Terrence pulled himself free from the hood and chuckled to himself. He had everything he needed now. Names, appearances, intents. He slid off the hood of the car. With that man and his gardevoir enjoying a nightmare, their escape is gone, and it should be easy enough to get that detective and his bisharp towards the Diggersby now.
It was nighttime proper now. The dull reds and yellows of dingy lamps hung outside of bars and brothels cast the streets in a dirty, dim glow. No matter where his quarry ran out in the streets of the rouge, Terrence could follow. He melded into the ground and took off - he snaked out of the alley and rushed down the street, trying to catch up to Daniel. He rematerialized on the face of garbage can after garbage can, and scanned his surroundings each time.
Perhaps he'd gone too far? He doubled back, bouncing from mundane object to dark patch of earth to the darkness beneath one of of the rare cars that sat parked on the street. Had he gone too far? Had they crossed the street? He had overheard their conversation, heard Daniel, the human, say he'd only be heading down a few buildings with Charles, his bisharp.
Terrence felt frustration begin to swell in him. He could not - would not allow this opportunity to pass him by. He may have hated Vassal's plan, but it was his only chance at making sense of the fuzzy, nonsensical images and noises in his head. He jumped from object to object with reckless abandon, his frustration shifting to anger as the minutes began to stretch out. Where were they?
He materialized upon the low roof of a building and scanned the street, the stoops and the passersby. Where. Were. They? A deep, echoing growl of anger escaped him. He saw a figure below him give a start, glance over their shoulder and then shift from a walk into a jog. Idiot. He sank into the roof and stalked over to a manhole cover. He dropped out of it into the sewers and caught the ladder that the humans used to lower themselves into it safely. He pushed on the cover, raising it enough to allow him to scan several buildings. His eyes were frantic, dancing from door to door at breakneck speed.
A bisharp and a tall man in a dark jacket. A bisharp and a tall man in a dark jacket. A bisharp and a tall man in a dark jacket. A bisharp and a tall man in-
Two figures emerged from the building directly in front of him. A man behind them was gesturing with force at them and pointing out of the brothel. He couldn't catch their exchange, but he could see the irritation in Daniel's gait and caught the sulking murmur from Charles. The stranger recoiled at the growl - and then pointed for a brief moment further down the street before slamming the door in their faces. The two looked at each other, nodded, and then set off down the street.
The anger and worry in Terrence's heart melted away, and he fought down the instinctual urge to grin.
Daniel brushed past the odd pedestrian now and again, paying them and their "dates" little mind. It seemed that each month that passed saw the clientele that frequented the rouge growing bolder. When he'd first begun working cases here they stuck to the interiors of the buildings - barhopping was still common, but once one of the degenerates had picked something to crawl into bed with, they didn't leave until the morning.
That didn't matter now. The entire rouge was theirs now. Judging eyes and petty laws meant little in the face of another money-spinning tourist trap. The first brothel he'd checked had precious little to offer him in the way of "unusual" goings-on. He scowled. Francis was less than willing to tell him anything at all that was happening, and he scratched his name from a list of contacts in his head. Someone had bought his silence.
His scowl shifted to a frown. Or maybe he's just tired of giving a shit. Daniel glanced at Charles - the bisharp felt his partner's gaze and turned to face him. "Must be easy, huh?" he asked his pokemon.
Charles furrowed his brow and replied with an inquisitive hum. It was higher in pitch, and carried a bite of confusion.
"Not giving a shit anymore," added Daniel.
The bisharp turned away and grunted with displeasure.
Daniel chuckled. "I agree." Something flashed past the corner of his eyes - a dark mass of some sort. He froze and brought a hand to his pokemon's shoulder. "Wait," he said, his voice sharp. "Did you see that?"
Charles raised his arms and shifted into a defensive stance. A growl formed in his throat, low and buzzing, and began to rise in volume. A man with his arms around a pair of lopunny stopped in front of them. Fear sprung to life in the eyes of the lopunny and one of them let out a terrified squeak. They both squirmed away from their partner and took off up the street. The man stumbled back himself, stammering, "H-hey, hey, I paid up, what's with the hostility?" He nearly tripped over his own feet as he stepped back and craned his head around. "Come back!" He turned back for an instant to shout at Charles and Daniel, "I paid up!" He turned around again and took off after the pokemon.
The feeling they were being watched did not subside, and so Daniel beckoned Charles forward, taking small, measured steps himself and looking in every direction for anything out of the ordinary. "Keep your eyes peeled, Charles. No telling what the fuck it is that's going-" Another shape in the corner of his eyes - the same dark mass flit in and out of his vision.
Terrence watched Daniel and Charles from a drainage grate. He had put them too on edge - he needed to get them moving forward again, but not let them enter any more brothels - unless it was the Lonely Diggersby, of course.
He slinked out of the drainage grate and snaked along the ground into the dark alley nearest Daniel. As he materialized out of the ground, he closed his eyes. His focus turned to the invisible shadow he cast in the dim light of the sky and the dingy lamps of the surrounding buildings. When he opened them again he could see a darker patch, nearly imperceptible against the dark ground pushing out of him. It stretched and stretched until it rested against a trash can.
He tipped it over.
Daniel jumped and swore as a trash can fell over next to him, sending an array of discarded bottles, take-out bags and gods knew what else spilling across the floor in front of him. He kicked the offending can away and felt stupid immediately after.
He had to have imagined the shadow. It was paranoia getting the best of him. He had every reason to believe that the gengar that tried to attack them would try again, but Ana's warding abilities were impeccable, and following him out into public - even a place like the rouge - was tantamount to suicide.
"Come on, Charles," he muttered, "let's keep moving. Stay alert. Maybe it's my nerves and this trash can is just an asshole, but I don't want to take any chances."
The two resumed their slow trudge forward. The next brothel was a fair distance into the rouge, where the pedestrians grew bolder, and where alleys were convenient hideaways for those that had lost their self-control. Every so often a disheveled human or pokemon would stumble out of the dark and nearly run into him. Mumbled apologies that stank of alcohol and sex, or else odd squeaks, harmonious groans or apologetic chitters greeted his ears each time and cast a ever growing shadow across his face.
He passed an alley from which a symphony of soft moans emanated. A door in the alley flew open and bathed it temporarily in dull red and pink light - the opening produced a giggling patron and the telltale silhouette of a gardevoir.
The door closed behind them and they disappeared into the inky black.
"Lookin' for something, connard?" asked a gruff voice near Daniel.
The detective turned to see a monster of a man leaning against the wall at the entrance of the alley. How he'd managed to miss a pile of muscle roughly the size and mass of a truck was beyond him, and he swore under his breath for letting his own concern about dancing shadows and wayward trash cans distract him.
"Yeah," replied Daniel, a fire in his heart, "I'm looking for the morceau de merde that let somewhere like this come to be in the first place."
The musclebound hulk replied with a booming laugh and flipped Daniel the bird. "Wrong part of town. City hall is on the other side of Illumis."
"Very funny." He pointed into the darkness of the alley, at the nearly imperceptible outlines of figures rolling about against walls in the void. "Didn't know policy changed. Thought you needed a room for this."
