Monday
Brenda was a woman on a mission. She entered Mr. Demonte's office, and shoved the warrants at his face.
"Here's your warrants. I want all charts involving this year's championship, and lists of the trainer's pokemon. You can print them out now and give them to my aide, or hand over the originals. I'm sure you have copies."
Brenda glanced over at Smith, and smiled. Right where he was supposed to be, waiting to receive an armload of paper.
She looked back in time to see Mr. Demonte stand up, his face turning bright red.
"I do not like your tone of voice, Ms. Johnson, or your turn of phrase. These are confidential-"
"Officer Smith, it seems Mr. Demonte doesn't think the police can keep a secret," Brenda said, willing Mewtwo to clue in on the joke.
Mewtwo smiled, and shook his head. "We were charged to keep the peace, Detective, but secrets are apparently beyond us."
Brenda looked back at Mr. Demonte, her voice chilling. "You will give us these files, or be arrested for obstruction of justice."
Mr. Demonte bared his teeth in a scowl, but turned to his computer. "I just need to print these off."
"Thank you." Brenda folded her arms. She wouldn't be satisfied until the case had been solved. Mewtwo's unsaid dislike for the league was beginning to get to her.
She took a careful step away from the printer when it began to whirr. Apart from that sound, the room was silent. Brenda wasn't willing to talk to Mewtwo while Mr. Demonte was watching, and Mewtwo was obviously sensitive to her wishes. Mr. Demonte was silent, obviously seething.
Brenda would have preferred a round of insults, but had to content herself with simply staring at the man.
The printer finally stopped, and Brenda gestured to Mewtwo. "Gather it up and let's go."
Brenda was already leaving the room when she heard Mr. Demonte hiss something. She turned around, and lifted an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"
Mr. Demonte shook his head, and sat back down. "Nothing at all, Ms. Johnson. Now, I'm a very busy man, so if you'd get a move on?"
Brenda glanced at Mewtwo, but his illusion had a passive expression. She would have to question him later. "Let's go, Smith."
Monday
Mewtwo felt sick. He couldn't hear the Detective, just the two words Mr. Demonte had hissed.
"Cop's bitch."
He did everything on autopilot. Getting past the crowds, to the car, setting the files in the backseat and finally sitting down where he knew he could relax his illusion-
He couldn't tell her. She would become distracted from the case. She didn't allow herself to get distracted, in the normal course of things. Even television, the siren to every other humans, had no hold on her during a case.
He couldn't tell her what Mr. Demonte had said. Once she was through being angry at Mr. Demonte, she would turn her anger to him. The Detective had a tendency to judge people on what she would have done. That he had not stood up for himself would be cowardice to her. He didn't know if he could be able to stand her temper…
…or, for that matter, keep control of his own.
"I'm just going to drive you to the station, then come back. See what I can get just from observation. Take a look through the charts, from the very first to the latest, and the trainer lists. Pay attention to who the murdered trainers were going to fight."
"Of course, Detective." Mewtwo held his illusion, and lifted one eyebrow. "Why do I get such an important job?"
The Detective smiled, grim as death. "Because if I'm the one stuck with it, I'll throw my desk out the window and go on a shooting spree. At least this way, I know it'll get done."
Mewtwo nodded, and looked out the window. He wondered if he should feel complimented. "Don't worry, Detective, it will be done."
Monday
Brenda got into her car, and groaned. Her leg felt like she was back in Physical Therapy again, and her head was pounding. A day watching the league battles had resulted in nothing more then bruises and the desire- no, need- to hide away someplace dark and quiet.
She still had to pick up Mewtwo, though, which meant she had to deal with rush hour traffic on her way to the station house, and then away.
It had been a long day. Brenda couldn't even work up any irritation at the stupidity of her fellow drivers, just sat in the car. She turned off her police radio. If there was an emergency, there was no way she could get there, and if Mewtwo needed her, well, that was what cell phones were for. Simply because she couldn't stand the silence, she flipped on the radio.
A discussion of the traffic filled her car. Brenda sighed, and drummed her fingers against the wheel. She didn't need to hear about the jams, she was sitting in them. She didn't want to hear about how some morons had torn up one of the main roads- for the fifth time in a row- in order to 'fix' them. She wanted to listen to music, not disk jockeys.
