AN- Phew, bit of a long one! Really enjoyed writing this one, more to come next week!
I can't say it enough so I'll say it again- thank you all so much for reading! ^_^
Songs that inspired this chapter:
- Nowhere, by Graveyard Club
- Harm, by Family of Things
- Alarm Will Sound, by James Supercave
- Blizzard, by Lightclub
- This City Is Going to Kill Us Babe, by Starcadian
- Night Hunt, by VHS Glitch
- Dreams of You, by The Birthday Massacre
- Barking Dog, by Dizzy
As soon as his eyes were dry enough to see the screen, Mondo had obsessively been reading and re-reading every article that covered the crash. Only a few media outlets had picked up the story, and for the most part the descriptions were vague, covering the impact to traffic rather than talking about the victim. But there was one line that stood out to Mondo.
"Look," he said, spinning the laptop around so the others could see, pointing at the paragraph:
"Pewter City authorities are urging anyone with relevant information to come forward, in the hopes that the victim can be identified and given a proper burial. Please contact Pewter Morgue if you know anyone who has recently gone missing in the Mt. Moon area."
James bit his lip. "I'm not sure about this, Mondo. It could be bait to get you back- Team Rocket have enough connections in the police and the media."
"But…" Mondo wiped his eyes before they could well up. "What if it's not bait? What if… What if no one identifies Ravi?" He took a wavering breath. "Team Rocket won't risk coming forward, will they?" He looked down. There were the tears again, dripping into his lap before he could stop them. The whole thing was still a shock. He couldn't believe how much it hurt.
Jessie looped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a half-hug. "Oh Mondo," she sighed. "I wish I knew what to do…"
"Let's not worry about all dat now," Meowth said, gently closing the laptop. "Da morgue won't be open dis late on a Sunday anyway- tomorrow morning we can go out to a payphone, make an anonymous call. How's dat sound?"
"Yeah," Mondo mouthed. A little lighter already. "Okay."
The train took Cassidy to Viridian. After leaving her bag in a motel room paid for under a false name, she took a quick and much-needed shower before heading for the address Saya had given her. It was nearby enough, down a flat dirt road that went out of the city into the countryside, so she figured she might as well walk.
It gave her time to get herself into gear. Trudging down the dusty lane with only the occasional car whizzing by, the sun sinking red beneath the hills, she reminded herself of the danger she was heading for.
She credited her survival so far to never getting complacent, so though she didn't doubt her own abilities for a moment, she also recognised that knowing so little about her target put her at a major disadvantage. Combined with the fact that she was walking straight onto his turf without any backup to speak of, it was easily one of the more perilous missions she'd taken on.
Other people might have panicked at such a realisation, but Cassidy knew that calm was what was needed, more than ever when things looked dicey. There just wasn't energy to waste on things like worrying if she'd die before the day was through. She'd given up that kind of thinking back in her teens.
Better to focus on why she had come here; the empty space beside her where Butch should have walked. Everything that had been ruined since Giovanni's death. Lives just like hers wrecked or extinguished completely.
And justice always needed a willing vessel. She sometimes thought that was the point of her. To do the things no one else would.
She reached a fork in the road, and turned right, onto a driveway. A neon sign that looked out of place in the otherwise rural landscape buzzed as she got closer: 'Round Rapids' said the text, underlined with a blue lightning bolt. An identical but much larger sign adorned the wooden archway she soon passed under as she came into the parking lot, mostly empty except for a few pick-ups.
From here she could see the racing track, over to the left in the open air. A line of horse pokémon, mostly rapidash, stood idly behind their gates, shuffling their hooves. From the building to the right she could hear the low hum of human chatter, punctuated by shouts that told her the crowd inside was probably not a friendly one.
She got to the worn-out doormat, and realised her boots were covered in dust from the walk over. She gave them a quick wipe, already conscious that her jumpsuit didn't exactly scream 'day at the races'.
That hardly mattered though. There was no way she was leaving here anonymously anyway.
The noise increased tenfold the moment she pushed open the heavy glass door.
There was an electronic scoreboard that stretched most of the way along the centre wall, cycling through the names of all the horses and their respective odds. A group of people crowded at the betting station, hands grabbing at slips of paper. Some guy was yelling about getting his money back.
For the most part though, Cassidy wasn't interested in the patrons as much as the staff. The shouting man was being dragged to the exit by two men she assumed were employed, but they weren't in uniform. As they passed by she took in the material of their suits, the kind that looked cheap but probably cost a small fortune.
She waited for them to toss the guy out ("You're all a bunch of crooks!"), then blocked their path back in.
"I'm looking for Derby," she said.
