Fanfiction of the Month (September): Who Shot Brendan Birch?

Hmm....I guess I'll have to rethink who shot Brendan Birch. Nice chapter Breezy. I think that either Lance or Red did (for no reason at all).

There! You happy it's unstickied, now, Breezy? lol

Not really. I weep at the sight of "Fanfiction of the Month" still. :P

When are you going to post the next chapter?

Disclaimer: I think I don't own it.

I likey this chapter. =3

BTW, I go all out on cussing in this chapter to get into the true bad-arse side of Detective Tony (when dealing with Detective Homer anyway), so bear with it. :P This is where the PG-13 rating really kicks in. I'm not sure if I was in a bad mood when I wrote that part, but yeah, be warned. It's also vaguely annoying to keep naming people "officer" or "detective" so I'm not gonna be doing that a lot anymore lol. Enjoy.

Chapter XVI:​

"Detective Anthony Peterson, in charge of the Brendan Birch case, has also helped contribute to other cases such as the kidnapping of Tate and Liza, twin gym leaders at the Mossdeep gym, the disappearance of Giovanni, leader of the infamous Team Rocket, and the negotiation with Team Magma Leader Maxie and Team Aqua Leader Archie in order to find peace between the two rival teams. Co-partnering Detective Anthony is Officer Jacob Scott of the Rustboro Police Department. Mr. Scott is a well-respected officer of Rustboro, known to negotiate and figure out things with the simplest of clues. Wait- here they are now! Detective Tony, Officer Jacob, can you tell us anything new about the case?"

"No Gabby, all information about the Brendan Birch case is strictly confidential between Officer Jacob and me and we would prefer it if you and anyone else for that matter would not try and probe into it. That is all."

"But what about Brendan Birch him-"

"Hey, I was watching that!"

In a mad struggle, Max wrestled the remote control out of Drew's hands and clicked it back to the news, only to have it snatched away once more. Drew laughed at the redness that made its way to Max's face as he used the remote control to change the station to the Pok?mon Coordinator's Channel. He then sat on the control, sure of the fact that Max wouldn't dare go so far in order to watch the news.

"Latios Max, do you really watch this crap? That wasn't news. That was media. There's a difference you know. Besides, we know more about the case than Gabby does. What do you think she can figure out?"

"It's not what she can tell me, but what she knows," Max replied back cooly, mocking Drew by flicking his bangs with his index and middle finger. "Yes I do know it's "the media" as you like to call it, but I do want to know what they think is going on. Besides, maybe they can tell us a thing or two about how to look on things. But I guess it doesn't matter since they really haven't said anything about the case. All this do is rant and talk about the people involved with the case. You're right Drew I'll admit."

"Ye-yeah, that's right," Drew said, a bit bewildered that Max gave in so easily. "I am right. And there's nothing else to it."

"Of course not! Hey, can I see the remote? I can't hear what the judge is saying about that one girl and her Flareon, and I really want to know if she won or not!"

Drew was smarter than that though and figured that Max only wanted to see the remote to change the channel again. "Nice try kid, but I'm not falling for it. I know you're not really interested in this stuff, and you just want the control to change it back to the boring news. Well I laugh at your face because you think you won. Ha! Ha, ha, ha- hey! Who changed the channel?"

"There is a thing called getting up and changing the channel from the television," Max answered, sitting back on the bed, adjusting his square rims. "I just pretended to be interested into the Pok?mon Coordinator Channel because I knew you would have an arrogant rant about it, distracting you from me changing the channel."

"Changing the channel from the television? How primitive."

Max paid no heed to Drew and to the television set instead, the light from the T.V. reflecting off his glasses.

"Brendan Birch's wound to the shoulder was like the shot heard round the world," said the news anchor, Dan. "The crime scene investigators are getting a bit frustrated too, for there are not many clues to lead up on. No blood trails. No car tracks. Barely any footprints. Practically nothing. At least no clues that the CSI is willing to reveal to the public."

Wally, sitting down on a chair, squirted a bit of ketchup that was intended for his hot dog onto his button-up white shirt. "No foot or car tracks . . ." Wally muttered, holding his hot dog in one hand, resting his chin on a closed fist with the other, as he directed his bright emerald eyes toward the television set. "Interesting."

