Chương 96: Chapter 77 - Revelation

Sigurn carefully kept the frustration out of his voice as he barked out orders to his fellow officers.

"It sounds like one of the perps escaped with Dive. Check around in that direction for nearby pools, fountains, and other water features. There might be a trail of water left behind indicating where she went."

"Sir!" a pair of human security officers straightened, able to understand his intentions courtesy of his aura. The two grabbed their Pokémon partners and then ran off to do his bidding. He turned to face one of his colleagues, watching as they peered down at the slowly-flooding crevasse that'd been opened in one of Techne's fine streets. Pascal, any luck? The precinct's best Psychic tracker gave a sad little shake of their body, causing the wind to whistle sadly through their mouth. None Detective.

Their tone was breathy, with hints of mournfulness in their cry. The terrorist's Psychic is remarkably good at hiding their tracks, and I already told you which way the other went. It's another dead end. The already-cracked pavement groaned alarmingly as Sigurn shifted, the anger in his aura lending his paws unnatural weight. We've had too many dead ends and dead bodies recently Pascal. The Chimecho bobbed weakly on the winter wind. Agreed detective.

At least we got some good Psychic-impressions from the bystanders. Easy enough to build profiles of the two malcontents. Profiles that we don't need! Sigurn snapped back. It barely took fifteen minutes to identify the girl from her partners, and we already have pictures of Scythe from Interpol. A whistly sigh escaped the Psychic-type, and their yellow eyes flashed with the impressions of rolling. Well excuse me for trying to look on the bright-side Mr. Grumpysnout.

We don't exactly have a lot of silver lining right now. Sigurn pinched his snout between two claws, the distinctly-human gesture something he'd adopted from his partners years and years ago. I know, sorry Pascal. This whole thing has me on edge. We can't catch the Golems-cursed Killer and now we're stuck on this manhunt even though it's outside our department. Precinct's been losing man-and-Poképower. Did you know, another pair quit just last Thursday. Said they're signing on with a private outfit.

Same as the last five then, Sigurn sighed. First it was North, and now it feels like we can't go a week without hemorrhaging someone. At least when North quit, it was for a good reason, Pascal grumbled. None of this, 'better pay' and 'getting to take the kid gloves off.' The two Pokémon lapsed into unhappy silence, watching as their fellow officers scrambled over the crime scene, digging up as much information as they could while their competition eyed the hustling officers from side streets and alleys.

The armor-clad corporate-soldiers maintained their own checkpoints, and Sigurn could see their own specialists and investigators gearing up for their crack at the crime scene. Some part of the Lucario, the one doggedly concerned with catching criminals and bringing them to justice, wished them luck. The rest of him hoped and prayed that they came away with as little as Public Security was. Don't they know that they're not going to be doing security work once this is all over and done with?

These companies they're signing on with– it doesn't take all that much research to see what they get up to. Pascal shrugged, raising two of their stubby little limbs in an affection of the human-expression. Is it ever going to be over Sigurn? Maybe this is just– how it is now? Maybe we're the ones who won't be doing much security work any longer. Sigurn shook his head. No. We can't trust corporate interests to uphold justice. They only have profits in mind.

More and more, it seems like the government is only concerned with the same. Pascal groused, and the pair fell silent once again, as the Chimecho went back to trying to wring some drop of psychic-impression from the battleground. - Hours passed, and control of the scene lapsed from city-security to the private organizations.

Other officers had caught some hint of the girl, apparently she and her Pokémon had been injured and had shown up at a nearby Pokémon Center, but the Joys had sent them back out, telling her to go to a hospital. Uniforms were canvassing all of Techne's care facilities, but so far, no further signs of her. Of Scythe the terrorist, they still had nothing. The day was growing long, and the return to the precinct was silent, and pensive. The failure was stinging, and by this point, it was a familiar pain.

Sigurn's eyes unconsciously sought the small memorial that still sat atop Malak's desk, the most immediate and ongoing proof of their ongoing inadequacy. How has North been, anyway? Sigurn asked, his mind turning to Malak's former partner. The first in a long line of resignations since the start of winter. You haven't tried to visit him? That's cold, Detective. Pascal chastised from his desk, a small cubicle hung six feet off the ground in one corner of the room.

