Jeffrey was sitting silently at the table, underneath the dim light of the interrogation room. The slightly chubby cop that sat across from him was staring back. The latter had just finished writing down everything the criminal had said, word for word and, by the end of it all, was speechless. He wasn't quite sure how to react to what he had heard, what he had written down. He wasn't sure what to think of the man who told it. Should he be afraid of him? Feel sorry for him? Hate him? He just sat there debating, eyes widened, a contrast to the prisoner, whose eyes were half closed, staring blankly at the officer in a melancholy gaze.
The cold silence was thankfully broken by the opening and shutting of the rusty metal door that acted as the only entrance and exit into the steel room. From it entered a middle aged man, brown hair with slight amount of gray hair on the side. He wore a large, brown coat over his police uniform and clutched a beige folder with a random collection of papers within it. Baird looked up from the lower officer and smiled at the new person. "Good afternoon, Inspector."
"Don't play your shitty games with me. You know what 26 means." He lit up a cigarette and actually chuckled, pointing at the Jeff in disbelief. "That fire you started. Killed 26 people and even more Pokémon. I'd say it killed 34 Pokémon, give or take." He was greatly upset, snatching the report from the fat officer's hand. He read through it some of it, the reading process taking around 10 to 15 minutes. He shook his head. "Jesus Christ…" He dropped it onto the table, causing a small paper-meets-wood slapping sound. "Make that 36 people and 44 Pokémon. 80 lives." He put his hands on his hips and looked down at the ground, shaking his head and sighing.
"Luckily," the Inspector began, "people were able to get out of the building due to part of one of the walls breaking down despite the fact you tossed 5 Molotov cocktails on each side of the building, one on each window, one on each exit and six on the roof."
"Oh?" Jeff started, smiling, "I didn't know I tossed them at the club so symmetrically."
"Is that what this is to you? Some game of 'How symmetrical I can be while murdering and dodging the police?'?" The Inspector pointed straight downward, planting his pointing finger on the folder, pressing down on it angrily. "Is there anything 'symmetrical' about 80 lives being destroyed in a month?"
"Actually, yes, there is. 80's divisible by 2, 4, 8, and 16. A number being divisible by 4 powers of 2 is kind of like a shape having four lines of symmetry." The Inspector only replied with a sigh and by pinching the skin between his eyes. "Also, no, it wasn't about the fun of it. I was cleaning up the town. Simple as that. Like community service."
"Community service? Wonderful, we have a self-righteous killer. So, tell me, WHY do you think you're doing a good job when you kill innocent people for their sexual preference." The Inspector motioned for the lower officer to leave, which he did, then sat in the now empty chair. "Or do you, like everyone else, say 'because they're inferior' and have no actual logic behind it?"
"They make Pokémon miserable." Jeff sat in the rusty chair, arms hanging limply to the side. He was looking out of the window, up at the sky. It was rather sunny out. He was smiling, thinking of Bel. He figured the sky was a nice place to be right now.
"Pokémon by nature want to breed with Pokémon. They're forced to have sex with humans for the latter's own thrills. I think killing them is the quickest way to solve the problem. Nothing more, Inspector…?"
"Pilgrim. You know, you keep saying the Pokémon were abused, made miserable." Inspector Pilgrim frowned. "Yet, in all of the cases where I've helped Poképhiles with crime, their partners seemed happy as can be. Care to explain that?"
"Ever heard of Rastamine, Mr. Pligrim?"
Inspector Pilgrim scratched his goateed chin. "No, I don't think so. Not within my career, at least."
Jeff continued, still staring out the window the door had and the slight sign of the window past it. "It's a drug. Made from fermented honey and fruits found on Tropius. No effect on humans. Puts Pokémon in an ecstatic state, constantly happy for several hours after consumption. Very easy to get."
"So, you're telling me," the Inspector almost laughed, "that every Poképhile uses this drug on their Pokémon."
