Chapter Six: Intelligent Discourse
I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, so long as it stays between you and me. Interrogation? Not my strong point. Oh, I used to think I was a pretty fair hand at it, and I do have my success stories I could tell. But, in hindsight most of the slime I've shaken down for information weren't exactly hard cases. Oh, they were mixed up in all sorts of bad shit, from the drug trade to theft to designing transmitters intended to infiltrate people's storage boxes. But they were, by and large, somewhat cowardly. Or dying of horrible poison, which can have largely the same effect on people.
Jolson was a hard case. He wasn't going to give me anything on threats alone. And, tempting though it is, outright torture is both too messy to risk using, and too unreliable to be worth it. A man in enough pain, say from having his leg bitten off at the knee by a Sharpedo, will tell you anything. Anything at all, if it makes the pain stop. And by anything, I mean literally anything. Outright lies that they may believe themselves will fountain out of their lips faster than blood from that severed leg.
I'd realized all this about myself thanks to Arabella Ragnos. Long, boring hours had been filled with thought while I waited for the police to crack her. Mostly about how it would have happened already if they'd let me have a try. Except, the more I thought about it the more I wondered if that were, in fact, true. As I got set to deal with my captive, I'd pretty well accepted that it unfortunately was not. Fortunately, however, I was pretty sure Jolson wasn't quite as hardcore as Arabella.
After healing my team, I resisting the force of long habit demanding I call up Looker and tell him I'd nabbed a poacher and needed a drop point so the cops could take it from there, I decided it would be best to start right away. Considering the infuriating situation with Arabella, I wasn't about to let Jolson out of my sight until he told me something useful or convinced me once and for all he wasn't going to. So instead of arranging the pickup, I had Big Bird fly us right back to Ecruteak. A nice long ride in the cold wind, dangling from the very talons that had so utterly ruined his Magnezone, should have helped soften him up for our little talk. It would have been enough for most of the scum I've nicked over the years. I didn't say a word to him until we were under cover inside the remains of the Burned Tower, which I quietly slipped into figuring the ruined structure would be nice and private. I started out simple, ask questions in an authoritative voice and see if I got answers. I hadn't gotten anything from my bound prisoner except anatomically improbable suggestions.
"Go fuck yourself, Devil!" he snarled at me for the however many-eth time. I'd honestly stopped counting by then.
"Can you at least think of a different defiant phrase? Seriously, its more boring than insulting now." I stood across a small room from Jolson where I'd cuffed him to an old chair. As I spoke, I lightly threw not one but three Pokéballs, not at the captive but around him. I've heard that having someone constantly behind them or just barely outside their peripheral vision will make people jittery and thus easier to interrogate. Seeing how resistant the man was going to be, I figured I'd take the theory and turn it up to 11. Energy coalesced around Jolson, forming into Lucky on his right, Big Bird on his left, and Bruce right behind him. All three voiced displeasure at his continued breathing, and the room echoed with the combined force of the Luxray's brassy roar overlayed with a Staraptor's shrieking
scream remixed with a Sharpedo's bubbling gill-growl.
"And again I say: Go fuck yourself, asshole." The joys of communication, am I right? But there was a slight thread of hesitation and fear in his voice now, along with the irritation. Lucky and Big Bird share an ability, Intimidate. Its a useful ability, cutting down a Pokémon's attack strength in battle, but here I considered that, like Odor Sleuth, it might have uses beyond the traditional. I stalked around the room, pacing in genuine irritation with his answers, and glared at my captive almost as hard as the Luxray who'd taken up a watchful crouch at his side. Lucky does not take kindly to aggressive language, postures, or even looks being directed at yours truly. I could hear pops and crackles of electricity as he made a point of licking his chops, showing glittering arcs of lightning dancing between his fangs. Jolson had to turn his head to see the big cat clearly, and didn't seem to like the sight anymore than the sound. Especially when a set of jaws strong enough to tear open the hull of a military warship snapped behind him, followed by a soft rustle of flaring feathers. I made a mental note that the sharp contrast in sounds, both threatening despite their difference, definitely warranted experimentation when I had a hard ass to interrogate in the future.
