In between my unhealthy obsession with that live feed of puppies, I have finally written a chapter! Kekeke. I must hurry as they might wake up and do something cute as I type this.

In case you can't piece it together, sections of story that are in italics indicate either a flashback or a scenario. This is so I could write about past events without having to refer to character dialogue to tell it.

Enjoy! And thanks for the reviews!

Chapter II

The room was chilly where cold air nipped at flesh and pricked up skin. Three ceiling lamps, dimly lit, slowly swung back and forth, making the shadows on the wall dance. The air was tense. It was almost troubling to breathe.

In front of Detective Tony was the young girl known as May Maple who nervously dug her fingernails into her upper arm, staring at her reflection in the mirror-like window. "Do you know why you're here?" he finally asked, tapping his ballpoint pen on the metal table top.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Detective Tony watched curiously as May turned her head, her eyes going up and down with the movement of his pen like an entranced Skitty to a ball of wool.

"You think ... I shot him," she said quietly, not taking her eyes off the pen.

Detective Tony nodded, turning the tape recorder next to him on. The small bulb on the recorder blinked a few times before settling to a blaring red. "Not unless you have reason for me to not believe that."

May immediately glared at the detective for making this statement. "Oh?" she said, laughing to herself. "And why do you think I would kill Brendan? I am his best friend after all. We've been traveling on the road about a year and a half now."

The detective pondered this statement. "Did you know, May, that the suspect of a crime is never too far away from the victim? I don't mean that by location either. That is it is usually close family members or friends that snap and turn on each other. Random acts of violence always get reported in the media, sure, but they are very, very rare. Domestic disputes, family troubles ... Now those are the things you should worry about. People that are close to you are the ones that you should be more afraid of instead of that shady character who likes to walk up and down the sidewalk with a bagful of groceries."

Narrowing her eyes, May bit her lip, making it turn a pale pink. "Enlighten me then. Why do you think I would try to kill him?"

"Well, you are his best friend, as you said yourself," Detective Tony answered coolly. "But you were more than just his best friend, right? You were one of his rivals. Don't deny this. It's easily detectable in your televised Pokémon battles with Mr. Birch."

May opened her mouth and closed it several times, looking like a gaping fish.

Detective Tony smirked at this. "Let me paint a scenario for you," he said, closing his eyes thoughtfully while resting his chin on his entwined fingers. "You left Brendan's house at three thirty..."

May stood at Brendan's doorway, leaning on the wooden door frame and smiling as Brendan busily threw empty red cups into a black trash bag. "Need any help?" she asked as Brendan let out a huge yawn.

Dropping the black bag to the floor, Brendan cracked his back, stretching his arms into the air. "I'm about ready to screw it and let my dad deal with it tomorrow." He laughed as he headed toward May, grabbing the door frame with his hand and leaning his weight against his arm. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, looking into the girl's deep blue eyes. "I have that Pokémon Brunch thing or something, right?"

May smiled, pushing herself up to hug her arms against her chest, shivering as a cold gust of air blew against her tiny frame. "Yeah. It's for all the trainers that ranked in the top twenty though, Brendan."

Brendan scoffed at this. "Oh, c'mon, May. It's obviously for me."

"...You were jealous. Jealous of your best friend. Jealous that he won the League based on luck. It disgusted you. But you hid it..."

May rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Brendan. I'll meet you here at nine." Giving her friend a quick hug, May took off down the dirt path toward, the streetlight guiding her home. She heard the creak of Brendan's front door close with a satisfying shut.

"...But you really weren't going home. Were you?"

May peeked her head above the bushes outside of Brendan's window, watching him gaze over the disastrous scene that was the aftermath of his celebration party. She saw Brendan sigh as he picked up the black garbage bag and continued to shovel dirty paper plates crusted with food into it. Shakily, May pushed herself onto her knees and dug into her yellow fanny pack that was clipped tightly around her hips. Pulling out a revolver, she saw her blue eyes tear up in the reflection of the steely silver gun. Shakily, May carefully wrapped her right index finger around the trigger. She took aim when Brendan turned his back to the window.

"The opportunity was right. You could easily murder him, and he wouldn't even see it coming. But no. Shooting him that close would be a bad idea. You could injure yourself if the glass reflected back into your direction, right? That wouldn't sit well with detectives if you had a glass-related injury."