The one in the blue suit smirked. "This is the derby, toots."
She glowered at him. "Your employer."
The one in green raised his eyebrows. "You his new lady or something?" He looked her up and down. "Don't look like his type."
"Aw, come on Ben, don't give her a hard time about it," the other man said. He shrugged at Cassidy. "Sorry, lady. I ain't seen your face before and Derby don't do drop-ins." His smile was almost friendly, but not quite. "You want a meeting, personal or not, call ahead next time. But stick around for the race, please. We'll get you a front row seat and a drink on the house for your trouble."
"Not necessary," Cassidy declined. "Thank you."
"If you're gonna bet I'd put it all on Junior," 'Ben' told her, then winked, walking off. "You enjoy your night now."
Cassidy waited until the pair were gone, then went straight back out of the door.
She hadn't expected it to be that easy, and was quite glad it wasn't.
Now she could get creative.
Walking slow and soft so she could hear if anyone else was approaching, she rounded the building, towards the race track. There were a few women already in their seats- feathered hats and pearls aplenty- but most of the benches were empty, the betting still at its peak.
Cassidy kept going around the side, where the stables were. The closer she got the more she could hear the huffs and brays from the horses inside.
She leaned against the wooden panelling and took her phone from her pocket, pretending to text for a couple of minutes, when in truth she was just waiting to see if there was any kind of security stationed around here. Content that she was alone, she put her phone away again, and turned around to get a better look at the gate.
A pretty typical padlock kept the doors latched together. She didn't have her bolt-cutter on her, so got to work with her lockpick; it took her about a minute to feel the pins click into place. She let the padlock fall to the dirt and pushed the gate ajar.
The horses not lined up to race stood inside. The mudsdale munching on hay in the corner didn't pay any attention to her entrance, but the two rapidash tracked her with their eyes.
She pulled the gate wide open, stood aside and gave the closest rapidash two firm pats: "Go on!" she urged, stamping her foot. "Get!"
The rapidash replied with a startled whinny, and took off galloping, which set its friend off after it. Easily clearing the picket fence that ran around the property, they charged off into the wild, two streaks of fire. The mudsdale remained unbothered, but Cassidy didn't care. Two was plenty.
She strolled back out, as casually as she could, no rush at all. She took a battered carton of seldom-used cigarettes out of her bag and lit one, her first drag the greediest. Then she took little sips as she wandered back through the parking lot, waiting for someone to notice, which didn't take long.
The building's double doors burst open as the two henchmen rushed outside, walking as fast as it was possible to without actually running.
"Because I saw it, that's why! The cleaner saw it too- you wanna say we're both hallucinating horses?"
"Well then where are they?"
"I don't fuckin' know Frank! Over there somewhere- check the stable first, door didn't open on its own…"
Their voices faced. Cassidy watched them draw their guns, then disappear into the stable only to come right out again, closing the door behind them. Eventually they came back into earshot.
"... need to?" Ben was saying.
"Yeah, we do. That's his horses, that's major."
"Ugh… Okay, I'll go ride out with the handlers, get them back-"
"What, so I have to tell him?"
"'Cause you and saddles mix like oil and water, more like it. Look, just tell him straight, that's the best way-"
Until then Cassidy had gone unnoticed, lazily puffing on her cigarette, watching them. But now they saw her plain as anything. Their legs and conversation slowed to a stop at the same time. She didn't flinch. Letting the ash crawl towards her fingers as the cigarette kept on burning.
The guy in blue- Frank- hardened his expression as he stared back at her. "You go ride, Benny," he said. "I'll handle it."
Ben nodded hesitantly, then turned around and ran back towards the stables, holding onto his hat so it didn't fly away in the wind.
"Did you do this?" Frank asked, his voice flat but his body tense, like he was ready to fight.
Cassidy tapped the ash onto the ground, then raised her eyebrows. "Oh, you mean the horses?" she said. "I guess that depends. Will it get me an audience with Derby?"
Frank scoffed, shaking his head. "Lady, you're playing with the wrong man. Do you know what kind of things he does to folks who threaten his business?"
"I can imagine." Cassidy flashed a sardonic smile, dropping what was left of the cigarette. "I think you'd better take me to him, hadn't you? Frank?"
Frank glared at her. "Did the Bronco Boys send you?"
"'The Bronco Boys'?!" Cassidy laughed. "What are they, your sworn enemies?"
"Shut up and follow me," Frank snapped, beginning to walk. "Just don't say you didn't ask for it."
She followed him back inside, smiling.
Frank cut a path through the crowd to the 'STAFF ONLY' door at the back of the room. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, holding it open for Cassidy.
