Fight

Sunday, August 9, 4:31 P.M.

He still felt numb, anger a furnace heat beneath a crusting of ice. The only cure for that was time, he knew, yet he couldn't help wanting to go back and hurt them, every last one of those human-faced monsters who thought nothing of creating life, and then destroying it.

Mewtwo clenched his teeth, and kept walking towards the station house. This time of day, this area of town, the streets seemed deserted, everyone either at work, or elsewhere. There were a few people, mostly younger, walking along the sidewalk or driving in cars, but apart from that Mewtwo was alone.

There were several people outside the station house, a few uniformed cops enjoying what might be one of the last breaks outside without snow, sleet, or hail. And one plainclothes detective, her black hair pulled back in a tight bun, her dark eyes narrowed as she stared up the street at him.

"Detective," he said, slowing down a little. The look she was giving him was normally reserved for people who infuriated her to incoherence. What, precisely, had he done- or she thought he'd done- to deserve that look?

"Smith," she replied, any traces of an accent gone. "Walk with me. Now." She straightened up from her slouch against the stair's railing, and grabbed his elbow.

"What seems to be the problem?" If he weren't one of the most powerful creatures on the planet, he might have been afraid. As it was, he felt slightly uneasy. If she were to try punching him again, she might hurt herself.

Brenda didn't reply, just kept pulling him around the police building to the parking lot. Halfway there, she let go of his elbow, and stopped. He kept going a few steps more, surprised at the suddenness of her movements.

"Detective?"

"Got a question for you." She folded her arms, and her upper lip peeled back to reveal her teeth, like a pokemon.

Mewtwo gestured with one hand. "Go on."

"You were researching Helix, right? The bio-whatever branch?"

"Yes."

Brenda closed her eyes, opened them, and stared at him. "Would it surprise you to hear that they reported a break in? Apparently," she said, her voice becoming honey sweet, "the scientists and interns and what all who work there found themselves outside, no idea how or why they'd gotten out there, and when they came back in… The basement was trashed."

So they had reported the break in. Mewtwo shrugged one shoulder, and looked uncaring. "Imagine that."

"Imagine that indeed." She took a deep breath. "There were security cameras, you idiot."

Security- what? He shook his head slightly. He would have noticed.

"Yeah. Surprise! Those little fish eye ones, guess you were too pissed to pay attention." Brenda scowled, and jabbed her hand in his direction. "Do you want to be hunted? Sure seems like that. What in the seven hells possessed you to do that?"

She wasn't yelling, but he almost wished she were. Her accent was gone, she hadn't moved except to point at him, and there was a look in her eye that was making him uneasy. Not uneasy the way he would feel if she'd pulled her gun, but similar.

"They were creating more clones."

"So you destroyed the evidence," she said, voice flat.

Hesitantly, he nodded.

And Brenda exploded. He couldn't actually understand the words- they were too fast, too loud, the words a mix of harsh, guttural sounds and snarled curse words. The tone was easy to understand, though. Brenda was very, very angry with him.

And the cool ice over his own anger melted.

"What would you have me do?" he hissed, interrupting her. She made to speak; he cut her off, forced her silent with his powers. "Let them continue? Let them make more clones to study and kill, or worse, keep alive while they suffer? Is that what you want? I will kill every last one of them, make no mistake about that, Detective! They will suffer-"

Brenda flipped him the middle finger. He growled, and took several steps closer, looming over her. "Or would you rather these clones suffered? They're not human, after all, not real creatures, they-"

He really should have held her entire body in a psychic grip, not just her voice. Brenda slammed her fist into his stomach, putting all her strength into it, and when all that did was make him blink, punched him in the throat.

He gagged, surprised anew, and released her voice. She snarled, and moved to invade his personal space, face twisted in such anger he did feel fear. If looks could kill, in that moment he would have been erased from the history of the world.

"Say that again," she said, her voice as controlled as his hadn't been. "See what happens."

Mewtwo shook his head, eyes wide. Brenda nodded, once, and stalked away several steps.

"You just gave the scientists a get out of jail free card," she said. "No evidence linking them to any crime. No evidence of cloning. No evidence of doing anything other then what's in the ground floor laboratories. No evidence of jaywalking, you asshole! You just- your petty vendetta just let all those murderers walk." She turned around, her eyes flat, unreadable black disks. "Unless we can find more, you just gave the people you hate, the people you want to kill, a legal out. Hope you're happy with yourself."