The guard crossed his arms again and whistled. From behind his legs an umbreon crept out and looked at Daniel with wide, piercing eyes. "He knows when it's time for me to tell them to shove off into a room. Until then, no sense turning away thirsty clients." As if on cue, the door in the alley opened again, only instead of producing a couple, it accepted one. Daniel squinted to see who and what walked in, but the guard stepped in front of him and pushed him back. "Show's over. This ain't the place for you, fils de pute. Take you and your tiny knife somewhere else." He sneered at Charles, though it faltered for the briefest of moments when the bisharp replied with a sharp snarl.
The umbreon standing behind the man's legs cowed and hid himself from view.
"Not worth it Charles. Let's get going," said Daniel. He suppressed a smirk, but as they turned away gave his friend a firm set of shoulder claps. "Fuck that guy," he added in an undertone.
Charles replied with a sharp growl of approval.
The two pressed on, but Daniel stopped again just ten minutes later. They were nearing the next brothel for him to check into, but the creeping, snaking shadow has appeared in the corner of his vision again. He fought down the desire to call it paranoia. Twice in one night was too many.
"Charles!" he barked. "Stop. Saw it again. Did you?"
The bisharp returned a silent nod and raised his arms again. His eyes scanned the ground, the nearby alley and even the roofs of nearby buildings. A small mass darted out of the nearby alley and shot down the sidewalk, deeper into the rouge.
"Fuck! He's been watching us!" shouted Daniel. He took off after the mass with Charles following closely behind him. What the hell is this gengar doing just watching us? Are we near his home? Is he looking for a time to attack? That's suicide. Is he leading us to a trap? Daniel pushed the thoughts from his head. Trap or not, this was the best chance he'd had to grab hold of someone connected to this King business.
The shadowy lump dove from a rooftop right as Daniel lost sight of it and landed halfway across the street. He ran after it - traffic in the rouge was so light and the entire district so dimly lit that he'd have seen a car coming from a considerable distance away. He made it across with Charles and stopped to glance around. The mass was nowhere to be seen. His eyes flicked from sign to sign on the buildings before him. The Alibi. Goût Discernant. The Lonely Diggersby.
A gengar exploded out of the ground, sending several nearby pedestrians running away in a hurry, and it dashed into an alley between the Discernant and the Diggersby. Daniel tugged a suppressed pistol with an underbarrel flashlight from his jacket and flicked the light on. The alley revealed to him nothing but a collection of bins, a dumpster - and nothing else. He kicked a nearby trash can and shouted, "FUCK! Where the fuck did that gengar go?"
Something connected with his back, and he felt the familiar, soul-scorching sting of ghost energy engulf him from behind. He fell forward and twisted around as he did, bringing his pistol to bear and scanning frantically for the source of the attack. Charles wheeled around as well, a harsh snarl ringing out of him into the night.
The gengar was already sinking back into the ground, and Daniel caught one of its pointed "ears" melting into the ground at the last second. He kipped-up to his feet and commanded, "Back to back, now."
With practiced agility, Charles complied and fell in behind Daniel, leaving enough space so as not cut him with the small bits of blade that protruded from his back. With a sharp grunt he confirmed he was ready and the two began to rotate clockwise in a circle, their backs to each other at all times.
A ball of energy formed out of the corner of Daniel's eye and flew directly at him. An adrenaline-charged roar sprang from his throat as tugged a tag free from a pouch on the inside of his jacket and held it up towards the attack. "Mamoru!" The tag shone a brilliant violet for a brief moment and exploded as the dark purple ball of energy collided with it. The explosion threw Daniel and Charles back. His hand burned and throbbed as he watched the singed remnants of the tag - a hundred little blackened pieces of paper - drifted to the ground. He raised his pistol with his other hand and saw the gengar grimace as it got to its feet as well. Its gait was unsteady - the gunshot wound from several days before still ailed it.
"Fuck, Ana gives me too much credit," he groaned as he got to his feet. "Just say the word my ass, that shit never happened to her." He took aim at the gengar, his face now twisted into a snarl and trained his sights on its leg again - the other one this time.
The gengar began to phase into the other side, when a pain exploded in his right leg to the sound of a muffled crack. He howled and launched a barrage of purple orbs at Daniel and Charles, screaming, "FOR THAT, YOU DIE. NOW."
Daniel's eyes went wide. Did that gengar just speak-?
Brilliant violet eruptions surged towards the detective and bisharp as they crashed into the ground and walls of the alley. Daniel dove behind a dumpster and turned in time to see Charles brace himself - the bisharp raised his arms, dug his feet in and bowed his head as the explosions surrounded him and he disappeared in plumes of dust.
"Gods damn it, Charles, what the fuck is wrong with you?" shouted Daniel. He peeked around his dumpster and fired several rounds blindly towards Terrence. Another roar of pain erupted into the alley and Daniel allowed himself a brief smirk. "Phase faster than a bullet can reach out and touch you!"
The dust cleared and revealed Charles still standing, his mouth set in a snarl and his gaze hard. He took off down the alley and launched himself at the gengar.
With a howl of pain, Terrence dove aside and phased into the realm of spirits. His wounds exploded - huge plumes of spiraling smoke rushed out of him, and feeling in his fingers and his foot was gone a moment later. He stumbled through the walls of the Diggersby and re-emerged in a stairwell, terrifying a woman and a lucario out of their embrace and sending them bolting up the stairs. He heard a door open and slam shut and groaned. Purple swirls of smoke snaked out between his fingers from the holes in his arm and his leg. Every step up the stairs felt like plunging his leg into fire, but he dared not phase back into the ghost world to give himself the luxury of floating - he'd lost too much essence already.
He stomped up the first stairwell and then the second. Why was Karan's room on the third floor? He pushed open a door labeled, "Executive Suites" and stumbled into a hallway. Muffled moans, shouts and overjoyed profanity met his ears, but in his condition it sounded more muffled than usual. His vision began to blur, but he was almost to Karan's room. Why was her room at the end of the hallway?
He leaned against the door marked with a plaque that bore the engraving of a lily and reached for the knob with his shaking, uninjured arm. He could hear some hapless soul moaning within and the telltale creak of bedsprings. The door was locked. He took a deep breath and phased through it instead - the ordeal brought him to the other side for just a second, but when he appeared in Karan's room, it was alongside a display of a tremendous amount of curious purple smoke.
The man beneath the weavile's slight frame screamed.
Karan glared towards Terrance and pulled her client out of her, putting one clawed hand to his mouth as she slid up his chest, still straddling him all the while. A sharp claw came to a rest over his heart, tapping the skin in a slow, gentle rhythm as a wicked grin split her face.
"Don't!" shouted Terrrence, stumbling up to the bed. "Not yet. I need...I need his dreams." He struggled to raise an arm to wave her off, groaning, "Get off of him you whore, you can finish after I heal myself."
The weavile made a clicking sound with her tongue and removed her hand from the man's mouth. He whimpered up at her and glanced at the gengar, cold sweat running down his face. The heat of passion had not so much vacated the room as much as it had been jettisoned away. He glanced at Karan, who gave him a smile and reached back to his groin and traced her claws along him.
