Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.
Language warning:
The Alakazam hit the floor with a thud.
The little Banette in front of him started jumping up and down delightedly. "Yay! We did it, master, we did it!" she squeaked.
Frank Caldwell smirked. "Yep. I still got it."
"Unfortunately for me," replied Sabrina. "Alakazam, return!"
There was a glow on the floor, then nothing as the downed Psychic Pokemon returned to his Pokeball. The leader of Saffron City's official gym shook her head. "One of these days I'll learn. One of these days I'll have something to counteract that little ghost of yours."
The detective chuckled. "Yeah. Maybe."
Standing in the old Fighting Dojo, the two were a contrast of styles: he wore a black a-shirt, black jeans, and black boots. The shirt revealed a tattoo on his right shoulder that read "MY FATHER'S SON," a tattoo he had gotten over the winter. His red hair had not been cut for a couple of months, giving him a somewhat shaggy appearance. She, on the other hand, was wearing her familiar red jacket/turtleneck/whatever it was, Frank couldn't tell somedays, and black leggings, ending with her boots. Her jet black hair took on a greenish tint in the light as it went straight down to the middle of her back, the bangs in front slightly parted but not by much.
The two were silent for a while, as was the Banette.
Finally, Frank spoke. "So, I was wondering, since I don't think I'll have much to do tonight other than feed the pets, stare at the pets, and wait for my mom to come home from the bar again, maybe you and I could do something tonight?"
"Define 'do something tonight,'" was the reply.
"Oh, I don't know. Dinner, maybe?"
"Could we maybe NOT go somewhere fancy this time? I really would like to just look like a normal girl for a change."
"You're Sabrina. Normal is impossible."
"But still-"
"Besides, you know what 'non-fancy' ends up being? BUFFET! I refuse to take someone out for buffet!"
"It doesn't HAVE to be buffet, Frank. There's a perfectly good diner downtown that we could go to."
Frank sighed. "Oh, all right. Does seven sound good to pick you up?"
"We have a date!"
He couldn't hold the smile back. "Great, I'll-"
Then his phone rang.
"Aw, jeez, why does it have to ring now?" he grumbled as he answered. "Caldwell."
"Frank, you need to get to Celadon immediately," came the voice of Captain Hopfmar. "We've got a dead body-"
"Doesn't Celadon have their own police force? Let them handle it."
"They're the ones asking us to head out there."
"Seriously?"
"I'm sorry, Frank, but Commissioner Steele told them we'd be there."
"Christ."
"Yeah."
The younger detective sighed. "Fine, I'm on my way."
Sabrina had gone through her pockets and gotten the prize money together during the conversation, and was now staring at him. "Aw, you have to go now?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry, Sabrina. I'm supposed to head out to Celadon."
"Celadon? Isn't that out of your jurisdiction?"
"Apparently not this time. I gotta go."
"Seven tonight, remember?"
"I'll remember!" he yelled as he ran to the warp tile, not giving her time to give him his winnings.
A few moments later, he was driving at a frenzied clip towards Celadon.
He barely had time to grab his badge, his Glock, and a denim jacket before hitting the road.
As winter had turned into spring, things had quieted down for the Saffron City Police Department. It was back to the usual daily grind of thefts and other non-lethal crimes. And paperwork. Good god, the paperwork.
And yet all of a sudden, here he was, heading off to investigate a death he really had no interest in investigating.
Why?
Who did he piss off this time to have to do this?
As he came to a stop in the mall's parking lot, he was surprised to see another car pull up. He was even more surprised to see a shiny Gallade and a shiny Gardevoir that he knew all too well step out. "Tristan? Victoria? What are you doing here?"
Pokebureau Special Agent Tristan O'Meara straightened his back out. "Got called out by Celadon's police chief. You?"
"More or less. I wish I knew what the hell was so important about this that WE have to help them."
"Wish I knew too, Frank." Victoria squinted as she stared at the building, wishing she'd worn sunglasses. She followed her Pokemon boyfriend and her human friend and ex-lover through the doors.
Saffron City Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Yuri Rashmonov was behind a veritable wall of police tape as they approached. Stuart McManus was there as well, and the detective looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"What do we got?" Frank asked.
"Name's Mandy Tanahashi, age thirty-four, dropped over, started convulsing, and-"
"That's not her name."
"Uh, Frank, I checked her I.D., her name is-"
"Donna Milani."