Just before she turned the radio off, the music came on. Brenda paid more attention to the barely moving traffic then the songs, but it was something.
Something had been off about the whole day. Brenda wanted to figure out what it was, before it affected the investigation.
She would go over the lab reports the next morning, time permitting. Mewtwo was looking through the charts and lists, in a way only his technically inclined mind could. If the killer was kind, he would hold off until they were ready. If he wasn't- and killers usually weren't- then there would be another death very soon.
Brenda bit her lip, and turned off onto a side street. She would make better time driving off the main road.
She was tired, and sore, and felt like she was flailing in the dark. She couldn't let any of it get in the way.
Not if she wanted to continue to stand for the living.
Tuesday
"Wake up, Mewtwo."
Mewtwo cracked open one eye. (Detective?) He'd dreamed about battle charts. There were more of them waiting for him, at the office. At this rate his eyes were going to bleed.
"Breakfast is waiting, but you'd better eat fast. I want to get a jump on paperwork."
Mewtwo shook his head, and rolled off the couch. He straightened up and headed for the kitchen. The Detective had thoughtfully left a selection of fruit out on the table. It was normal, these days, for her to buy such foodstuff, but it made him smile none the less.
"Sometime this week, Vahan!"
(One day, Detective, you will tell me just what that name means.)
"Literally? Translates to 'Shield'. Now get a move on." The Detective stood at the front door, her arms crossed.
Mewtwo selected an apple, a pear, and a banana, and walked towards the Detective. (I'm ready.)
"Good." The Detective opened the door, and waited. Mewtwo pulled on his illusion, and headed to the car.
A quick twist of telekinesis, and Mewtwo had the door open without dropping anything. He slipped into the passenger seat, and used his telekinesis to close the door, and buckle the seat belt.
The Detective got in, and attempted to start the car. The motor coughed, turned over once, and died.
"Damn it."
She got out of the car, and walked around to the front. Mewtwo's eyes widened when she kicked the bumper, and suggested the car do something physically impossible for a human, let alone a mechanical construct.
(Detective, I don't think that will work,) he said.
The Detective glanced over at him, and smirked. "You'd be surprised."
Mewtwo shook his head, and started eating his breakfast. She would just have to learn.
The car started without a hiccup. Mewtwo stared at the Detective, open mouthed.
"Illusion, Vahan," she said. "And finish your meal."
(Uh, yes, of course.)
Mewtwo shook his head, and looked out the window. The Detective turned the radio on, and muttered threats to the disk jockeys.
(They've done nothing to you, Detective.)
"They talk about nothing useful, Vahan. They've been tearing up that road every year for the past five years, and it's still broken. Anyone who cares about the pokemon league watches the TV, or reads the newspaper, or actually goes there. And finally, who cares about celebrity gossip?"
He chuckled, and finished the last of his apple. (Well, as to the last, I imagine the celebrities themselves, and the people who make money off of their exploits, care a great deal. The league tends to permit everything in Kanto. They obviously haven't figured out what's wrong with the road yet.)
"There wouldn't be a problem with the road, if they'd just pave it and stick some lines down."
(Are you a civil engineer, Detective?)
"Well, no," the Detective admitted. "But still. They're paid to fix the damn thing, so why isn't it fixed yet?"
(I can't answer that question.)
"Technically, it was a rhetorical question. I don't think any god in heaven or hell could answer it."
Mewtwo chuckled again, and relaxed. The silence was broken only by the radio station switching to music. Mewtwo rolled his eyes as 'YMCA' blared through the speakers.
"You know what, maybe it'd be better to listen to silence," the Detective said.
(I find myself agreeing with you.)
The Detective turned the radio off, and sighed. "We didn't talk about the case last night," she said.
(You were tired.) And he'd had a headache from reading small print. (It's understandable you would take a break.)
"But I shouldn't. We've got two dead kids."
(Detective, if you're tired, you'll miss details, won't you?)
"I guess." She sighed. "Well, the lab reports are waiting, and you've got charts to look through."
Mewtwo nodded, and tensed slightly as the Detective steered the car into her parking space. "Yes. We should get to work."
The Detective eyed him, and shook her head. "Smith, is coffee good for plants?"