Incomprehension spread across his face, and he cursed his body's willingness to ignore safety and logic as Karan slipped him inside her again. A delicate moan and quiet purr came to life in her throat. She gave the man beneath her a smile through half-lidded eyes. Her hand came up and cupped his cheek and then she wrenched his head to the side to face Terrence.
The gengar could only just manage to remain standing, and his eyes flashed in a feeble sort of way. It was enough - just barely or not, he did not know, and he did not care so long as his prey was sleeping. He let out a wail, deep and eldritch and his eyes and something deep in his mouth began to glow purple. He slapped his hand onto the man's forehead and let out a long, bestial moan.
The man tossed and turned beneath Karan, who watched the display with a wicked grin and wide eyes. The holes upon Terrence's arm and leg began to close, and then the light in his eyes and mouth died. He stumbled back, the pain that wracked his injured limbs now several magnitudes duller, and groaned.
"What happened? I wasn't done feeding on his-" He looked up at Karan who stared back at him with a grin alive with malice, one of her claws embedded to the last knuckle in the man's chest.
"You don't learn anything if you don't suffer at least a little, Terrence." She pulled the claw from the corpse's chest and began to laugh - a high-pitched, venomous affair that made the resurgent essence within Terrence shrink away in fear. She stood and hopped off the bed, still smiling. "You lost, didn't you?" she asked, smugness dripping from every word.
"I have made them interested. The trap is ready. Hurry down to the lobby," grunted Terrence. The dull aching in the raw flesh of his gunshot wounds would make phasing to the other side in the next fight a risk.
Karan brushed past him to her nightstand and picked up a plain leather necklace that sat in a porcelain key tray. She put it on and then walked up to Terrence and stared him down. He scowled back at her. "You're afraid of me," she purred. She turned away from him and made to leave, calling back, "Wise." She tossed the door open and disappeared from sight.
The gengar considered the corpse upon the bed and then ran out into the hall. "Wait! I don't know if you've forgotten, but there's a corpse in your room!" he shouted after her. Karan did not turn around, opting instead to raise a hand and wave the comment off. He growled at her retreating back and returned to her room. He pulled the body from the bed and stuffed it underneath. Satisfied the dust ruffle hid it from sight he ran from the room, slamming the door behind him, and made for the lobby. His leg stung with each step, but he no longer felt he was dying.
His vision blurred and the screams of a woman exploded in his head. No. Not now. Not now. Not-
Terrence was falling backwards into space. Noisy images of a woman, a park ,the interior of a car, a sky and a long alley played before his eyes at breakneck speeds. They would stop at random, lingering long enough for the noise that distorted the image to begin to clear and then they would fill with more noise than before and begin to cycle once again. Strange sounds - a mishmash of what he imagined was the background noise of each of the scenes - played over one another and made his head feel as if it had been stuffed full of cotton. The pictures began to swirl, as if circling a drain, and a pair of wicked red eyes flew out of the drain. Their evil stare paralyzed Terrence and he began to circle the drain as well.
Faster and faster he circled, swirling into his very own heart.
The sounds rose like a crescendo as the images disappeared completely, as Terrence himself collapsed into his own body and then the world went silent and dark.
Daniel panted as he rested his head against the dumpster and tucked his pistol back into the holster concealed beneath his jacket. His heart was pounding in his chest. He heard Charles approach and a defeated murmur rose from him.
"Didn't get him, huh?" he replied. "It's fine. We just need to get into the brothel and find him. And whoever the fuck he's working for." He stood and glanced Charles. "You feelin' alright?"
Charles nodded, supplying a hum of affirmation as he did.
"Alright, let's get the fuck in there." He stood and made his way to the entrance of the brothel. Like some of the others in the rouge, the entrance led one to the basement first, and it was in a small anteroom that a doorman wearing dark sunglasses, flanked by a machoke, stopped the detective.
The doorman raised a hand and barked, "Stop. What the fuck was that commotion out there? Someone get into a battle or something? You involved in it? You can fuck off if you were - you and your walking knife injury."
Daniel nodded. "Yeah, some retard had a score to settle with some other stupid fuck and they picked this alley to do it. Don't ask me why, probably a bunch of punk teenagers that don't understand how shit works around here."
The doorman's frown softened. "Lousy fucking kids and their deadbeat parents letting them wander into the rouge. Merde, all of them, just heaping piles of merde." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "Arms out anyway to frisk you."
Daniel glanced at the machoke and declared, "I've got a knife, let me give that too…?" He looked between the doorman and the machoke.
"Oh for fuck's- just give it to my machoke."
The detective nodded. "Gotcha, let me just…" He reached into his jacket and pulled the pistol from it. In one swift motion he fired three times, one to each of the machoke's shin's and one to its shoulder.
The pokemon bellowed in pain and fell in a heap to the floor, the pain in its shins too much for it to bear putting weight on.
The doorman reached into his own jacket the instant he saw Daniel fire, but as he brought his pistol to bear found Charles standing before him, his arms crossed at his throat, cold blades resting against his neck.
Without a second thought the guard dropped the pistol and raised his arms. "T-take it easy now man, I don't know what kind of merde you're on, but I'm just a doorman, I don't got anything for you…" he stammered.
Daniel holstered his pistol and gestured the machoke with his chin. "Stow him. No sense letting him suffer and bleed out."
The doorman opened his jacket with a trembling arm and revealed a pokeball at his arm reached down for it at a glacial pace, determined to avoid any sudden movements. With a click as he removed it from his belt and another as he pressed the recall button, he sighed and clipped the ball back to his belt after the machoke dematerialized. "Done. Now what?" he asked.
Daniel walked past him and looked at the door bearing a plaque with the words The Lonely Diggersby engraved upon it. "Arms down Charles." He turned about and brought the grip of his pistol down on the guard's head as the bisharp lowered his arms.
With a dull thud and a quiet grunt of surprise, the guard fell to the floor, unconscious. Daniel looked down at him with a frown of distaste and mumbled, "Drag him off into the corner." Charles nodded and grabbed the bouncer from under his arms and dragged him next to a plastic lawn chair. Daniel removed the magazine from his pistol and checked the slit running along its side. "Four…" He sighed and tucked the magazine away into an empty pocket in the left half of his jacket before reaching into a pocket on the right and retrieving a fully loaded magazine. He drove it home and waved Charles over.
"Be ready for anything, Charles. This could be a trap or it could be just another brothel. Not that I'm against raising a little hell here but…" He glanced over his shoulder. "I'd rather we keep the police out of this if we can. If we can. Push comes to shove, tear shit up." His bisharp smirked and nodded.
The two threw the door open and Daniel walked into the Diggersby. A short hallway opened up into a wide lounge and bar. Tables sat in near-darkness, lit only by colored light bulbs. It cast the myriad of patrons sitting beneath them partially in shadow, leaving them to drink, chat or fondle their dates in peace, their features distorted and their forms obscured. Poorly muffled music seeped into the room from a set of double doors to the left of the bar, and each time the doors opened to let a patron out or in his ears were met with the blaring highs and booming lows of house music.
Only the bar was well-lit. Weird. No one's fucking sitting at the bar. Daniel made his way up to the bartender and sat himself down on a stool. To his right, Charles sat down and locked eyes with the bartender.