"No. The ones I kill do. The ones in downtown that fester in shitholes like the Gray Zangoose. The domestic Poképhiles, the ones that keep to themselves, the ones that have an actual emotional bond with their Pokémon before having sex with them and are simply normal people with a small perversion that does no harm, they're fine with me."
Jeff closed his eyes, imagining the disgusting individuals he had seen in the Gray Zangoose. "The ones that hang in the bad side of town, the ones that give their life up for a fetish, and the ones that sexually enslave Pokémon that aren't willing. They're the scum I kill. They're the scourge of this town. They slink around the streets, they stare pretentiously, they mock those that don't share their fetish. I hate them. I despise them. I eliminate them."
"Ooh, a 'scourge of the town' they are," Pilgrim shook his hands in the air for childish emphasis. "You make it seem as though they make this town a shithole."
"Pfffff." The Inspector scoffed. "Let's take a look at Saffron's terrible conditions. Its economy has flourished within the past 5 years. Low unemployment rate, jobs are always up for businesses, building the gigantic skyscrapers that they work in. Low crime rate; your meltdown's probably the worst crime Saffron's had in decades. Always getting tourists and wealthy businessmen stopping by for pleasure and business, respectively, meaning we get popularity. Pretty nice-sounding shithole, in my opinion."
"Put a clean, ironed suit on a carcass doesn't change the fact that it's a carcass."
Inspector Pilgrim let out a frustrated groan before shrugging. He picked up the folder and read some more of it. He raised his eyebrow at a certain section. "Alright. If everything you're doing is for the benefit of the city, tell me how raping that girl with the Lucario helped anyone but yourself."
"That was an experiment."
Pilgrim's jaw fell wide open, the now short cigarette that rested in between his lips falling to the ground. "Experiment? What in the flying fuck were you 'experimenting' on?"
"The Lucario's reaction. I predicted that he would be more so upset that he wasn't getting fucked than the fact that his 'trainer' was getting raped and killed in front of him. And I was right."
"That doesn't justify rape, Jeff. Nothing does."
"Tell Sabrina that." Jeffrey stopped looking at the door and looked at the Inspector, seeing his face for the first time. He had an old, experienced face, definitely low-30s. Jet black hair, medium length, but well kept and a trimmed goatee with matching color.
The older shook his head. "You honestly expect us to believe our Gym Leader, who's benefitted this town greatly, is a rapist and would do the cruel things you're accusing her of doing? I don't think so." Now it was the criminal's turn for a frustrated groan. Pilgrim kept reading. He stopped again and looked up at the brown haired convict, who was yet again staring off into space. "So, what's this about your mother? Care to explain?"
Jeff turned back to the Inspector and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "My mother married my father 27 years ago, 19 and 20, respectively. I had a pretty normal childhood. They were kind, I got a good education. Then, like most kids, shit hit the fan when I became a teenager. See, my father found something out about my mother. At 14, my Dad came home to find my mother getting fucked senseless by her Infernape. She had him for a while, ever since her trainer years. Turns out she'd been sleeping with it for 7 years, starting right when the law allowing Poképhilia started, ironically enough."
The criminal snorted, scratched his nose and continued. "They divorced the same year, later I joined the army at 18. Fought in Unovan War for 4 years, until it ended. Year after I came back, when I was 23, or two years ago, my father committed suicide."
Pilgrim raised his eyebrow. "What for?"
Jeff, for the first time since he entered the room, showed emotion, an angry glare. "For realizing the person her was married to for almost 20 years would rather fuck a Pokémon than him for 7 years straight. That's why I killed that man so passionately. Inconsiderate shitheads like him destroying families and peoples' lives because of self-gratification. If he wanted to destroy lives for his satisfaction, I figured I should be able to do the same."
Inspector Pilgrim just looked back dumbfounded. Jeff's stare went back to a blank gaze. They simply sat there for a few minutes before the Inspector broke the silence again.
