Brenda was pissed.

It was five minutes to the end of her shift. She'd been working on paper work all day. She hadn't been able to shove any of it at Mewtwo, because word had spread that he was good with electronics. Some fucking bastard over in Vice had stolen him to fix their computers.

She made a mental note to reword that complaint once they got home. Mewtwo was fucking touchy about anything that might imply that she 'owned him'. Idiot.

And now, five minutes to the end of her shift, she was at a crime scene. Couldn't the Captain have waited five minutes? Some other Homicide detective would've gotten the case then.

"What do you see, Smith?" Brenda asked, taking in the sights. The inside of the Tim Hortons was barely controlled chaos. Somebody dies, and civilians freak out. That was the way of the world.

Mewtwo turned his head the slightest bit, scanning the room. Brenda studied his illusion, noted the flicker- when he looked at the body- and nodded. He was getting better at that. She hadn't had to remind him.

"There are five officers here already, sir," he said, and frowned. "Why did they call us in?"

"Did you note where they're from?" Brenda asked. She grinned when he shook his head. "Well, good, neither did I, but it's a safe bet that the uniforms are on traffic and Mr. Plainclothes over there is not homicide."

Mewtwo arched one eyebrow, a silent request for information. Brenda decided she was feeling generous. "Two marked patrol vehicles in the lot. One unmarked, beige Crown Vic in the lot. And if Mr. Plainclothes was on Homicide, we wouldn't be here."

Mewtwo winced. Or rather, his illusion winced. "I missed that."

"It's been a long day," Brenda agreed. "What else do you see?"

"There are only six civilians," Mewtwo said. He shot a glance in her direction, but Brenda waved it off. It was a good exercise for him, and maybe he'd see what she saw. "Four- six employees. Why are two of them out from behind the counter?"

"Anything else about those two employees?" Brenda murmured. She watched as Mewtwo looked at them again, saw his eyes widen as he figured it out.

"Ah. Which one, do you think?"

"The girl. Has to be. Where are the EMTs?"

As if on cue, the door behind them swung open. Brenda turned, and grinned at the two EMTs entering the building.

"Wondered where you were," she said. "Wait for Crime Scene, please, but would one of you take a round of the civilians? A few of them look like they could use the attention."

Then, she took a few steps further into the room, Mewtwo shadowing her. She raised two fingers to her mouth and whistled, loud.

"Alright! The four officers will take your statements, and then anyone who doesn't work here can scram! If you need to see a doctor, there are two EMTs here for that purpose. The four of you behind the counter, close the place up, call your boss if you haven't done so already. Then be good little lackeys and don't talk to each other. Get it? Good."

"Well done, Detective. I take it we get those two?" Mewtwo nodded at the two employees seated at one of the tables.

"No shit."

Both employees looked up when Brenda and Mewtwo approached. One was a girl, maybe fifteen if Brenda was any judge. The guy looked twenty, twenty-one, and had tears dripping down his face. He didn't seem to notice.

"Hey," Brenda said, and leaned up against the nearest table. It was empty, not that she would have cared. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

The girl paled, if that was possible. She'd already looked pretty close to Mewtwo's natural fur color, if one discounted his tail.

"Uh, we, that is," she mumbled.

"He's dead," the guy burst out.

"Okay, stop. How about we start with something simple, yeah?" Brenda pointed at the girl. "Name?"

"L-Linda. Linda Petker."

"Great. You?"

"Bill. William. Uh, Dennis."

"Do you have three first names or what?"

The guy blushed. "Sorry. William Dennis, but everyone calls me Bill."

Brenda nodded. The guy was calmer, now, and probably wouldn't start sobbing again. "Alright, Bill, Linda. Do either of you two know the victim?"

Bill screwed up his face, like he was trying not to cry. Linda ducked her chin and hunched her shoulders.

"Yeah," Bill said. "He was a friend of mine. We were in school together. Taking the course for EMT. And Linda- she's his girl."

"Was," Linda mumbled. "We broke up."

Brenda arched one eyebrow, and shared a look with Mewtwo. "Okay, so what happened?"

"Alan, he came in. He wanted the soup. Chicken noodle. I served him the soup," Linda said. "He went over to the table, sat down, started eating, and then… He started jerking all over the place."

"Seizure. He hit his head on the- on the wall." Bill pointed at the 'wall', which was only hip high. There was a smear of blood on one edge. "Then he went down on the ground, hard. I was on drive through. I only noticed when someone started screaming. Then I ran over to help." His eyes widened, and he looked up at Brenda. "That was right, wasn't it? I mean, he was having a seizure!"

"What did you do to help?" Brenda asked.

