Yes, I realize this is a rather quick update. Lucky you- this chapter was already written. Third chapter is in the works, will hopefully be finished before Hell freezes over.
Disclaimer: Are you kidding me? I don't own pokemon. I also don't own Davis- she's CalliopeMused's creation.
Wednesday
Brenda stalked into the bull pen, snarling. She spotted the cop almost at once. Black hair, dusky skin, no uniform; dark blue slacks and a cream colored blouse, no jacket. Weapon at the hip. No one from Viridian that Brenda recognized, had to be from out of town. Whoever it was, they were leaning on her desk. "Hey!"
"Officer Johnson? Lieutenant Davis, from Pallet Town. You're my consult for area gang activity." She flashed her badge.
Brenda walked over and bared her teeth at the badge. "Consult for what?" The badge looked real. Closer up, she was able to see pale scars on the arms and hands. The scars looked like they'd been gotten in more then one fight.
"Rocket. Reports say you were involved in taking Giovanni out, but the rest of the organization is still moving." Lieutenant Davis straightened, using every inch of height she had. "I've been assigned to meet with you at least once per week to discuss strategies and progress in how to dismantle Team Rocket."
Mewtwo stepped up behind Brenda, risking an elbow to the stomach. He was taller then this lieutenant, and looked down his illusionary nose at her. "We are homicide cops," he said. "Gangs aren't in our purview, unless they kill someone."
"We have an inter-station agreement," the lieutenant explained. "You have experience with Rocket, I work with getting gangs out of cities. Call it homicide prevention if it'll make the assignment fit in your box."
"That's Anti-Crime," Brenda pointed out. "Or Vice. As for our experience? Giovanni did something fucking stupid. We stopped him. That's it." Punching another cop would be bad, she reminded herself.
"That's not my lookout, is it? I'm assigned to work with you. I don't care if you sit in the conference room for an hour and bring coloring books, that's the assignment."
Yeah, punching another cop would be bad, but it was tempting. Brenda cracked her knuckles. "You're talking about an hour taken out of our work. While we could be out conducting interviews or looking over a murder scene, you want us in a conference room with our thumbs up our asses."
Mewtwo blinked, and looked down at Brenda. "Detective..."
"No. I want one hour per week. I show you strategies that work in my home district, you tell me what Rocket has its claws into here. Research, training, scattering agents through caves, whatever else they're doing. If you can't do that, then you're welcome to show up with nothing but thumbs to amuse yourselves," the lieutenant said, without raising her voice.
"How the fucking hell are we supposed to know what those assholes are up to, huh? Murder cops, not psychics!"
Mewtwo bit his tongue, and risked a hand on Brenda's shoulder. She elbowed him in the stomach.
"Crime reports." The lieutenant looked calm. "I'm sure you have some idea what Giovanni's prime interests were. From there, you can trace how Rocket is involved in your town and the surrounding area. Once you know that, you can get Rocket out."
"Detective, I can take care of that along with my other duties." Mewtwo tilted his head, considering the two female cops. "It won't take me that long, considering my computer skills."
"Vahan, shut the fuck up, now."
"Officer Smith, I would be much obliged," the lieutenant said. "Just one hour a week. I can take care of work at my house, the hour can be useful. I don't know why someone came up with the arrangement, I don't care that you're homicide cops. You're stuck with me until your boss discontinues the arrangement."
"So, when demons are ice skating down in hell. Great. You're leaning on my desk."
"The other option was your chair." The lieutenant straightened. "Would either of you like to suggest a day?"
"Thursdays," Mewtwo said, before Brenda could speak. "At four?"
"That will work," she said. "Until Thursday, then."
Brenda rounded on Mewtwo, and snarled. "That doesn't work, you- mmph!"
"If you bite me, you won't like what happens next," Mewtwo told her.
"Look," the lieutenant said, "I'm no happier with this, but it's part of your job. Tomorrow at four," she repeated, nodding stiffly to Smith before walking towards the garage.
Brenda rolled her eyes, the better to keep an eye on the uppity new cop, before looking back at Mewtwo. She didn't think she'd given him warning, but when she went to kick him, his leg wasn't there.
"Now, Detective, that wasn't very nice," he said.
Brenda made a feral sound deep in her throat.
Mewtwo's illusion arched its eyebrows, and he took his hand off her face. She shook her head, and sat down at her desk. "Never, ever do that again," she said.
"Of course not, Detective. Should I get started on the, ah, research for tomorrow's meeting?"
"Screw that," Brenda said. "We're off duty." She eyed her desk, and sighed. Paperwork. She hated paperwork. "On second thought, I'll file the damn reports, you do research- but the moment I'm done we're gone."