"Try anything funny, see what happens," Frank murmured as she passed him.
She looked him square in his narrowed eyes. "Same to you."
He took her down a short corridor, stopping at another door at the end. He rapped his knuckles on the frosty window pane: "It's Frank," he called, still watching Cassidy.
They waited for about a minute, though it felt way longer, Frank tapping his foot restlessly, Cassidy softening her gaze on the flowery beige wallpaper.
"Enter!" a voice finally shouted back.
"You wait there," Frank told Cassidy, and opened the door, taking one step inside.
"Speak."
"Someone let a couple of your horses out, boss," Frank said. "And I reckon I got her right here."
"Which horses?" the man Cassidy knew must have been Derby demanded. His voice was higher than she'd been expecting. A little nasally, despite his best effort at a smooth drawl.
"Mac and Cheese," Frank answered. "Benny's working on bringing 'em back."
"Hm. You say it was a broad?"
"Yeah. She keeps asking to see you."
Cassidy was tired of waiting outside, so pushed past Frank before he could stop her.
Derby was reclined in his chair with his boots up on the desk. He was tall, and thin, and had the kind of cowboy moustache Cassidy had always assumed was a myth of fiction. No flannel shirt and jeans, though- he wore a sleek black suit, with an undisguised pistol holstered at his hip.
He smiled at her in a way that made her want to break him.
"Leave us, Frankie," he said. "Close the door on your way out."
"Boss, she could be armed-"
"Oh, I bet she is," Derby purred, "but so am I. I can handle a girl, whoever she is."
Frank nodded. He hesitated a moment longer, seeming to want to say something, then walked out, closing the door.
The office was about what Cassidy had pictured, only with less horse-themed decor. Framed photos of celebrities visiting the racetrack beamed down at her from the walls. A grandfather clock clucked in the corner. The one window at the back of the room was closed, which stopped the fog of tobacco from ever really clearing.
Derby took the lid off a carved wooden box on his desk, and took out a cigar. "You smoke?" he asked.
"Not those."
"Best you'll get in Kanto. Got a friend who imports 'em, always brings me a box when he's visitin'." He flicked his lighter and lit up, puffing from the corner of his mouth. He gestured to the chair opposite. "Well take a seat then."
"I'll stand."
He peered up at her. "What are you, missy?" he asked, grinning around the cigar. "Government? International Police? Or are you from of them jealous little gangs who can't stand to see us prosper?"
"I'm not with anyone," Cassidy answered frostily. "I'm here on my own."
"And why might that be?"
"You're the one who put the hit out on Giovanni, aren't you?"
Derby frowned. "To which Giovanni are you referrin'?"
Cassidy scowled harder. "You know which."
"Oh, you mean that old Team Rocket guy? Sure, I've heard of him, but I can't say I know why you'd accuse me of-"
The slam of Cassidy's hand on the desk cut him short. "Bullshit," she spat. Her glare could've cut glass. "I know what you do. You make killers out of desperate people and hire them out to whoever's got cash- majority of which you take for yourself. Then you run your blood money through the racing books. That's all this dump is- a cover."
Derby uncrossed his ankles, and swung his legs down from the desk so he was sat upright. "You listen here," he sneered. "You think you got the right to come onto my turf, mess with my horses, insult my business?!" His face was growing redder and redder. "You got another thing comin', let me tell you that."
"I know you were involved," Cassidy said. "Admit it."
"Why should I? You're outnumbered, missy."
Clenching her jaw, Cassidy grabbed the back of the chair and pulled it over to the door, wedging it tight under the handle. "Not in here, I'm not."
As she turned back to face him, Derby stood up, his hand creeping towards his holster. "Don't let's get nasty now."
Cassidy knew that she wouldn't be able to reach her own gun (hidden in her left boot) as quickly as Derby would draw his, so chose a different tactic. "What, you think you need a weapon to win? Scared I'd beat you without it?" She tutted in mocking sympathy.
Derby's hand stopped. "Well I was gonna kill you quick," he snarled, pacing around the desk towards her, "but seems to me you want puttin' in your place."
He got close enough for her to see the blue-grey of his eyes, then lunged at her.
Cassidy ducked to the side before he could get a hold, and drove her knee up into his stomach, hard as she could. He stumbled back a few steps, the cigar dropping from his mouth as he groaned.
"You little bitch!" he seethed. Cassidy was already preparing to throw a punch, but he caught her fist in his hand just before she could slug him around the face. His other hand went straight for her hair, grabbing a handful and yanking.
Cassidy yelped as he pulled her by her scalp down towards the floor; as much as she fought to stay standing, the pressure on her scalp was too much. Before she knew it she had collapsed to her knees, clawing at the hand in her hair, wishing she hadn't just cut her nails.