"Alright, I admit. You're a tough one," I threw up my hands in frustration when, even white faced from the jump scares provided by my team, he said nothing. "I mean, four hours of nothing but "go fuck yourself" makes it pretty clear we're not getting anywhere." I sighed theatrically, tapping without rhythm on the hilt of my sword. "I mean, sure me and my Pokémon could torture you until you say something else," I let that sink in, hoping it'd get me a reaction. No dice, his eyes only hardened more. "But I'm probably gonna catch hell from the cops for not bringing you in sooner as it is. And I wouldn't want to kill you while you're tied up and captive either." Still nothing. I made a show of tapping a finger against my lips and pulled out my Poké Gear.
"The fuck you doing? Finally calling the cops to turn me in? Oh please do, I'll have your ass in jail right with me for this kidnapping bullshit," Jolson finally broke his pattern. Good start, but not enough.
"Nah, cops haven't got a very good record for getting info either lately. Catching you is a start, but not a very big one unless someone gets your gums flapping." I held up a hand to shush him and put the Poké Gear against my ear. "Hey, Lorelai? I got a lead, one of your guards turned on his coworkers, helped the team kill them, took out your communications, and helped round up the Lapras. Took one for himself, even." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jolson's eyes go wide with surprise. Lorelai wouldn't eat him alive, but one of her Glalie probably would considering the mood they were all in.
"I'll talk, I'll talk! Shit man put the phone down, that bitch'll kill me! She won't even ask any questions!" I smirked openly. I sometimes think I could, had my life gone differently, been a very bad man. I love the sound of a brave, ballsy crook turning to panic and pleading. I might sleep poorly at night if I didn't use that side of myself on people like the shitbag chained up in front of me.
"I gotta go Lorelai," I said to no one, since I had not in fact dialed a number. "He says he's ready to talk. I'll have the Lapras brought back to the preserve in the morning." I clicked the hangup button for show and stuck the gizmo back in my pocket. "Alright, Jolson. I didn't mention your name, or where we are. But she's ex-Elite Four. People saw me nab you, and they will tell her anything she wants to know if she asks. If she gets impatient? She will find you, if only because I found you first. And then it'll be Ice Beam, starting from the feet and working up. Bet on it. So spill, and do it fast."
It didn't take long, overall, for Jolson to fill me in. He didn't know as much as I'd have liked, which would of course have been everything, but what he did know was still a hot trail to follow. He'd been approached months earlier by, and I quote, "some fag in a pirate costume." I smacked him upside the head for that one, being told to fornicate with myself is one thing but homophobia doesn't fly around this Devil. Anyway, said pirate had needed an inside man for his Lapras heist. Jolson had gotten fed up waiting for a Lapras of his own a while before this, so the extra incentive of ten thousand dollars delivered to him upon completion of the job plus assistance fleeing the country with the thieves had just been gravy. My initial picture of the battle was more or less accurate, as far as Jolson could recall the assault. I believed him when he said it had been too chaotic to form a clear memory of the whole mess. I did not believe his claim that he had done his best to wound his fellow guards without killing them. The scene of the crime didn't bear that out at all.
"All right, take a breath and think hard," I said, petting Lucky now that the big cat was calm enough not to zap me by accident. "You said they were gonna hook you up with a ride out of the region. They tell you where they were running off to?"
"No, just... away. Could be anywhere. Doubt they meant Kanto though, too close. Besides, its where I was picking up my Lapras..." he winced as I went ahead and smacked him over the head again. "That is, the Lapras that you took back from me." He was indeed quite cowed now that he thought Lorelai was waiting to get her hands on him. Smarter man than I'd have given credit for. Too bad those smarts didn't kick in when Mr. Pirate, who I suspected was probably an Aqua Grunt, had come knocking.
