Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.
Apologies for a rather sloppy chapter. I've been busy on other projects along with real life non-writing stuff. That and writer's block. Next chapter should be better.
Language warning:
"Any sign of Frank?" Hopfmar asked as Victoria and Tristan walked into the precinct.
"Yeah," the Gardevoir answered, "he's down in the old Training Dojo beating the hell out of some of the fighters down there. Stuart must have really pissed him off."
"Knowing Frank's past with Jessie, that doesn't come as a surprise. Though what does surprise me is how strongly he's been defending her."
"Have you considered that maybe Frank's right?" asked Tristan.
"I'm not saying he isn't, but-"
"Did we see ANYTHING on any of the security footage to suggest that Jessie is the only person who could have pulled off the two killings?"
"Besides," his colleague and lover added, "neither of us have been given a chance to do our own version of recreating the actual crime. So far all we know, you've got more suspects out there and we've only been focusing on one just because she's a former Rocket."
Hopfmar sighed. "While I grant your point, Victoria, we don't have any evidence to say one way or another whether she IS involved."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
In the weeks of walking into the casino and going to the special room where Giovanni held court, nothing out of the ordinary ever happened to Frank Caldwell.
Getting a black cloth bag suddenly slipped onto his head as he entered? That was new.
"Hey! What the fuck-"
"Relax, kid," came a voice. "Standard procedure for anyone going to the boss' place."
"I'm assuming 'standard procedure' also includes handcuffs?!" he continued to protest as they got slapped rather roughly on and he was shoved ahead.
"Watch your step," said the voice, and before the detective could react he stumbled but was caught by unknown hands. "See, I told ya to watch your step."
The voice, which was distinctly masculine, then ordered someone to shut the door and drive.
"What-" began Frank, but he was cut off as the floor began to vibrate from a heavy engine and the whatever he was in lurched forward, causing him to hit the floor hard. Thank God I didn't hit my head, he begrudgingly thought.
It took a few moments for him to get reacquainted with light as the cloth was yanked from his head. He had lost all track of how long it took from getting shoved in the vehicle to this moment, and his knees and back hurt from being shoved roughly to the ground.
"Ah, there you are, Mr. O'Leary," came a familiar voice. "I guess I should have warned you a bit more about our procedure so it wouldn't have been quite so shocking or painful."
He was able to make out the general shape of Giovanni, a shape that came into focus as his eyes became more adjusted to the light. "Maybe it's because I wasn't exactly expecting a kidnapping," he got out.
Giovanni feigned a shocked appearance. "A kidnapping, my good man? On the contrary, that was the start of your night of adventure, if you will."
"I'd rather not call it that."
"Then call it something other than a kidnapping. Come along, my personal dealer is setting up all hands now."
Much to Frank's bemusement, Seth Drakin was among the members of the party, and like everyone else that was not a member of Team Rocket, he looked like he'd been hauled away by some evil government organization. "Well, what a lovely surprise," the detective said with a silken mockery in his voice. "You really DO treat all of your guests like this."
"Just the important ones," Giovanni lightly let pass.
"I think you should define 'important' a little more carefully," Drakin quietly shot back.
The Rocket boss ignored him as he sat down. He nodded to a dark haired woman in uniform, who began to deal the cards. Frank let his fall in front of him, then waited for the rest to bid. He began to lift up his cards when he felt his fingernail snag.
What the-
And that was when he noticed the tiny yet clean cut in the six of clubs.
At the same time, he heard a slight scraping coming from Drakin's side of the table.
These cards are rigged.
With his dishonest advantage, Giovanni made short work of everyone at the table with the sole exception of Frank, and that was only because he had been folding at an alarming rate. Constantly being forced to change strategies was starting to wear thin, and it was starting to screw up his gameplay.
Nevertheless, he adapted, and by now he had only lost a fraction of what he had started with. The only problem was that Giovanni rarely lost a hand or was forced to fold.
So now Frank knew that he'd either need to find a way out of the game without losing his chance to nail Team Rocket to the wall or charge ahead and try to break their boss. As impossible as it seemed, he decided on the-
"I'm afraid to tell you that it is getting late, Mr. O'Leary," the man in the detective's thoughts interrupted, "and much as I would love to continue this game into the wee hours of dawn, I have a busy schedule tomorrow, as I'm sure you also do. Continue next week?"
"I don't see why not," replied the "supplier."
Giovanni smiled at that. "Good. Same time, same place, same routine. Until then, I bid you adieu."
His last words were muffled a bit as the black hood was dropped on Frank's head without warning and the unceremonious process which was used to transport him was now used in reverse.
Frank sighed as he cautiously walked into the bookstore.
Normally, he would not approach a bookstore while looking around to see if anyone was following him, but this was a gay bookstore and novelty shop. A cop of any sort heading into one could cause onlookers to jump to any possible wrong conclusion regardless of true motive. To make matters more awkward, there was a room secluded in the back where men could go to give or receive blowjobs. And THAT was where Frank was headed.
Mercifully, the owner had been warned in advance, and he checked to make sure nobody was following the detective before leaning in close. "He's at the gloryhole already," he whispered. "Has been there for fifteen minutes now. I can't stall forever."
"It'll just be a couple of minutes," Frank reassured him before heading to the back room.
Once the door was closed, he knocked sharply twice on the wall.
"Took you long enough, Frank," came the bitter voice of Stuart.
"Yeah, well things could have gone better. I've got a problem."
"There's pills for that."
"Not funny this time. Giovanni uses a rigged deck."
"Normally I'd mock you for that but I know the implications as much as you do. Think you can slip in a clean deck without him knowing?"
"I think he has it memorized."
"Shit, you're probably right."
"Best I can do is keep going and hope I don't bust. I bust, we may lose our chance."
"Speaking of which, might want to get out of here before the real customers get pissed off."