Destroyed Mortality

Monday, August 3, 8:45 A.M.

"I hate paper trails," Brenda grumbled. Mewtwo just waved one hand in her direction, his other seeming to clatter over the keyboard. It wasn't, she knew. His actual fingers were too big for the keys, so it had to be telekinesis. Still, she didn't want to interrupt whatever he was on, because it might be the break they needed.

Brenda was still slogging through her share of the list, working out connections- or lack of them- between researchers, biochemists, companies, laboratories, and she didn't even know what else. After an hour, her brain was on auto-pilot. If something nagged at her, she'd engage, but until then… No chance, there were too many science words for anything to make sense at her.

Fortunately, she'd developed the semi-photographic memory all good cops got. She wouldn't remember any of this shit after shift, but for now, it was pretty damn clear in her mind.

A lot of the people on her list worked for either different arms of Silph Co. or Helix. It figured that for the science branches the two companies would hire scientists, so it wasn't suspicious. Still, it was damn annoying.

She heard Mewtwo suck in a breath, and saw the flicker in his illusion. She stared at him instead of her computer screen. Was she going to have to threaten everyone in the bullpen to ignore the six and a half foot psychic pokemon?

No, she realized. Everything was good so far. He was pissed, but nothing had exploded yet.

"Find something?" she asked, leaning back in her chair. The hinges squeaked, and she winced. Her old chair was just getting older.

"I might have, yes." Mewtwo swiveled his chair so he could look at her. "It might be nothing, but I thought I recognized a name. I'd like to wait and be sure, though."

"Sure. What name, and where do you think you recognize it from?"

Mewtwo shook his head. "Dekker, Michael. A geneticist who works for a division of Helix. As for where I recognize it from, I don't remember." He frowned. "Does the name have any connections on your list?"

Brenda closed her eyes, the better to think. "Not that I can remember off the top of my head. I'll keep an eye out though."

Mewtwo nodded, and turned back to his computer. After a moment, Brenda did the same.

Monday, August 3, 11:32 A.M.

Mewtwo stared at the computer screen, and considered blowing it up. It was the third time a halfway familiar name had cropped up, and he wasn't sure if it was paranoia or self-centeredness that had him considering the possibility that- no. These people were all alive. He had made sure that the scientists who had created him died. Barely an hour alive and already a murderer.

The thought twisted his stomach, so he shoved it away. Working with cops hadn't given him his distaste for murder; ten years of life had. There were better ways of dealing with problems, ways that didn't end in bloodshed. The cops had just cemented that view in his mind.

He didn't think about Giovanni. That had been… He didn't even know how to classify what that situation had been. The whole week had been insane. How he'd managed to survive with his sanity intact, he didn't know.

Then again… He glanced around the bullpen, and smirked. Perhaps he wasn't quite as sane as he thought, considering where he now worked.

He had a job. He had a bank account and a debt card to go with it. He had neighbors and co-workers and a lunatic partner who was poking his shoulder and-

"What?" he snapped, glaring up at Brenda. Even with her standing and him sitting in a chair, he didn't have that far to look up.

"Lunch time, idiot. Come on, your treat."

"I am not paying for your lunch," he protested. He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, curling his tail around the seat back despite the fact that no one could see it. "I want to finish these lists-"

"You need a break." She grabbed his arm and started pulling. He shook his head, amused despite himself. He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. She wouldn't be able to budge him.

He'd forgotten that his chair was on wheels.

The Detective had managed to drag him almost to the hallway by the time he managed to stop himself. Officer Carmichael, whose desk he grabbed, yelped and grabbed at a pile of papers.

"Watch it! Damn, Johnson, leave Smith alone! What's so important anyways?"

Brenda turned and smiled at Carmichael. "Shut up, cannon fodder."

Carmichael shut up.

Then Brenda turned her smile on Mewtwo, and he found himself getting up and pushing his chair back in the general direction of his desk.

"So," he said, deciding to admit defeat. "Where are we going for lunch?"

They ended up sitting down at 'The Olive Grove', a new restaurant nearly halfway across town from the station. Mewtwo eyed the completely vegetarian menu, and then looked at Brenda.

"And what are you going to have?" he asked. Already he could feel knots of tension in his shoulders relax. Perhaps getting away from the lists had been a good idea.

"They can't do anything too weird to fries," she replied. She continued to stare at the menu as if it would bite her. "And I'm pretty sure their milkshakes won't kill me."

"You drink that sludge at the station, I'm sure you'll survive an organic milkshake." Amusement colored his voice. "Just think, no preservatives, no artificial coloring or flavors…"

"Shut up."

Mewtwo smirked, and ordered his food. Brenda did the same, and then they lapsed into silence. For about five seconds.

"How can you stand to eat this stuff? Its nidoran food is what it is."

"New rule. No whining about my dietary choices."

