Saturday
Brenda was pissed.
Mewtwo had teleported to the house, pointing out that if he followed her back to the station at seven at night, people would talk. Especially since all she was doing was dropping some paperwork off. So there was that, and it was logical, and there was absolutely no reason why she should be feeling abandoned. For that matter, Mewtwo didn't even know about Benko!
The other reason she was pissed was simple: she was going to talk to Benko. If that wasn't a good reason for feeling like just killing someone, she didn't know what was.
The man was walking sexual harassment. Benko made Alison look like the most devout nun- well, okay, maybe not a devout nun, but sure as hell not like Alison usually did.
Brenda punched the elevator wall. She was at the Tower, the one place cops everywhere didn't want to go. It wasn't like that in Celadon. Back- she almost thought of it as home- there, the Tower, the central police station, whatever you wanted to call it, was just in the center of the city. It was where the cops who worked the downtown district kept their desks and their interview rooms. If IAB employed a few telepaths, it wasn't every psychic cop in the city and a few civilians.
Viridian was dirty. IAB was more interested in taking out the officers who tripped up a little and jeopardized a case then in cleaning up the dirt staining the badge.
Pity Benko wasn't dirty. If he was, she could've tossed him in a cage. They'd be short a profiler then, but it would've made her feel all good and tingly inside.
The psycho was waiting for her, just outside the elevator doors. Brenda braced herself, and clenched her teeth.
"My darling detective, how I have longed to see you again!" Benko held one hand to his nearly concave chest, and flung the other out, like he was trying to disconnect hand and arm with just the force of the motion.
She held up the file Mewtwo had prepared. There was a smaller one tucked inside, about the new rapist. The twenty-seven year old case had a larger stack of paper. "You trying to get out of your work?"
"You're my work, Brenda." Benko accepted the file, and flipped it open. "You know, if you wanted to come back to my place, I could work you over good."
She punched before she thought. Not that she ever really thought before decking someone, but around Benko, her fist had a mind of its own. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
He doubled over, which was stupid, Brenda thought. She'd bloodied his nose. Her hand wasn't going anywhere below the collar bone- he'd take it as an encouragement.
Two drops of blood landed on the floor. Benko swiped at his nose, and straightened up. Blood and mucus dripped down over his lips and off his chin. Despite that, he was smiling. "I meant a massage, Brenda. What did you think I meant?"
"Just have a preliminary report for me by tomorrow. Or I swear, Benko, you'll have to breathe through a straw." Brenda turned and headed for the stairs. There was no way the exercise-allergic Benko would follow her.
"Around you, I have trouble breathing anyways!"
She flipped him the bird, right before the stairwell door closed. It wasn't the final word, but it was satisfying all the same. Since she wasn't allowed to toss him down the stairs, it was the best she could do.
Saturday
"Do you have some sort of computer fetish?" Brenda asked. Mewtwo was sitting at her computer again, hunched over the keyboard like some freaky gargoyle. She didn't even care if he picked that thought up; it'd been a long day, she was tired, and he was screwing with her computer. "If you break my solitaire record, you're banned from that thing."
(You don't have a solitaire record.) Mewtwo straightened up, his spine making several unpleasant sounds. Brenda could hear them from the doorway. (You do, however, have a decades out of date computer. Do you realize how slow its running speed is?)
"So buy yourself one, you've got money." Brenda walked over to the kitchen. Imagine that, there was food in the fridge. She grabbed an apple, just because it was the least offensive fruit she could see. Better then the carrots. "Don't complain to me about it. I honestly don't care."
Mewtwo snorted. (Even though it would make whatever you do on this thing much easier? Your disregard for technology is appalling.)
"Whatever, fuckwit. What're you doing, anyways? Messing with the stock exchange?"
(No. Hacking into high level Rocket databases. Would you like details?)
"Why," Brenda asked, "are you wasting time with that? You heard the upstart bitch. Heck, you're the one who told me all about her 'grand scheme'."
Mewtwo took a deep breath and held it for five seconds. (Detective, despite what you may believe, I wish to shut down Team Rocket in the shortest length of time possible. Foreknowledge of several of their more unsavory pastimes will help. If I know when and where they are going to attempt something like those dragon creatures, or even myself, I can stop them. The police need not get involved.)
"Vigilantism is against the law," she pointed out. "Besides that, they'll probably have security."
(It is doubtful, Detective, that such security could harm me.)
"Says the guy who was scared of facing them, when Giovanni was the boss." Brenda took a bite of apple. She smiled when Mewtwo spun the chair around to stare at her. "What, didn't think I'd remember?"
(I was not scared.)
"Not what I remember."
(Listen, human-)
"I thought it was 'detective'."
Mewtwo stood up, and walked over until he was looming over Brenda. Not that she was worried. She'd fought people who'd had more then just a foot and a hundred pounds on her. The psychic tricks might cause a problem, but she'd worry about it if a fight broke out, not before hand.
(Detective, then. Giovanni was a dangerous man who knew of my existence and prepared for the day I would attack him. Any move I took against him would potentially give him an opening to capture me. As I did not wish to become the man's slave again, I kept my distance.)
