Sunday

Looking for Mewtwo was a waste of time, but he could find her easily enough. He was a fucking psychic, after all. He'd probably sense her desire for the two of them to have a polite little chat about murder and just what the fuck was going on.

Brenda called dispatch, said she was going to take the day for personal. It was true, after all. Mewtwo was no snitch, even when all was said and done. It would probably take the whole day to find him. Finally, when Brenda thought about it, she needed a day out of the station, without having to explain her hours to anyone.

It felt good, she thought, once she'd hung up on dispatch. Having to account her time was a pain in the ass.

She headed for Viridian Woods.

She got out of the city, started to hum. There was no fucking way she was a trainer, so the little brats left her alone. Eyes to the ground, shoulders hunched, she would've pegged them as guilty had they been in the city. Outside, they were simply looking for their quarry.

She aimed for an area of the wilderness that would be out of sight to the trainers, would get sun for most of the day, and probably didn't hold much interest for the wild pokemon. She sat down, laughed a little at herself, and relaxed from her ramrod straight posture.

Brenda closed her eyes. She sat there she didn't know how long, but it didn't feel like a good length of time. She kept her mind focused on the case. Twelve bodies, in varying stages of decomp. Blood everywhere. The scent of death clinging to her after two shampoos and more soap then Brenda really cared to remember. The sight of the twelve body bags and the frustration at being told that she had nothing, that she wouldn't have anything for a day or more.

Brenda clenched her teeth, forced the anger back. Anger wouldn't help Mewtwo find her.

If he were looking.

Brenda's eyes opened. She hadn't thought of that. If Mewtwo wasn't looking for her… Or worse, was deliberately looking anywhere but at her…

(You quite obviously know nothing about psychics. Don't cops ever look up?)

Brenda kept her eyes on the grass. Jackass, she thought.

(And you're a bitch. Is there a reason you bombarded me with images I'd rather forget, or did you just do it to be annoying?)

"You can't forget death. It'd make you less of a person. It sure as hell would make less of the victims." Brenda looked up, and frowned. "You can't tell me you were looking for me."

(Looking isn't quite the word I'd use. But I digress. Do you want something, Detective? Can I go back to trying to find the pokemon from the lab, and trying to ignore the headache you give me?)

Brenda gestured at the ground. "I'd rather not shout," she said.

(So stop thinking.) Mewtwo stepped off the tree branch, caught himself with telekinetic powers, and landed on the ground.

"Show off."

Mewtwo gave her a Look. Brenda sighed. "Okay, look. I need the whole story, not just the details you gave me yesterday. I can't go into this investigation blind, and right now, you're the only one who can shed a little light. So, start talking."

(Humans are so inaccurate. I am not 'talking', I am telepathically transmitting my thoughts to your mind.)

"Does it look like I give a fuck? Do whatever the hell it is you do, which I in my inaccurate, human way, will henceforth call 'talking'."

Mewtwo laughed. He leaned back against the tree behind him. He even smiled, which gave Brenda a chill. She didn't know why, wasn't sure she wanted to know.

(You are one of a kind. Thank goodness!) All humor fled Mewtwo then. He folded his arms and sighed. (The details… Some, I will keep to myself. This is for my own privacy, and because I am ashamed.)

"Does it involve my case?" Brenda asked. She told herself she wasn't the least interested in anything involving Mewtwo's history that just so happened to shame the mutated cat. She figured if she told herself that, she'd eventually believe it.

(No, it does not.) Mewtwo sighed again, walked forward a few steps, walked back. His tail lashed the air, hitting the tree nearest him hard enough to have the bark flaking a little. (It does not,) he said, (but it is a part of it.)

"Tell me what you can," Brenda said, using the quiet voice she used on families of victims. "Leave out unnecessary details, if that'll help."

(Very well. To start with… I was created by Team Rocket. I am not the only one, perhaps, but I am the only one who has been so… mutated.) Mewtwo held up one paw, stared at it. Looked away, as if in disgust. (I normally keep to myself, in Johto. However, I do have internet, and I am good at hacking.)