"Well, I kind of sat on him. Because he was thrashing. But I didn't really sit on him, just held his legs down with one of mine, held his wrists. And I tried to hold his hand." Bill held up his hands. They were big. "I could hold both his wrists in one hand. We always- well, we used to joke… He's such a… I mean he was…"

"Okay, breathe. Calm down. You can't help him if you're incoherent," Mewtwo said. "Now, what were you saying?"

"We always used to joke that he was such a shrimp, because he was so skinny, you know? So I could hold him down, easy. Only when I touched his forehead, he stopped. I checked his pulse, his breathing, but there wasn't anything. I started CPR. I know I did everything right, but he just wouldn't wake up!"

Brenda nodded. "Okay. Thanks. You did everything right. Why don't you go sit down over… Uh, do you have a break room?" Brenda asked, turning to Linda.

"Yeah, we do. Bill, go sit in the break room. Or- can he call his girlfriend, to come and pick him up?"

"Sure," Brenda said. "Bill, leave your contact information with one of the officers, then call your girl. Go home. Let me take care of Alan now, okay?"

The guy nodded, looking miserable. He stood up, and slouched towards one of the officers.

Brenda looked back at Linda. "So why don't you tell me why you served your ex-boyfriend."

"I- he was a customer. I had to."

"You couldn't get someone else to take him? I'm pretty sure your co-workers would've understood. He's your ex, after all. Nasty breakup?" Brenda's voice was light.

Linda shook her head, quickly. She wouldn't meet Brenda's eyes. "N-no. Nothing like that. It was calm. Mutual. And everyone was busy. I had to help him."

"Did he always come in on Wednesday for chicken noodle soup?" Brenda asked. "Always here?"

"Yes, but that doesn't- he just did. He never thought about it. I'm sure he didn't."

"So, after a breakup, he wasn't going to think about going to his ex's workplace?"

Linda bit her lip and didn't reply.

Brenda shifted, until she was leaning forward. "Whose ring is that?" she asked.


"Left hand, ring finger. Whose ring is that?"

Linda stared at her hand as if she'd never seen it before. "I- I- Alan's."

"You break up with someone, but don't give back his class ring? Cold."

"I was going to!" Linda's eyes were wide and terrified. "I swear I was going to!"

"He was here," Brenda pointed out. "Right here. You could've handed it over. Why didn't you?"

Linda just shook her head, and closed her eyes.

"What did you put in the soup?"

That got a reaction. Linda snarled, her hands curled into claws. "You can't prove anything! You're just reaching- you need someone to blame and you're going to blame me! Well I didn't do it!"

"Cameras," Brenda said, pointing up at the ceiling. Linda's gaze followed, and she winced. "We're going to review the tapes, we're going to see you put something in his soup. Don't know what, yet, but the lab reports are going to come back as his bowl being poisoned, and nothing else. You handled his soup, Linda. There were several other bowls of chicken soup, and no one else was dead."

The girl was crying. "He was mean! He made me look like a fool! He was sleeping around with Ashley the whole time we were dating! Then, right after we had sex the first time, he breaks up with me!" She pulled the ring off her finger and threw it across the room. "I hate him! I'm glad he's dead!"

Brenda stood up. "Linda Petker, you're under arrest for the murder of…" she paused, and glanced over at Mewtwo.

"Alan Cornell."

"Right. For the murder of Alan Cornell." Brenda pulled out the handcuffs, and snapped them on Linda's wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you."

Once the messy business was taken care of, Brenda passed the girl over to the cop in plainclothes. She frowned as the Crown Vic pulled out of the parking lot, and rolled her shoulders.

"I hate cases like this," she muttered.

Mewtwo, damn his pokemon hearing, nodded. (They're senseless.)

"Whatever." Brenda moved over to the counter. "Hey, you!" She pointed at one of the employees. "I'll take a large coffee, black, to go."


The moment Brenda started driving, Mewtwo dropped his illusion. She glanced over, and scowled.

(If you're not careful, your face will freeze like that.)

"Hasn't happened yet. Are you sitting on your tail?"

(No, Detective.) Mewtwo's mental voice gave the impression of a sigh. (Why do you ask?)

"Because you look uncomfortable." Brenda muttered a curse and stomped on her breaks. "Hey! You! Fucking watch where you're driving!" She shook her fist at the sports car that had just cut her off, before looking at Mewtwo again. "You don't normally look like you're getting skinned alive. What gives?"

(You sent the car in for maintenance, didn't you?)

"Ye-ah… Last week. I thought vegetables were good for your memory?"

Mewtwo frowned at her. (Whoever worked on the car moved the passenger seat up, and it won't move back. Until we get out, I won't be able to fix it.)

"Did you try kicking it?"

(While I'm sitting in it? Detective, I'm sorry, my legs don't bend that way.)