"That's better," Derby leered.
There was an urgent knock at the door as someone tried to turn the handle: "Everything okay in there boss?"
"Peachy!" Derby called back. His smile opened up like the jaws of a predator.
Cassidy gave up scratching him, forbidding herself to let panic take over. Her eyes swept the hardwood floor, and landed on the still-lit cigar.
With a swipe she picked it up, then swung it over her head to stab the hot end right into Derby's wrist.
He wailed, instinctively loosening his hold on her hair as the cigar burned a circle into his skin. Cassidy sprang away, back on her feet.
"Oh, you wanna play dirty, do you?!" Derby laughed furiously, cradling his burnt hand. "Well then…"
Cassidy saw his good hand going towards his holster; hers was already in her pocket. "Bite!" she commanded as she hurled the pokéball.
It landed at Derby's feet just as he was starting to aim his gun. White light blinded them both, and then there was Houndoom, charging forwards as soon as its paws hit the ground, with a growling bark that was only interrupted by Derby's leg between its teeth. It locked its jaw and bit.
"Motherf-!" Derby gave up on the expletive and just screamed, his aim thrown off wildly as his finger squeezed the trigger- the gun gave a bang as it shot a hole into the ceiling. Houndoom tugged on his leg like he was a big chew toy, toppling him onto his back, wrenching him side to side as Derby uselessly tried to kick it off, struggling to line up another shot.
Cassidy strode over to him and stepped on his shoulder, pinning his arm down. Derby was too busy struggling to get his leg free to care much what she was doing, and she easily pried the gun from his hand, pointing it at him.
What had been knocking before was now a series of slams against the door, but the chair held fast. "Boss?!"
"It's fine!" Derby screeched, spittle flying from his mouth.
Cassidy snorted, amused. "This is fine, is it?"
Derby fought off the agony on his face and grinned through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna skin you and your mutt alive," he hissed.
Cassidy levelled the pistol with his head. "Not if I kill you you won't."
"Wait." The word came out in a tone she hadn't heard from Derby yet. Frantic, frightened. She guessed he saw she wasn't flinching. He held his hands up, unable to stop them from shaking. "Don't."
"Why shouldn't I?" Cassidy asked. "I know you ordered the hit."
"I don't order nothin'!" Derby protested, eyes flitting between her and the dark barrel of the gun. "I just get it done- you should be after the client if anythin'!"
Cassidy pursed her lips. "Give me a name."
"I don't know their names, we're a discreet service-"
She aimed the gun right at his temple. "Then you'll have to do."
"No no no wait!" Derby was breathing heavily now, the last thread of his bravado unspooled. "It was two of 'em- they bought an island from us, part of the deal."
"What? Where?"
"In the OA- somewhere around Navel Island. Used to be deserted- they were talkin' about buildin' a safe house there."
"If you're lying to me-"
"I'm not!" Derby insisted. His face was growing whiter by the minute- the blood seeping through his trouser leg probably wasn't helping. "I swear, that's all I know! Now get your goddamn dog off of me!"
Cassidy thought about it. "Yell for help."
"Huh?"
"Do it. Unless you'd actually rather die."
His mouth opened and closed as he blinked. Frustration settled, nowhere to go but his angry little exhales. He looked at her, both malice and submission in his eyes. His lip wobbled. "Help!" he shouted, still glaring at her.
Cassidy smiled. There was a boom as Frank started kicking the door from outside. "Again," she said.
Derby looked like he was about to cry. "Help!" he screamed, not holding anything back. "Hurry!"
That was good enough for Cassidy.
She returned Houndoom to its pokéball, finally relieving Derby of its teeth in his leg. He groaned, sitting up and leaning forwards to put pressure on the bite.
Cassidy made sure she never took the gun off him. Frank was really going at the door now, boom after boom shuddering through it; the chair was starting to give. "Don't move," she said. "And don't follow me, or you'll meet the rest of us."
An empty threat, but she liked the way Derby nodded.
She sidestepped over to the window and looked for a latch, then realised there wasn't one. It seemed to be painted shut. Plan B- she grabbed the paperweight from the Derby's desk and lobbed it through the pane, shattering most of it; the jagged glass left around the edges she hit out with the butt of the gun. Then she climbed out, quick as she could without cutting herself on the shards, leaving Derby moaning behind her.
She hit the ground and immediately ran for it, around the parking lot and towards the fence, away from where the horses had gone.