"Okay, do I even want to know how a pokemon has internet access?" Brenda asked.

(I could tell you, but then you would most likely get a headache.) Mewtwo said, sounding amused.

"Then we can skip that," Brenda said. "So you're a hacker."

All amusement fled. (Yes. Good enough to get into Team Rocket's database. I was aware, you see, that they were conducting experiments. I thought- I told myself- that there was nothing I could do.)

"You didn't want to encounter Team Rocket again," Brenda said, reading between the lines. "You were afraid of just that."

Mewtwo glared at her. (I erased all memory of my existence from them,) he said. (I don't fear them!)

"But mental blocks have been broken, memories have been returned. A word, a sight, a feeling. That's why mind wipes aren't used more often."

(I… Perhaps, you are partly right. However, when I discovered that they had combined several pokemon to create a new species-)

"Wait, what?" Brenda held up her hands. "A new pokemon? Like, like what they did with you?"

(Yes. Only they used dragon types, more then two samples of DNA, and exposed their creations to more chemicals then I ever was. That was three months ago, when the experiments were still growing.)

"So you came here? Otherwise, you'd have more information."

(Precisely. I had… I suppose you would say I'd only just gathered my courage, when I came across you.)

"Almost teleported onto my head, but whatever." Brenda stood up and began to pace. "Can you read through science jargon and translate it into a sane language?"

(Ye-es… Why?) Mewtwo's tail stopped twitching quite so violently.

Brenda chewed on her lip. "If anyone finds out, I'm dead," she said. "With a capital D. Fuck it, what else can I do?"

(If you would tell me…)

"Can't you read my mind?"

(At the moment, no, and I prefer not to read people's minds. It's rude.)

"Well screw you, jackass. I need someone to translate science crap, once I'm allowed at the scene. If you can do it, no one will scream at me about the budget and how expensive it is to pay science majors for their time."

Brenda stared at Mewtwo. She half wished that she knew what he was thinking, but that would've meant being a psychic. She'd rather gouge out her own eyes then be a psychic.

(Perhaps I might be able to help you,) Mewtwo said, breaking the silence. (Go home, Detective. I will have an answer for you tomorrow. Don't worry about finding me.)

Brenda nodded. "Done, then. Thanks for listening, I guess." She turned and left.

Monday

Brenda got into work early. She checked her box for reports and held back a cheer. Some of the sweepers had handed their things into the lab, obviously, since she had a report on the above ground scene.

She settled in to read.

She finished at the exact moment cop shoes clopped up to her desk. "Detective Johnson?"

Brenda looked up. "Yeah, that's me." Brown and brown, she thought. No hint of dye or contacts, which meant it was all natural. Strange, when most people dyed their hair a different color at least once a week, and contacts were cheap.

The officer continued to stand there. Brenda sighed. "Is there something you want, Officer…?"

"Smith," the officer said. "I'm here for training, ma'am."

"Sir," Brenda corrected. "You call your superiors 'sir'. Gender doesn't factor into it." Her mind caught up with her. "Wait a minute, what?"

Officer Smith blinked. "I'm here for training, sir. You don't remember? You told Lt. Milton, just this past January that you would train an officer. He sent me."

Brenda shook her head. "I did?" She thought back. "I don't remember."

Officer Smith held out some papers. Brenda glanced them over, completely befuddled. There it was, black and white, even down to her signature. She had told Lt. Milton that she would train one of his officers. He had too many, not enough trainers. Shit, when'd this happen?

She almost called Lt. Milton. The old man had trained her, back when she was fresh from cop school. She'd been a traffic cop, managed pull over a murderer with his dismembered victim in the trunk. She'd made the arrest, of course, and hadn't ever forgotten the smell of blood and gore after three hours in a car's trunk. Milton had taken her under his wing, made her what she was.

She remembered that he never came in on Monday mornings. He liked to come in the afternoons, work through to the evenings, just as a change of pace. She wouldn't be able to talk to him until then.