Brenda arched one eyebrow. News to her- though what did he mean, again?
(Furthermore,) Mewtwo continued, easing away from her a little. (There are some problems that cannot be solved by the police. Vigilantism has its uses, and this would be one of those uses. Could you honestly say the police could handle a lab like what created those dragon creatures?)
Brenda grabbed Mewtwo's paw, and pressed her barely eaten apple into it. "Yeah, I can say that honestly, because guess what? The police solved it. Goodnight. I hope you wake up with your head screwed on properly."
She made a point of slamming her bedroom door. Childish, but it was more then he could do. He was still sleeping on the couch.
Sunday
The Detective was quite the most aggravating creature on the whole planet. If not for her rather violent demeanor, Mewtwo would have called her a girl scout, just as focused on moralities and a refusal to see the real world. He'd skimmed her mind, and found exactly what he'd expected. The cops were a force for justice in the world, all that stood between people and their own stupidity. Vigilantism was wrong, an anarchist's attack on society. Black and white, good and evil, right and wrong. A rigid, domineering view of the world.
Mewtwo continued to pace up and down the living room. There was simply no way he could get to sleep with his emotions so agitated. Short of vaporizing a few lamps, there was simply no way to calm down other then what he was doing. At least he wouldn't get dizzy. The living room was the biggest room in the house.
You seem upset, psychic.
Mewtwo turned his head, and narrowed his eyes. (Rhonwen. What do you want?)
The houndoom sat down, and dropped her jaw in a grin. To know why you want to change your position within the pack. It is causing a disturbance.
(Pack?) he asked, too confused to be angry.
Yes. You, me, the mistress. We are a pack. She is alpha. Why do you want to take her position now?
(What are you trying to get at, Rhonwen?) Mewtwo asked. His tail began twitching, threatening a nearby end table.
Rhonwen closed her eyes and sighed. I did not think you would understand. You are feline. Furthermore, you are male.
(Rhonwen…) he warned.
Fine, the canine snapped. You are the lowest in the pack. You cannot change your status, not as easily as you think. If you wish to be alpha, you will have to earn it. You have not. Goodnight.
Mewtwo hissed, and teleported out of the house before he could do something he would regret. Like breaking Rhonwen's spine.
Instead, he headed into the wilderness, until he was deep enough that he wouldn't attract any attention when he tore several trees into pieces with pure telekinetic energy.
Damn the both of them, the Detective and the houndoom both.
He tore another tree from the earth, and began to rip it apart.
Sunday
"Did you sleep at all last night?" Brenda asked. She hadn't gotten much sleep herself; she hadn't heard the couch springs creak and groan as Mewtwo got comfortable. It wasn't an easy thought, that she'd gotten so used to his being there.
(Of course, Detective. What is on the agenda today?) Mewtwo finished his orange, and tossed the peelings in the garbage. Brenda frowned as he washed his paws off in the sink.
"Have to go pick up a profile from Benko. You don't have to come if you don't want to. It's at the Tower."
(You know, I don't believe you've ever satisfactorily explained your aversion to the Tower to me. Why is that?) Mewtwo shook his paws halfway dry, and arched an eye ridge at Brenda.
Her frown etched deeper lines across her forehead. "Because I don't like what the tower stands for. Here in Viridian… Look. Psychics go to the tower and don't come out. Isn't that good enough for you?"
(Not at all, but I'll let it lie for now.) Brenda passed him a dishtowel. Mewtwo dropped it on the countertop without using it. (I'm going with you to the Tower, though.)
"Damn it," she muttered. "You just have to… damn it."
Sunday
The Tower was not the hellish nightmare he had expected. From everything the Detective had said- and hadn't said- he had expected to feel the weight of misery upon his shoulders the moment he stepped through the front doors. He was no empath, but he could sense the stronger emotions.
The station was blank to his mind. His shock must have shown upon his illusionary face, because the Detective grabbed his elbow and pulled him out of the flood of humanity. "Yeah," she said, "there's a lot more people here then at our station."
She eased him over to an alcove with two plastic chairs, both with cracked seats. "Look," she said, keeping her voice low. "I don't know how, exactly, you see the world. I know your telepathy or whatever plays into effect, right? Well, your telepathy is shot here. The people who work here, the powerful people, don't want anyone reading their minds."
Mewtwo shivered. He felt curiously vulnerable without the feel of other minds pressing up against his own. If he focused, he could feel the Detective's own mind, but faintly. The difference between running into a barbed wire fence and barely pressing one's palm against the spikes.
"Another thing," the Detective continued. "The video cameras here? They're real. You are going to walk where I show you to walk, stand where I tell you to stand. You are going to keep your tail very close to your feet."
Mewtwo stared down, matching the Detective stare for stare. (Why?) he asked.
"Because if you do what I tell you to here, there won't be any cameras that will catch your image. Your illusion can't fool machines, Mewtwo. And you can't fool the people watching the security screens. Too many people on the ground level to focus on, right?"
He nodded. (I'm not certain I can even edit their minds at the moment,) he admitted.
"You're talking telepathically to me, right? I think only the passive part of your telepathy is kicked out. You should be fine, but if not- teleport out of here."