Not in a couple of months, Sigurn acknowledged unhappily. It's been– busy. A few moments passed, before something stuck out in the detective's mind. Wait, tried?" He moved out of Malak's place, Pascal bobbed, right after the Killer got 'em. Haven't heard from him since. Hmm. Where's he been staying? Sigurn asked, turning his wheeled chair to face the Psychic-type. Not sure. Why, feeling guilty? Want to check up on him? Sigurn felt his chest spike almost vibrate from embarrassment.

At least Pascal wouldn't be able to see the tinge of pink in his aura. Might be a good idea, he nodded at the Psychic, just to see how he's been. Hmmm? Pascal's omnipresent grin widened in a way that could only be construed as smug. Sigurn felt the Psychic's tendril-like senses probing at his feelings, and he very carefully shielded his feelings of shame from the questing Chimecho. Ahh, you're no fun. Pascal pouted. You Lucario are always so hard to read.

We do have anti-Psychic seminars at the precinct, you know, Sigurn replied dryly as he turned away from the Chimecho, tapping his computer awake. Yeah, but barely anyone ever goes to those. Just you Lucario and Riolu. What's up with that anyway? It's not like you're weak to Psychics anyway. Everyone should go to those, Sigurn growled as he typed his query out to the precinct's resident Porygon. The lessons you learn help with information control, with modulating your emotions, and with imposing self-discipline.

Everyone would benefit from some anti-Psychic training. Yeah, well I just hope criminals keep not agreeing with you. This Scythe fellow and The Killer are both impossible to get reads from. Last thing we need is more of their ilk, the hovering Chimecho shuddered. You can repeat that once more, Sigurn nodded firmly. Now come on, while you were failing to read me, 0104 was doing some real security work.

He gestured at his screen as his fellow officer drifted over, indicating the celebrating Porygon indicating an address across the screen. Apparently, North lives on the edges of districts nine and eight, and shifts almost over. Want to come with me to see him? That's a rough neighborhood, Pascal noted as he floated down, peering over Sigurn's shoulder. Shouldn't take too long to get there via bus though. Wanna head out? - The bus was awkwardly quiet as it passed through Techne's streets.

Not the bus itself, that was old and loud and rocked unevenly, for all that the city had moved from diesel-power to electric decades ago. No, the unnatural silence was in the people and Pokémon riding said bus. There'd been some scattered conversation and murmurs before Sigurn and Pascal had boarded, but ever since the two security-officers had gotten on, nothing. The air was tense, like a held breath, pressure building and whining for release.

Not for the first time, Sigurn considered taking the city-security patch off his coat when off-duty, but damned if he didn't still have pride in the organization he represented. Still, even still, the tension was too much. Sigurn and Pascal were both sensitive to ambient emotions, so when the bus reached a stop a kilometer from their ultimate destination, they elected to get off instead of waiting for something closer.

As soon as they disembarked, the aura coming off the bus lightened, the pervasive feeling of stress and concern thrumming through the inhabitants lightening immensely. Months ago, Sigurn would have thought that a sign of guilt, that the riders had something to hide, something to fear. Today, it simply aligned with how everyone viewed city-security. Nevermind that for years the organization had been accused of being too light on crime, too lax in enforcement, too lenient by officers' discretion.

All it took were a few months of brutality by corporate agencies to paint them under the exact same brush. Your shielding is getting weaker, Pascal observed neutrally as the pair trekked along the mostly-empty streets. Sigurn took a deep breath, taking the admonishment for what it was and spending a few steps getting his emotions under control. Do me a favor Pascal, walk through the timeline with me again, he finally said, intent on distracting himself from his irritation. Again?

I feel like we chat through this every other day at this point, the Chimecho complained, his airy voice echoing hauntingly between the towering concrete canyons around them. You never know what might knock something loose, Sigurn explained. Plus every minute we're not working on this case, every instant we're not getting closer to the truth… It feels like failure, Pascal acknowledged quietly. Fine Sigurn. Let's go over it again. It all started in the harbor district in early May.

Four total victims across four weeks, three foreign, one local. Officer Malak. A moment of mental silence passed between the two Pokémon as the man's face flashed before their eyes. But this was before The Killer had refined their signature style, Pascal continued. The first victim was stabbed repeatedly in the front with a yet-undiscovered murder weapon, Officer Malak was struck on the head by a blunt object twice.