"Damn," she said. "I guess it's true, then. Do you have a desk?" If not, she'd have to kick the officers in requisitions in the ass. She hated dealing with the stuck up assholes.

"Yes ma'am- sir." Officer Smith shook his head. "It's that one." He pointed across a very narrow aisle and up three at a desk that hadn't been there the day before.

Brenda grunted. "Fine. Go call the morgue, ask if they've gotten to the twelve cadavers yet. They'll know what you're talking about."

"Uh… what's the number…?"

"Figure it out."

Brenda called up the sweepers, only to be told that they were still working on the under ground scene. She'd just have to be patient, the rest of the above ground samples had been sent to the lab, she'd get the report the next day.

She called the lab, promised she'd break the investigator's legs if he allowed even the slightest delay, and hung up.

Officer Smith was there, waiting. "The morgue is pleased to report that they have not gotten to your cadavers yet. This came in for you." He held out a reasonably sized package.

Brenda ripped it open and smiled. "Good. Damn, this place is sweltering. Let's go."

She glanced at Officer Smith's desk, to see if a name plaque had been made up.

Vahan Smith

She stared at Officer Smith, slack jawed.

He winked.

Monday

Brenda checked that her car radio was off. "So," she asked, voice pleasant. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, Vahan?"

"Pardon?"

Brenda stopped at a red light, glanced over. Was that a hint of purple beneath the brown? "You know exactly what I'm talking about. The radio is off, though I doubt you'd be heard over it."

Officer Smith glared. "I would," he said. "Believe me, I would."

Brenda snorted. "So, how'd you get your voice to sound, eh, hearable, anyways?"

"I assume you mean audible? By talking. You know, I move my mouth, words come out."

"Well, that's what one hopes happens when you move your mouth, but I don't really want to know about your private life."

Brenda watched with a nasty satisfaction as Officer Smith blushed. She reached out while he was distracted, frowned when she felt summer weight police uniform sleeve.

Officer Smith lifted an eyebrow. "Are you feeling me up?"

Brenda drove the car into the nearest parking lot. She noticed the small stand of evergreen trees thick enough to hide anyone stupid enough to stand there, and turned to growl at Officer Smith. "Get out, walk over there."

Officer Smith smirked. "Certainly, sir."

Brenda turned off the car, took two deep breaths, and followed. She wasn't going to kill him. That would be… problematic. Besides, the amount of paperwork wasn't worth it.

She folded her arms, glared. "Alright Vahan, drop it. Now."

Officer Smith frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"Drop the fucking illusion now!"

Officer Smith sighed, closed his eyes. "Oh, very well."

Then his form seemed to- melt- and what stood before her wasn't a new officer but the freakish, mutated form of Mewtwo.

"What the fuck are you trying to do, get yourself killed? Goddamn it asshole!"

(Do you have any idea how hard this is?) he asked. The cop part of Brenda's mind noted that he was slightly hunched over, as if in pain, that his mental voice sounded strained. (You are the only one who can see me like this.)

"Goddamn it! Goddamn mother-fucking cock-sucking asshole!"

She punched him.

Brenda glared down at Mewtwo's sprawled form. He should have expected that, she thought. Weren't psychics supposed to have some sort of clue? "What possessed you, huh? All it takes is one mistake, one mistake! Then not only are you dead but Rocketto has your body for dissection and hey, memories come back again!"

(Dare I say it, you actually sound concerned for me.) Mewtwo sat up. He sounded winded, Brenda thought. She offered her hand without thinking.

They both stared at her hand as if it were some kind of foreign object. Slowly, Mewtwo reached for her hand. He was obviously waiting for her to come to her nonexistent senses and pull her hand away.

It irritated her. She didn't stop to question why, just grabbed his paw and yanked him to his feet.

"You're a jackass," she said. Her shoulders slumped. "Will anyone figure it out?"

Mewtwo's form shimmered, and then Officer Smith stood before her. "Not from the electronic files, at least. The only people who'll be able to see through the illusion aren't people at all. They're pokemon- dark types."