"Shit," she muttered to herself between breaths. She hated being out in the open like this, feeling like a sniper could take her down any second. Judging by the cheering from the track the race must have started; the noise got a bit distorted over the wind, a roar of urgency.
She glanced back. No one following, so she kept her straight line towards the fence, and jumped it like a hurdle, her heels scuffing the sandy dirt. She ran and ran and ran, the cold blues of dusk blended behind her silhouette. She was her lungs, her arms, her feet, her heart, pumping faster and faster.
Disappearing, victorious, into the night.
Mondo slept much better than he had the night before. He and Jessie had stayed up on the couch watching The Great Poké Bake Off, which according to the others was regular for Jessie after a Cassidy break-up.
It had been good. He'd actually managed to forget about the disaster that was his life, thinking of nothing but cakes and pastries for the better part of an hour. There were still those horrid stabs of realisation, of remembering, but now there was respite too.
Waking up was the trouble. All his years working at HQ had gotten him used to an early start, and now even without an alarm his body woke him up at 5am on the dot. It wouldn't have been such a problem, except all the others were asleep. None of them were usually up until at least 8.
That was too much time to ruminate, so he threw on some clothes and crept out of his room, careful not to wake Meowth.
He scrawled a note on a scrap of paper on the counter: 'Back soon, Mondo x'. He didn't plan on being gone too long, but didn't want anyone worrying.
He left the shack, closing the door carefully behind him, and walked down into the forest. He had nothing against birch trees, but he'd walked this route so many times that he was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. What he needed was a change of pace, somewhere fresh-
He stopped in his tracks as a pidgeot swooped down ahead of him, landing with a rustle in the leaves.
Perfect.
Mondo hurried to release Ditto, and pointed.
"Transform!"
There was nothing like watching a sunrise from the clouds, as Mondo was currently discovering. On the back of Ditto- currently in the form of a pidgeot- he soared over the countryside as the first beams of daylight washed over the hills.
Then he thought of Ravi lying in that morgue, and all the colours went cold.
He couldn't wait any longer.
"Down, please," he whispered in Ditto's ear, and down they went, low enough for Mondo to see the details below. He found what he was looking for in a small village: a telephone box.
They landed a little clumsily (neither he nor Ditto were really used to flying), but unharmed. Mondo let Ditto have a little hop around as he went to the phone.
He stepped inside the box and took a bit of paper out of his pocket. Picking up the phone, he punched in the number on the paper, put in a couple of coins, and waited for it to ring. Each drill felt like a weight on his chest. The sound cut off abruptly as someone on the other end picked up.
"Hello, Pewter Morgue, how can I help?"
Mondo didn't know what to say. "Um," he started. "Hello, uh… I'm calling about identifying a body? From the- from the crash?"
A pause. "One moment, please… Okay, can I take a name please?"
"Yūji," Mondo decided. "Koyasu."
"Okay Mr. Yūji, we do require an in-person identification for legal reasons- are you able to travel to Pewter City?"
Mondo checked his watch. Flying on Ditto, it wouldn't take too long there and back.
The others wouldn't even have to know that he'd gone.
"I'll be there in half an hour."
So there he was. The waiting room of Pewter Morgue, joylessly sipping the tea he'd been given by the receptionist, who'd then disappeared to let the mortician know he was here.
It was quite a nice waiting room, actually. Non abrasive ambient music, several plush sofas, lots of plants… He supposed it was probably to compensate for the fact that it was a building full of dead bodies, and there weren't really any nice reasons to be here. At least you were comfortable while you waited.
"Koyasu?"
He jumped at the name- his name currently, he reminded himself, nodding nervously at the returning receptionist.
"They're ready for you in room three, if you're okay to go in now?"
Mondo nodded again. He didn't feel okay. In fact suddenly he couldn't stop shaking.
He put down the half-drunk tea before he spilt it.
The receptionist smiled sympathetically. "If you follow me, I'll buzz you in."
Mondo stood up with a stomach full of butterfree. He walked, feeling giddy in an unpleasant way. Like he could float away at a moment's notice.
The receptionist stopped outside the third door on the left, and tapped the card on her lanyard on the reader; the lock clunked open, and Mondo pushed the door, which hissed closed behind him.
The room was small, predictably sterile. There was a blue curtain cutting off half the space- Mondo's imagination hurried to fill in the blank of the body behind it.
He could hear the mortician shuffling around back there. They came around the corner, and Mondo felt his nervousness explode into absolute terror. He wondered if he would faint.
It was Ravi who limped out, a gun in one hand, the other in a sling, looking absolutely miserable. They sat down in the nearest chair as Mondo struggled to breathe at all.
Ravi glared at him, but it was through sad, tired eyes. "Let's get this over with."