Put our Souls at Ease

Tuesday, August 4, 10:13 A.M

Captain Dallas had a corner office with a view. The walls were paneled in dark wood, the floor covered in a rich crimson carpet. The chairs were leather, designed for comfort. The desk was large, uncluttered save for a picture of the man's family in a discreet silver frame, and the only decorations in the room were medals, framed and hung on the walls.

Mewtwo agreed with Brenda. The man was a disgrace to his family and to cops everywhere.

Captain Jacob Dallas was dirty. He had been taking money from Giovanni Rocketto; he continued to accept bribes from the larger Team Rocket fractions.

It was infuriating, standing in front of that man, giving a report, knowing that unless something drastic was done, Dallas would continue as he was, fattening on the betrayal of honest cops.

Mewtwo just managed to keep a sardonic smile from affecting his illusion. How the mighty had fallen. He cared about the badge, about what it stood for, never mind how he'd gotten it.

"Well? Have you got any leads?" Dallas leaned back in his chair, looking out one of the windows. Not at Mewtwo, and that rankled. Surely the man could pretend to some interest.

"Several tentative ones. The victims have no ID, no address, their fingerprints are not on file. The coroner believes that they were heavily experimented on before death."

"You're going to have to talk to reporters," Dallas said. "It's a story, and if we lock them out they'll just get nasty."

Mewtwo took a deep breath, and tilted his head the slightest bit. "At the moment, we don't have any information to give, that won't compromise our investigation. The media will just have to wait."

"Now, see here," Dallas said, finally looking over. "Our reputation is on the line. If you and Johnson keep dragging your heels on this-"

"If you had read the report, sir, you would note that we are working very hard. There is a lack of suspects, due to the anonymous nature of the victims. We need to find out where the victims are from before we can discern why someone would want them dead. With your permission, I'd like to get back to doing just that." Mewtwo narrowed his eyes. He was one of the most powerful psychics in existence. It would be pitifully easy to make the man's death appear of natural causes.

Of course, that would mean touching Dallas's mind. It was probably the mental equivalent of the dump. He'd exhaust all of the other options before manipulating Dallas's health.

"Fine." Dallas frowned. "But you'll have to talk to the media soon enough. Find something you can give them."

Mewtwo nodded, and left the room. The sight of Brenda leaning up against the opposite wall did nothing for his barely controlled temper.

"Did you pull the God of Doom voice on him?" she asked, startling a smile from him. "Well?"

"No, Detective, I did not."

"Damn. I was hoping… Well, let's go. Things to do and all that. Give me what Hades gave you." Brenda punched the elevator call button, and arched her eyebrows.

He shook his head. "Later."

"That good, huh?"

"If you call inciting homicide 'good', yes."

Mewtwo stepped into the elevator, and folded his arms. The moment the doors were closed, he turned to his partner.

"Dr. McClure thinks the girls are clones."

Brenda chewed on her lip. "We sort of figured that already, didn't we? Or did you make me read that paper on cloning for kicks? Because if you did, I'll have to hurt you."

"No. Maybe I was trying to deceive myself."

"You really don't like clones, do you?" she asked. "If you don't grow up, I'll throw you at Sheryl and let her deal with the phobia."

Phobia? Mewtwo reached out and brushed against Brenda's mind. He nearly choked in his shock. She thought- she thought he hated clones. The idea that he might be a clone himself had never occurred to her. The idea that he pitied the girls and despised their creators was there, overlaid with her worry that his hate- a hate he did not have- for the girls would skew his part of the investigation.

"Detective, I promise I have no problems with clones. It's the idea behind them I have issues with."

"Only the gods should play at being God," she agreed. "Well, let's get cracking then."

Tuesday, August 4, 12:00 P.M.

Brenda shoved away from her desk, and started pacing. It amounted to taking two steps forward, turning, and taking three steps back to her chair. Patterns. A good detective noticed patterns. When you'd submersed yourself in a sea of names and doctorates, you stopped thinking, and started noticing.

Dekker, Michael. Taylor, Elizabeth. Mallory, James. Thompson, Gwen. There were others, but those were four names that continued to show up. Dekker was in Silph. So were Thompson and Taylor. Mallory was an independent researcher, cited many of Helix's techniques with whatever the hell they did, and had been married to Thompson.