She turned and started walking back towards the front of the station house. "I don't want to see you here the rest of the day," she called over her shoulder. "Go home and think about what you've done."

Mewtwo clenched his fists, then relaxed them, only to clench them again. He couldn't think. He didn't really want to think. He just wanted to get away.

So he did. Teleportation was useful that way.

Monday, August 10, 5:30 A.M.

Brenda drank more coffee in defiance of the vicious headache pounding away at the back of her skull, and glared at Rhonwen. "Why can't I work with you?" she asked. "You seem sane."

Rhonwen yawned, and scratched at her ear with one hind leg. For being a well trained attack dog, she had adjusted remarkably well to being a family pet, and being at loose ends for at least twenty hours a day. Brenda was proud of the mutt, especially when Rhonwen listened to her 'master's' ramblings.

"Gah," she said, and shook her head, took another sip of coffee. This wasn't getting her anywhere. She looked over at the clock, and sighed. "Great. Just great. Isn't this just fucking wonderful?" She rolled her eyes heavenward. "It's morning."

She got up and headed for the couch. She could doze a little in front of the TV until it was time to go in.

"He's a fucking asshole and not worth my time," she told Rhonwen.

The houndoom just looked up, her red eyes dark and serious, and jumped up on the couch beside Brenda. In minutes, Rhonwen was asleep, but Brenda couldn't get comfortable. She stared at the TV, not listening to the monotone voice of the show's narrator, trying to ignore how bile crawled up her throat when she thought of Mewtwo.

Monday, August 10, 8:00 A.M.

Mewtwo teleported to Brenda's living room, and ducked a thrown book. He turned to look at the projectile, and just noticed a black blur heading towards him. He turned around to deal with the houndoom, and Rhonwen bit his leg.

He yelped, and leapt backward, lashing out mentally by instinct. The houndoom, of course, was unaffected, and didn't let go until he brought his fist down on her head.

And that brought Brenda down upon him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she yelled, and launched herself in his direction.

He lifted one hand, ready to catch her in midair, and she stopped. She hunched her shoulders and glared, but didn't move forward. Rhonwen staggered to her feet, and snarled.

"What now?" he snapped, and glared at the two females.

You don't want to know, Rhonwen told him, and turned to stalk towards Brenda's bedroom. She staggered a bit, obviously suffering from at least balance issues, but otherwise unharmed.

"Lemme just tell you something," Brenda said, lifting her chin a little. "There's this little thing. It's called a phone. Maybe you can't talk over it, but you can at least, oh, I don't know, call me to warn you're coming over! And then I don't have a heart attack and you don't end up with Rhonwen using you as a chew toy!"

Mewtwo sighed, and looked down at his thigh. Blood seeped from the wound, not much, but enough to irritate him. "I hate dark types," he said.

"And dark types hate you. You know where the bathroom is." Brenda shifted back to the couch, and flopped down, arms crossed. "Hurry up, we don't have all day."

He rolled his eyes, and went to clean the wound. It only took several minutes, and then he was back. "Well?" he asked.

"Well." Brenda got to her feet. "Morgue. Then you get to see a little home video we were lucky enough to steal."

"Steal?"

"You really wanted to be on the six o'clock news? That can be arranged."

Mewtwo clenched his teeth, and followed her to the car. Well, at least he was lucky the cops- or Brenda, it would seem- had the security tapes. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

He glanced over at Brenda several times during the drive, but she was silent. Her knuckles, he noticed, were taupe she was gripping the wheel so hard.

If she wanted to pitch a fit, then fine. It wasn't as if she understood. Justice needed to be dealt out. Justice couldn't be served by the law, not for this. He would deal with the scientists responsible; there was no doubt of that.

"Four's going to be happy," Brenda said, breaking the silence. "She now knows exactly where to go, if she's forgotten."

Mewtwo closed his eyes, and felt his indignation melt into something he liked less. Guilt. Of course, he had to consider Four, who was a clone, a murderer, a little girl, and probably completely insane.

"You recall the alert I placed in Dr. McClure's mind?"

"Yup."

No help there, he thought, almost amused. "I picked up a few images from him. Of Four."

"Good for you." Brenda found a parking space in the Crime Scene Investigations and Mortuary Building's parking lot. "And I care why?"

"I thought you'd like to know."

