Ohey, look! An update! And it's snowing!
Not IRL, though. It freaking snowed back home in Texas, but not where I got to school, which is several hours north of my home...aggravating. I digress. Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the concept of Pokémon. I own only the specific characterizations of the canon characters as well as the assorted and individual background characters, along with the plot of this story itself. This work cannot be used, copied, reproduced or otherwise distributed. All rights reserved; Blakeface, The Pokémon Company, Satoshi Tajiri and Ken Sugimori, Nintendo, Gamefreak and Creatures Ltd.
December 17, 2000
Pyrite Drive
Veilstone City
3:20 PM
Henry was finally relieved to see the snowplow trundle up the street, stopping expectantly in front of his house. Nodding, he slipped on his lean brown overcoat and bid a hasty farewell to Shiri. Clomping out the front door, he stepped through the slush and the snow on his front lawn, taking wide steps to minimize the amount of moisture that would accumulate on his pants. Heavy boots clanging on the side-grille of the machine, he hoisted himself up and plunked down in the cabin of the vehicle, waving back at Shiri.
His girlfriend scowled from the front door. She shut it hastily against the cold, and Henry put her from his mind. Turning, he looked expectantly to Valerie sitting beside him as the operator of the snowplow shifted into gear and began to move down the street. The two bounced and wiggled on the seat in time with the aging machine's clanks and groans.
"Val." Henry shouted hoarsely over the loud noise of the engine. "What was so important?"
The young woman, bundled deeply in a regulation-blue overcoat and earmuffs, clutched the arm of the seat as they pushed back onto the street that had been cleared. She coughed hastily. "Sir, I lost track of Scott."
Henry blinked owlishly, wagging his head back and forth. "You didn't."
Valerie could only nod, biting the inside of her lip. She gripped the arm of the chair, bouncing as the chains on the tires drove on the pavement and crushed the fresh snow beneath them.
"Darkrai's scrawny legs!" Henry cursed. "How the fuck did that happen? Val, you don't do shit like that. You get it done. No questions asked. And you mean to tell me that you lost him?" He screamed hoarsely, banging a fist against the door in anger. The glass vibrated dangerously as they took a curve, and the truck jostled again.
"Hey, what the fuck!" The operator of the truck looked back at the two of them. "Cut that shit out, man! She's old."
Henry flashed his eyes in anger but let the reproach slide. "Sorry." He turned back to his subordinate, making sure she heard him clearly. "Lieutenant," he snapped, again emphasizing her rank, "you may very well find yourself demoted for this. And you can be damn well sure that this is going on your record."
Valerie nodded, her aquamarine hair nodding behind her. "Yes sir; I completely understand, sir."
Henry softened at that. He was never able to stay mad at her for very long. Valerie was just too good at her job for that. Besides, he threatened to demote her at least three times a day, if not more. She had stopped taking the threat too seriously after the first couple months of his tenure as the Police Chief.
"Okay." Henry finally replied, rubbing his eyes with the heavy Mareep-wool mittens. "We'll get through this. As soon as communications are up, I want a broadcast put on RangerNet's scanners. We need to find him, wherever he went."
Valerie rubbed the back of her neck nervously, a habit that Henry did not miss.
"Sir," she began.
He sighed, visibly deflating his lanky body. "Spit it out, Lieutenant."
"Well, that may complicate matters…I'll let you see that when we get to the hospital."
Henry focused his eyes on the snow-covered road in front of them, letting his black and bushy eyebrows waggle up and down in unison. Frowning, he brought one hand up and scraped it across the stubble on his chin as he thoughtfully studied for his next course of action.
December 17
55 Avenue B, University of Sinnoh at Jubilife
Jubilife City
4:26 PM
He walked with a stooped gait, like half of his body was paralyzed and the other half was overcompensating for this tragedy. He had a slothful face and a body soft from years of decadence and little physical activity. Pale pink hair, thinning badly on the top, capped a shiny crown of aged wrinkles and a pair of red half-moon glasses perched on his nose.
His name was Professor Charles B. Chokecherry, and he was a biologist.
When he entered the room, people immediately noticed him. This was not due to a dynamic personality, or a brash demeanor. It was because Dr. Chokecherry stunk like the raspy scent of ozone, the peculiar tang that lingers from a lightning strike. He wheezed when he talked and gasped when he didn't. Charles was just the type of person who got under your skin and stayed there, festering, as one wished to be anywhere but in his presence.
The Champion of Sinnoh, newly elected, was sitting in back of the lecture hall, waiting for Dr. Chokecherry to begin his lecture. She had her legs crossed casually, hands folded demurely in her lap. She had completely ignored the open stares of the other people in the room. It wasn't often someone of her status visited for a lecture—in fact, this had been the first time a Champion had even been to the University to do anything besides campaigning or an exhibition match.
Her name was Cynthia Delacroix. She was a beauty of a woman; a sloping forehead lead to a pair of sharp gray eyes, and plump breasts and shapely hips completed her tall, model-worthy and thin physique. Under the cascading blond locks that flowed naturally from her scalp to nearly her waist, she carried an intelligent mind. Calculating. She scrutinized her opponents with her pale gray eyes and her sharp gaze.
