Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.
Last chapter was not the last time you'll see Mewtwo have a cameo in the series, but there will be no more gratuitous Revy (from Black Lagoon) appearances in any of my work.
Unless you ask, of course.
Language and content warning:
Frank found himself drifting awake.
The lights in his eyes half-blinded him as he began to remember where he was.
He began to sit up, and as his eyes adjusted to the brightness around him, he looked towards the window of the hotel room.
Dark.
He looked at the clock on the nightstand nearby.
Fuck, it's only five o'clock.
The woman next to him, the sheets on her side pulled down below her breasts, began to stir, her blue-gray hair spread around her. So much like an angel, the detective thought.
Yeah, came that voice in his head, but she moves like a devil in bed, am I right?
I'm not even about to dignify that with a response.
You just did.
Shut up.
I don't have to. And I don't want to.
Frank was about to respond to the voice when his cellphone rang. He got out of bed, trying to be careful to not wake Karen, and walked naked to the pile of clothes at the end of the bed. It took him a while to find his phone in his pants but he eventually did and answered. "Caldwell."
"Sweetie, where did you go?"
Shit, I forgot to tell Mom I wasn't going to be home! "I can't say right now, it's kinda secret."
"Oh, you had me worried!"
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry. Next time, I'll remember to call. This is a bad time right now, OK?"
"Oh, OK. Well, let me know when you're on your way home, all right, sweetie?"
"Yeah, I will. Bye, Mom."
He quickly hung up and turned to see a bemused Karen propping herself up on her elbows. "It's not every day I wake up to see my fuck buddy talking with their mom on the phone," she said, sleepily.
Frank sighed. "I didn't ask for her to move in my house, either."
She drew the sheets away from his side of the bed, revealing the rest of her naked torso in the process. "We still have time. Come back to bed for another round."
"I'd love to, but I also have things to do today, and I know that if I do, I'll never get out of here and get them done." He stared at empty half of the bed, then glanced at her inviting body. "Oh, what the hell. I probably won't get to do much today anyway."
He walked to the bed and got on. As soon as he did so, Karen reached out and began to trace something on his skin. "What's that tattoo you have on your arm for?" she asked.
Not expecting the question, Frank started looking at his arms wildly, then realized what she meant. His eyes turned towards a series of seven Grecian pillars on his right bicep, a set of scales supported by them.
"Oh, I had gotten that done after all the shit that went on this past summer," he explained. "One pillar for each victim, and that's supposed to be the scales of justice."
"Kind of like a tribute, then."
"Yeah. Now are we going to interpret, or are we going to get nasty?"
"How do you define nasty?"
"Look down."
She did, and then she giggled. "I love that definition," she told him, no small hint of seduction in her voice as she pulled him towards her.
Tristan had not been able to sleep that night.
He paced around in the bathroom, the door closed, the lights on although he really had not wanted that.
Victoria's revelation of a past relationship between her and Frank Caldwell was not affecting him well. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, he could see her in the human's arms, her face radiant with erotic passion. The thought of it kept the Gallade awake.
This is ridiculous, he thought. She already said that it was a long time ago.
Maybe, he replied to himself, but what's to say either of them have moved on?
Don't be an idiot. She has you. Plus, that guy is considered a major hero, so he could probably bed any woman he damn well wants.
But my girlfriend had sex with "that guy"!
A lot of guys probably lost lovers to him, are you kidding me?
Tristan looked at himself in the mirror, and all he saw was a glare.
I'm going to be irrational and do something stupid today, aren't I?
The door suddenly opened, and Victoria, standing in her pajamas, gave him a quizzical look. "Are you going to live in there or are you going to let me get my shower?"
Tristan wordlessly passed her on the way out.
"Hey, you know, I would really appreciate the company this morning," she called out as she turned the water on.
Tristan said nothing, only changing into a suit and walking out.
Victoria watched him go. What's his problem?
The Hypno leafed through some more of his notes. "Now, detective, you said you're having a hard time coping with your mother's return. Has this affected you in any other ways?"
"Not really, no," replied Frank, hoping that all he would need to do was stare at the ceiling like an idiot.
"Not even romantically?"
"I'm afraid to ask how this is your business."
"Simple. If she's bringing in other lovers again, as you said she has done in the past, it might embarrass you to be bringing in prospective sexual companions under the same roof."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Have you even had any sexual encounters in the past few days?"
"Pardon my fluent French, but how the fuck is this any of your fucking business?!"
"Not with an ex, not with a co-worker-"
"Oh, this is bullshit-"
"Have you ever had sex with any of your co-workers?"
"Most of the people in the precinct are men!" By now, Frank was on his feet with rage.
"What about that Pokebureau agent you worked with last year? Or do you not want to admit that you are attracted to Pokemon?"
Frank responded by turning and flipping the couch over with a scream. The Hypno calmly wiped his glasses. "I think I might just end this session now and tell the Commissioner that things went smoothly. You may want to work out some of your aggression right away. Perhaps next time, I'll just talk about Papua New Guinea for a while."
Frank said nothing as he stormed out of the office, but before he shut the door, he stuck his right hand back in and gave the Hypno the finger.
Frank hit the punching bag one last time with such force that he thought he would knock it all the way to the other end of the workout center. After the unpleasant session with the Hypno, he felt he needed to blow of some serious steam before calling Angela Wikstrom again. There was the matter of the "skin-headed man" that Harvey Wikstrom had mentioned, and Frank knew that only Angela could confirm the possible significance.
Having let out some, but not much, of his anger on the punching bag, he approached the weight bench.
"Think I might go for two-forty just to play it safe," he muttered to himself.
In spite of his short (about five-nine, five-ten) stature, he was well built as far as his musculature was concerned. This came from much strength training, to the point where he was deadlifting close to three hundred pounds at a time. He normally didn't like showing the results off, but considering that black t-shirts and A-shirts were part of his wardrobe anyway, it was hard to not do so.
He set the weights, then got on the bench and lowered the weight bar from the holders. He took as deep a breath as he could, then pushed the weights upward. "One," he began to count with each repetition. "Two. Three-"
He suddenly felt the weights increase in force downward, and he found himself unable to push back up. He opened his eyes and was shocked to see Tristan standing next to him, one foot on the bar. "The hell-"
"Look, I really don't want to cause trouble, detective, but I think I need to get something off my chest."
"How about you take your foot off of mine?" Frank barely got out.
"I know it was a long time ago and that you're probably past it by now, but I just can't seem to think of what Victoria saw in you. Maybe she was attracted to you actually caring more than most people would about someone in her position, or maybe it was something else."
"Goddamnit, Tristan, you're going to break my fuckin' sternum!"
"Like I said, the two of you are probably both past it, but let's not have any trouble between us if you're not, OK?" He finally stepped off Frank's chest. "I'll see you at the precinct."
As Frank watched the Gallade go, he was having a hard time breathing, partially because of the pressure formerly on him and partially from rage. I think I need to have a talk with Victoria, he decided. Because I don't know how else he'd have found out.