Destroyed

Sunday, August 9, 1:02 P.M.

Mewtwo sat down at his desk. Brenda stood by his chair, trying to lean against his chair without actually touching anything. It wasn't working, and she kept bumping her hip against the chair back.

"Stop that," he said, opening the station e-mail. Brenda didn't know how he did it; she couldn't get the thing to work half the time. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"And I'm trying not to vomit, so piss off."

She was, too. Four could definitely be blamed for the homeless guy in the park. It was her handiwork- fast, brutal, and messy. Well, her handiwork when not involving the other human clones. The homeless man had been ripped limb from limb.

Literally.

The mind tended to boggle at some things. A table that was probably close to two or three hundred pounds, flipped over and five feet from where it was supposed to be. A human, arms and legs ripped off, the blood pooling on the ground, flies swarming the remains. The idea that the cause of it all was a little girl like the dead clones was… Well, it was hard to believe.

Mewtwo sighed, and gestured at the computer screen. "Well, here we are. Do you want me to narrow it down?"

"Yeah, do that." Brenda peered closer, one hand on Mewtwo's shoulder for balance. "What's…? Okay, that's a list of publications, right?"

"Detective." Mewtwo's look was an irritated warning. "Go sit over at your desk. Five minutes."

"You read quick."

"Go."

"Going, going. Jeez." Brenda raised her hands and backed over to her desk. Some people could be so cranky. Once at her desk, she glanced at her watch, and muttered a curse. So she had about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, for bastard hunting. After that, she had an appointment to keep.

The five minutes dragged. It wasn't long enough to work on any of the paperwork she had to do, but it wasn't short enough for her to feel comfortable just sitting doing nothing. Mewtwo did come over, though, just when she was starting to think about getting up and pacing.

"Well?" she asked.

"Dr. McClure's wage slaves managed to dig up five names, as well as put down how likely each person was involved." Mewtwo glanced down at a piece of paper he was holding- a blank piece, she was just able to see. Show off. "Jacob Anderson, pediatrician. He was ranked as most likely to be involved, and he's published in several journals about the potentials for cloning- though he's kept his theorizing to cloning organs, not people."

Brenda rolled her eyes heavenward. "This is why I watch the Discovery Channel," she said. "Cloning organs from a person, no chance for rejection, and hey, organs, so there's no debate about morality. Not like an organ can think, right?"

"Precisely, but he's also connected to our four dead scientists. Co-written at least one paper with each of them."

"I take it that's unusual."

"Enough that one of the interns made a very specific note about it. Our four dead didn't have similar degrees, and a pediatrician co-writing with them?"

"About cloning… Still." Brenda nodded. "Okay, next?"

"Jose Rodriquez, bio-engineer, worked with Dekker on several projects- gene splicing."

"Like those weird miltank with the spider silk in the milk? Fun."

Mewtwo nodded, and continued. "Lillian King and Ashley Martin, both of them worked with Taylor at one point or another, both of them wrote papers encouraging experiments in human cloning." He frowned, and glared at Brenda's coffee mug. "I did read some of their papers, earlier. I disagreed with their reasons then, and do so now."

"Because they were trying to hide the 'I want to play god' part of their desires, or what?"

"That's fairly accurate. There's one last person, Madison Clark, related to Mallory by marriage. On the rich side of rich. Have you heard of Kabushiki?"

After a moment of blankness, Brenda nodded. "Yeah. Gaming company. Makes those stupid video games with the pokemon training. You telling me this Madison Clark woman is connected with that?"

"Sole heir, apparently. There's not much about her in the information I was sent, but I can find out more later."

"Random question, but wasn't Mallory married to one of the other dead scientists? Was it Taylor or Thompson?"

"At the moment, I can't remember, but he was married twice. Once to Madison's sister, but when she died, he remarried one of the scientists around a year later."

"That in the notes?"

"The, ah, 'college slaves' seem eager to please."

"Nice."