The third was stabbed in the back just once, and the fourth was dropped from a high place after being dosed with a potent sleeping draught. Sleep Powder mixed with Stun Spore, right? I wonder how the killer got their hands on it. And why they never used it again? Sigurn interjected thoughtfully. That was around the time people started theorizing that the killer might be a Pokémon, but there was no evidence of any Grass or Bug-types at any of the murder scenes beyond the concoction in the fourth victim's blood.

Pascal continued. After that, the killer jumped from the harbor district and never looked back. They began striking in the city-at-large, averaging just over one victim a week for the past three months, for seventeen total, including the initial four victims. The number made Sigurn's head hurt. All killed the same way. Strangled and then throat cut, right? All but the fifth victim, Pascal confirmed. That one was stabbed twice in the back. Did you know this text is from a different site?

Read the official version to support the creator. Interesting, Sigurn muttered. That's sort of strange, that the killer regressed back to the same strategy they used for the third victim. As you've observed the last four times we went over this, Pascal replied dryly. Likely the killer couldn't get their hands on more of the sleeping draught, and instead opted for what was successful the third time around. Right… Sigurn trailing, off, a remembered detail trickling in his mind.

The Killer was shorter than the third and fifth victims, right? Based on the angle of the stab wounds? That's what forensics reported, Pascal confirmed. It's not a guarantee or anything, but estimated put the assailant at around one-and-a-half meters tall. Pretty short, Sigurn murmured. That's taller than you, shorty, Pascal chimed with amusement. For a human, Pascal, Sigurn replied, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of his mental tone. Well under average for both men and women.

Some of the later victims were pretty tall. Surprising that someone that short could strangle so many taller than them. Well presumably the garrotte makes it easier, Pascal replied. They do need to be pretty strong though, considering no one has out-muscled them so far. Pretty remarkable, especially considering the lack of defensive wounds. You'd think someone would have gotten the killer's hair or blood under their fingernails by now, the detective mused. Just synthetic fibers, Pascal confirmed.

The assailant wears some kind of thick coat, presumably. Just like everyone else does in the winter. Forensics thinks it might be brown, for whatever that's worth. Right, Sigurn groused. So we're looking for someone strong, short, and violent. And they don't have enough aura to leave a distinctive signature, and they're good at shielding their mind psychically so they don't leave any traces behind that way either, and they always wear a brown coat. Or someone who can mask their aura, Pascal postulated.

That wouldn't make sense, Sigurn refuted. That sort of experience would require our killer be a Battle Trainer with at least Red League experience, and we've already accounted for all of them. There aren't that many in Techne. There could be others, the Chimecho hummed thoughtfully. Like that Fione girl that was fighting that Kantonian today. No chance she doesn't have enough experience to shield herself if she can fight off an international terrorist. Wasn't she a ranger?

I guess we didn't really look into high-level rangers, Sigurn admitted after a few moments of thinking. That's a line we could pursue when we clock in tomorrow. See if anyone they have registered matches the profile. Heck, the girl sort of does, right? One-and-a-half meters, violent enough to confront a criminal, strong enough aura to hide? Maybe anti-Psychic training from her ranger experience? She's also thirteen, and I have a hard time imagining she's strong enough to strangle grown men, Sigurn replied dryly.

Plus, she has five partners registered to her, and I have a challenging time imagining she could convince all of them to go along with the murders. True enough… Pascal bobbed, before their eyes brightened with a thought. But hold on, what if someone only had to convince one partner? What if our murderer is convincing their partner to assist in their killing-spree? Heck, if we profile Pokémon, a Lucario like you would be a perfect fit for our killer Sigurn.

Strong, short, capable of violence, strong in aura, capable of Psychic-shielding. You even wear the coat! A Lucario could never! Sigurn protested vehemently. There's nothing just about these extra-judicial killings. It goes against everything we stand for? Sure, you and I both know that, but what if our killer had some poor patsy convinced that they were acting for 'justice?' Maybe they see themselves as a vigilante, not a serial-killer?

Sigurn felt a strong urge to refute the idea outright– but the truth was, anyone could be misled. I suppose it's a possibility that bears investigating, just like any other. Sigurn muttered. So now we have two new possibilities to run-down. Rangers and Pokémon of the right height and strength. Heck we could get started right now with North! Pascal joked as they approached their former coworkers apartment. Please Pascal, that's in bad taste, after what happened to his partner…

You're right, sorry Sigurn, the Chimecho winced. Besides, tiny little North is a Riolu, not a Lucario, so it's not like it could be him anyway. True enough, Sigurn nodded. And it'll be hard for him to evolve without finding another partner. Your whole, vision-of-justice thing, right? Pascal asked, curiosity flashing in their eyes. Exactly. Without an example to follow and live-up-to, Riolu almost never evolve, Sigurn confirmed. And now, with Malak dead, poor North might never get the chance.

