insert pokemon] taste like' question, and it evolved into my soon to be crapsaccharine world. Next chapter will arrive when it arrives.

And because I know at least one of the people who read my other stories will ask:

I will have something soon. Next few days, at worst.