Brenda got to her feet, and sighed. "Okay. Let's start with the hardest nut to crack. Madison Clark must have people between her and the outside world. We'll have to get past them before we can talk to her."

Sunday, August 9, 1:59 P.M.

The Clark Mansion was just as big and impressive as the late Giovanni Rocketto's residence, though far more tasteful. Instead of being the biggest house in Viridian City's wealthy sector, the way Giovanni's had been, the Clark's place was just outside of the city, big without being overwhelming. It was made of some sort of cream colored stone, and every door and window had been painted a powdery blue. The gardens were gorgeous, phlox mingling with geraniums, stately birch trees rising up out of a wide expanse of lawn that was carpet smooth.

It was just the sort of thing money could buy, but only if you had a lot of it. Brenda smirked to herself as she parked in front of the gates. She preferred her own little house, weedy front lawn, random leak in the basement, shitty heating, and all.

Mewtwo got out as well, and glanced over at her. "Detective?"

"Usual," she said. "Me talk, you look serious. There'll probably be like twelve dozen people between us and Madison. I want to hack through them before two-thirty. I've got an appointment at three."

"I could always teleport you."

"You could." Brenda found what looked like an intercom, mounted on one of the gate pillars. She pushed the only button, and eyed the machine suspiciously. "But I'd really rather you didn't."

The intercom came to life with a quiet noise, like a cross between a chirp and a beep, before Mewtwo could reply. Brenda glared at the machine. It was freakishly quiet.

"What is the nature of your business?"

"Detective Johnson and Officer Smith. We're interested in speaking with Madison Clark."

There was a brief pause, like the person on the other end was thinking about the request. "Unfortunately, Miss Clark is currently unavailable. If you would care to make an appointment, I will certainly schedule a quick visit."

Mewtwo rolled his eyes heavenward as Brenda growled. "No, see, you don't get it. Murder cops trump whatever the fuck Madison's doing. So, you get her ass over here now. I don't care if she's having her hair done or going on a shopping spree."

Another pause, and this time, when the person spoke, it was in the tones of the polite, yet still angry. "Miss Clark is currently at work, and out of contact. The earliest possible time for an appointment is in two weeks. She is unavailable any time before that."

"Detective," Mewtwo murmured, confidant that his 'voice' wouldn't carry over an electronic system. "I don't think we'll get anywhere talking through the intercom."

Brenda nodded, and turned back to the machine. "Who am I talking to?" she asked. "And isn't it the polite thing to welcome visitors inside?"

There was a sigh. "Very well. Read me your badge number, so I may contact the authorities."

"Paranoid much?" Brenda asked, then pulled out her badge. She read off the number, told him- whoever he was- which station to call, and then bared her teeth at Mewtwo.

"I know," the psychic murmured. He frowned. "Is this the normal amount of interference the wealthy give to the authorities?"

"The wealthy have a tendency to believe that they're above such petty things as authorities. And yeah, it's pretty damn normal."

After several minutes, the gates creaked open. Motors, Brenda supposed. Mewtwo probably would have mentioned psychic activity, wouldn't he? Could he even sense that sort of thing? She eyed her partner as they walked. He'd been able to sense that weird- whatever it'd been- the weird dragon thing had made, back when they'd first joined up.

"Why are you still hanging around?" she asked, then blinked. At his blank look, she elaborated. "You said, back when we met, that you'd hang around only as long as the dragon whatever was causing trouble."

"Things change."

"Are you still waiting for my leg to get better?" She scowled down at the limb in question. "It won't."

"I know." Telepathic voices were weird. Mewtwo's currently sounded pleasant and light, as if he were contemplating something happy, like kittens, or the death of every member of Team Rocket, right down to the lowest grunt. "That's not why I'm still here now."

"Uh huh."

"This is much more interesting then being a hermit."

Brenda nearly giggled. It had to allergies or something, since she never giggled. "Whenever I think of a hermit, I think of some wrinkled old guy with a beard down to his ankles."

"Similar concept, but with a pokemon, not a human. And I'm not old."