"Whoopie. Okay, look. My word is law. Can you yap inside my head without anyone knowing?"

(Certainly,) he said. Aloud, "That could be useful."

"You have no idea." Brenda smirked. "Get in the car. We have a gym leader to talk to."

Brenda pulled on her seat belt and waited for Mewtwo to figure out his seat belt. It was Mewtwo, whether he looked human or not. For some reason, that was reassuring. "So, despite looking like you've got five fingers, you only have the three, right?"

"Right," he said. "I could use my telekinesis to deal with this, but… I don't have to, do I?" For some reason, he looked worried when he glanced up at her.

"Look, so long as no one figures it out, you can do whatever you want, as long as it doesn't reflect badly on me." Brenda tried a smile. It was weak, but it held. "That a deal, partner?" She held out her hand.

(It is,) Mewtwo said. They shook on it.

Brenda got the car in gear, drove back out into traffic. "What do you know about Giovanni Rocketto?" she asked.

Mewtwo glanced at her. "Why do you want to know?"

Brenda's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Because I'm fucking tired of being told to leave him out of it. Team Rocket just so happens to be working out of one of his businesses, he's obviously the victim because of his name and wealth." Brenda shook her head. "Once or twice, maybe. But seventeen times this past year? No. There's no such thing as coincidence."

"I know he's the leader of Team Rocket."

"…Shit. I figured, y'know?" Brenda turned onto a private road. "We're going to talk to him."

"Now?" Mewtwo flinched. "I don't think-"

"Your job isn't to think, 'Smith'. Your job is to stand to my right and just a little behind, and look somber." Brenda smirked. "Tough break, but you'll be the overlooked guy."

Mewtwo chuckled. "I think I can handle that."

Brenda pulled up at the property gate. She rolled down her window and smiled at the guard. "Hi. I'm Detective Johnson. I'd like to talk to Mr. Rocketto."

The guard didn't smile back. "What about?" He glanced at Officer Smith, then back at Brenda.

"The lab studying potions. I'm afraid I don't know what that's called."

"Wait here." The guard turned and went back to the guard shack. He spoke on an old fashioned phone- no computer- for a few minutes, then walked back. "Go right through. He'll have someone meet you."

Brenda nodded, drove through the gates. She rolled up her window. "This is a show of power," she murmured. "He'll have someone meet us, we'll cool our heels in a lobby or sitting room or some shit like that."

"I see." Officer Smith looked over at Brenda. "I'm secure enough to admit that I'm terrified."

"I don't even want to know about your history with Team Rocket, if the leader's enough to scare you shitless. Got any proof that he's the leader?"

"Sadly, nothing that could go to court."

"Damn." Brenda got out of the car. "There goes that hope. Come on."

She knocked on the door. Officer Smith got into position just behind and to the right of her.

An older woman, hair pulled back into a severe knot, opened the door. "Come in," she said.

"Thank you. I understand that Mr. Rocketto is a very busy man," Brenda said.

"He's in a teleconference right now, but he should be finished shortly. If you wouldn't mind coming with me?"

"Please, lead on." Brenda looked around. "Mr. Rocketto has a very lovely home." She personally thought it was a bit heavy on dark and morbid colors, but to each their own.

The woman led them to a sitting room. "Please, wait here. Mr. Rocketto will be down shortly."

Brenda nodded and took a seat on a rather uncomfortable couch. "Sit down," she said. She lowered her voice and muttered, "Are the walls cinderblocks?"

(Yes. I imagine he has a good reason for it.)

Brenda tried not to jump at the psychic voice rattling in her skull. "They always do," she said. "Relax. Nothing's going to jump you here."

Officer Smith looked over at her. "Was it that obvious?"

"Only to a trained observer. The décor is a little dark for my tastes, sure, and I can't get behind all the swords on the wall, but I'm sure some people would go wild for this sort of thing."

"Thank you, Ms. Johnson. A pity you don't like it."

Brenda looked over, smiled while her heart sank. She didn't like the look of Giovanni Rocketto. She should've guessed from his name that he'd have dusky gold skin, black hair, dark eyes. Just like she did. The upside was she didn't look half as slimy as Giovanni.

"Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Rocketto."

Brenda shook hands with slime covered by a tarp. He had the look of a purebred from the southern islands in the Orange Archipelago. Brenda's parents had both hailed from that area.

"Moro Island?" Brenda asked.

Giovanni smiled. "No, Trovita Island, but good guess. You're from there?"

"My parents," Brenda said. "I've sadly never been there."

"A pity, you'd like it there." Giovanni waved one hand at the door. "But what am I doing, just standing here? Come, come, we can talk in my office. I'll have Lucinda bring us something to drink."

"Be sure to tell her that the two cops are on duty," Brenda said. "Thanks."

"Oh, it's no problem." Giovanni smiled over his shoulder.

Brenda glanced at Officer Smith. He was starting to look kind of purple. She elbowed him, thought about his disguise. He thanked her with a disgusted look and a repaired illusion.

Giovanni gestured them into his office first. "Take a seat. Just a minute." He pressed a button on an old fashioned intercom system on his desk. "Lucinda, would you bring up some drinks. Non-alcoholic, if you please."

"You have plenty of antiques in your home," Brenda said, once Giovanni had sat down.

"I find them comforting. Trovita Island didn't have much in the way of newer conveniences. I find myself reaching for my past even as I look towards my future."

Brenda really didn't like the way he was looking at her like that. She was a professional, she was able to hide it, but damn it, what was there to look at? He looked… hungry, damn it all. Hungry for what?

She gave her head the slightest of shakes. "I came to talk to you about your lab," she said, certain he'd know which one she was talking about.

"My lab? Ah, yes, the one researching potions. Have you any news?"

"Not yet," she said. "I actually came to personally assure you that I would find out what happened to your staff. Further, I intend to find this leader of Team Rocket and make him pay for using your lab, your staff, and your money for his operations."

Giovanni coughed, leaned back in his chair. "Ah, thank you, Lucinda." He took a drink from the older woman, who offered drinks to Brenda and Officer Smith. Brenda took one, Officer Smith took the other, Lucinda left the room.

Brenda took a sip of her drink, giving Giovanni time to come up with a response. Got you now, you bastard, she thought. Can't say I shouldn't look too hard, because that would just be a bad idea, wouldn't it? Can't encourage me, because then what're you going to do when I'm breathing down your back, huh?

Giovanni leaned forward in his chair. He smiled, which made Brenda's skin crawl. "Such devotion in public officers. Truly, I feel safe with officers such as yourself on the force."

Brenda smiled. "Thank you. I hope to get you an answer about your lab very soon."

Caught again, Giovanni took a sip of his drink to stall for time.

Brenda leaned back slightly, pleased. The other police officers said she had no political savvy. A pity none of them could watch this, or they'd realize their mistake.

There was the slightest of sounds by the doorway. Brenda was already looking over when she 'heard' Mewtwo gasp inside her head.

He was back to being Officer Smith in a split second, but the slip would have been noticeable to any cop. Giovanni hadn't focused on Officer Smith, thank goodness, or they would've been in trouble.

They were in enough trouble as it was.

The houndoom stared at Officer Smith. Brenda was moving before she'd realized it.

"Oh, what a beautiful canine!" She knelt down in front of the houndoom, giving it access to her throat. As she'd hoped, it was too confused to act.

Brenda rubbed her fingers against the houndoom's ears. She couldn't help the delighted grin when it half closed its eyes and shuffled closer. She liked canine pokemon, but she preferred growlithe. They were predictable.

"You like canines?" Giovanni asked.

Brenda nodded, and cooed over the houndoom. "Love them," she confirmed. She could feel Officer Smith's gaze boring into her back, ignored him for just that reason. "What can I say? I wish I'd joined the K9 police team, but the murder cop business practically fell into my lap."

"You don't have any pets of your own?"

Brenda took her seat with every sign of reluctance, and welcomed the houndoom with every sign of glee when it followed her.