None of it was a crime, in itself. But it was a pattern. Dekker specialized in something to do with the brain and hormones and- and she didn't know what, exactly, but it involved long words worse then any Morin clan name. Taylor studied 'natural clones', and had written a few dozen proposals over the years, asking for human cloning to be given the green light. Mallory- whatever he did, it was complicated and trying to understand it gave her a headache. Thompson was the same, only it was in a different field, Brenda was sure, since it used different words.

Patterns. Four people, who she thought could probably be the brains behind human experimentation. They were smart, probably smarter then anyone had the right to be. If she had a guess, they were emotionally stunted. Geniuses generally were.

"Smith," she said, and stopped pacing. "I think we might have some suspects."

Mewtwo looked up. "You get to deal with Dr. McClure this time."

"Fine." She frowned. "What's his number?"

She ended up having to leave a message on his machine. Sort, pithy, to the point. "Call me ASAP and use real words." Not even Hades could screw that up.

"Let's take an hour, come back fresh," she suggested, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Headaches sucked.

"Fine. Where are we going?" Mewtwo stood up, and made a sweeping gesture at the door.

Brenda grunted. "Out. I need to clear my head."

Even when they got out of the building, Brenda kept quiet. She was aware that Mewtwo kept looking at her, but she was busy. Thinking, planning, turning the case over in her mind despite saying she needed to let it rest.

Almost on automatic, she turned and started walking towards Viridian forest. It'd be a hike, as it was on the other side of town, but it'd be quiet. And, better, private.

Cloning. They were dealing with honest to Gods cloning. The stuff of science fiction. She was in a bad sci-fi movie now. What next- a clone of herself? A clone of Mewtwo, programmed to take her partner out, infiltrate her investigation, and then kill her?

Brenda eyed Mewtwo for a second, and then snorted. No, that just wasn't going to happen. Clones… Okay, she could believe in clones. Like Mewtwo had said, they were just identical twins gone weird. And the fact that her victims were, in essence, identical… Well, she'd heard about investigations into murdered twins. As long as she didn't dwell on the clone thing, she didn't feel half as weirded out.

But she wasn't going to be cloned, because this was real life and that just didn't happen. And Mewtwo wasn't going to be cloned, because again, that sort of thing just didn't happen in real life.

She took a deep breath, and felt something settle inside her. She hadn't known she'd been worrying about stupid things like that, but then, she didn't know half of what she thought. Islanders were highly instinctive, more then the Haukea, non-Islanders, were. Trying to mingle instinct and cop-trained thought was difficult.

Maybe if she'd been adopted by an Islander, or had spent most of her life in a Temple, as was proper for an orphan, she wouldn't have this trouble. Other Islanders seemed able to balance all the parts of their lives.

She wished she could.

"This is getting me nowhere," she muttered, and shook her head. If she continued on with this maudlin nonsense, she wouldn't be good for anything. Focus. That was what she needed.

Focus, and to pay attention to the case.

"What is getting you nowhere?" Mewtwo asked, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up, and frowned. "Unless you actually have a destination in mind?"

"Not really," she admitted. "Just… Somewhere we won't be overheard."

Mewtwo looked up at the building roofs, and then back down. She felt herself tense. The vast majority of the buildings had flat roofs. Most of them were also at least three stories tall.

"If you can find a way for us to get up, sure," she said, and ignored how her stomach started to squirm.

He led them into an alley, and then, the bastard teleported them up onto a roof. Brenda felt the blood rush from her head, and sat down.

"I hate teleporting."

"You don't look well. Take a minute."

She shook her head, and sneered. "Do we have a minute?"

Mewtwo's eyes were grave. "Several."

"Right, right." It wasn't so bad, sitting down. You couldn't see anything, really, just a dull, blue sky with way too many clouds scuttling across. A few other buildings, sky scrapers, but those were tall no matter where you stood or how high you were.

"You have a problem with clones."

"Pardon?"

Brenda gestured with one hand. Why did she always end up in these sorts of conversations? If she didn't know what she was going to say, why the hell did she open her mouth? "You have a problem with clones. And whether you mean to or not, it'll effect the investigation."

Mewtwo dropped his illusion. She couldn't read the expression on his face, but it wasn't a happy one. It wasn't an angry one either. "Detective, what am I?"

"A mutant persian with a bad dye job," she said, and then blushed. "Sorry. You're not… I wasn't thinking." Because insulting your partner was a great idea.

"I don't mind."

"You should."

"Well, I don't. Think, this time, and then answer the question."

Brenda shook her head, and decided it was time to really look at Mewtwo. As if she had to describe him to a police artist later.