"If looks could kill. Does your bisharp have a problem with me?" asked the bartender. The man's dark eyes flit from Charles piercing gaze to the unamused stare upon Daniel's face. "Merde. Who pissed in your drink?"
The detective ignored the remark. "A fugitive gengar ducked into your little...club. Seen it?"
The bartender's eyes went wide, and he replied, his tone quiet and serious, "No, monsieur, I have not." He glanced around and then bent towards Daniel. "We have already made our payments, what on earth are you doing here?"
Daniel took this opportunity to grab the bartender's tie and pull him closer. "I'm not here to shake you down, but I do want to know where the fuck that gengar is. He can't have slid into this place without causing a commotion. Ghosts phasing through walls shouldn't be possible if you've got your tags up, and you clearly don't. Pretty fucking strange for a pleasant little club like this."
The bartender grimaced and pulled his face away from the detective. "W-well, yes, but you see…" His eyes darted to the lounge - none of the patrons seemed to have taken notice that he was being accosted. He swore under his breath and turned back to look at Daniel. "Please, I haven't received any word, there's been no panic - nothing at all."
The phone next to him rang.
Daniel's eyes settled on it and he looked the bartender again in the eyes. "Answer it." He released the man's tie and watched him with a hard gaze.
The bartender pulled a trembling receiver to his ear and said in a determinedly casual voice, "Bar and reception."
The music drowned out the response, but a moment later the color drained from his face and he nodded. "Yes, yes, at once. I'll have someone attend to it immediately. Yes, you have my apologies, yes. I'll send up something complimentary immediately." He hung up and looked at Daniel. "W-we appear to have received a complaint about a gengar appearing quite suddenly in the stairwell that leads to the suites. They were, ahem, unsure where it was headed, only that it appeared seriously injured. E-excuse me…" He reached under the bar removed two pokeballs and tossed them down. Two flashes of light produced the forms of two salazzle. The taller of the two had heavy lidded eyes and an inviting smirk on her face and crooned at the sight of the bartender. The shorter of the two was a brilliant white and turned to look at Daniel instead. With a tiny laugh like a hiss, she kept her eyes trained on the detective.
"Nicole!" The shorter salazzle nodded. "Take this up to room eight," he said, his tone suddenly brisk, "And stick around." He flipped through a ledger before him and added, "Female and a male lucario."
The salazzle took the bottle of champagne he held out and slunk away. She stopped just long enough to swat the back of Charles' head with her tail and give him a single look over her shoulder. The doors opened and music drowned out the chatter of the bar for a moment before they swung shut again. Charles rolled his eyes and let out a quiet murmur of distaste.
"And you, Noelle…" continued the bartender, now looking between her and Daniel. "This gentleman needs to, ah, comb the premises for a wayward ghost. Stick with him so the muscle doesn't assume he's snooping."
The salazzle nodded and made her way to the door. The sway in her hips betrayed practiced exaggeration.
Daniel stood up from his chair and beckoned Charles to follow him. He paused and turned back to the bartender. "Word to the wise. Might need a bodybag. I suggest you find one."
The bartender's eyes went wide again. "M-monsieur, surely you don't-"
Daniel ignored him, instead turning away, and after throwing the salazzle holding the door to the next room open a look of disgust, entered into the club proper.
The instant the doors closed Vassal swore aloud. "That useless connard Terrence got himself shot again. Fucking imbecile." The vent near him swung open, producing Karan alongside the sound of a loud clang as vent slammed against its hinges.
The weavile landed atop the bar and gave Vassal a knowing grin.
"I see you're done fucking whatever poor idiot you decided to murder tonight," he said, his tone harsh, "and I certainly hope you're not looking for more prey, we have the detective and his bisharp in the club."
Karan's face split into a wide smile and she began to purr.
Vassal was not amused. "Yes, yes, but our bait seems to have gone and gotten himself shot. We'll be doing this alone. Or well enough alone - Noelle can hardly fight."
The weavile rolled her eyes and pointed up at the ceiling, towards her room, then held her hands out in front of her, her wrists limp, and shook them side to side.
"He's in your room?" asked Vassal, incredulous.
Karan nodded. She pointed down at the bar thrice.
"He's coming down?"
She nodded again.
"Get back to him. Come down the the stairwell, and kill the man with Noelle - him and his bisharp." He frowned and chewed his tongue for a moment. "Noelle is expendable. They take her hostage, run her through." He dug in his pocket for a moment and produced a small device. It was no larger than a Unovan quarter and bore a single LED. Vassal turned the device over and held a button on it - the light flashed blue once and then began to pulse teal. He clipped it to Karan's necklace.
He removed a C-Gear from his pocket and flipped over to a tracking application. He held down a button that appeared on the display and the status light on his C-Gear flashed green in rhythm with the light upon the device.
"If it breaks or you trigger it yourself," he explained, "I will enter the club myself. Be quick. Drawn out, bloody fights sober even the drunkest, most drug-addled and sex-crazed crowds."
Karan jumped from the bar directly up into the vent again - the clanging sounds of her making her way back up to the second floor faded a moment later, drowned out by the sound of music as the door to the opened once more.
A drunken man stumbled his way to the bar and sat down upon a stool. Vassal rolled his eyes. "What can I serve you, monsieur?"
The man raised a hand, his index finger outstretched and pointed at Vassal, then fell forward onto the bar and began to snore.
Vassal groaned in disgust and kneeled down to dig around in a box he kept stashed under the bar. He pulled a poignard from it and sheathed it in the small of his back and stood up again. He grabbed a cleaning rag from a glass and began to wipe down the bar.
There was nothing left to do but wait.
The music blaring in his ears left Daniel with a permanent grimace. He glowered at the DJ far to the other end of the room, standing upon a small stage at a mixing deck. He was flanked by a porygon-z on each side, the pokemon shifting and spinning around as multicolored strobe lights and lasers flashed around. Smoke hung heavy in the air and burned his throat - for the few cigarettes he did smoke, none of them were this harsh. Speakers crackling with electricity floated around the outskirts of the room, the telltale orange peak, bulbous head and permanent grin of a rotom poking out from the top of each unit betraying the reason for the curious display.
He brushed past the salazzle leading him and made his way towards the rear of the club. He passed a table filled with whooping men watching two lopunny dance upon the tiny surface, locked in a vertical wrestling match as their hands snaked over the other's body.
He rolled his eyes and continued forth.
Something tugged on his sleeve. He craned his neck around - a zoroark, seated at table with an ampharos, held his sleeve pinched between his fingers. A grin filled with sharp teeth spread across its face and it tugged once more on the sleeve.
Daniel took a step back and stared the zoroark down. "What?" Charles peered around his friend and watched the fox with a furrowed brow.
The zoroark stared Daniel in the eyes and then uncrossed its legs, the grin on its face widening as it did.
Daniel turned away at the turgid display and began to talk towards the rear of the club again. He stopped long enough to hiss back over the music, "Not gay, or a degenerate."
The zoroark growled with displeasure and crossed his legs again.