"Would knowing aid in the investigation in any way?" Brenda asked, pausing to tilt her head. She scowled, and glared. "No. So, drop it."

Mewtwo lashed his tail, and followed her in through the doorway. He promptly walked into her when she stopped dead. He caught her before she could stumble or fall, and for lack of anything better to do with his hands, left them on her shoulders.

She was very tense.

"Dr. McClure?" he asked, and stared at the waiting coroner. "Is something the matter?"

"Nothing new, officer," Ben said. He looked better than he had last time, but not by much. He was just as tense as Brenda. "I had thought that I could use my left thumb, index finger, and palm to accomplish any necessary tasks. That has not proved true, and the college students seem to be aware of this." Perhaps a better word for his expression was trapped. "I need one or two students to assist in the morgue, but I'm no good at reading people. I'm a coroner, not a psychologist."

Brenda arched one eyebrow. "And here I want to yell at someone. Anyone who works with you has to deal with us, at least short term."

"I have twenty-four college undergraduates," Ben said, relieved at the offer. "All I ask is that any abuse remains verbal. Any student here is competent, and I only need basic dexterity from them."

"What makes you think I was offering anything?" Brenda asked, scowling.

"I'm giving you free rein to yell at obnoxious, overreaching achievers," Ben said casually. "If you don't want to separate a couple grains of wheat from the chaff... perhaps you would oblige, Officer Smith?"

Mewtwo raised his eyebrows. "I'm not feeling verbally abusive today," he said. Physically abusive, that he could do. Mentally, certainly. Verbally was a bit restrained for him.

"See, this is what I hate," Brenda said, ignoring the two men. "People who assume stuff. Where did you put your slaves?"

"Third door on the left." Ben wasn't presumptuous by nature. He was simply at the end of his patience, and willing to set fireworks in motion as long as he would get to watch. "I could sort them out myself, but it'd take me at least an hour. I have the feeling that you would be faster." His expression was entirely mild. "It would be more efficient, if you would be so kind."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What am I, Make a Wish?" She snarled, and headed for the door at a fast walk. She was aware of Ben and Mewtwo trailing in her wake, and mentally smirked. What the hell, she could give them a show. Could be fun.

She slammed the door open, so hard it bounced off the wall. She was passed before it could clip her, and Mewtwo caught it before it could close in Ben's face. Brenda scowled, and gave a brief once-over of the twenty-four students. "Alright!" She bellowed, loud enough Sheryl probably heard her several cities over. "You worthless lot, listen up! You maggots are going to do what I tell you or else, understand?"

Ben somehow suppressed a wide smile. It was horrible. He should feel some twinge of shame that he had asked Detective Johnson to do this for him, but the group had been driving him insane for weeks. Instead, Ben remained near the door and looked professionally aloof.

Brenda pointed at the geekiest college slave she could see. "Rose Red, get me coffee. Move!"

The girl paled when singled out by the police officer, which made her red hair stand out all the more. "Rose Red" darted out of the room after a single glance at Ben, who obviously would not interfere.

The detective grinned, and took one long, predatory step towards the remaining students. "So, you're the idiotic bunch who wants to play with the shiny scalpels," she said, making sure they could just about see every tooth in her head. "Guess what? Trial by fire, sink or swim, pick your phrase. I don't care. You!" She pointed at one of the students, one who happened to have dyed, matte black hair, and more piercings then she cared to think about. "Is dead the new alive or what? Get over in that corner-" she pointed at the one she meant, "- and think happy thoughts, you're scaring me."

The boy raised his eyebrows- one of which was pierced by a shiny earring- and sauntered over to the corner. She put him out of her mind.

"Excuse me," one of the college students interrupted. The boy with the piercings had already made his way to the designated corner. The girl watched him go with distaste, and twined her straightened hair around a manicured fingernail. "But I don't see how these activities are pertinent to our work."

Brenda snarled, like a pokemon, and moved to invade the chit's personal space. "You're a college slave," she said, her accent gaining just a little strength. This was fun. "I'm the cop Dr. McClure works for. Either you get along with me, or you don't get to play with all the shiny sharp things."

The girl didn't back away. "Dr. McClure doesn't work for you, unless you're a commissioner," she said, glancing at Brenda's insignia. "He's a coroner. It's a completely separate system of rank. You have no bearing on programs here."