Max turned his head and looked at Wally. "If there were no car prints and barely any footprints, that means they had to fly to Littleroot didn't they?"

"Obviously," said Drew, rolling his eyes, answering the question for Wally. "Cars make noise. Flying types can be ordered not to make a sound. The killer thought ahead and realized that. I told you that these news people are brimming with stupid. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

"Not necessarily a bad thing to point out though," pointed out Wally. "Whoever tried to kill Brendan has to be a bit of an experienced trainer. They had to have an evolved Flying Pok?mon on their team."

"And why's that?"

"Well, it's not nice to squish your Taillow with your ass when trying to fly on it."

"You can fly on it in the game!"

"This is reality man! Get your head of the gutter!"

"Uh . . . okay."

"Yes, I do know what that metaphor means."

"Say that to Detective Tony then."

"Anyways, my point being is that the attempted killer has to be an experienced trainer, coordinator, breeder, whatever. Which also makes you think that they could of been jealous of Brendan winning, hence trying to kill him."

"Jealously, in this case, has many sources though. It can come from a rookie trainer. It can come from an opponent in the league. It can come from an angry father. Hell, it can even come from another top-rank trainer."

"Duh," said Max. "We already know that."

Wally got up from his seat and put his hot dog down on the night stand and grabbed a hotel key in return. "Yeah, we do. But now we know why Detective Tony called us and who to eliminate as a suspect." Walking swiftly across the dirty red carpet of the hotel room, Wally pushed down the rusty gold doorknob and left the room.


"Reporters," Detective Tony muttered as he and Officer Jacob walked over to his unmarked Sedan, only to be stopped by a voice hollering in the distance.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Peterson! Please stay there! Just for a minute!"

"I'm so accustom to calling you Detective Tony, that I forgot you were a higher rank than me," Officer Jacob said, turning around to see the figure run toward them. "How pathetic. I'm a lower rank than you are."

The detective only laughed. "That's right. I hope you've been practicing your ass-kissery with me being a higher rank."

"Of course! Only for you lieutenant!"

"Now, now. I said ass-kissery, not over exaggeration."

Patiently, the two waited for the man to come over. As soon as he got there, the man hunched over, resting his hands on his knees, panting. "Thanks for waiting," he said between breaths. "I've been trying to reach you two all day, but the secretary said not to disturb you too from your work."

"Ah yes," Officer Jacob said, reminiscing on the poker game the two played before they left. "Important work. . . . Right. Anyway, what's up John? Anything good come up from the analytical lab?"

John, one of the head scientists of the analytical lab that specialized in crime investigation and pathology, shook his head. "A bit. We must go back into the lab though. That is if you're willing to go back into that mob of crazy people."

"Also known as the public news."

The wind kicked up and howled, and drops of silver, slanted rain fell from the night sky as the three made their way back to the station where reporters stood waiting their return, umbrellas open, cameras covered in plastic.


"It's raining," May said, curling herself up in the lobby couch, as she stared out the window of the hotel. Hard drops of rain splattered against the window, blurring the outside world from her own reality. She cuddled Brendan's sweater and sighed, turning her head and watching Brendan look over the tabloid that accused the legendary Red of attempting homicide.

"It's funny," he said, flipping through the pages, "but this . . . Catechize has got a point. Let's think about it. Red hates all evil organizations likes Team Rocket right? Well, why wouldn't he hate Team Magma or Team Aqua too? We were on those teams May . . . He mustn't like that two top rank trainers were part of an evil organization."

"We didn't know that until it was too late to back out though," replied May, resting her head on Brendan's shoulder. "Besides, if he were that die-hard about evil teams, wouldn't he want to go after the leader instead of the innocent victim?"

"He doesn't know that we wanted no part of his schemes. Hell, no one really does. We contributed greatly to the orbs project didn't we? Everyone knows about that, including those in Kanto, watching basic cable. They didn't know we were force to awaken the ones that were suppose to be kept in an eternal slumber. They didn't know that their lives were at stake if we didn't do as we were told. All they knew is that we were evil for once, and sometimes, first opinions stay."