The girl carefully crept out of the bushes, still clutching the gun tightly. She straightened her body slowly and clumsily, her knees wobbly and about to buck over. Brendan's back was still facing the window as he continued knocking cups on the counter into the trash bag. She had to do it. She had to teach that egotistical moron a lesson.

With her eyes squinted, May pulled the trigger. It was hard to see what happened after that.

She remembered there was a stream of red.

And then he dropped to the floor.

"Panicking, you released your flying-type. Your Swellow," Detective Tony concluded, watching May quiver with observant eyes. "You knew that you would leave a trail of footprints from the crime scene to your house. You couldn't get caught! So you flew back to your home on your Swellow so you wouldn't leave a trail!"

"None of that is true! I was no where around Brendan's house when that happened!" May cried, tears streaming down her face. She wiped at her cheeks furiously, scrunching up her nose. "I was taking a shower! You even saw me with my hair up in a towel!"

"Then you tell me," Detective Tony argued, pulling out a copy of the shoe prints found outside of Brendan's garden and transparent copy of May's shoe print that he took early along with the other line of suspects. He placed the transparent sheet above the picture. The grooves of May's shoe print fit in perfectly with the ones taken at the scene of the crime. "Why were your footprints found inside the Birch's garden? An awkward place to walk, isn't it?"

May trembled more violently, her breathing becoming more rapid.

Detective Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking at May nonchalantly. "May, all signs are pointing to you right now. Not unless you have a good reason why you were wandering outside Brendan's window, you're just going to remain one of the primary suspects."

The girl looked down, still shaking, while clutching her arms tightly. "None of that is true," she said quietly. "I wouldn't shoot Brendan ..."

"Then you tell me what you were doing there."

"I ... I ..."

May peeked her head above the bush and pressed her fingers against the wall of Brendan's house, peering into the window while making sure not to press her forehead against the cold glass. She watched as he pulled out a PokéNav and dialed a number. After a few seconds of waiting, she saw him beam brightly as he talked to the person on the device. Raising an eyebrow, she continued to watch him pace the room back and forth as he talked. She read his lips, and she could have sworn he mouthed an "I love you."

"I knew he met some girl at the League," she said softly. "There were rumors that they were ... 'seeing' each other. I just ... I needed ... I wanted to know if it were true. And I guess it is." She sighed again, more tears forming in her eyes.

May continued to observe window like Brendan were a caged animal in the zoo. She watched him laugh. She watched him smile wider. Then, for a brief second, darkness overcame her and a whip of brisk air brushed past her. Quickly, May turned around and looked behind her, trying to see if someone were there.

"I would have stayed to get more proof that Brendan were on the phone with this girl, but a shadow from overhead flew by. I freaked out, so I ran back home and took a shower. You got to believe me." She stood up, pressing her hands against the cold table and leaning in toward the detective, her eyes aflame. "Besides, you told me that you found a silver feather at the scene. My Swellow is only a year old. He's way too young for him to be aging."

- - -

Officer Jacob returned to Brendan's home, clutching a black leather suitcase in his right hand. He ducked under the yellow police tape and stepped up the stone steps of the house, turning around to take in the scene through squinted eyes. Carefully tugging at his latex gloves, Officer Jacob wrapped his hand the solid brass doorknob of the Birch's front door and pushed it open, the door opening with a slight creak. The smell of cold pizza, fruit punch, and – of course – the metallic tinge of blood overwhelmed his nostrils.

Making his way toward the living room where Brendan was shot, Officer Jacob squatted on the floor and examined the blood splatters on the floor. His eyes followed the trail, trying to imagine the path of the bullet. The trail started near the thick pool of blood where Brendan fell after he got shot. The officer ignored this though and delicately examined the tear-shaped splatters of blood. The first splatters had thick, round bases but short, thin stems. Gradually, the bases of the blood drops grew thinner and more narrow while the stems elongated.