"Well," she said after a moment. "I guess if you want a complete opposite to playing hermit, playing cop would kind of have to be it."

"There you go. Shall we?" Mewtwo gestured at the grand front entrance they'd just reached, and Brenda sighed.

"Yeah, I guess. Time to bang our heads against the wall of rich people's stubbornness."

She pounded once on the door, as Mewtwo took his place at her back. A part of her, the part that listened for people trying to sneak up behind her, relaxed.

The right part of the huge double door opened, well-oiled hinges noiseless. Brenda looked down at the person inviting them in. Next to him, she felt like a giant. The gods only knew how Mewtwo felt.

The man couldn't have topped five feet in stocking feet, nor tipped the scales at a hundred pounds soaking wet. He was dressed in a somber, dark gray suit, the cut of which suggested an old fashioned tuxedo. His hair was dark, but starting to go white at the temples.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I am Lawrence Rabin, the butler."

"Afternoon, Lawrence," Brenda said, and shoved her hands in her pockets. She shoved past the butler, careful not to actually touch him, and quickly scanned the room. Big, open, two archways to either side opening up to other rooms. A big staircase straight ahead, leading up to the second story. Lots of marble, she noticed, pale brown streaked with white. "Nice place."

"The Clarks think so," the butler replied. "Please, do come in."

Both police officers glanced over at him, and Brenda smirked. "Thanks. So. Where's Madison now?"

Mewtwo moved over to stand at Brenda's back. The muscles in her neck, which had tensed up with no one watching her back, relaxed.

"Miss Clark is at work, as I've said."

"Mmhm. But where's she work, what's she do, what's so important that she can't take oh, five, ten minutes out of her day to talk to us?" She gestured between herself and Mewtwo, and shrugged. "Ask me, that sounds kind of suspicious."

"Fortunately, I'm not asking you." The butler folded his hands, and gave her a Look. It made Brenda feel like she was about three inches tall and covered in grime. "Miss Clark is a doctor, and her patients require her full attention. When she is not working with her patients, she has duties to her family and peers."

"So, what's the big deal? Ten minutes. Here, or at the station."

"Ten minutes is still ten minutes out of Miss Clark's personal time, of which she has precious little of. Taking her to your station would be unnecessary and an embarrassment. Anything you need to ask Miss Clark I can certainly answer for you."

Brenda started prowling around the room, very obviously keeping her hands in her jeans pockets. "You do that a lot?" she asked. "Answer questions for the family?"

"I am in charge of the household and the family appointments," he said.

"Yes or no, Lawrence."

"When necessary, yes. If you require specific information, I can certainly arrange an appointment with Miss Clark."

Mewtwo stepped forward, bringing attention back to himself. "It concerns her sister."

"I thought you said you were with Homicide," the butler said, his composure cracking slightly.

"We are," Brenda said. "Maybe we should sit down."

"Indeed." The butler nodded to the left archway. "If you would follow me?"

Brenda nodded, and sauntered after him. Mewtwo trailed after her, frowning.

The room turned out to be a sitting room. The furniture was all well built and expensive, and Brenda was certain it was the same sort of stuff that could be found on an Islander's estate, if a bit fragile.

She took a seat on the couch, and frowned. Why did the expensive stuff always have to be uncomfortable? You would think that the makers would think of a couch or a chair as something people would want to sit in, not look at. Judging by Mewtwo's expression, he was having at least the same trouble getting comfortable on the couch as she was, if not more.

The butler took a chair, and folded his hands in his lap. "If you would begin."

"No problem." Brenda leaned forward, and tilted her head. "Mind if I record this?"

"If you wish."

"I do." She nodded at Mewtwo, who made an odd gesture with his hand, 'pulling out' the recorder from his 'pocket'. It'd been in the car, somewhere. Obviously, he'd known where it'd been.

"I'd like to read you the revised Miranda. For your protection." She placed the recorder on the coffee table right next to the couch, and waited for the butler's nod. She pushed down the on button, and read out the salient details, and the revised Miranda.