Brenda leaned over. "No, I guess they don't. Do you want me to stop at the next gas station? Fix it there?"

(I'd really like you to watch the road, actually…)

"I need to teach you how to drive."

(Shouldn't we go in and do the paperwork?)

Brenda made an aggrieved sound, and switched lanes. "You just have to be responsible, don't you?"

(It's a gift.)

Her answer was all of one finger. The driver of the sedan next to her saw it, thought it was a gesture for him, and started edging into her lane.

Mewtwo sighed. He hated driving.


"We're gone," Brenda said. Mewtwo looked up from his computer, and nodded.

"We do get overtime for the paperwork, right?"

"Smith… Remember what I told you about your optimism?"

Mewtwo stood up and stretched, his fingertips brushing the ceiling. "You've never said anything about it, actually."

"Oh." Brenda blinked, and kicked at his ankle. He moved out of the way, and lifted one eyebrow.

"Were you going to say anything about my optimism?" Optimism. Him. That was a first.

"Only that it's pointless and stupid, but I think you can figure that out."

A smirk was her only answer. Not, he supposed, that Brenda minded.

"Are you still going to teach me to drive 'the proper way'?" he asked, once they were waiting for the elevator.

"I'm going to teach you to drive, period. I'm tired of chauffeuring you around."

Mewtwo looked up at the security camera, and shook his head slightly. Someone had expected a very bad fake to pass muster. Probably the result of a rather poor budget.

"Come on, let's go. Don't forget to take a whack at the seat."

(Of course I'll remember, Detective, my feet still hurt.)

"God damn it, I told you about that!"


(Maintenance did a poor job,) Mewtwo said. He looked out the window. He'd never noticed that house on the corner, there. The garden was rather pretty; summer flowers were just beginning to bloom, and there was a lovely Japanese maple right by the sidewalk.

"I'm going to kill them!"

He looked over because of the lack of swearing. If she didn't swear, then she was serious.

(Could you kill them after you make them fix the car?)

"Maybe," Brenda granted, before slamming her fist down on the dashboard. "Those self-serving mother-fucking bastards! How the fucking hell am I supposed to do my job with this pile of crap, huh?"

Mewtwo shrugged, and fumbled with his seat belt. (You can ask them tomorrow,) he said. (Get out. It will be easier to teleport this thing to your driveway if you're not in it.)

Brenda growled, but got out. "Why, may I ask, is it easier? You've teleported me before."

(Detective, it's a car. The bigger and heavier an object is, the harder it is to teleport.)

He interpreted her look as one of disbelief and suspicion. (No, really, it is. It doesn't help that your mental shields are nasty ones, either.)

"You just want to go for a walk, don't you?"

(And I'd enjoy your company very much, yes.)

"Have I mentioned you're a freak lately?" Brenda asked, shoving her hands into her pockets. The car disappearing in a rush of blue light- it wasn't difficult at all, never mind what he'd said- didn't seem to faze her. "Because, you know, you are."

(You said I was 'fucking weird' this morning, does that count? Now come on, it's only three blocks.)

"I could be home, playing with Rhonwen. Instead, some psychotic psychic decides to drag me around the neighborhood." Brenda shook her head and grinned. Mewtwo grinned back.

(Would you be in a better mood if I promise to fix the car?)

"You know, I think I feel better. Less like killing someone and more like maiming. Maiming is more fun anyways."

(That's what I thought.)

Later, he would say that he should have seen it coming. Brenda would counter with the fact that she had more experience, if anyone should have predicted it, it should have been her.

As it was, both of them were caught by surprise when a boy jumped out from behind a rather large oak tree, waved a knife in their direction, and charged.

Mewtwo and Brenda glanced at each other, and then back at the boy.

Brenda stepped forward, kicked at his stomach, and followed through with a punch to the head.

Mewtwo waved one hand and telepathically made sure the boy would stay out for several hours.

Brenda rested her hands on her hips, and looked back up at Mewtwo. "Well," she said. "That's new."

End Notes

Hello, loyal readers! Welcome back to the latest segment of the Sword and Shield Universe! I'd like to get a few things out of the way before we begin the ride, okay? Great!

First off, I have a co-author for this story. She's my beta reader, and you already know her as the voice of Sheryl, Brenda's adopted mother. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you CalliopeMused! We've, ah, relocated one of her characters from The Fifth (Teen Titans, rather fun, take a peek) to the Sword 'verse. I'll let you know her when you see her, but for right now, Call owns her character.

Anyways, due to the co-written status of this story, some updates might be a bit slower then others. Call is a college student, which means lots of school work. So, since school comes first, it... well, it comes first.

Well, that's it for my blather. Enjoy the story, let me know what you think, have a good day... all that jazz. I don't own pokemon, I'm just playing with 'em.