"Dietary? The rules have to be understandable, you know."

"It is understandable."

Brenda retaliated with a kick that would have shattered his leg, if he hadn't shifted. It was a direct violation of the 'no hitting, kicking, or biting' rule, but he decided not to make a case for it. She was eating at a vegetarian restaurant. Such a sacrifice deserved some leniency.

"So why don't you?" she asked, picking up a packet of sugar and starting to fiddle with it.

"What?"

"Huh?"

Mewtwo closed his eyes. She had to be doing this on purpose. There was no way anyone could do that by accident.

"Detective, why don't I what?"

"Eat meat."

He rolled his eyes heavenwards. Of all the questions… "I am an intelligent creature. Intelligent creatures do not need to eat the badly seared flesh of other creatures."

"Good thing you didn't call a mareep intelligent. They aren't. They're fucking morons."

Mewtwo stared at her a moment. "You don't know that from experience. Do you?"

"Foster child," was her answer.

"Right then… As I was saying. Being intelligent, I can choose whether to eat meat or not, and I prefer to eat fruits and vegetables. They're easier to get, anyways."

Brenda snorted, and shook her head. "You're a fucking piece of work," she muttered. "Okay, what about the part where you've got fangs that are obviously meant for meat, not plants?"

"You have fangs too," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but I eat meat."

The waitress brought the food at that point, ending what was rapidly becoming a rather pointless discussion. Mewtwo started eating right away, not having to worry about talking with his mouth full. Brenda hesitated, poking at her fries with her fork.

"You don't ever worry about the important stuff, do you?" she asked, then started eating.

Mewtwo narrowed his eyes. "Just what do you mean by that?" he asked.

The Detective looked up at him, lips twitching. "You know, the God of Doom voice doesn't scare me."

"God of- what?"

"God of Doom. Your voice gets lower when you start getting angry. You never noticed?"

Mewtwo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Detective," he warned.

"See? God of Doom voice. You're very good at it."

"Can we stick to the topic, please?"

"What's the topic?"

"According to you, that I never worry about the important things."

Brenda tapped one finger against the table, a look of intense concentration on her face. Mewtwo just stared. How this woman could be one of the most feared police officers in Viridian City, he didn't know. He spent the most time with her, and only her driving gave any cause for concern.

"Oh, right!" Brenda's entire face brightened. "Now I remember! I heard somewhere that the reason humans got smart was because they ate meat. Something to do with the protein. Sure you don't have any problems with that sort of thing?"

She was pulling that into the argument? He shook his head. "If I were going to have any problems, I'd be showing them by now. Obviously, I'm fine."

She gave him a look that made it very clear she wasn't sure she believed him, but subsided.

There was a few minutes of quiet while they ate, listening to the quiet conversations of other diners. The restaurant wasn't very busy, filled with a crowd of people in their early-twenties.

Brenda's cell phone buzzed. Mewtwo arched one eyebrow, impressed that she'd managed to hear that. He barely could, and his hearing was better then hers.

"Hello?" she asked, then scowled. The cell phone buzzed again. Obviously, she'd forgotten to accept the call.

She pressed the appropriate button, then held the phone to her ear again. "What?"

Mewtwo did his best not to listen in. He stared at the plants decorating the restaurant. When Brenda snapped the cell phone closed and growled, he looked back at her.

"Problem?"

"Suspicious death, we're closest, come on."

Mewtwo decided not to mention that Brenda paid for both their lunches. He decided it didn't matter, anyways. He hadn't brought any money.

Monday, August 3, 12:22 P.M.

Brenda shoved her hands in her pockets, and stepped up to the crying couple. She'd already talked to the responding officer on scene. He'd told her that the couple was the parents, that their daughter was in the laundry room dead, and that he didn't think he could describe the scene even if he tried.

Fortunately, the officer obviously didn't have any hopes of joining Homicide, just seemed happy on the street beat. He didn't have the eyes for a Homicide cop.

"Hello. I'm Detective Johnson. I know you already spoke with Officer Mallory, but I'm going to need to talk to you again." She didn't offer her hand; neither person would have taken it.

The father, who had been sobbing harder then the mother, rubbed at his eyes. "My girl," he rasped. "My little girl…"

The mother sniffled, and shook her head. "She's dead," she told Brenda. "She- it must have been a home invasion. Some monster came in and- we told the other officer this already. Why do we have to go over it again?"

In difference to the plaintive, lost quality of the couple's voices, Brenda spoke gently, when what she really wanted to do was smack the both of them upside the head. It wouldn't help, in any way. She could always snipe at Mewtwo later to feel better.

A certain psychic's tail smacked into her calf, and she glanced over. Mewtwo appeared to be studying the house, but he was very obviously listening in on her thoughts.

She attempted to kick his tail, but of course couldn't see it, so she just ended up stomping her foot strangely. No one seemed to notice.