Mewtwo nodded and sat down at his desk. Brenda eyed him a moment, and grinned. She knew him; his illusion might be sitting in the chair properly, but she'd bet good money that he was really perched on the edge of the seat, in order to make room for his tail.
She snorted, and turned back to her desk. Paperwork, she reminded herself. Some schmuck of a drugged up kid attacking her on her way home, her partner just so happened to be in the area…
A sudden thought had her looking up and over at the other cops in the bull pen. All of them, every single damn one of them, looked busy.
She wondered what changes to the betting pool would be made after tonight.
Half an hour later, she shoved away from her desk. "Smith! You're off the clock."
Mewtwo looked up and nodded. "I only need a moment, Detective." He waved something small, sleek, and black at her, before plugging the whatever it was into his computer tower. Brenda shrugged and stood up.
"What is that?" she asked, moving to lean over his shoulder.
"A memory stick. Like a portable hard drive."
"Hard drive? That's the memory, right?"
A sigh. "Yes, Detective, a hard drive is a computer's memory."
Brenda smiled, and moved backwards, giving Mewtwo enough room to stand up and stretch. That tail of his was practically a lethal weapon.
"So," she said. "How much did you get?"
"So far, everything is legal," he answered. Brenda nearly walked into an empty desk.
"You're not using my computer to hack into sealed files," she growled, her words nearly incomprehensible.
Mewtwo glanced back at her, and grinned. It was, Brenda thought, a decidedly creepy expression. Way too much cheer for one person at- shit, eight-o-five at night. (Detective, what you don't know can't hurt you. Just be sure to get a good night's rest.)
Brenda clenched her teeth and refrained from punching him in the face. She didn't need a partner with a concussion. But goddamnit, she'd told him about telepathy in the station!
"Relax, Detective." Mewtwo paused before the elevator. "Straight home?"
"I want to talk to the bastards," Brenda said, and punched the button for the elevator doors. "That'd be third floor, Requisitions."
Mewtwo winced, and leaned up against the wall. "How many will you maim?" he asked.
"Who said I want to maim them? They've fucked me over for the last time, the bastards."
"Because murder means paperwork, Detective. Do you really want to fill out any more forms?"
"I'll make you do them."
Mewtwo rolled his eyes. "I feel so honored."
"Oh, shut up."
The ride in the elevator up to the third floor was quiet. Brenda grinned, and practically bolted once the doors opened.
"Hey, fuckup!" She pointed at the only cop in the room, seated in a desk in front of a closed door. Behind that door, she knew, a bunch of sadistic bastards worked to screw over every working cop by denying them the equipment they needed.
She really didn't like Requisitions, almost as much as she didn't like Maintenance.
The cop looked up, and scowled. He had the dark hair and dark skin of an islander, but his features were of a Shamouti native, without discernible cheekbones and rounded eyes. Brenda personally found such rounded features somewhat childish, making the person look like they were stuck with their baby fat.
"Yes?" he asked. "What do you want?"
"Alright, shit-for-brains, I need a new car." Brenda braced her hands on the desk.
"Fill out a form, then. And watch your language."
Brenda rolled her eyes. "No, you idiot, I don't think you get it. I need a car now." No way in hell was she having Mewtwo teleport her back home. Teleporting her and their attacker to the station had been risky enough. Why take any more chances? "Mine broke down."
"So send it to Maintenance and take a taxi, like other cops."
She looked down at the desk, and grinned at the little nameplate. Jordan Brooks had no idea who he was trying to fuck with.
"That's not going to work," she said, and grinned. "My car, you see, is a piece of crap. I've sent it to Maintenance, it broke after they supposedly fixed it. It was a piece of crap when I got it, it's an even worse piece of crap now. I'm sick and tired of getting shit from you guys. Now, you can either fix this problem, get me a new car that won't die within a month, or I can remove your spine. Whichever."
"Fill out a form," Brooks snapped. He shoved several pieces of paper at Brenda's face, which she took automatically. "And then get in line. Do you think its easy supplying everyone with what they need? Cars cost money, ma'am, and we don't have a lot in the budget!"
"That's sir to you," Brenda snarled, and turned away. It seemed Mewtwo would be teleporting her home after all.
Thursday
(Detective?) Mewtwo stood in the kitchen doorway, trying to decide just what was wrong.
Brenda was seated at the table, sipping from a coffee mug, eating toast. There was nothing inimical about that, except- the toast wasn't burnt. The coffee smelled like actual coffee, and not the usual mess Brenda normally made in the mornings. Brenda herself didn't look like she wanted to rip limbs from their rightful bodies.
