What? You haven't read Dusk and Dawn by DevilsUnited? I did, and it doubled my credit score.

THAT SYLVEON

Here it is, the next chapter in our continuing story. Once again, I'd like to thank you all so much for your prevalent support. Remember, I am reading every review I get. Hopefully, the future chapters to come will help you with any questions you may have about the story. Enjoy the read!

LuanOTP owns nothing.

WLPD. The West Latias Police Department. Precinct twelve. The station was bustling with upholders of the law, mere criminals and the occasional receptionist. It doesn't take a lot to no longer be a stranger to this place. In fact, it only takes one unlawful encounter to wind up here in chains. In this case, it wasn't.

But who was I to go back on a commitment?

There were indeed a set of chains around my forearms. Not taught enough to make me stumble over, though it probably made me look like a fool by attempting to walk. I followed two air-headed police officers - a Doduo and a Metagross - through the main reception area, where they'd sort out documents, and reckon with those who had endeavoured in various felonies. It was a shame I was one of them.

We didn't seem to settle on a desk. Instead, we departed the main area, into some very slim corridors lined with doors to private rooms. I pouted, understanding what this was going to be about now.

The two officers halted in front of a door. So did I. Looking up, I read the sign on the door. Interrogation room #12. Personally, I felt like this particular precinct had superfluous amounts of rooms dedicated to frisking information out of people.

Clearing his breath, the Doduo turned to his psychic and steel partner, and opened one of his beaks to speak.

"Alright, Mothim. Take 'er inside. I'll go and get Stacie to shake Miss Pretty Lady over here into talkin'."

'Miss Pretty Lady'? I shook my head. The amount of effort it took to get out of these cuffs, and show these vacuous vermins what for was akin to the energy required to prepare a sandwich. You know how to prepare a sandwich, don't you? I know better than to go around assuming your intelligence.

"No problem." replied 'Officer Mothim'. This trash bag was a Mothim as much as I was a Turtwig. The Metagross looked at me with his garnet irises. "Alright, Missy. Let's step inside."

I wanted to rip his rusting metal limbs off. I'm sure I would've a decade ago. Thirty-two and a few months later, you remember how tame you are. I was no different. Muttering curses under my breath, I woefully complied and stepped into the interrogation room. Thuds came from behind me, before the door was slammed shut.

Three things occupied the three-dimensional space in the room - four including myself. A table, and two chair rested in the dead space. All were made of a metal alloy, and both were as uncomfortable as you'd imagine.

I supposed that I had to put my backside on one of these seats, so I did so. On the wall before me, a large mirror. I took a long look at the worn features on my face. Those restless eyes had seen more than just war. The ruby contact lenses I used to adorn had been lost somehow, somewhere, leaving behind a husk of what was a warrior, bred- no, nurtured for battle. Instead, my midnight cerulean irises were bare, exposed to the dimly lit room. I gazed down to the shackles that restrained my hands. Not the first time I've been bound by my wrists, let alone being bound in general.

The door opened, with a creak. I narrowed my eyes at the Rhydon that calmly strolled in. Not to say that I hated them from the beginning without reason, though it was imperative to establish an uncooperative atmosphere.

The Rhydon coughed a few times, presumably clearing her blocked throat. "...So, Mrs. Abigail Disastra, is it?"

"Miss Disastra, that is." I sternly corrected, brandishing my teeth to make sure this wimp knew what kind of danger she was frolicking with. "Whom might you be?"

It was here when I had noticed, the Drill Pokemon had a large collection of files in her grasp. Possible criminal records? This should be interesting.

"Detective Stacie Ryder, WLPD. I'm just here to-"

"Ask me a couple of questions?" I rudely interrupted, not taking my eyes off her easily vulnerable body as she sat across from me. "Yeah, I've heard it all before. Let's get this done and over with."

The detective was unimpressed. I wanted to sneer at my bratty retorts. I somehow kept my cool, as well as my stone expression.

"Right… Now, Miss Disastra, you're under arrest due to the murder of…" The Rhydon scratched it's cheek, glancing down at her papers. She sort of looked like a tool doing this. "Mr. Florian Gauvin, just yesterday at 11:06pm, as well as countless charges of assault on Mr. Kirk Moodas-Nake, and Mr. Gary Ángel-Eve. This is just to name a couple of charges against your name."

I wanted to roll my eyes, so badly. "Yeah, yeah. I know what happened. I was there."

It was easy to tell that this detective by the juvenile name of 'Stacie' wasn't very appreciative of my attitude. Good.

"What was your agenda behind the murder?" she questioned, ordering the files in her hands neatly.

I made sure to emphasise my reckless nonchalance by shrugging my shoulders like a moody adolescent. "I felt like it."

"Ma'am, you had in your possession, a handgun and a knife. Mr. Gauvin was also found frozen in ice once we had reached the scene." continued the adamant detective. What a bother. "Did you have any accomplices with you?"

I rested a claw on my lip. "Hmm… Yes, there were two others - me, myself, and I."

Stacie Ryder, presumed revered detective and servant to society furrowed her brows, and caressed her temples. Playground responses were all it took to break past her tense demeanour. To believe she calls herself a detective. Pah. My daydreaming son could do a better job than her.

"Ma'am, please do try to take this seriously. This is a very large case, so it would be in everyone's interest if you had just-"

"Oh, but I am taking this seriously." interjected none other than myself. I had as much to lose as that brainless Blaziken had any brain cells. "I haven't answered dishonestly, have I?"

The rock and ground type stared up and down at my lovely, slender, seductive yet powerful frame, ogling my every feature. I can understand why even the most hopeless of souls would find a lustful opportunity in a trojan such as myself. You'd never have a chance with me, though.

"...Alright, Ma'am. I'll be back to get some more files. You'll have to wait here for the time being."

Once again, I shrugged. "Fine by me. Take your time, even."

She had silently sighed, the detective. Not silent enough for me to not hear it, though. It was as if she was having the strut of a child denied attending their friends' sleepover. Amusing, nonetheless.

The Rhydon had stomped out of the room. Don't think I didn't catch the red on her face. She wore a cumbrous stop sign on that mop of hers. The door had slammed shut following her departure. Hence, I was greeted by an old friend that molded my infant days - darkness.

"..."

Five minutes turned into what felt like half an hour. I had no concept of time, nor any observers. The outside world could've just fallen into a cryogenic sleep, and I wouldn't even have known. Still, the gloomy blackness held my hand.

"…"

"…"

I assume you're still here? There's no extras. This show has come to an end. You can go now.

"…"

"…"

"…"

Did you think I was joking? I said that this was it.