"I know this is difficult for you," she soothed. "But I'm the one in charge of your daughter's case, and I need all the information you can give me, so I can help her."

The father choked back a sob. "My wife- we went out grocery shopping. Lucinda didn't want to go, wanted to stay home. We weren't going to be gone that long."

"And how old is Lucinda?"

"Sixteen," the mother answered. She pressed one hand to her cheek. "We got held up, a bit. Traffic, you know? When we came home- she wouldn't answer our calls. We looked for her- and she was in the laundry room. She was… I can't say."

Brenda nodded, and looked over at the house. "I'm going to see to your daughter now," she said. "Give you some time to collect yourself. Then I'm going to come back and we'll go over those details. I know this is hard, but it has to be done."

"It's not like this on TV," the father said. "It's just not."

"TV's never realistic," Brenda agreed, and headed towards the house. Mewtwo fell into step with her.

"You never got their names," he said, just short of accusing.

"Nope. I'll get them after this."

"Isn't that lazy?"

"No, well, not really. Officer Mallory has the names, I'll talk with him. I wanted to see the scene without any preconceived notions."

Mewtwo stopped walking for a moment. "Do you even know what preconceived means?" he asked.

"Of course I do. It means going into a situation already knowing what's happened, even if that's not the case. Now shut up and get moving. Which way's the laundry room?"

"Down the stairs and to the left. How are we supposed to take on two investigations at once?"

"What, can't you juggle?"

"Not very well."

"And that's why girls are better then guys."

"What? How do you get that from… From…" They'd reached the scene. Mewtwo's illusion fell and his jaw dropped. He looked over at Brenda, who seemed just as stunned.

It took a moment, but Mewtwo finally gathered himself and spoke to Brenda.

"If girls are better then guys, then why hasn't a guy ever died like this?"

"Auto-erection gone bad," she answered, still staring at the scene. Mewtwo winced. True enough.

"Still," he tried again. "Why would anyone, male or female, do something this stupid?"

"Preconceived notions," Brenda warned. "We don't know she did it to herself."

Mewtwo gestured at the scene. "Are you trying to tell me that someone overpowered this girl, pulled her pants down, shoved a broom up her- her- ah, there, and then tripped her so she'd fall and be, ah…" There really was no polite way to say it. Or impolite way, he suspected. The mind boggled.

"Footprints on the dryer suggests she was standing on it," Brenda said. "Sweaty feet. I'd guess she was there voluntarily, tripped and fell wrong. Only question now is if she was alone or not."

Mewtwo blinked, and shook his head. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, and the sight of the body- and the broom- wasn't exactly a comfortable one.

"Your mind boggling yet?" Brenda asked, daring to grin.

"You can't tell me yours isn't."

"Well, no, but I guess I deal with weird shocks better then you do."

There was only so long you could be polite to the dead. Mewtwo reached his limit. "Detective, the girl has a broom shoved up her crotch. There is nothing weirder then this."

"I don't know. I've always thought reality shows were right up there on the what-the-fuck scale."

"Detective…"

"Yeah, yeah. Go let the coroner's schmucks know they can take the body, would you? Then send in crime scene. I'll talk to the weepy ones."

Mewtwo shook his head, and went to do just that.

In the course of half an hour, they established that all the doors and windows were locked, no one had tried to pick the locks, that Lucinda didn't have a current boyfriend, and her parents were extremely, as Brenda put it, 'by the book', whatever she meant by that.

"You just don't understand religion," she'd said, when he'd asked.

He resolved to take a good, long look at religion, the first chance he got.

"Okay," Brenda said, calling all the cops together. "The way I see it, this probably isn't a home invasion gone weird. I'm going to bet that she was trying to scratch an itch, thought she heard her parents coming in, panicked, slipped, fell wrong and bashed her head into the shelf, and bled out, in that order. We'll know for sure once crime scene and the coroner's done."

Officer Mallory nodded. "Do you want me to talk to the parents?" he asked.

"Get a departmental shrink," she advised. "They're not going to take it well."

"Their daughter was playing with a literal woody, who would?" Mallory asked, then shrugged at the looks Brenda and Mewtwo gave him. "What?"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Definitely take a departmental shrink with you, and let the shrink do the talking," she said. Then she scowled, and pulled out her cell phone. "Johnson."

Mewtwo shook his head. How she could hear her cell phone, he didn't know. He hadn't even heard it, that time.

The Detective snarled, and looked up to meet his eyes. She snapped the phone closed, not even bothering to say goodbye. "We need to go to Oakland Park," she said. "There's another kid, and a shitload of smashed mirrors."

Mewtwo clenched one fist, and found himself growling.

End Notes

Not sure if it's an urban legend or not, but I did hear of someone who died in that manner with the broomstick. Must've been awkward for the family and friends of the dead. Please leave a review before you hit the back button.