"Well," he lit up another cigarette and got up from the table, taking the folder with Baird's information with him. He walked to the wall behind him, where an intercom sat, a speaker with a red button below it. He pressed the button after clearing his throat. "Get two escorts in here for Mr. Baird. Get him a cell to stay for the next few days until court." After getting an affirmative reply, Pilgrim put his finger off of the button and turned to Jeff. "I think I got the gist of your case. Traumatic experience at a young age involving Poképhilia, jaded outlook and morbid creativity developed in the war. I think we're done here. We have all the evidence to lock you up for committing a mass murder of Poképhiles."
Just as the Inspector was about to open the door, he looked back and raised his eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I told you, Inspector," Jeff stared at the older man intensely, "I don't kill Poképhiles. I kill rapists. Slime involved with trafficking living, breathing individuals for the sake sexual pleasure."
"You mean the projects Sabrina funds that involve moving Pokémon from their habitat to here? You think it's trafficking? It's to make our routes more exotic, for God's sake."
"Route 7 is the only place in all of both Kanto and Johto where one can find Houndour and Murkrow. Route 8 yields Haunter, Vulpix, Growlithe and Noctowl. Route 6 has Golduck, Granbull, even Combee. Sounds quite exotic the way it was. " Pilgrim scoffed, but that didn't impede Jeff from continuing.
"Also, Sabrina didn't fund it per se, but a company she founded did. Named Pay Day Stocks and Investments. It works with moving Pokémon – all of which are coincidentally popular with Poképhiles, by the way – and also founded a prominent grocery store, named after Sabrina's good friend: Erika's Fruit Basket. Sounds innocent enough. Good store, decent prices and is well known for their fruit. In fact, I did a little research when I found out Pokéfuckers Incorporated funded the store. Found a very interesting tidbit: 13% of their profits are from one particular fruit, I found out. A meager, but still noticeable 5% comes from a brand of honey."
The Inspector's eyes widened. He took his hand off of the doorknob and lowered it, dangling it at his side. Jeff continued. "I'm sure you can guess what Pokémon these popular products came from. Odd that Sabrina would found a company that not only moved Pokémon that happened to be the three most popular in the Poképhile community, but also funded a grocery store that just so happens to make almost a fifth of its profits from products that happen to be ingredients of a drug that put a Pokémon in thoughtless state of ecstasy."
Inspector Pilgrim bit his lip, but Jeff still continued. "So, either Sabrina's made very odd, coincidental financial options… or she founded Pay Day Stocks and Investments in order to profit off of the trafficking and subsequent rape of innocent Pokémon. I may have committed atrocities, Inspector. But at least I didn't profit from them."
"Jeff," Pilgrim crossed his arms and shook his head, "let's assume Sabrina DID traffic Pokémon for sexual abuse. Do you really think this justifies you at all?"
"You misunderstand. I'm not justifying anything. I never said I didn't belong here. Just wanted you to know why I've done what I've done. I won't beg for understanding and pity. Pokémon created Earth, nature, and reality itself and besides Groudon and Kyogre, who fought and tore up the land for personal feuds, have done nothing to harm anyone on purpose. Humans? Unable to say the same thing. I'd rather we get killed by the dozens then they get sexually enslaved by the thousands. If I end up rotting in a jail cell, being lynched, or getting lethally injected because of believing in that then so be it."
"No. No more words. I've said all that I need to. Go. Boast to your peers of how you so quickly cracked the mind of a ruthless psychopath. Go back to your plush, innocent little life obtained with your fat paycheck. Dote around town, thinking everything's alright while hundreds of Pokémon are broken and trafficked, practically raped all while you live in your imaginary world where a good economy and high tourism means that nothing goes wrong. Forget this case in a month and simply think of it as the rambling of a madman, not as an attempt to open your eyes. Go and carry on like I know you will."
At that moment, two men in policemen uniform came into the room and grabbed Jeff, handcuffing him and walked him out of the interrogation room, each officer holding his shoulder. A week later, Jeff was put on trial, with the unanimous decision from the jury that he was guilty of 80 accounts of first degree murder. He was to be put on life sentence in solitary confinement and if Saffron hadn't outlawed the death penalty, he absolutely would've been dead within the week.