Daniel, Charles and Noelle continued towards a door at the far end of the club that caught Daniel's eye, but stopped - this time because of Noelle. She hissed with surprising force at the two and clutched theirs shoulder in an iron grip. The two turned to look at her in bewilderment as she turned to a booth where a single man sat, his arms on the top of the booth's backrest. A large table in front of him bore a few bottles, two empty glasses and a small shot glass filled with a bizarre, glowing liquid.
The man stared back at the salazzle and raised an eyebrow. He shooed her away with a tiny wave of his hand. Noelle remained undeterred, however and slammed her hands down upon the table with a loud hiss. The man jumped in his seat. Then his eye twitched and the corner of his mouth spasmed for an instant.
Noelle's eyes narrowed and the ribbons of flesh along her haunches began to flicker. She breathed a small puff of flame from her nostrils and the man reached under the table and alerted something. The head of a froslass phased up through the table and turned to look at Noelle. She rose completely out of and reclined in the air, a bored expression on her face and sighed. She raised an eyebrow in surprise - at what, Daniel and Charles were unsure - and then she muttered something.
Charles did not catch the ghost mumble, "Always forget," though Noelle did - but the salazzle did not seem to care.
With an air of total apathy, the froslass brought a delicate hand to the corner of her mouth and wiped a streak of fluid away from it.
"What?" said the the ghost at last. The unfeeling coldness in her tone more than made up for how difficult it was to hear over the din of the music.
Noelle bristled. "Rules." She breathed another puff of flames through her nostrils. "Get a room." The salazzle's voice was similar to her laughs and warnings - a drawn out array of sounds high and low, all of them some variety of hiss.
Daniel took a step back and tapped Charles twice on the shoulder. The bisharp turned to look at his partner and saw him pointing at a door nearer the back wall of the club. With a nod, he followed after him.
Charles continued to watch the argument between Noelle and the froslass as long as he could before the throngs of dancers, drunkards and pokemon bustling around the club obscured them. Whoever this froslass was, she had helped them.
Daniel examined the doorknob in a hurry - a standard keyhole, and while he had the foresight to bring picks, he did not have the time to use them. He looked around and mumbled, "Fuck it." He drew his pistol and lined the opening of the suppressor up with the center of the door knob, and then paused, concentrating on the booming bass of the music. Fucking noise level isn't enough.
He holstered his pistol again and instead removed a steel rod from the small of his back, below his dagger, along with a metal circular screw-on disc. One end of the rod tapered to wedge into a keyhole, and the other was threaded to accept the disc. He handed the device to Charles, who nodded, jammed the tapered end against the hole of the lock and then punched the disc. With a loud crack the rod drove through the knob and broke the other knob clear off door.
Daniel dismantled the device and ushered Charles across the threshold, ducked inside the hallway and closed the door.
They were in a hallway lined with a set of four doors, two on each side, and another at the end labeled "Management". Curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the door nearest him on his right, and stepped in with his pistol brought up to bear. The room was filled with carts and baskets of laundry. The putrid smell of piss, vomit and sex mingling together hit his nose and he slammed the door shut a moment later.
The other three doors called to him. He glanced at Charles and mumbled, "Do we check management or the rest of these for something that might help us? Hell, maybe we'll find a way to be a couple of big fuckin' heroes in one of these rooms."
Charles replied by turning about and throwing the other door open. It revealed a service elevator loaded with an empty laundry cart. Daniel followed in after the bisharp and smiled at the elevator. "This might come in handy…" He stepped up to its controls and saw a small keyhole. "Fuck. Maybe not. Needs a key." He glanced around the room and shook his head. "No time to check for a spare, probably only carried by the cleaning staff that comes in during the day anyway. Let's get moving."
The remaining two doors were uneventful - one contained a series of shelves filled with office supplies and boxes of what Daniel imagined were old records, and the fourth room revealed an incinerator.
He checked the doorknob on the door marked "Management" - it too was locked. Little bit of distance should make up for the sound. He unholstered his pistol and tweaked the suppressor, before loading his old, partially depleted magazine into the gun. He shot the knob off the door before kicking it open. He tucked away the empty magazine and returned his other partially spent magazine to his pistol. "Let's move, Charles."
The door led to a stairwell that sent them down two sets of stairs and into a small, dingy room lit by a pair of lamps on each wall and a small light that hung from the ceiling. A desk sat in the center of the office, laden with stacks of papers, manila folders and crumpled memos. A long table was pushed against the eastern wall and bore a coffee pot, several mugs, powdered creamer and sugar. The northern wall feature several boxes overflowing with papers. Daniel dug a few out - earnings, expenses, inbound pokemon, outbound pokemon… Death logs?
He leafed through a stack of papers detailing deaths over the last month - Daniel could not say he was surprised by some of them. Accidental poisonings, crushed chest cavities, massive internal hemorrhaging, suffocation, punctures… He picked up the pace as he flipped through the pages. A surprising number were listed under "exhaustion" and "cardiac arrest". He grimaced. Fucked themselves to death?
His perusal of the increasingly perverted means in which patrons had died stopped at an entry that brought a mixture of morbid amusement, disgust and bewilderment into his stomach so potent he wished to never experience it again. Death from fucking the hole in a shedinja?
He shoved the papers back into the box and turned to the bookshelf on the western wall, unwilling to consider what that particular death implied.
He looked it up and down and saw many of the books had gathered a film of dust. "Not a huge amount… but they never touch these things." He perused the spines of them books and frowned. "None of these have anything to do with shit the people running this joint would want to know." He crossed his arms and glanced at the edges of the bookshelf. "No…"
He drew closer and inspected the left side of the furnishing. There was nothing else against this wall - why? Why stack boxes against the northern wall and make them a huge pain to access when most of this wall was still serviceable? Daniel squinted at the top edge of the bookcase and smiled. Scratch marks, faint ones, but scratch marks nevertheless adorned the wall. He seized either end of the bookcase and began to slide it over. With some difficulty he got it shift slightly when an alarmed hiss met his ears.
He let go of the bookshelf and saw Noelle bent down on all fours, poised to strike. The curious ribbons of flesh unique to salazzle burst into flames and smoke billowed from her open mouth. Noelle let out a shriek of rage and fired a ball of flame directly at Daniel.
Charles launched himself between his partner and the lizard, arms raised. The projectile exploded on his forearms and superheated them. When the plumes of fire dissipated Daniel raised his pistol and fired at Noelle - the shot went wide and hit the wall next to her. Purple mist rose out of her mouth and a second later she spat a glob of black sludge at Daniel. Charles let out bellow of rage and jumped in front of the attack again, his face set in a grimace as his glowing, gauntleted arms cooled. The glob broke apart and coated the bisharp in the sludge - the light reflecting off of it produced a dark purple sheen.
Charles dropped to a knee, growling in pain and stared down Noelle, vicious anger burning behind his eyes.
Specks of the glob struck Daniel in the face and upper part of his shoulder. The toxic ooze began to eat away at his face and clothing immediately. He wiped away what he could, ignoring the insistent burning in now his face, shoulder and fingers, and with a grimace he leveled his pistol at the salazzle again - only for Charles to stand and launch himself at the lizard with a scream of fury.
Noelle nearly made it away, but Charles seized her tail and yanked her back. She turned about as he did and prepared to blow a gout of fire directly in his face, but was met with a punch coated in darkness directly to her forehead.