She was sitting alone in the back right row, two impressively built male bodyguards standing behind her and at the end of the rows. There was idle chatter as people gawked in their seats, looking at the Champion, and idle chatter as people discussed the subject of the lecture.
Cynthia shifted in her chair. She was impatient for the lecture to begin. As she was on the verge of leaning over and asking one of the two bodyguards the time, the lights dimmed, and a hunched old man shuffled to the podium in the middle of the stage.
"Good afternoon, folks," he wheezed by way of introduction. "My name is Professor Charles B. Chokecherry."
December 17
Pastoria City Docks
5:18 PM
She was sitting atop the back of a bench, feet splayed out on the arms, with her hood thrown back. Glameow was curled between the girl's legs, purring contently in her half-sleep. The Catty Pokémon wasn't going to go to a full sleep in the open like this; however, she was dimly resting and paying attention to what was going on.
The girl had a new pair of headphones in her hears, listening to her actual mp3 device. She was flipping through a glossy magazine. Every so often she'd pop her bubble gum loudly, turn a page, glare at someone, giggle, then go back to reading her magazine.
Her ritual was interrupted by the clonk of boots on the concrete pier. Looking up, she saw a man in a trench coat, collar turned to the wind, and a goofy looking hat. Shades hid his eyes and a scarf hid his throat.
She laughed. "What is this, some cheap spy flick? You look silly!"
The man didn't laugh. He leaned forward, eyes raking up and down the strangely attired girl. His body was clearly bigger than hers, something he was trying to use to his advantage. Intimidation didn't go over so well with the girl, however. She laughed again.
"Look, I've got your…thing. Give me the money."
"The chip first," the man responded in a gravelly tone.
The girl shook her head brightly. "Money, then doohickey, mmmmkay?" She trailed out the hum like it was a purr. In her lap Glameow shifted.
For a second, the man regarded her. Who was this woman, thinking she could renege on the deal? He made an unconscious twitch towards the gun hidden in his coat; then relaxed. Reaching in a pocket, he extracted a plastic cardchip—the money voucher that would be added to her bank account.
"Same time," he intoned, placing the other palm up.
The girl shrugged. "Halfsies," she replied. Unzipping one pocket, she waved the little package containing the item she'd stolen in the air. Without another word, she placed it in the man's upturned palm, simultaneous pulling the cardchip from his grasp with the other. She let out a simpering, breathy giggle, turning the card over in her hands.
"A seven mil credit," she told Glameow. "Mommy's got lots of money now, Snookums. We can retire to the South Sea, if we wanted! But that's no fun. We're going to steal lots more things now."
She either ignored the man melting away onto a nearby container ship, or didn't care, but Glameow was watching the man carefully through one lidded eye until he completely disappeared from view. Satisfied, the Catty Pokémon let herself be petted roughly by her Trainer.
December 17
55 Avenue B, University of Sinnoh at Jubilife
Jubilife City
6:59 PM
"Thank you for attending," Dr. Chokecherry wheezed, thereby ending his horrifically long lecture. He adjusted his glasses once and then began the slow shuffle off the stage.
The rest of the audience rose to applaud politely (after all, it was groundbreaking research) but Cynthia remained riveted in her chair, hands still gripping her crossed arms. She'd been that way for the entirety of the lecture: staring down Professor Chokecherry like he was her newest challenger.
The applause died out, and Cynthia motioned to her bodyguards. One leaned down closer, the other kept a close watch on the crowd. So far, they had not yet started badgering for autographs, but they would.
"I'd like an interview with Dr. Chokecherry," Cynthia said calmly. "Part the crowds for me."
Without hesitation, she stood up, beginning to exit her row of seats. Swiftly, her bodyguards took up on either side of her, deftly shoving people out of the way to make room for the Champion. Still new to her post, the young woman ignored all the people around them. She made her way to the stage by brushing past and one time pushing the crowd from her path.
A question was burning in her mind.
December 17
Veilstone Memorial Hospital
8:04 PM
Chief Henry had but to flash a grin at the nurse at the front desk and he was waved through to the appropriate room. Valerie had left one of her men at the scene, a burly looking officer dressed smartly in the traditional uniform. He seemed nonplussed by the appearance of top management. With merely another flashed grin, he led them into the inner chamber.
It was cold in this room. Well, it's always cold in here, Henry thought, but with that damn blizzard…
"You wouldn't expect people to be still working here," he remarked, thoughtfully scratching his chin. Valerie started; her cerulean hair flapping.
"Sir?" she questioned as a lab technician came into the room, escorted by the burly police officer.
"Well, it's nothing really. A hospital…I dunno. Now, show me?"
Valerie glanced at the lab technician. Without so much as a grunt, she drew back the sheet on the body lying on a clean table in front of them—revealing Gregori Scott's porcelain face and elaborately styled royal-blue hair. Bruises lined his face, ugly ones, but the distinctively feline eyes were still recognizable.
"Well, shit." Henry growled.
Valerie stood at attention next to her superior as he dialed up the International Police hotline. She and he were both going to be in a lot of hot water for this one, but Nightmare, hot water would be welcomed in this blizzard.