(And how do you know this?) The Detective was not normally so knowledgeable about psychic phenomenon. In fact, this was the first time he could remember that she was willing to talk about psychic abilities in a manner that wasn't condescending.
"I called Leon at like, three in the morning. If you'd been home, you would've overheard the conversation. Now come on. Benko's office is on the fifth floor." The Detective directed another level look at him, and then turned and started walking.
Mewtwo followed after, feeling oddly as if he should have been off balance but wasn't. He did as the Detective had told him, no matter how it rankled. The security cameras were obviously real at first glance. He imagined that the only part of him that would show up on the cameras would be the tip of his tail. It was difficult, keeping it curled around his feet. At least the average human wouldn't know what to make of it.
The Detective led him to a stairwell, and shoved him through. "There's a camera pointing at the doors here. They saw a blur, that's all."
(Detective, why can't I- why do they have-)
"It's a giant form of inhibitor." The Detective paused halfway up the first flight of stairs. "Some of this is common knowledge. Sometimes, you get a telepath witness, who might be hysterical or become hysterical. Shields go down in a cop shop, you've got murder details, rape, kidnapping- all flooding into this psychic who might already be walking a fine line, I don't know. Every station has at least one interview room that's sealed off."
(Ah.) Mewtwo nodded. (The Tower is just- the whole building is shielded. Overkill… but I understand.)
"Yeah, well, you owe Leon. He's the one I got up at three in the morning."
Mewtwo shook his head, and floated up the stairs. The Detective jogged, tossing glares over her shoulder at him several times.
(What is it?) he snapped.
"You just look incredibly lazy, flying like that. They're just stairs."
Mewtwo closed his eyes and hoped he had enough patience to get through the day. (Believe it or not, my base species wasn't meant to be bipedal. If you wish to reach the fifth floor sometime this week, do not complain if I fly.)
"Oh." The Detective seemed almost to flinch. "Sorry. Didn't know." She turned back to the stairs, and sped up her pace a little. He huffed a little to himself. He would have expected her to have problems as well, with her one leg so badly scarred. Apparently not.
"Okay. Remember, move fast through the door, but don't run." Brenda pushed open the door to the fifth floor, and Mewtwo hurried past. She followed, quickly taking the lead as they made their way down the hall. There were fewer people, and fewer cameras. Mewtwo relaxed slightly.
"Brenda!"
Mewtwo's eyes widened as the Detective actually, truly, flinched backwards. He looked ahead, and was forced to blink several times. Sadly, the person he saw was not a hallucination brought on by a lack of sleep.
The man was short, as thin as it was possible to get and not go to a hospital for malnutrition or starvation, with red hair that stood on end, as if electrified. He wore a neon green shirt patterned with pikachu and pichu, shiny blue pants that clung like a second skin, and open toed sandals.
He was waving at the Detective, and had a recognizable file under one arm. And, Mewtwo was amused to note, a rather livid bruise on his nose.
(This is our profiler?) Mewtwo asked.
"Yeah… Shut up. Stand there- out of camera view." The Detective pointed at a spot of floor near the wall, close enough that Mewtwo was well able to hear the conversation.
"Benko. My profile, please."
"You've got a fine one. Very fine."
The Detective closed her eyes. "No. The profile on the rapist killers. Hand it over."
"I don't know," Benko said, sighing a little. "I'd much rather study your profile."
"I suggest," Mewtwo said, tricking the human minds into thinking he spoke verbally instead of telepathically, "that you give us the report."
The profiler looked away from the Detective's chest, and up at Mewtwo. "Who are you?" he asked.
"That's Smith, my partner. Now, Benko, we're short on time. Give me the profile. Now."
Benko continued to stare up at Mewtwo. "Partner? Partner how? Like, bed partner? Because, Brenda, I tell you I'm better then anything you've ever hurk!"
Mewtwo arched one eye ridge. (That was interesting,) he murmured, for the Detective's ears only. (Though I'll admit, disturbing on one level.)
"That's because you're a guy," Brenda hissed. "Guys are always disturbed when one of their own gets their balls kicked up around their throat."
He was forced to nod. However amusing it had been to see Brenda slam her knee into Benko's groin, he was forced to feel a little sympathy for the man. That had to have hurt.
"Right. Profile, one prone profiler… I think we can go." Brenda tucked the folder under one arm, and smiled. "And, Mewtwo? Can we teleport down the stairs?"
He smiled, and nodded. So, she had had trouble with the stairs. He'd thought so.
End Notes
Okay, a few things about this chapter- as a former Girl Scout of Canada, I reserve the right to say whether they're annoying or not. I say they're annoying. And the cookies? Blech.
Mewtwo's knees. For anyone who wants to argue, I shall point you at my editor CalliopeMused, who was the one to point out that stairs, at the very least, would be a challenge for anyone with a cat's legs. Also- the super-shallow stairs in Mewtwo Returns, that Ash helps Mewtwo up. Barely had to raise their feet!
And finally- things are making for an explosion, both literally and really. Hold onto your hats, keep your arms and legs inside the vehical at all times, leave a review. I'm going to have FUN with this!