Charles released the salazzle and let the pokemon fly back into the wall, cracking it on impact and sending bits of drywall and plaster flying. The bisharp laughed, his voice hoarse and breathing shallow and then fell to his knees. His gauntlets no longer glowed red hot, but the heat that emanated from them still distorted the air and had burned away the sludge that had come in contact with them. Daniel knelt down and gave Charles a pat on the back.
"You did good bud," he said, his tone bracing, "you did just fine, don't worry, I got ya, just hold still." He dug in his jacket for an antidote and produced a syringe after rummaging about for a few seconds. He uncapped the needle and stuck it directly into the bisharp's neck. Charles flinched at the sudden prick but not more than fifteen seconds later his breathing began to even out and he raised himself into a kneeling position.
With a murmur of thanks and appreciation, he gave Daniel a pat on his shoulder and then tried to stand. Noelle stirred and raised her head in time to see the bisharp getting to his feet, his gait unsteady.
With another screech she launched a deep violet glob at the bisharp, intending to finish it off. Daniel shoved Charles out of the way and took the hit square in his chest. He immediately felt ill, but struggled to his feet and raised his pistol at Noelle.
"Eat shit." He fired several times, striking the salazzle in the stomach, chest, neck and twice in the head. Noelle slumped to the ground with an unceremonious thud. The detective fell against the desk, struggling to support himself and rummaged as fast as his weakening limbs would allow him through his jacket. He found the extra antidote he packed and with trembling, numb fingers, uncapped the needle, jammed it into his neck and depressed the plunger.
His eyes grew heavy, and he slouched forward and vomited. The feeling that his innards had been set ablaze began to subside. Feeling returned to his fingers and his arms stopped shaking. Nausea still gripped his stomach, but he would gladly take it over vomiting himself to death. He glanced down at the puddle of sick and grimaced. That's a lot of blood.
He wiped spittle from his mouth and gave Charles a firm pat on the back. "You alright bud?" he asked. The bisharp nodded and got to his feet.
He still seemed unsteady, and so Daniel pulled a spray bottle from jacket and uncapped it. He ran it back and forth across Charles' gauntlets, across the bisharp's chest and up to his face. Scorch marks, burns and cracks disappeared as Daniel emptied the potion on his partner and after a few more seconds of spraying, it sputtered and he tossed it aside.
"Best I can do for now," he told Charles. The bisharp replied with a strong and confident hum of agreement. "Now let's get this bookshelf moved, find out what kinda crazy shit they're hiding behind it, and get the fuck out of here." He glanced at the dead salazzle, blood pooling around it and soaking into the cracks in the tiles and the rug the desk sat upon and shook his head. "Fucking hell, this shit didn't have to happen. Remind me to kneecap the bartender." He reloaded his pistol and stowed it, then turned back to the bookcase.
He threw the bookshelf aside, throwing stealth to the wayside with his 'escort' now crumpled in a bloody heap five feet away, and groaned. "A fucking seal, of course." The patch of wall behind the bookshelf was a lighter tone than the rest of the wall and the King's seal. He rapped his knuckles against the center of the wall - it sounded hollow.
"Punch it," he said to Charles.
The bisharp drew his fist back and struck the center of the King's seal. To Daniel's unpleasant surprise, the seal flashed and knocked Charles backwards. The bisharp snarled and stood, then threw a more forceful punch at the wall. The seal flashed brighter and launched the bisharp across the room into the opposite wall.
With a groan, Charles got to his feet and crossed his arms, sulking.
Daniel sighed. "Doubt even a conkeldurr could punch through it." He turned to Charles and gestured to the stairs. "Forget it, let's find that gengar. No doubt whoever the fuck he's working with owns this place or something."
The two ascended the steps at a steady pace. Daniel kept his ears perked, listening for any approaching footsteps, but the sound of music made it impossible. Noelle had left the door open. He peeked over the last few steps by standing on his tiptoes and then nodded back at Charles. The hallway was clear. The rushed to the end of it and Daniel peeked into the club. Nothing seemed to have changed, and so he holstered his pistol and beckoned for Charles to follow him back into the club.
Karan crawled out of the vent and meandered over to Terrence's collapsed form. "Sleeping on the job, are we?" she whispered to the gengar. She pinched one of the ear-like protrusions jutting from his head - the gengar's eyes flew open to a howl of pain.
Terrence rolled away from Karan and scrambled to his feet, his eyes glowing, prepared to strike. His vision cleared and saw a cackling weavile staring back at him. With a groan he rubbed his forehead and grumbled, "Did you really need to do that?"
Karan stretched and ignored his question. "Looking for a tall man with a dark jacket and his bisharp…" she purred, "Correct?"
The gengar nodded. "Is he here?"
Karan ignored his question again and instead walked past him. She flicked one of his "ears" and mumbled, "We need to find him. He'll be in the club, according to Vassal. Look for Noelle."
Terrence stomped after Karan, muttering under his breath. "Fine, just ignore my questions, whore, it's not like I needed to know anything I asked you." He rubbed his forehead. The noisy images and distorted sounds had receded, and his head felt clear again - unfortunately, it also left nothing to distract him from the dull throbs of pain in his arm and leg where he'd been shot.
They hurried down several flights of stairs and before crossing into the club proper, Terrence stopped Karan. "Going to melt into the shadows for this. I'll move towards the back while you sweep the front."
The weavile stared at Terrence. The muffled sound of house music seeping through the door disappeared, replaced instead with an oppressive quiet that felt like someone was stuffing cotton into his head. Karan did not break eye contact with him, not even to blink.
Inch by inch the weavile leaned in towards Terrence, and the gengar stumbled back against the wall, watching her with fear in his heart.
Her lips opened no more than a few centimeters. "Fine." Her voice was like ice and Terrence kept himself from shivering only through tremendous force of will. Without another word, Karan turned from him and stalked into the club.
Terrence gave her several seconds to get as far as away from him as possible before let himself melt into the floor and shot into the club, rushing from the dark underside of one table to another. That whore is insane. Completely out of her mind. He shivered and poked his head out of the ground long enough to glance back towards the front of the club. He saw the red plumage of her tail disappear behind several pairs of legs and with a sigh, he glanced in the other direction, looking for the telltale shine and strange shape of a bisharp's legs.
A shaft of red light caught on a set of sharp metal and reflected into his eyes. With a grin, he launched himself back into the ground and rushed towards the table nearest the legs. Then, the gengar rose out of the ground until he'd freed more than half his body. He jumped when he found a froslass next to him.
She panted softly, her frigid breath creating soft clouds that dissipated a moment later, and sliding along some unknown patron's length. The single eye he could see opened, yellow sclera and a blue iris, and the eye widened for a second at the sight of the gengar, before it became heavy and half-lidded. She turned her face towards him, still sliding along her client, her tone cold and flat, "What?" Terrence was at a loss for words.
The froslass rolled her eyes and picked up speed, still looking Terrence in the eyes with an expression that asked a question Terrence had no answer to. She shook her head, and then a heavy thud rang out from above the table. The froslass' eyes widened, and she clamped her mouth shut. Tiny, muffled groans found their way into Terrence's ears and he turned away from her, furious and disgusted, and found the metal legs he'd been following - and the other pair that was accompanying them - had disappeared into the crowd.