Mewtwo blinked. What had brought that on? "No, Detective, it's very bad."
Oddly enough, she looked relieved. "That explains why the damned thing's dying. I thought it was me."
Tuesday
Mewtwo shoved back from his desk, and groaned. "I think my eyes are bleeding."
"Stuff it, Smith." The Detective didn't look up from her pages of reports. "Unless, of course, you've found something useful."
"The league will be having conniptions if there are any more murders. They've already rescheduled the order of battles… eight times. One more and we might be called to investigate a work place shooting."
"That's nothing to joke about." The Detective leaned back in her chair. Mewtwo could hear her back crack. "Ugh. I guess we deserve a five minute break or so. Get yourself lunch, bring me back coffee."
Mewtwo nodded, and stood up. His own spine popped. "Yes, sir."
"None of the shit from the eatery, though. Get the good stuff."
His lips twitched before he could help it. "Got it, sir. The good stuff." Tim Horton's was close by, and cheap. He had money now, one of the most surprising parts of being a cop.
The Detective went back to her pages of reports.
Tuesday
It was the damnedest thing. Brenda watched Mewtwo in the manner of a predator studying its prey. He'd been in a good mood, gone out for lunch, and come back snarling.
He'd slammed a cup of coffee and a muffin on her desk- squashing the muffin and splashing coffee everywhere- and sat down at his desk as if his chair had deeply offended him. Brenda briefly considered that her own attitude had rubbed off on him, but that couldn't be it. Two months and he only started acting like she did after going down to Tim Horton's and buying coffee?
Something was wrong. Brenda considered dragging him to an interview room for a discussion, but the murders came first. With a last glance of misgiving, she looked back down at the lab reports.
"Detective!"
Brenda jumped, and nearly dropped the report she was reading. "What? Where?"
"Detective, come here."
"Did you find something?" Brenda didn't even care that she was following a subordinate's orders. This was important.
"Here. This is one of the first charts." Mewtwo's finger tapped a single square. "This is Medusa Velde. She was the one everyone expected to win. I looked at her team. She had no obvious weakness, she'd already beaten the Hoenn league, and she was years older then most of her opponents. It would have been easy for her."
"Are you getting anywhere with this? Velde fell down the stairs and broke her neck."
Mewtwo stared at Brenda as if she weren't particularly smart. "What happens if someone is pushed on the stairs?"
"They fall… and can break their neck." Brenda shook her head. "I think I'll be talking with the investigating officer."
"That might be a good idea. Now, she would have probably fought these people." Mewtwo tapped a few other squares. Brenda made note of the names. "I've looked over their teams, and they showed the greatest chance of winning."
"Until they went up against Velde, or the charts were changed."
"Right." Mewtwo flipped to the next chart. "This is Michael Adams. His team had the type advantage until the third rank. Medusa would have fought this one, Samuel Tristan, and would have won. His team is unbalanced, psychic types only."
"And Michael trained…" Brenda grabbed at one of the trainer lists and scowled. Who knew there were so many people whose last names started with Z?
"Bug and steel types," Mewtwo said. He smiled at Brenda's surprised glance. "I have a good memory. He would have beaten Samuel. Perhaps not easily, but he still would have won."
"Not for sure, though."
"It's extremely likely."
Brenda nodded. "Okay, but Michael died. Who's next, Heather?"
"Yes, Heather. She trained Dark types." Mewtwo flipped to another chart, and tapped Heather's square. "She was going to fight-"
"Samuel," Brenda said. "He just keeps showing up, doesn't he? Who's he fighting now?"
Mewtwo flipped to the last chart, and pointed at Samuel's square. "His opponent is at a decided disadvantage, with flying and fighting types."
"So if something happens to- Rob Williams…?"
"I doubt anything will. The only people who died, Heather and Michael, were a threat to Samuel. Medusa was a threat to every trainer."
"When the only way to win is to clear the board," Brenda muttered. "I'm going to call Mara. Write this up so we can show the hell beasts something."
"Of course." Mewtwo turned to his computer, his eyes diamond hard. A psychic type trainer- didn't it just figure?
End Notes
Ladies, gentlemen, and devoted revieweres, thanks for reading. Tip your author on the way out, thanks.