"If Brendan were shot by a person standing on the floor, then these blood splatters would be more consistent with each other. No, the shooter had to be off the ground." he muttered. "The shooter shot him while he was flying then? Skill. That or he's a giant." Putting his suitcase on the ground, Officer Jacob took a hold of the camera that hung around his neck

Officer Jacob then noticed the black trash bag near the pool of blood. Debating in his head whether he wanted to put himself through this disgusting task or let a rookie deal with it, Jacob decided to be the bigger man and do it himself. He opened the bag and was greeted with the rotten stench of half-eaten food. Making a foul face, he began to dig through the bag, shifting past plates seeping with oil and cups still a quarter-filled with liquid. Then his hand hit something solid and cold. Grabbing a hold of it, he pulled his hand out of the bag. In his tight grasp was a gun – a revolver to be exact.

"What the?" he asked, examining the revolver with wide eyes. He traced his thumb down the bumpy, black grip panel of the revolver, his blurry image reflecting in the silver frame. He checked the cylinder of the gun for bullets – empty. Unlatching his suitcase, Jacob pulled out a clear plastic bag and bagged the gun. "Weird." He wasn't sure what troubled him the most. Was it the fact that the shooter had the audacity to throw the gun where the scene of the crime is? Or was it because Brendan himself was now a suspect in trying to shoot himself?

- - -

"You want to know who I think did it?" Wally asked, leaning back in his chair with his legs kicked up on the table.

Detective Tony looked disdainfully at Wally's informal position but didn't respond.

"I think it was Steven," Wally answered anyway. "He told us that he was at the Pokémon Brunch, but that was canceled according to news reports. I think he was hiding but then came later because it would look suspicious. I mean, he has the motive to do so, being the former champion and all. And Brendan winning was totally a fluke."

Tony only smiled. "That's pure speculation. You have no proof of that."

"Well hmph." Wally crossed his arms and scowled. "If you need evidence for everything, this case is going to take awhile."

"Well, that's the point. Evidence is needed to prove someone innocent ... or guilty." Detective Tony filtered through his papers, pulling one out and stacking it on top of the others. "Now it says here that you placed seventh in the League."

Wally rolled his eyes. "That was a fluke too. Brendan somehow managed to beat me with his Swampert while I had my Roselia out. I swear. That kid cheated his way to the top."

Detective Tony raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think that?"

Wally peeked his head around the corner of the locker room where Brendan sat on the bench, his Swampert standing in front of him. He held his breath and pressed his back closer against the wall.

"Take this. It'll help you during the battle," he heard Brendan mutter to his Swampert. Wally noticed some pills clutched in Brendan's hand.

The Swampert bent over and sniffed at his trainer's hand only to pull away in repulsion, his face scrunching up.

"Come on, buddy," Brendan pleaded. "Just hold your breath and swallow them down."

Hesitantly, the Swampert grabbed a hold of the pills, looking at them with wonder. He opened his mouth a crack and down the pills, gulping and gasping before coughing heavily, the disgust more apparent in his face.

Brendan smiled and patted his Swampert on the back. "Atta boy."

"Those are some ... dangerous accusations," Detective Tony muttered. "If those were Pokémon power-ups, Brendan could lose his title. Power ups are against the rules after your reach the top ten, right?"

Wally nodded. "Anyway, that's why I think someone would try to kill him. No one likes a cheater."

"Even you?"

"Of course I don't, but I've always disliked Birch." Wally then quickly added, "But not enough to try and kill him if that's what you're thinking."

"Wally, I think that about everyone close to Brendan. But of course that 'innocent until proven guilty' garbage always stands in my way." Detective Tony smiled. A loud vibration on the table sounded. Pushing himself up and out of his chair, the detective grabbed his cell phone from off the table and answered the call. "Yes, Jacob?" he asked, walking away from Wally so he couldn't hear the conversation.

"Tony, I just found a revolver in a garbage bag back at the Birch's residence," Officer Jacob replied over the loud beeping of machines in the background. "I brought it back to the laboratory and dusted it for prints. I ran the prints through the database and came up with a Mr. Wally Wood. There was also a green strand of hair caught in the cylinder."

Detective Tony turned around and watched the green-haired trainer stare at the ceiling while tapping his fingers on the table. "Thanks, Jacob. That will help a lot." Detective Tony hung up the phone and walked back to the table. "Mr. Wood, we have a problem."

Wally raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's that?"

"Your prints and a strand of your hair were found in a gun located at the Birch's home. Mind explaining that one to me?"

Wally pursed his lips, his face turning a pale white. "I can explain that."

Detective Tony scoffed. "I look forward to it."

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LaTeR dAyZ!