He threw one last, murderous glare at the froslass, though she paid him no mind, instead removing herself from the man and phasing up through the table. Deciding the time for subtlety had passed, he phased up through the table after her, and landed upon it to a feeling of dull pain in the gunshot wound in his arm and in his leg.
The patron seated at the table shouted in fear at Terrence's sudden appearance. Noelle glanced at him, and her gaze softened, though only just.
"Where did he go?" asked Terrence, ignoring the shouts of fear from the man behind him.
The salazzle looked affronted. "He's right…" She turned around and looked about, then hissed in anger. "He was right here. I don't know where he's gone off to." She turned around again and pointed at the froslass. "I will deal with you later." She returned her attention to Terrence and said, "Spread out." Noelle turned on the spot and walked off into the crowd.
Terrence looked back at the froslass and growled. "Nice going."
His comment fell on deaf ears - the froslass ignored him and brought a finger up to her client's chin and giggled.
Karan clambered up a the body of a patron and stood on his shoulders to stare out over the top of the crowd. The roserade next to her watched with a faint smirk and offered the man a simple grin when he looked at her, confusion on his face, pointing insistently at the weavile.
"H-hey, ouch, what the fuck are you doing, you crazy-"
She doubled over and brought her hands down to his cheeks and looked him in the eyes, her expression flat. A smile spread across her face and she kissed his nose, gave him a pat on the cheek, and then stood up again.
"Wh-" He stopped himself and sighed. "Fine, whatever."
The crowd had thinned somewhat - at least Daniel didn't feel he had to brush past nearly as many couples struggling to toe but not overstep the rules that governed the club. "Watch for anything unusual Charles," he called over the din of the music, "Especially that fucking gengar."
They pushed further into the crowd, towards the center of the club and onward towards the front and stumbled out into a clear patch. The set of double doors that led out were some twenty feet away - and standing atop the shoulders of a disgruntled looking man was a weavile.
Daniel saw her eyes widen and gleam as a manic grin spread across her face.
A sneasel or a weavile. First one of the night and it's fucking insane.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. CHARLES!" he shouted, tearing his pistol from his holster. The bisharp had been covering their advance through the crowd, watching their backs the entire time, and spun around at Daniel's shout.
Charles grit his teeth as the weavile hopped down to the ground and tugged a small device from her collar and crushed it in her hands. Daniel raised an eyebrow and a second later the double doors flew open and revealed the bartender bearing a vicious looking dagger.
Daniel's eyes flit between the two and then, for the second time that night, he felt his soul catch fire. He fell the ground, knocking several people and pokemon aside crawled under a table. With shaking hands he unscrewed the suppressor from his pistol and stuffed it away in his pocket, shouting at Charles, "WE'RE CLEARING THE FLOOR. WATCH FOR THAT FUCKING GHOST."
Charles craned his head around in time to see a gengar land atop a nearby table. Another shadow ball flew directly at the bisharp - and exploded across the face of terrified looking braixen that had been rushing away from Daniel.
The fox slumped to the floor. Someone screamed.
Daniel dove out from under the table and skid across the floor, knocking several people over and aimed at the weavile - he fired directly at its head several times. A hole exploded next to its head and to his surprise, the weavile did not flinch.
Several people screamed this time, and Daniel heard over the chaos, "GUNSHOTS!"
Someone else shouted, "La police!"
The screams became a chorus, and the crowd began scatter, spilling out in any direction that provided some sort of exit. Daniel seized Charles by the shoulder and pulled his pokemon towards him. Right after, he felt himself be buffeted back and forth between horrified people and pokemon alike. The weavile and bartender disappeared in the crowd of bodies. He saw people and pokemon alike trip around him, and a few caught shadow balls intended for him.
That crazy fucking gengar is still trying to hit me?
Daniel could hardly see anything in the swirl of bodies, and it was with great difficulty that he lowered himself enough to shout at Charles' shoulder, "Fuck it, cut and run!" He drew himself to his full height, still struggling to remain upright as people knocked into him and craned his head around for an exit that wasn't the thoroughly jammed front door. His eyes spotted a small mass of people pushing others up the shadowed landing of a staircase and he tugged Charles towards it, fighting against the current of the crowd.
He stumbled out of the crowd with a grimace and fired into the air again as he approached the terrified throng of people. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" The burning in his back was intense and he had little interest in taking another hit if he could avoid it.
As if on cue, another shadow ball exploded next to him, striking a terrified looking woman in the chest. Her shriek of agony was cut short with a gag and she crumpled to the ground.
Daniel pulled people from the staircase, tossing them aside and shouted, "Move Charles, move!" His bisharp ascended the steps, knocking a nidoqueen aside. Daniel followed close behind, knocking aside people and pokemon whenever they froze in fear at the sight of a haggard looking man brandishing a pistol. He heard another scream as, no doubt, another patron took a shadow ball meant for him.
A blinding pain erupted in the middle of his back, to the left of spine. He stumbled on the steps and forced himself up again and pressed forward. He brought his hand to his back and tried to reach for whatever it was that had struck him - his fingers found a frozen, slick cylinder.
"Keep moving...Charles," he groaned, pushing on the bisharp's back as they reached a landing with a door marked, "Suites."
The bisharp turned to look at Daniel and saw the detective fall to his knees, hunched over, an icicle protruding from his back. Daniel coughed and spat up a considerable amount of blood, and wheezed, "Fucking...punched...through...the...vest." He coughed up more blood. "Nicked...a lung." He got to his feet, swaying on the spot and shouted, "Get moving! I can still-" He coughed, "Just GO."
With a growl of concern, Charles punched the door clear off its hinges and peered into the hallway. More doors lined it, though at the end sat a boarded up window. The bisharp sprinted to window the second he saw it and began to punch through the boards, tearing them away whenever he could.
He turned about and saw Daniel on all fours again, halfway down the hallway, doors on his left and right open and shutting as concerned, curious, and terrified guests alike peeked out to see what was causing the commotion.
Charles rushed to him and knelt down. He murmured, shaking his friend on the shoulder.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," coughed Daniel in response. "Just...tear this out. Fuck it. Get rid of it. Rather bleed." He looked up in Charles' face, and at the expression of fear and worry that greeted him shouted, "JUST DO IT."
With a grimace, Charles seized the icicle and tugged it free.
Daniel punched the ground several times, screaming and then got to his feet with renewed vigor. "I'm not dying in a fucking brothel. Jump out to street level, we need to signal Johannes." He stumbled his way to the window and turned about in time to see Charles take a shadow ball to his shoulder. A weavile followed closely behind, pouncing on the bisharp, and raised her claws up to drive them down into his chest.
Charles bellowed and threw a punch that connected squarely with the weavile's jaw and sent it flying into the wall next to him. It slid to the ground in a heap, dazed. The bisharp kipped-up, only just avoiding another shadowball, and locked eyes on the panting gengar that stood in the doorway to the stairs.
A strange scream issued out of Charles' mouth, like a sped up diatribe of nonsense speech that made Daniel's head hurt. The gengar grimaced and clutched its head stumbled. The weavile got to its feet and with another shrill screech launched itself at Charles.