Ben cleared his throat. "Actually, Stacy, Detective Johnson and Officer Smith are homicide cops with impressive reputations. As far as you are concerned, she and her partner have supervisory powers." Good. He had planned to eliminate the more pushy students from consideration, but thought she had done a good job of removing herself.

Brenda's grin, if it was possible, widened. Or maybe she just looked gleeful. "Hear that, Stacy? Consider yourself my own, personal college slave you want work here."

Stacy's eyes widened, even as she leaned away from Brenda. She was spluttering, Mewtwo noticed. And over in the corner, the boy with the badly dyed hair was smirking.

This was fun.

Brenda turned her attention to one of the other unfortunates. "You!" she barked, and lunged for one of the boys. "What's personal hygiene, and why don't you bother with it? Huh? You think people want dirty people working dead bodies? Idiot! Go scrub yourself down!"

Ben had been telling that to the boy for weeks with no effect.

Mewtwo smirked as Brenda continued verbally hacking through the 'college slaves'. Her accent was very interesting, he noticed, as it seemed to be getting worse the longer she yelled. At this rate, she'd be saying something along the lines of 'yeh fuckin' moron id'it'.

Ben thought he could pinpoint the moment that it ended. David, who always had been too helpful, finally decided to 'help' the detective. "Do you mean college slaves, detective? You keep saying 'collage'."

Brenda's grin became fixed and horrible. Her eyes narrowed, the smile turned to a snarl, and she stalked towards the poor, hapless student with twitching hands. "What was that?" she asked, banishing her accent with a little concentration. She looked over as the door opened, but it was only Rose Red with the coffee. Good- open door, idiot in need of a lesson... "You know," she said, making her tone as conversational as possible. "Some people have accents. Did you know that?" She looked around the room, eyes wide, doing her best to look innocent.

The act ended, and she glared down at the intern, one hand shooting forward to grab the collar of his shirt. In an equally quick movement, she had one of his arms twisted up behind his back and was marching him towards the open door. "Move over, Red," she warned. "Helpful here decided he wanted flying lessons."

Brenda forced 'helpful' to move faster, and let go of his shirt collar. She transferred her now free hand to his belt, and with just a little effort had sent him stumbling out into the hall. "And stay out."

"Rose Red" looked mildly terrified, but she held out the cup of coffee.

Deliberately, Brenda took a long swallow of the steaming coffee, before turning to look at the interns. "Anyone else?" she asked.

"I think that covers diversity training for the week," Ben said. None of the college students would interrupt Brenda. "Olivia, Nigel, I need to speak with you about your schedules for next week. Everyone else is dismissed to research."

Mewtwo smirked at the disappointed look Brenda wore. "There now, Detective," he began, only for her to spin and snarl at him. Miraculously, not a drop of coffee was spilt.

That was right; he was on her rather long list of 'people I want to gut'.

"Thank you, detective," Ben said sincerely. "If you'll give me ten minutes, I can give you basic preliminary findings such as likely cause of death and an estimated time. I wasn't much use at all yesterday, but I plan to finish at least two autopsies today."

"Yeah, whatever. It was fun." She continued to glare at Mewtwo, then turned to look at the two interns Ben had chosen. "Hey, Emo-brat, what's with the smile?"

"Just following orders, detective." Nigel only had three piercings on his face. It was the twenty-odd total ear piercings that distracted from his solid black hair. "You helped matters along by giving a dressing-down to the most annoying twits in the program."

Orders? Brenda glanced at Mewtwo out of habit, scowled, and looked back at the goth. Oh, right, orders. "Well, stop it. Your smile's creepier then the rest of you."

It took him a second, but he schooled his face to a disinterested expression. Nigel's thoughts were full of actually assisting in the morgue. Facial expressions weren't interesting at all. "Yes sir."

"Good."

Mewtwo rolled his eyes. "Let's take a minute, Detective, and step outside? I don't need to hear the exciting details of just how they're going to help with the examination, do you?"

"Fuck you, asshole." Still sipping her coffee, Brenda headed out of the conference room.

End Notes

Hey, look! You guys review; I update sooner. Lovely, isn't it? Kind of a symbiotic relationship, where you let me know you care, and I give you more story. Granted, the longer chapters take longer (duh), but this one had reached it's limit- it was either this, or it'd be 'oh god my eyes are burning and it's only halfway!' long.

So, yeah. Enjoy, next chapter... More Rhonwen, security tape, more Brenda being pissed with Mewtwo, more Ben, more Four and dead clones.