Consider the Following

Consider the Following
Chapter One:
The Rookie

Andy the PI… Yeah, that's me. And PI stands for "private investigator", so don't go confusing it with that "3.14" mumbo jumbo. I don't work for the "PRT" or the "Pokéxtinction. I work for the company of Andy… and again, if you missed it: that's me. I'm a one Pokéuman team; my lone associates are my attack moves. I've got an Ozarka water bottle on my desk. I fill it up, is fills me up. I don't do any alcohol or drugs, and the only smoke that I'll deal with comes from my mouth, and I don't need a lighter. I've got a half-dozen tails behind me that I like to keep sheen- which helps attract the ladies. The curls on my head are hidden under my gray fedora, but they aren't the only things I keep up there. Writing with a pencil is no roadblock for my nimble toes, and I write with the right of my two front paws. My rear paws are flat on my executive leather chair, fitting nicely against the grooves. I've got a sensitive nose, which helps me find criminals… and snacks.

Haven't guessed it? Well, good. I do all the guessin' around here. And when I do, I solve cases. But there's no mystery here. I'm a Vulpix. You can find my office in the darker hallways of what was once the "Greater Houston Underground". The only light you'll find inside my office is the small desk lamp, illuminating my papers to help me work. The fluorescent light overhead no longer works, but perhaps it did when this base was in its heyday. Even if it still worked, I wouldn't use it anyhow. It would interrupt the mysterious atmosphere, and draw attention through the fog-glass window. Around here, Pokéumans wear belts with everything they need around their waists. This includes their bottle caps and their flashlights among other things. To explain the bottle caps, nobody around here uses cash or credit around here. Everything is done with bartering or bottle caps. The more valuable your bottle caps are, the better quality or quantity items you can get become available. These are tough times- but I'm a tough guy.

I checked the rat wallet on my belt. An average meal cost about 10 BCV- that's "bottle cap value". The least worthy bottle caps are often the most recently printed ones. We only use metal ones, since bottles with plastic caps are still distributed. These newer ones come from IBC or Coca-Cola soda bottles. Compared to US currency, they're worth about ten cents, and .1 BCV. Rare ones are collectibles, and can be worth up to 200 BCV. Everyone keeps a chart handy when exchanging goods, so we can make fair trades… but life isn't fair, so who gives two cents? …pardon my money pun. In my pouch, I had an estimated 120-130 BCV with me, enough to get through the week. I hope you can figure that all out, but I'm the smart one here, remember? I was just hoping another case would arise when I looked up to see my door swing open.

A Growlithe came in, looking like a dog… if you'll excuse that pun as well. She padded over to me, and placed her paws rudely on a stack of papers I had on my desk. She explained to me that someone had killed her brother, and she wanted to find out whom, so she could report him/her to the PRT. This sounded like an interesting case. I told her to take me to the crime scene, and she obliged. The bitch's name (you should've expected a clever word player like me to use that term) was Natalie, and her brother's name was Chris. Chris the Arcanine was suspected to have been killed over some gambling debts. A damned fool he was for gambling his life away… and do I even need to excuse my puns anymore? I was a little discouraged that PRT staff had already removed the body, but I could still look for clues if I took the case. Natalie hoped I could catch the killer, but I was sure I could handle it. She was enthusiastic that I would take the job… until she heard my fee.

30 BCV a day and a 50 BVC termination fee for when I closed the case. I could tell she wanted to back out, but I needed work, so I made a deal. "For such a fine lass, I'll cut the termination fee." I told her. She agreed to the terms, and told me she could pay out of her brother's stash. She decided he would've allowed it to avenge his murder. She cashed in her first 30 BCV of bottle caps and the game was afoot. I started by asking questions to Natalie, who I knew had seen the body. He was found right outside their room, drenched and not moving. He had obviously been attacked by a water move, narrowing down the list of suspects to Ice and Water types. He had taken beatings to the head, and there was no other trace of the attacker, so he must not have put up much of a fight. The clues I had gathered so far had only eliminated two thirds of this ruined base, and I wasn't satisfied enough. I wanted to see the body to get a better look for myself.

As we walked down to the "freezers", Natalie was shown to be very timid. But she should be, for this base was very formidable. Give someone the wrong look, and you could end up dead as fast as… well, Chris. The guard at the entrance to the freezers wasn't willing to let me in at first. I lifted my fedora an inch and looked him in the eye to show him I meant business. Once he knew I was investigating Chris' case, he let me in and pulled out the body. He opened the bag, and the smell of cheap whiskey wafted up to my nose. Chris had been drunk when he died, which is probably why he wasn't able to give a good fight before he was killed. This is why I don't drink. If you can't give a full fight around here, you can end up dead as fast as… well, Chris.

Examining his claws, I couldn't find any skin or hair from an attacker, even more proof that he didn't give a fight. Poor bastard. The next place to hit up was the hidden bar- the one which everyone knew the location of. I could probably get a scoop from one of the regulars. "Where'd you pick up that one?" the chubby bouncer asked, indicating my lady client. He's an old friend of mine… but he's just about as run down as this base. I knew he would let us in, but I wanted to ask a few questions. I asked him if he'd seen Chris, and when Chris left and with who. Without even having to enter the bar, I had narrowed down my suspect list to only two people.

This first was an elderly Politoed who ran a small bakery… and I could already knock her off the list. The only other Politoed in the base was Harry, a Politoed with a raggedy hat and a temper as hot as the ends of the cigars he smoked. He used to be the meanest PRT prison guard, until the fall of the base, that is. He could have easily killed Chris, and he hated when people didn't give him what he wanted. This guy was the crazy baby you couldn't get a damn sucker off of. Not that I would know, but he was at the opposite end of the spectrum from, "easy like taking candy from a baby". Indeed, Harry could've easily been the killer. I grabbed my client, and off we went down the dank old halls.

A gruff voice answered as I knocked on the door with two sharp raps. "Whadda you want?" It yelled. "It's Andy, old 'chum'. Open up, I need you to answer some questions." I heard a groan, and then the door squeaked open. "Come in." Obviously, this old gambler had a screw loose. His tie was on too short, and his place was a mess among other things. He was barely into reality at this point, so I knew I had to make this snappy. Turns out, I couldn't have timed my visit better if I'd tried. He essentially admitted to killing Chris after, "that mhhhnmnnn….. stupid…. Damn money!" Dragging him off to jail was easy as lugging a bag of ice- no easy task in the first place, made harder by the fact that it was slippery. The lug just sat there in defiance and let me drag him along, his weight offering the counterargument. I knew if I went for help moving the guy, he'd run off. Or…. Slug off.

"Here's an idea," I told him. "How about you walk; or my buddy Thunder Fang will make ya." I bluffed. Harry always fell for the bluffs. His sorry behind got up and ran as fast as he could go as I "chased" him down to the cells. He turned himself in as I bared my fangs, and I left. For wrapping up the case so fast, my client asked me what she could do in return. My response? "The finest dinner you can buy for the two of us."

Well, another day, another case solved. I didn't get as many bottle caps as I'd hoped, but I did score with the classy lass in her fine coat of fur. Maybe Harry will stop smoking and killing. Maybe I can find a job with better pay. Maybe I could sleep well tonight on a satisfied stomach… And maybe I'll see more of Natalie another day… but for now, there were criminals afoot. As I always say, "More crime, more time…. spent with my money." I declare this case… closed.