The butler nodded when she asked if he understood his rights. "I do."

"You serve the Clark family, don't you?"

"I do."

"Did you serve them when Madison Clark's sister, Delilah, still lived here?"

"I did." The butler took a breath that shuddered a little, and bowed his head.

"Delilah got married to a Michael Dekker, didn't she?"

"Yes- what is this about?"

Brenda leaned back, and considered her answer carefully. "Michael Dekker's come up in an investigation. How did he and Delilah meet?"

"Ah," the butler said, noticeably stunned. "Well, Miss Delilah was interested in Biometrics. She was interning at the lab where Michael worked. Is this really important?"

"Anything could be important, I want to cover all the bases. Delilah died, Lawrence. Did Michael contact Madison at any point after her death?"

The butler held up one hand, one finger raised in the universal signal for 'wait'. "I believe so," he said. "Several weeks after Miss Delilah's death, Miss Madison set up a… I believe you could call it a 'trust fund', if you will, for Michael's lab. She said he was working on medical advances for children, and Miss Clark is fond of children." His smile was sad. "So was her sister."

"How long ago was it Madison set up this 'trust fund'?"

"Do you wish the exact date?"

"Ball park figure."

"Five years or so, perhaps several months over that. Not six years."

Brenda nodded, and leaned back against the couch. Really annoying, this thing, about as comfortable as a rock. Less, maybe. "Did Michael Dekker contact Madison recently? For more money, or something?"

The butler hesitated. Brenda glanced quickly at Mewtwo, who was watching the butler intently. She couldn't even think the start of her question when the psychic shook his head. Whatever it was, Lawrence the butler was able to keep it under wraps.

"He did," the butler said, the words seemingly dragged from him. "I'm not sure why. It was several weeks ago. In July. I arranged the appointment myself, they met at his office at his lab, and when she returned she refused to speak of the meeting."

Brenda nodded, and stood up. She could push, but why bother? It'd alienate a potential source for further information, and if she wanted to make an appointment with Madison Clark sometime this century, she'd have to go through Lawrence. She dropped her card on the coffee table.

"Think of anything else, drop me a call." She nodded to Mewtwo, who picked up the recorder, but didn't turn it off.

Sometimes it was useful having a psychic for a partner.

She paused, already halfway to the door, and turned around. The butler was only just starting to push himself out of the chair. "Oh, thought of something," she said.

"Yes?" The butler finished standing up, and brushed at his slacks. "Are you still looking to make an appointment with Miss Clark?"

"I can do that through her work, I figure. No. This lab Michael Dekker has. Is it in his name?" she asked, sounding innocent. It wasn't, they already knew that. He hadn't been working at any lab, officially, for the past seven years.

Neither had the three other dead scientists.

"In his name?" the butler repeated, surprised. "No. Mr. Dekker was working for a Mr. Brown. David Brown. He is in charge of the bio-medical branch of Helix, I believe."

Mewtwo turned the recorder off, and smiled at Brenda. "In chess, I believe this is what's called a 'check'."

"Or a mate. Thanks, Lawrence, you've been a big help. We can see ourselves out." She gestured at the door, and grinned. Before the butler could reply, she was already heading out to the grand entrance room.

A painting hung on one of the walls, one she'd managed to completely ignore, caught her eye. When had anyone made a painting of sunset on Moro Island? Not that it mattered, it was just weird.

She sauntered down the driveway, hands in her pockets. "So," she said. "That was interesting."

"You think the girls were created with the Clark family's money." Mewtwo's tone was pleasant, which was nice, except it made Brenda want to jump in a ditch and hide.

"Yeah, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"That predator thing you've got going on, it's not funny. I just about pulled my gun on you." Well, no, but he didn't need to know the truth. "Anyways." She checked her watch. "I've got to make an appointment, you need to pull up every damn thing on Helix. Especially the, what was it, bio-medical branch."

"I could always teleport you."