That dour thought silenced them for the remaining few minutes of travel, only to finally be broken when they arrived. This is the place? Pascal confirmed, looking at the rather impressively run-down apartment building. It matches the address, Sigurn hedged, but I'm surprised North can stand to live here. The aura about the place is rather… uncomfortable. And wasn't that an understatement. Misery and decay were caked into the building's very walls, as well as a pervasive sense of apathy and despair.

Sigurn tried to visualize a young Riolu spending any amount of time in the dour place, and found his imagination insufficient for the task. Not a good Psychic-impression either, Pascal confirmed. Let's go see the kid and see what's up. Unfortunately, their efforts were stymied almost immediately. Apparently, North wasn't in his apartment, as sensed by Pascal. The Chimecho was able to find a neighbor that was in, but the grumpy man only confirmed that the Lucario was almost never home. And wasn't that a revelation.

North had evolved somehow! Before he'd even moved in, according to the sour man next-door.

"I'll see 'em occasionally, coming and going, all swaddled up in a big coat. Didn't realize he was a Pokémon though, he was so covered up. Thought his head was shaped a little weird, but he always wears one of those face-masks, the ones that folks have on when they're sick? So I never saw his face." Sigurn shared a look with Pascal, something in the impromptu testimony tickling his brain.

"What color is that coat?" Sigurn asked, using aura to convey his voice to the man.

"Plain brown," the neighbor shrugged, before nodding at the detective.

"Same sort of color you're wearing now, actually." Now Sigurn's brain was beyond tickling. It was blaring alarms.

"Thanks for the info. Have a good day, sir." The man grunted, before shutting his door, leaving Pascal and Sigurn to stand silently in the building's corridor for a few moments. It doesn't mean anything for sure, Pascal hedged, his psychic voice uncertain. I mean, it's… it's ridiculous to even consider… Of course it is. Sigurn nodded. Of course it is… but maybe let's go find North? Just to be sure? We could just wait here for him? No chance of missing him, then. Pascal suggested.

He was pretty agitated when he left. Almost… eager. He left an aura trail, not more than a couple of hours ago. I can follow it. And there's something– else. Something he has with him. Something– wrong. Right, okay… Well lead the way then? Pascal bobbed. And they were off. - Sigurn was able to follow the trail for a half hour before they hit a dead-end, the aura trail going cold. As if North had purposely doused his tracks somehow.

Something cold and hard was settling in Sigurn's guts as he and Pascal searched the immediate vicinity for any hints about their quarry's destination. And then the screaming started, and whether that was the hint they were looking for or not, they'd hardly be security officers if they didn't go towards it. It didn't take long to find the first scrambling citizen, running directly away from something, and by the time they did, both Pokémon could sense something. Something– dark.

Something wrong, in the same way as the rancid scent that'd accompanied North's trail. I'm going ahead, Sigurn told Pascal. Call in backup. On it! the Chimecho acknowledged, closing their eyes hard in concentration. The detective picked up his pace, practically flying down the streets, until the source of the malaise suffusing the aura around here made itself visible. A huge dome of inky black, erupting from the ground to swallow half of a city-block.

As he approached, the aura trail he'd thought lost bloomed in his mind, North's sense of being blazing loud and powerfully, coming from inside the darkness, obscured but traceable, and melded with something– other. A malice, an evil to which Sigurn could attribute no mortal source. He skidded to a stop a few meters away from the imposing wall of shadows, staring up at the imposing, otherworldly void. And just a few meters away from a familiar-looking girl, her hand pressed up against the impenetrable darkness.

- Fione POV The city-security Lucario looked up at the curtain of black as if awestruck, their snout hinged open in clear disbelief. There was some chance he would ignore me– but the Joys had already told me that city-security was looking for me. So instead of waiting for him to set the tone, I went on the offense instead.

"First time seeing one of these?" I asked, poking my finger just slightly into the dome that'd swallowed my best friend, Mr. Gima, and their partners. The Lucario turned, and I saw his eyes narrow beneath his felt fedora.