Considering the person, she was downright chipper.
That was wrong.
"We're going bed shopping," she said, and looked up. "Did you fix the car?"
Bed shopping? 'We'? Mewtwo shook his head, unable to quite wrap his mind around the sentence.
"You didn't? Well, fix it. We kind of need the car, you can't teleport me around the city all day."
(Ah, the car is fixed, Detective- bed shopping?) He stared at her, hoping he didn't look nearly as confused as he felt.
"You can't sleep on my couch forever," Brenda pointed out. "I might need it sometime. I told you before, you get the master bedroom and bath. The two rooms are finally cleaned up and it's time to get you furniture."
Mewtwo sat down. Only when his tail didn't bump into the chair's back, when, in fact, he noticed he wasn't sitting on a chair at all, did he realize how befuddled he was.
He'd thought a bar stool was a chair. The kitchen table itself was a foot higher, easier for him to sit at without hitting his knees into the edge. He looked from the table to the Detective, who grinned.
"I switched the chairs for stools two weeks ago, and bought a new table then. Was wondering when you were going to notice."
Thursday
It was so very tempting to just laugh at him. At first she'd been angry; she'd gone to the expense of getting new furniture and he hadn't blinked. If she replaced the couch, he'd notice! But no, apparently no longer practically breaking his knees on the kitchen table or getting a cramped tail from the chairs wasn't worth noticing!
Did he even know how difficult it had been, getting out of work in the middle of the day to go meet the delivery men? Setting up the new furniture, getting rid of the old, and getting back to work in time so no one noticed she'd been gone?
It'd been fucking impossible! She'd had to make up some story about why she'd been out so long, and she sucked at that shit!
Then she'd seen the humor.
Mewtwo noticed a hell of a lot. He was a pokemon, his senses were better then a human's, that was a given. Better sense of hearing, better sight, better sense of smell, whatever. The three months he'd been her partner, he'd picked up noticing tiny details at a crime scene and, as far as registering them went, was as good as she was, if not better. He still had to work at figuring out what the details meant, but that was why she was the senior partner.
So, this guy who noticed just about everything on the job, couldn't even notice something as simple as a bar stool instead of a chair.
Brenda had started considering getting a new couch, just to see if he really would notice.
(Something funny, Detective?)
"Oh, you're talking now? I thought you were stunned stupid."
Mewtwo turned his head to glare at her. (When, exactly, did you get the new furniture?)
"Two weeks ago, I told you. When I took that really long lunch?"
Mewtwo's expression turned thoughtful. (Then? Well, alright, but… Why?)
Brenda turned the car towards the local furniture depot. Everything from bathrooms to kitchens to home studies. Who really needed a miniature library in their study, anyways? "Hm? Oh, because Rhonwen would've killed the delivery men."
(No, I mean, why would you get new furniture?)
There was a parking space right in front of the mall. Brenda pulled into it, beating out the driver of a neon pink mini-van. Neon pink, honestly!
"Because," she answered. "I got tired of seeing you eat standing up because the chair back hurt your tail, or you kept bashing your knees into the table. Come on."
She knew Mewtwo was staring at her, that his eyes were showing purple. She also knew that this was the most fun she'd had in a week.
"The bedrooms are this way," she said. "Come on. King size, I think. Anything smaller and you'll fall off."
(I most certainly will not.)
Brenda looked back over her shoulder, and frowned. "What have I told you about that?" she asked. "You know what, never mind, you're now a mute. Would you hurry up?"
(Detective…) Mewtwo had stopped and was staring at a kitchen setup. The prices for the various parts were displayed on one of the counters. (What you are proposing… I do not believe I could afford that.)
Brenda folded her arms and grinned. She could just see him stop, think back over that sentence, and boggle at the idea of being able to pay for something. With money.
"Well, I can. Now come on."
She ignored his spluttering, and grabbed Mewtwo's wrist. He was so shocked, she felt fur under her fingers, not his illusionary self. The tips of her fingers also disappeared, but it wasn't something most people would notice. "Vahan," she said, all sweetness and light. A second later she decided that 'sweetness and light' had probably been a bad idea. She was pretty sure she'd seen his tail for a moment there. "Smith," she snapped. "Pull it together!"
Better. The shock disappeared from his eyes, and his illusion stopped blurring. Brenda smiled. "Now, come on. We're going to look at bedrooms, get you some furniture, even if you don't need most of it…"
Mewtwo was reduced to spluttering yet again as Brenda grabbed his wrist and started to pull.