"And I could always puke on your feet. Does that sound like fun to you?" Brenda widened her eyes and grinned. "Didn't think so!"

Mewtwo rolled his eyes and waited until they were past the gates to teleport back to the station.

Sunday, August 9, 2:59 P.M.

Brenda sucked down a deep breath of floral scented air, and glared at the quietly disapproving secretary. Receptionist. Whatever they were calling themselves these days. "I'm not late," she said. "I'm early. I don't care what your clock says, mine says I'm here on time and don't you give me that look, lady, I'm a cop."

"Do you always threaten people?" Dr. Elaine Clark asked, opening what Brenda assumed was her office door. "Come on in. It's okay, Grace. This is Brenda. New patient."

Grace sniffed, and looked back down at her computer screen. Probably to play minesweeper or something, Brenda assumed.

Brenda looked over the room just before entering. Lots of boxes, she noticed, and blank walls. The only thing that seemed to be unpacked was the computer. There was a nameplate on the door. M. Elaine Clark.

"You mind I call you Elaine or what?" she asked, sitting down in the visitor's chair. Unlike most shrink offices she'd been in, this chair was an actual chair, the sort a person could actually relax in. It was threadbare and stained and encouraged a person to curl up, shoes or no shoes.

"I don't mind. Do you always do that?" Elaine asked, taking her own seat behind the desk.

"Do what?"

"Emphasize your accent like that." Elaine leaned back in her chair, and gave an easy smile at Brenda's stare. "Do you really want me to underestimate you? It'd just skew my results."

"And if I say I don't know what you're talking about?" Brenda asked, interested despite herself.

"Then I'd have to say that's bullshit. You're obviously smart. You wouldn't be a cop if you were stupid. But every report from Dr. Boris has him doubting your intelligence. Not to mention what your work reviews say."

"I have a temper."

"There's a temper, and then there's playing to an audience."

Brenda set her jaw, and glared. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Elaine rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Of course you don't. Okay, moving on. Did anyone tell you why you needed this review?"

"Because I'm a danger to society and I have a gun?" Brenda asked, as innocently as she could.

Elaine choked. "Yeah, that's kind of the impression I got too. No, you're just overdue. Everyone else gets reviewed once a year, you haven't been checked since Dr. Boris decided he wanted to visit the Sevii Islands."

"Those aren't islands," Brenda grumbled.

"Not by your standards, apparently. Anyways, that was a year and a half ago. So, here you are."

"Can I go now?"

Elaine's grin was warm and friendly. "Not a chance in hell. So, how's married life doing you?"

Married life? The woman was insane. "What?"

"Your partnership with Officer Smith."

"Oh." Partnership as marriage? Okay, maybe she could see it. "It's fine. I haven't killed him yet."

"Always a good thing."

Sunday, August 9, 3:02 P.M.

Helix's bio-engineering laboratory in Viridian City was only a few blocks down from the still closed Gym. Giovanni had owned the lab, in fact, using it for his experiments on cloning and genetic manipulation. In point of fact…

Mewtwo leaned a little closer to the computer screen, and pulled up another internet window. In a few seconds, he had a map of Viridian in front of him. Was it irony or fate, he wondered, that the laboratory where he and Brenda had met, where the dragon creatures had been created, had been bought by Helix and, apparently, used for human cloning?

The clones couldn't have been born there, he knew. It had only been several months since Giovanni's death. But it could be practically guaranteed, he was sure, that the human clones had been moved to the lab once Helix owned it, and that was where Four had begun her- for lack of a better word- vendetta.

He looked around the bullpen, at the thankfully oblivious cops, and eased away from the computer somewhat. He needed to know more about Helix, especially their bio-medical arm.

Using a police issued computer to illegally hack into a corporate owned business was probably not a good idea, but it wasn't as if anyone would catch him at it. After ten years of doing just this, he was better then average at covering his tracks.

Besides. All he was doing was looking.