"Fione Alvida, you're familiar with this phenomenon?" I could hear his voice in my mind. Not psychically, this felt different from telepathy. It was more like a strongly-concentrated version of the normal intention-speech that most Pokémon used. His barks and yips were just– intelligible. Like human speech.

"I bet Lucario's make for great translators," I couldn't help the non-sequitor that emerged, some errant, distracted thought thread gaining too much control of my mind for a moment. I was too spread thin, part of me conversing, part of me trying to analyze the impossible labyrinth separating me from Alyssa, many parts of me suppressing the pain wracking my body, I was– distracted. More than usual. The detective (if I was reading the badge pinned on his coat right) blinked a few times, clearly nonplussed.

"Please answer the question Fione. What is this– thing?"

"I'm not one-hundred percent sure myself, detective," I admitted, turning back to face the wall of darkness.

"But I think it's– some sort of self-contained, separate space, created by a powerful Shadow Pokémon." The Lucario's eyes sharpened.

"Shadow Pokémon, like in the Techne General attack, or the Neos Seventh Street massacre."

"Um, I haven't heard of the second, but exactly the same as the first, yes. I just encountered this myself for the first time yesterday, and then I was inside the dome, not outside, but the interior space doesn't map properly to the exterior, if I'm remembering right. There was no way out that I could see, but the space went away when we defeated the Shadow Pokémon creating it." The detective turned, facing the hemisphere of shadows once more.

"I think– I think someone I need to find is inside of here. Someone I have to talk to."

"I haven't been able to find a way in," I muttered, my hand sinking slightly into the wall of malaise.

"Not one that feels safe, anyway. Attacks bounce right off of it," I nodded to Mana, whose own eyes were narrowed at the barrier, "and when I pushed my head in earlier, all I saw was darkness. I'm pretty sure you'd get lost instantly trying to find your way further inside." The Lucario nodded, taking in my explanation.

"I think– I can feel the aura I'm searching for coming from here. It's not completely cut off, there is a way through." I felt my resolve sharpen at his words, at the certainty in them.

"Well, what are we waiting for then? Lead the way."

"Not a chance," the Lucario growled.

"First of all, I'm not working with a person-of-interest in an active investigation, nor a child, nor someone as obviously injured as you."

"My best friend is trapped in there with at least one Shadow Pokémon, maybe more. I have to help her." The detective flinched when I mentioned Shadow Pokémon, but his gaze swiftly firmed up once again.

"Absolutely not. Wait here, back-up will be arriving soon. Tell them I went inside." He stepped forwards, one paw sliding slowly into the sea of black.

"Wait," I protested.

"Who exactly are you looking for? Is it– is it a Pokémon?" He hesitated, paw frozen.

"So what if it is?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"The only Pokémon I saw in there that weren't partnered with my best friend or our mentor were Shadow Pokémon. I can– I know how to free a Pokémon from the effects of a shadow synergy stone." Glowing eyes flashed, and I felt the Lucario's gaze fix on me, probing my syn, looking for signs of falsehood. You couldn't lie to a Lucario. Everyone knew that. So I did the opposite. I opened myself, let his probe in, let him feel the truth of what I'd seen, what I'd done. I held that fixed in my mind, shining like a beacon.

The detective shuddered, "Maybe so, but if you can do it, surely I can as well. And I can't in good conscience take you into danger."

"Then you'll have to rescue me from it instead," I replied with more confidence than I felt, and before he could do more than gasp in surprise, I'd plowed into the wall of shadows, letting the darkness absorb me, Mana following right in my wake. She settled on my head as the blackness set in all around us, smothering sight, smell, sound, almost all of my senses. Only the taste of blood in my mouth and the feeling of pain all over my body remained, as I stood in the utter, uncompromising dark.

A lack of light like I'd never seen, could not have imagined before this moment. Already, I knew that if I took a step back, there'd be nothing waiting for me. I was lost, we were lost, our only hope of rescue that Alyssa and Mr. Gima took down the Shadow Pokémon creating this space, or that a certain someone couldn't, in 'good-conscience,' leave us in danger… Something closed around my outstretched hand, tugging urgently in one direction.

The paw was fuzzy, but firm, like hard flesh closed around even harder steel. I tightened my grip around the offered steel-like grip, and gamely followed its owner deeper, and deeper into the well of shadows. For however long it took, for me to reach my best friend once more.