Stuart looked annoyed. "Frank-"
"Donna Milani," Frank repeated. "Also known as 'Deckmistress Donna.' She was part of the third incarnation of Team Rocket, the one we took down a couple of years ago."
"I remember us shutting them down, but-"
"She was Giovanni's favorite dealer and knew every trick in the trade. That's part of the reason why the group became a major problem again as quickly as they did, because she was able to screw people over at the tables. And in Giovanni's private Texas Hold 'Em parties, she was the one dealing every time and more often than not she would make sure her boss got the better hand. Only one person was really ever able to beat her and, by extension, Giovanni."
He spotted the man standing outside the tape, his faded t-shirt standing out like a sore thumb with that large red R on the front. "Me."
He exited the tape and walked over to the man.
While this conversation was taking place, the two Pokebureau agents went over to Dr. Rashmonov. "Hey, doc," said Victoria.
The Slavic man turned his head to look at her. "Ah, Agent Stillwater. I have not seen you in quite some time."
"I know. Doc, this is Agent Tristan O'Meara," she continued as the shiny Gallade crouched next to him. "Tristan, this is Chief Medical Examiner Yuri Rashmonov."
"What do we got, doc?" Tristan asked.
"Judging from the descriptions given by eyewitnesses, it appears that she was poisoned, apparently through the use of a neurotoxin," the doctor explained.
"A neurotoxin?"
"Yes, a neurotoxin is a chemical-"
"I know what a neurotoxin is," Tristan interrupted, "I just want to know how you're so certain?"
As the M.E. explained to the shiny Gallade how neurotoxins worked and what the symptoms were, generally confusing the poor Pokemon, Frank approached the man with the faded R. "Could you come with me for a few minutes, sir? I need to ask you some questions."
Stevie Ray's eyes lit up. "Man, am I glad to see YOU! I was-"
"Just… come on," the detective growled, not wanting the enthusiastic reception as he pulled the former Rocket off a safe distance.
After they were some ways away from most of humanity, Frank stopped. "What the hell are you doing here, Stevie?"
The man fidgeted. "I-I was just-"
"Please don't bullshit me and tell me you're just an innocent bystander in all of this."
"I was just here to look around and maybe get stuff and I saw Donna and I just wanted to catch up and she ran away like she was scared or something-"
"Did you see what happened?"
Stevie Ray looked at the floor, ashamed to be there. "I was trying to get her to calm down and she acted like she got stung by something and then she just fell over and started shaking and she was dead in just a few moments."
"Did you see anyone or anything?"
"No, I really didn't."
Frank sighed and looked around. "For the love of everything sacred, profane, and otherwise, don't go wandering around proclaiming what you used to be. Not all cops are as forgiving. And for God's sake get rid of that fucking shirt. It's not a fucking fashion statement."
Stevie Ray was left alone as the detective walked back to his partners. "Let me guess. From what he told me, it's a neurotoxin."
Dr. Rashmonov looked at him with surprise. "Very good, detective. What type was used will not be known for certain until I get her to the lab."
"Found this, too, Frank," said Victoria, holding up an evidence bag.
The human stared at the tiny contents. "It looks like a dart of some kind."
"It's the only one we found."
"Which might explain why between the two of them, whoever did this probably had Donna targeted from the start and decided to stick to the plan. There's just one problem. Why target her?"
Frank stood there in the break room, head against the refrigerator, head full of confusion.
Hopfmar interrupted his murky train of thought. "Frank, we tried to do a roundup of other former Rockets to bring them in for questioning. Unfortunately, we only located one. She's in Interrogation now."
Sighing, the detective followed his superior.
Then he saw, through the one-way mirror, who was there, and stopped.
"I want Stuart in there with me," he blurted.
"But Frank," Hopfmar began, "I-"
"I WANT STUART IN THERE WITH ME! NOW!"
"It's all right, Captain, I'll go in there," Stuart hastily got out as he ran over and opened the door for his colleague to enter.
The woman sat at the table, her long red hair going straight off her head and staying stiff behind her. Her figure was well served by her tight lavender t-shirt. She sat there, bored and unhappy, twirling her finger around on the table in circles.
When the door shut, she looked up, and Frank's heart and stomach sank the moment he saw the light appear in her eyes.
"Well, what a surprise," she said. "You don't call yourself Michael anymore, do you?"