"No," she said. A sigh. "I live in an apartment, and with my hours… Normally I get home, it's midnight. Who can take a growlithe or anything out for a run then?"

"If it were a houndoom…" Giovanni smiled.

"Yeah," Brenda sighed. "Except where could I get one? I'm no trainer, after all."

"Well, perhaps you might consider doing me a favor, beyond finding who killed my staff." Giovanni shifted in his seat. Brenda supposed he thought it made him look uncomfortable, as if he were unused to asking for favors.

He probably was, she thought. He was used to giving orders.

"Oh?" Brenda tugged on the houndoom's ear, and was rewarded with a sigh and a chin on her knee.

"Take Demona. She's young, energetic. Much too young for me, I'm afraid. Her mother has been a valued companion for many years, and all the pups were sold off."

"Except for Demona." Brenda considered it. It was a bribe, obviously, but just because she took a bribe didn't mean she'd go along with anything. "I don't know… it's the whole 'get home at midnight' thing," she said.

"Yes, but if you want to go for a run, what better companion then a houndoom? I'm sure, being a cop, you hardly need protection. However, if some horrible street thug were to see a pretty young thing like yourself alone, they might do something foolish."

Brenda lifted her eyebrows. "Not in my neighborhood," she said.

"Still, consider it. Please."

Brenda lowered her eyes, as if thinking. She had already decided. "I don't know," she said. "Demona looks like a purebred."

"If only," Giovanni said, laughing a little. "No, no, take her. I insist. Protection, as if you'd need it."

Brenda looked up, smiled a little. "I'm afraid, Mr. Rocketto, you've convinced me. Alright, thank you."

"My pleasure, Ms. Johnson." Giovanni smiled in a self satisfied way. "Entirely my pleasure."

Monday

Brenda let her new houndoom into the back of the car. "I'm changing your name," she muttered. "Demona is so cliché."

She got into the driver's seat and buckled up. "What were your impressions?" she asked.

"You were flirting with him." Mewtwo glared at her.

"Does it make you uncomfortable with a dark type sitting behind you?" Brenda started the car, headed for civilization.

"Now that you mention it…"

"Anyways, I wasn't flirting with him. He offered a bribe, I took it. Doesn't mean I have to dance to his tune." Brenda paused. "Sorry, Demona, you're not just a bribe, are you, you pretty girl?" She glanced up at Mewtwo, caught the skeptical look he was giving her. "What?"

"You are a very strange human," he said. "Why would you take the bribe if you weren't going to go along with him?"

Brenda sighed. "If I didn't, it means I'm onto him and really principled. That and I've never been bought yet. That either means he has to try really hard to buy me out, or kill me."

"He was still flirting with you."

"Maybe," Brenda admitted. "Why else would he say stuff that's completely untrue?"

"What stuff?"

"He called me beautiful. I'm not."

Mewtwo snorted. "You've been raised on Kanto standards of beauty, haven't you?"

"All my life, why?"

"Kanto standards are completely unrealistic. That ideal of beauty involves white skin, blonde hair and blue eyes, large boobs, small ass, tall and skinny."

Brenda glanced over in surprise. She smiled. "Maybe," she said, and turned on the radio.

Her eyes widened. "Hey, this is my favorite song! Just when the sky runs out of rain, just when the sun runs out of light, just when the earth is ill with pain, just when your body is out of fight, I will be there, I will be the smallest piece in everything, and I would give my life before I break this promise to you."

"I said it before," Mewtwo said. "You are a very odd human."

"Melt in to me, don't you want to be the ones that last forever, I'll be your everlasting, and enemies they take your will but they won't last forever, I'll be your sword and shield and, I'll be your sword, I'll be your shield… Come on Mewtwo, sing along!"

End Notes

I do not own any characters from Pokemon movies, comics, games, TV show, or books. I do not own the song Sword and Shield, either. If you want to look up the song, go to YouTube, type in Sword and Shield in the search engine, have fun.

A side note, Brenda's name is related to the word 'sword', Vahan is a word related to the word 'shield'. Just for anyone who cares.