Tall, about six-foot-six, and around three hundred pounds if she had a guess. He stood on two legs, he had two arms, a tail, two eyes, two ears, a nose and mouth… Humanoid, though just enough to emphasize how inhuman he looked. Hell, he had an extra neck, you didn't see that every day.

His muzzle was short, but not squished looking- like someone had taken a human nose, shoved the mouth and jaw forward, and tilted the nose so that it looked like a meowth's, or growlithe's. His ears were on top of his head, and seemed pretty fixed in position. His eyes were purple, a color humans could only get through contact lenses or some special laser surgery. His fur was short, a bit longer on the back of his head, on his necks, and on his shoulders, but not that much longer. Mostly he was pale gray, except his abdomen and tail, which were a purple just a shade darker then his eyes were.

"I give up," she said, and scowled. So much for that idea… Now she wasn't going to stop noticing his appearance. She'd done such a good job ignoring it up to now.

She needed to talk to Sheryl about this. Maybe there was a way to go back to not caring.

"Have you ever seen a natural pokemon like me?" he asked, voice quiet and eyes sad.

"No. Well, you do look a little like a persian. Same… catty features?"

"But you would say I'm unique."

"Oh, don't tell me you're a science experiment!" she said, standing up. She took five steps forward, and poked one finger against his chest. She felt bone, a freaking plate of it, and scowled.

He looked down at her. "And if I am?"

It was a leap, but a small one. "Are you a clone?"

"Yes."

Well. Shit. Just what did you say to that?

Tuesday, August 4, 12:45 P.M.

Mewtwo very nearly held his breath. Brenda was just staring at him, close enough that he could smell her shampoo. Short of actually reaching out and brushing her mind, he couldn't figure out her thoughts. She looked surprised, but that was quickly changing to something less readable.

"You're a clone?" she asked, quietly. Confused, as if she didn't quite understand what he was saying.

He didn't want to lie to her, not about this. She would have figured it out anyways. He was just making sure she had all the required information.

"Yes. I was created from a fossil. Mew's DNA, most of it, was extracted, and used to create me. There was some… alterations." He lifted one hand, and regarded it. She turned to look as well, but almost immediately looked back up at his face.

"Islanders know of Mew," she said, and shook her head. "You're better."

That was… different. "Why?"

"You're not a trickster. At least, you don't seem to be." Now she looked worried, and took a step back. "Are you?"

He shook his head, and nearly chuckled. Him, playing pranks? He had no real sense of humor to speak of. His amusement died as quickly as it had flared. "Are you bothered?"

"By what?"

"By what I am."

Next thing he knew, she punched him in the jaw.

And sprang back, clutching her hand and cursing.

Mewtwo rubbed the side of his face, surprised and at the same time, resigned. Well, that answered that question. She must have put all her strength into that blow, for his cheek to ache like that. A little more to the left and he might have ended up with a split lip.

"Fucking asshole!" she spat, presumably about him and not the pain in her hand. "What the hell- how you ended up so fucking screwed in the head I don't know! Moron! Is your head empty? Goddamn it."

She took a deep breath, and straightened up, flexing her sore fingers. Mewtwo nearly took a step back at the expression on her face. Fury- he had never seen her so angry before, not even when- when she had been dealing with the rapist, and his foolishness.

"If you think, for even one minute, that I give so much as a damn about where the hell you come from… Well, okay, yes, I do care- that you don't come from Bumfuck, Middle of Nowhere, but other then that- whatever! Did you somehow change after telling me? No? Didn't think so!" She glared, teeth bared- and managing to look completely ridiculous. Humans weren't meant to look like that; their faces wrinkled up and they looked nothing so much as little children throwing a tantrum.

"It's not that," he said, trying to forestall the rant. Or stop it entirely. If she yelled any louder, people would be curious as to where the noise was coming from. "It's only that- it really doesn't bother you?"

"You have issues," Brenda pronounced, and rolled her eyes. "Lots of them. Only thing that's changed is… Well, nothing really. You're a clone. Good for you. If we're done, can we go back to work now?"

He couldn't help but smile. "Thank you."

End Notes

No, I'm not dead. Thought I'd toss that out before you all turn into a lynch mob... Or something. But yes. I live. And so does Chosen Fate. Yay for getting stalled on the original story- fight scenes suck- and yay for sitting down and writing this freaking chapter... Sugar does WONDERS, y'know that? Anyways. Next chapter, no idea, it'll show up sooner or later. I have a time line. Reporters are next!