… … …
It had been a month since the sentence was made. Jeff's new home was a stone box in a bigger stone box located in the southeastern corner of Saffron City. In his cell were a toilet, a bench, a bed, and a simple wooden stool that he sat on for most of the day, hunching his shoulders, leaning forward and staring at the ground. Every afternoon, he'd hear crowds of people shouting obscenities from outside of the lone, barred and rectangular hole in the wall that was opposite his cell's bars that acted as a window. Some of them tossed glass bottles at the stone wall that separated them from him.
But Jeff wasn't concerned about that. He simply sat there, thinking, ignoring the blank and sometimes noisy world he was in. He thought of Bel, wondering what Sabrina did to her body. He thought of that quite a bit, but what plagued his mind was Lily and what he did to her. He raped her and although she doesn't know it, he enjoyed it. Very much.
Not only did that make him sick to his stomach, but it made him question his stance against Poképhiles. He had tried to deny enjoying the act, but he simply couldn't. Every time he'd think of the event, he'd feel shame and, to synergize the former, arousal. In the end, he decided, it was best that he let her go. Had she known that he thought of her in 'that way', she would have despised him, more so than she no doubt already does.
It was nighttime, around 8. The sky was pitch black and the moon shined through the barred window, covering Jeff's back. He was still sitting, thinking, when he heard a rather loud explosion, accompanying a large inferno blasting through the hall that led to his prison cell. The blast shook the cell, but Jeff stayed on his stool, only looking up to see what was happening. He heard shouts, gunshots, and the sound of people being sliced by what sounded like sharp blades.
Jeff simply sat there, staring at the fire. He wondered who it could be, but no doubt one of the other prisoners had allies that came to attempt to break them free. Jeff shrugged and casually waiting for the ruckus to end so he could go back to thinking, perhaps sleep. Suddenly, he saw a very prominent-looking figure emerge from the inferno that blazed on the other side of his cell's bars.
The man was much older than Jeff, tall, probably in his 30s or 40s. He had long, green hair, and had a hole where his right eye should have been, the black impalement surrounded with what looked like bone. He had a very elegant yet eccentric robe, both sides having opposite colored patterns with large, probing eyes at their centers. The top of the robe looked more like the top of a castle, rectangular, leather flaps rising upward with blue jewels at each ones' center. Behind him was a Bisharp, a Pokémon he recognized from the war, usually used in infantry.
The man reached the other side of the bars and smiled. His smile was warm and calm, betraying the circumstances he caused. He cleared his throat. "Hello. You must be Jeffrey Baird. Allow me to introduce myself, though I wish I could do so in a less hectic situation: my name is Geechisu. I am part of an organization and have developed quite an interest in your actions here in Saffron." Jeff looked up at the man, raising an eyebrow as means to tell him to continue. The man named Geechisu did so. "My organization, named Team Plasma, is centered in Unova. We fight for the rights of Pokémon everywhere. Naturally, one group of people who are our enemies are Poképhiles, or at least the ones that do so without the Pokémon's consent. My son, the leader of our group who loves to look into the affairs of other regions, saw the news of your attempted purification of this land… and was impressed."
"Why would you come all the way to Kanto just to save a hypocritical serial killer? Surely there are other people, closer to your region."
"But," Geechisu interjected, "not as interesting, or as skilled or creative. You have a talent, you see. Had you not shot for the stars and went after the Gym Leader, you surely would've been more successful. We want you to join, my son and I. We wish you to join Team Plasma and act as an agent, an assassin. Destroying not only Poképhiles, but anyone who harms Pokémon."
"No. You wouldn't want me. I'm a Poképhile, just as bad as the people I killed. I thought I was entirely against them, but… I was wrong. You haven't read the reports from the police, what happened to m-"
"I have." Geechisu moved his arm upwards, holding a beige folder between his fingers. "Thrice. And my son has read it even more times. He thinks you as a hero, Mr. Baird. And he, as well as I, do not hate you or respect you any less because of what you've done. You two developed a more passionate relationship than any other pair that I've seen in my years. Like you, we only target Poképhiles that harm their partners whenever they commit their fetish. In fact, some members of Team Plasma see Poképhilia as tribute to one's love of Pokémon instead of desecration."