"Alright, so you don't know where they're going. One more question then. Where were you supposed to meet up for this getaway?"
I went ahead and spent the rest of the night in the Burned Tower. Jolson complained at first, but I told him to go fuck himself. Poetic justice and vulgar insult all at once. I do love my job sometimes. He eventually settled into a fitful sleep, after I moved him to a prone position on the charred floor. I'm not a nice guy, but have you ever tried to sleep in an old wooden chair? I'm not a monster. For my own part, I spent some time working with my Poké Gear's map function, planning, before laying my head down on Lucky's flank and making with the snores. The big cat kept watch for me. Not much can stop him, what with being able to look through his own eyelids if he wants. Never trust an apparently sleeping Luxray. In fact, just don't trust any Luxray that isn't your own... and even then only if you treat it well.
The next morning, I got moving early. Once I had my prisoner on his feet, cuffed, and stuffed the hood back over his head, I whipped out my Gear and flipped up the phone again. I'd have preferred to get moving, the rapid pace of events the previous night hadn't left a chance for any dinner and a packet of beef jerky, while tasty, is not a filling meal. Sadly, duty called, I really did need to get the recovered Lapras back to the preserve. Not to mention ditch Jolson now that he'd served his purpose. So I dialed up Professor Oak and spent several impatient minutes waiting for an answer. I could imagine this early in the morning he was probably sitting down to breakfast (my stomach all but roared a complaint at this thought) with a cup of tea, maybe writing a haiku about Lapras (yes, he really does that sometimes, although he isn't nearly as bad about it as the cartoon would have you think).
"Hello?" he finally picked up just as I was about to hang up and surprise him when I got there.
"Hey Oak, its Devil," I paced over to switch Lucky and Big Bird while we talked. As soon as this call was over, we were flying the hell out of this place. "I made some progress on the case last night. I have one of your missing pets and a lead on the other fourteen."
"That's excellent news! Is the creature safe? Healthy?"
"Its pretty damn shaken up, but I checked it over last night. Its fine, physically, not a scratch on it. I'm bringing it back to the preserve. Can you meet me there?" I shoved Jolson roughly towards the waiting Staraptor, who was still sleepily preening while I chatted. I almost pitied the man, Big Bird isn't a morning mon, he'd probably have bruises from the grip she was going to keep on him.
"I'm supposed to be in Goldenrod for a radio show today," he mused. "I considered canceling, what with... everything, but Lorelai was adamant that routine would be good for everyone right now. She's still on site, and not showing any sign of leaving. Could she handle it?"
"Not a good idea Prof, I have another... lost pet," I remembered that while we'd mentioned the preserve, overall this was supposed to be on the hush hush. No trusting the Poké Gear to be private. "One of those that scattered the others all over. Lorelai," Jolson visibly stiffened at the name "would scold this one a little too harshly."
"Is that so? Alright, I'll meet you there with a few friends to do the hand-off," he replied, obviously referring to the police on site. "There are still quite a few hanging around the place. Is there anything you need for the case while we're at it?"
"Yeah, just one. I need a big fat Tauros steak waiting for me, unless you want me to fall off my bird on the way out to look for the others."
I didn't get a cut of Tauros. Not Oak's fault, there simply were none to be had at the preserve. Not much of a surprise, what with all the big tough guard types living there for a month at a time. Not to mention their Pokémon, some of whom most definitely enjoyed a good steak as a treat when they put in a hard day's work. But, bless the Prof's heart, he didn't deny me breakfast just for that.
As Professor Oak waved me into a chair in tower two's dining hall, I eyeballed the meal laid out in front of me, some sort of meat alongside a pile of nutritious Chansey eggs someone had taken the time to scramble. Oak isn't much of a cook, to my knowledge, but scrambled eggs are probably within his grasp. Heavenly a sight as they were, though, my attention was much more focused on the unfamiliar flesh. It was... greenish. It had been cut into strips and fried, apparently with no seasoning at all. I raised an eyebrow questioningly and glanced at the Prof, but he only smiled tiredly.