The two rolled along the ground into the opposite wall, the weavile lashing out at Charles whenever it could, screaming. Charles felt several lacerations open along his torso, arms and face and with a shout of fury seized the weavile by the throat. He diverted his gaze long enough to see Daniel sink to a knee by the window and struggle back to his feet. He focused back on the weavile, his mouth set into an ugly frown.
Its eyes bulged, a choking gasp issuing from its mouth and with a sound halfway between a cough and a gag, it drove a claw directly into his arm. Daniel saw the bisharp's eyes twitch in pain and he dropped the weavile - before immediately seizing it with his uninjured arm. He slammed his forehead into the weavile's and then turned and launched it at the gengar. He saw the gengar struggle to his feet only to be ejected from the room by its accomplice.
He turned on his heel and sprinted back to the window, pointing at it and shouting something unintelligible in a voice like wet gravel. Daniel dove out the window, rolling upon the cement outside with a loud groan as he strained his injury. He got to his feet, his legs weak, and watched Charles burst from the window a moment later.
Daniel panted and looked around at the crowd of people pouring out of the Diggersby and set off towards where Johannes was parked, beckoning Charles to follow him. "Come on...we have to get...the fuck out of here," he called back, moving as fast as his battered frame would allow him.
Charles stuck closely behind Daniel, opting to watch their backs - he saw nothing and no one emerge from the window as it shrank with the widening distance they put between themselves and the Diggersby.
Now several minutes away, Daniel dug into his pocket and removed his Xtransceiver and looked up Johannes' number.
You've reached the private number of Johannes and Viola Talburn. If you intended to contact my office line at the Celestic Town Historical Research Center, please instead call-
He hung up and frowned. "No response, Charles," he muttered. The bisharp fell in next to his partner and offered a concerned murmur in response.
"I'll keep trying, but let's pick it up," he added before lapsing into a fit of coughing. For fuck's sake, you two better just be banging in the backseat.
It came to pass that Johannes did not answer the entire trudge back to the alley they'd parked the car, Daniel shined his flashlight on it with some reluctance, expecting a front-row seat to more of Viola and Johannes than he ever needed to see. Instead, he felt what little color was left in his face drain away at the sight within.
"NO, GODS DAMN IT, NO!" he shouted; it was a terrible idea, as another fit of coughing doubled him over as he staggered to the driver's side door and seized the handle. It was locked. He banged against the window several times and saw Johannes stir - tiny haphazard movements that gave way to little seizures before he became still for a moment and the twitching started anew.
Daniel was not a religious man, but he mumbled thanks to the dragon trio of Unova just the same. Not dead, just having the worst nightmare they'll ever have. "Wake up! Open the door!" he coughed through the pane of glass. He did not stir. Daniel grit his teeth and elbowed the window open, then rooted around in his jacket for an awakening. He uncapped the needle and jammed it into Johannes' neck, then depressed the plunger.
Johannes awoke screaming, tears streaking his face and looked manically around the car. "LET GO OF HER, LET GO-" He stopped and saw Viola collapsed against the dashboard and shook her awake. "VIOLA! Wake up! Wake up, please!"
The gardevoir's eyes fluttered open and she sat bolt upright in her seat, a long and shrill scream accompanying her as she rose. Her eyes flashed and an aura of pink surrounded her - the windshield and windows cracked and exploded. Daniel dropped to the ground to avoid them, shouting profanities all the while.
"What the...FLYING FUCK...are you doing?" he shouted, rising up again. He fell to a knee and spat up more blood. "Gods...damn it."
Viola flung herself across the center console, wrapping Johannes in an embrace and sobbing hysterically. The sounds playing in Johannes' head were complete gibberish and accompanied by a kaleidoscope of colors shifting and blinking across the spectrum.
His eyes widened. "Oh fuck." He unlocked the door and threw it open, sending Daniel stumbling back. "Daniel, Daniel, that gengar is here! He hypnotized us and and-"
The detective grit his teeth in pain and limped back to Johannes, muttering, "No he's fucking not." He wiped his mouth and immediately coughed up more blood - directly onto Johannes' face. The researcher recoiled in horror. "But if we don't get moving he might be." He tugged on the handle to the door for the backseat and added, "Thanks for just throwing the fucking door...open in my face." He stuck his hand through the gaping hole that had replaced the window and unlocked the rear door, then pulled his Xtransceiver from his pocket and flipped through his contacts, settling on one labeled simply, "Doc" and tapping the address he'd entered in. A map came to life on its display and traced a route between the alley and the destination. "Take this and take me there," he said shortly, suppressing still more coughs, and handed the researcher the device.
Johannes saw the detective settle down in the rearview mirror and then rubbed the top of Viola's head. "It's okay Viola, don't cry honey," he mumbled down to her, "I'm fine, we're both fine it was just a nightmare. Just let go of me, I have to drive…"
Viola sobbed harder into his side and refused to let go.
"WE NEED TO FUCKING MOVE, I'M BLEEDING ALL OVER THIS CUNTING SEAT AND THE WORLD AIN'T GETTIN' ANY WARMER. FUCKING GUN IT, TALBURN," roared Daniel. He doubled over into a fit of coughs a moment later and grumbled, "Gods, this blood isn't gonna wash out of these seats."
Johannes turned the car on and threw it into drive in a hurry, and peeled off into the night, ignoring the difficulty a weeping gardevoir pressed into his side created. They passed several police cars driving in the opposite direction deeper into the rouge as they followed the directions on the Xtransceiver out of it.
Daniel leaned forward with a groan and tapped on Johannes' shoulder insistently. "Gimme your C-Gear. Just fucking do it."
The researcher dug in his pocket with immense difficulty and handed the device back to Daniel, who immediately flipped to its phone function and dialed "Doc's" number.
"Premier Laverie de Illumis-"
"Cut the act Doc. It's Ignace. Late night patch job. Took an icicle to the back...might have nicked a lung," said Daniel, cutting across the warm greeting and punctuating it with a wet hack.
The voice became brisk and businesslike. "Sounds like you did. I'll clear a table."
"Bill Ricard." He hung up and handed the C-Gear to Viola, tapping her insistently on the shoulder until the gardevoir finally released her husband and sat up, her eyes bloodshot and her face tear streaked. She glanced at the device the detective held in his hand with a far-off look and took it from him. Daniel sighed and apologized: "Sorry for shouting. But really, I'm fucking dying here."
Johannes swallowed hard and picked up speed, running a yellow light. "R-right, I'm going as fast as I can. Viola, please buckle up."
Daniel reclined in his seat, his breathing uneven and wheezy, and turned his head to look at Charles. The bisharp stared back, eyes soft and mouth twisted into a frown of concern. With a sound that fused a bracing chuckle and wet cough, he said, "Good job tonight bud. Don't worry about me. Been through worse. Way fuckin' worse, you know that."
The bisharp returned an uncertain nod and a grunt of worry.
"Besides, now I've got a real good scar to set an example for the rest I'll be getting on my back." He wiped blood from the corners of his mouth and reclined his head against the headrest, still chuckling.
Then he passed out.