He hadn't found anything after half an hour of searching. The bio-medical arm cost a quarter of the company's yearly budget, but going by what that particular arm did, the cost was reasonable.

Unless they were practicing cloning, which, according to Helix's intra-net, wasn't happening.

Mewtwo narrowed his eyes, and turned his computer screen off. Perhaps what was needed was a look at the lab, in person. With the deaths of the four top scientists, and one of the clones on the loose, it should surely be deserted.

If it wasn't, he could make it deserted.

He headed for the stairs, and went up. It was simple enough, flying out over the city, high enough not to be seen. Humans didn't look, anyways.

Five minutes later, he landed on top of the laboratory building. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, he extended his mind downwards, carefully touching the minds of the people inside. There were people, at least fifty. Helix was getting its money's worth out of the building.

Once he had the minds in his mental grasp, he told them they were going to go outside. They would stay outside, doing whatever it was they normally did on a break, but they would not come inside until told to do so.

He waited until the last human had stumbled outside, and teleported into the first floor hallway.

The déjà vu increased, so much so that he was ready to raise a shield against flying bullets. Of course there weren't any. If he had checked for any minds then, would he have met Brenda? Or would he have waited- or sent her outside the way he had the scientists- or… Well, who could really know? Looking back, he had to wonder at himself.

Maybe he'd been lonely. He certainly remembered being lonely, but enough so to associate with someone who'd happily shot at him?

Mewtwo shook his head, and started searching the lab.

The first floor seemed devoted to the obvious researches. Stem cell research, he thought, to grow replacement organs from a patient's own cells.

It took, perhaps, fifteen minutes to move from the front of the building to the back. Then, that done, he teleported down to the basement.

It was just as cold and sterile as he remembered it.

Several doors were open off the hallway, and he looked in the first one.

He lashed his tail, and did his best not to look too closely at the lab equipment. Instead, he flipped open the nearest scientific notebook, and began reading.

It was almost like looking at Team Rocket's notes, on himself, or at least, on his predecessors, the ones that hadn't survived.

The clones that were being found dead had most certainly not been the first. They were, in fact, the first of 'series H'. There had been twenty per series, starting with Series one through twenty, moving through the letters A through G, and only with Series H were they actually keeping the clones alive for more then a three years.

The book seemed devoted to the ailments that had plagued the clones. Mewtwo stopped reading it, and glared at the desk.

Slightly, almost unnoticeably, the desk began to tremble.

Humans. Mewtwo's eyes began to glow, very faintly. Humans, who thought they could play god, who thought nothing of the lives they created and ended. Humans, who cared nothing for what they did, so long as it suited their plans and brought them glory.

The desk exploded into splinters. Mewtwo wasn't hit.

The expensive equipment began to crash, metal twisting and glass shattering. The papers were torn into confetti, and anything that remained in the room was torn apart as if by giant hands.

Slowly, he moved to the next room.

He did pause to scan the notebooks left on the desks. None of it was very useful to him.

The computers he destroyed, after taking out their hard drives and reducing them to so many plastic and metal pieces. There was, he noticed, a garbage disposal at the end of the hall; new, since it hadn't been there the last time.

The remains of all the computer hard drives went in there.

The end of the hall gave out on what had been a mass grave, and was now a state of the art lab. Cloning tanks lined one whole wall, filled with yellow liquid, but empty of growing embryos.

It gave Mewtwo great pleasure to smash the tanks with his mind.

It had taken him an hour, moving slowly, making sure to destroy everything, but by the time he was done, there was nothing left of the cloning lab. He smirked, and teleported back to the roof. Time for the scientists to go back to their experiments; and time for him to see what they did when they found the ruin inside.

End Notes

So, I've noticed that a) people aren't reviewing and b) my update time has slowed down. As to the last, it's fairly simple as to why- full time job at a call center. I actually enjoy my work, but I come home with my brain leaking out my ears because ye GODS only the stupid people call in to call centers...

As to the first, I fear that you, the readers, are the only ones with the answers. Mind fixing that?