"I see…" Jeff pondered the offer. He would like to help Pokémon. He liked the idea of killing as a profession. He had no qualms with living in Unova. It's a beautiful place and Jeff enjoyed the scenery her got to view during the war, at least when it wasn't on fire. Jeff also hadn't developed any hatred or prejudice towards the Unovans. But there was one problem. "What about here? In Saffron? I can't just leave it as the shithole it is."
"Then rejoice." Geechisu smiled. "For it is a cesspool no longer. Bubastis," he looked over at his Bisharp and motioned towards Jeff, "show Jeffrey our evidence, to back up our claim."
Bubastis nodded and walked closer to the cell, more so than his master. He held out two large, metal bracelets. They looked exactly like the ones Sabrina wore and were covered in blood. Jeff's eyes widened. He looked over at Geechisu. "You killed her? How? When?"
"5 hours ago. Several grunts, who are helping take out guards as we speak, and I cornered her while she was at home, on a day off. You can thank Bubastis here for the finishing blow, a clean slit of the throat." Geechisu smiled and happily pet his Bisharp on the head. "And I'm sure you'll appreciate what we did. You see, we decided to sample some of the wildlife. When we arrived, we brought with us 3 Victreebel. After we severely damaged her, we… mhm… let them have their way with her. Normally, such vulgar acts would not be sanctioned, but when it is necessary for redemption…" Geechisu trailed off, looking to the side. He looked back at Jeff. "After we terminated the lowly whore, we did your beloved comrade honor and had Sabrina be devoured by her. In any case, I hope you appreciate that we took the ironic route towards your revenge and I hope you'll forgive us for not letting you do so." He bowed his head and earnestly said, "I'm sorry."
For the first time in more than a month, Jeff smiled. He felt a little tingle in his chest, like something you'd feel when you get a present on Christmas. He couldn't have orchestrated better revenge himself. He truly felt content now that the whore was done away with. Geechisu continued, and with each word, Jeff started to respect him more and more. "My son did some research on the culprit companies. It seems that Sabrina is a vast source of their funds, a Gym Leader's salary being quite the source of income. With Sabrina dead, Pay Day Stocks and Investments will plummet without their founder, the projects moving Pokémon and Erika's Fruit Basket shortly following."
Jeff opened his mouth to speak, but Geechisu beat him to the punch. "And… if that isn't enough, we have another gambit. You see, out in the distant land of Unova, where the law of Kanto cannot touch you, we at Team Plasma have prepare a small villa with all the pleasantries you deserve, though not so much that you would be spoiled. But, the crown jewel of what lies there is not the items, but the person that resides there. Or, to be more specific, the Pokémon that resides there."
Jeff raised his head even more, causing Geechisu to smile. "Yes, that's correct. We found your little partner. Honestly, you shouldn't be surprised, I mean, really. Rock Tunnel? So very obvious. It was the first place we looked. She was in quite critical condition when we found her. Starved, beaten, et cetera. Good thing we came when we did. She likely wouldn't have made it a day later. Ah, but I fear you worry for her health." He looked at Jeff, who indeed showed worry on his face. "Rest assured. We found her over a week ago. My son is rather ambitious and DEMANDED that we go 'help this savior of Pokémon as soon as humanly possible!' or so he said once he finished reading your file. Right now, Lily is in fine health, waiting for you in your villa. So, Mr. Baird," the elderly man extended his hand and smiled, "what do you say?"
Jeff didn't open his eyes as he spoke. "The police probably left their office 13 minutes ago. That means we have about 4 minutes to leave before they see you and your unique Pokémon, giving away your identity, most likely." He opened his eyes and gave Geechisu an intense gaze. "We'd better hurry."