I've eaten some strange things in my day. Not many people know there is any edible anything on a Ryhorn, but circumstance and necessity have taught me they at least have bone marrow that a human can chew. So, a greenish hue and probable lack of flavor weren't going to put me off a meal when I was good and hungry.
The first bite was a surprise, flavor blossomed on my tongue unlike anything I'd expected. I couldn't be sure what I was eating exactly, but it tasted almost precisely like fried venison rubbed lightly with sage and thyme.
"What is this Prof, marinated Stantler? No, if you marinated something long enough to turn it green it wouldn't be so subtle would it?" I said between bites. Having found it appetizing, I was making the meat and eggs disappear with some speed.
"It's Sawsbuck. One of our guards is an immigrant from Unova, his father sends him a cooler full every hunting season. It reminds him of home, though when we mentioned your request he gladly did the cooking and donated it to the cause. Can't have our mercenary passing out from hunger if we want this resolved." I nodded thoughtfully, remembering that Sawsbuck were deer much like Stantler only Grass-typed. From the taste, their flesh was self-seasoning. I was trying to decide between making more polite small talk about food or shoveling down more of it with the help of a piece of toast when I noticed Oak's gaze had wandered away to the other man in the room. "Who is it?" he asked, not wanting an answer by the sorrow in his voice, needing it according to the anger riding his brow.
"Spitpyre," I waved the fighting bird over to the table. He walked over smoothly, unconcerned with the prisoner he was dragging along by the handcuff chain running behind his back. "Take off the hood." 'Pyre did as I asked, carefully pulling the black cloth up and off Jolson's face with the tips of his claws. The ex-guard, still in his now soot and ash stained uniform, stood blinking at the sudden change from pitch black to fluorescent bright.
"Jolson. I should have listened when Devil advised against hiring you. I really thought you had potential to change." The old man really looked old when he said it, and I sighed inwardly. He was right, but I could take no pleasure in it. He'd tried very hard to do the right thing when I knocked Jolson out, giving him a chance to turn over a new leaf. It wasn't his fault that leaf had been poison, only that it'd had a chance to spread.
"He did," I truthfully told the regretful old man as I roughly shoved Jolson into a chair, trusting Spitpyre wouldn't let him tumble out the other side and break his neck. "Everyone does, Prof. He just didn't take the chance."
"I'll get the police in here to take him away while you finish up your breakfast. And then we'll talk." He headed for the door, leaving me with the prisoner. As the door closed behind him, blocking him from our sight, I heard a quiet whisper of "And thank you."
I filled in Oak on most of what had transpired, though I kept Bill's name out of it for the time being and simply said that "a source" had allowed me to catch Jolson withdrawing the stolen Lapras. And then, I told him what I'd learned about the group he'd worked for. He'd been aware of only four people in this group, which fit my earlier speculation about a small strike force. None of them wore team uniforms from any known villain group, the closest being their leader who, as noted, dressed like a pirate. However, even he was not in the old Aqua Grunt gear, or that of their admins or Boss. Just... pirate-y clothes.
They, like Jolson himself, had stored the stolen Lapras in a storage box apparently owned by said leader until they could leave Johto on a sail driven ship owned by the pirate. Said escape was scheduled for two days from the present, when the crew their leader had left running it would arrive to pick them up two miles off the coast of the Whirl Islands. From there, they planned to set a course that would bring them around the long way to Hoenn.
Jolson had gotten greedy for his prize after so long and decided to pull it early, assuming he wouldn't be suspected since he had only five balls beforehand and thus wouldn't be going over the legal limit of six per trainer. The man was going to be safer with the cops thanks to tipping me off like that, even if he hadn't spilled his guts after.
Oh, and he'd given me two names. One was the second in command for this little squad, a Kantonian named (or at least called) Jimmy Squint. The other name I was certain was an affectation, but it belonged to their leader: Black Bart.