"Common sense B Boy. How can Red fly to and fro from Kanto to Hoenn then back to Kanto that quickly?"

"He's legendary; he can do anything."

Lightening lashed out across the sky and thundered roared. May flinched and shivered a bit, whether from Brendan's words or nature's roar against the world. She tugged Brendan's sweater over her shoulders and stared at the ceiling, resting her feet on the armrest.

"Just think about it May," Brendan said, lifting her head off his shoulder and shifting his body so she could relax her head against his chest instead. He winced a bit as his wounded shoulder grazed the leather couch doing so. "It does make sense. There's no proof that he did it though."

"No proof that anyone did it really," Wally said from behind them. He sat down on the other armrest of the couch. "We've been watching the news in the room and they said that there was very little clues. No car tracks and barely any footprints. At least, that was what was revealed to the public. I'm pretty sure that's all we're going to know too since I doubt the police officers are going to tell us anything." Wally noticed Brendan looking disdainfully at his shirt. "Uh, what?"

"What's that on your shirt?" Brendan asked, looking at the smeared red blob on Wally's shirt.

"Uh, ketchup. I was eating a hot dog."

"Oh, silly Wally. As a top-rank Pok?mon trainer, we must look dignified and well-respected to the public."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I did not know that. May Latios forbid I ever use ketchup again from this day forward until I die. Only caviar and croissants from now on, therefore, a higher quality of shirt stains. I swear it."

"Hilarious." Brendan handed and Wally The Catechize turned his head back toward May. "What they say makes sense. While I seriously doubt Red would go to such an extend to kill a former Team Magma member, he does have the right motive to do so."

May paid no attention to the two boys but instead listened to the rain beating on the window. The air condition sent chills up her spine and pricked up the hair on her arms, but she didn't know whether it was actually from the cold or the case, clues and suspects along with it. She chewed on her knuckle as if it were to soothe her, even though it seemed a bit infantile for her to do so.

Lightening thrashed the night again like the crack of the whip, and the rain, a translucent gold from the streetlight, continued to smack itself into the window and the street below, nailing the night to the city. The heavens roared again.

"The weather picked up sure fast," Wally noted as lightening flashed again, causing his eyes to glint a bright white.

May nodded as Brendan held her around the waist with his right arm to reassure her. "Yeah. Sure did."


"Let's begin with the bullet itself," John said as the three huddled themselves a table. He picked a small piece of the bullet with a pair of tweezers and held it up for Detective Tony and Officer Jacob to see. "On further inspection, I noticed that this bullet was coated with Teflon. Teflon, or it's chemical name, polytetrafluoroethylene, is mainly for cooking usually so food doesn't stick to its cooking utensils. However, it can also be used in weaponry, mainly bullets, so that the bullet can even pierce through bulletproof vests. It ensured that Brendan would at least have the bullet go through his flesh if he failed to kill the boy. The bullet itself, I believe, is hollow-point cartridges, but it's hard to tell with what pieces I was given. The doctor has to break the bullet in order to take it out you know."

"From this cartridge, can you tell what gun it came out of?" asked Officer Jacob and John placed part of the bullet back under a microscope.

"This is where I get lost and figure that I assume wrong. It seems that this bullet came from not just a regular gun. I assumed a Walther .45 semiautomatic, but it just seems . . . wrong to me. It's a gut feeling. Like it came from a custom gun or something. Like a gun not regularly sold to the public. Of course, you really can't tell with these small piece of bullet anyway. If it were still together, for sure I could figure out what gun it was."

"Pity," said Detective Tony. "We could of tracked down whoever owns that type of gun, used serial numbers on guns, and all that fun shit. He pulled out a soggy cigar from his pocket and lit it, taking in a deep breath and exhaling gray smoke. "Anything else for us to know?"

John turned around and came back with a white plaster mold like the mold they used in the dentist. "The CSI managed to get a print of what footprints there were." He moved a finger down a small groove. "This shoe print, although scuffed a bit as if the killer tried to hide his footprint, looks like it came from a boot. Not just any boot however. See the zig zag pattern and spade-looking design? I looked it up and noticed that this design is only made by a custom shoe shop in Slateport. So are killer comes from Slateport."

"Or at least gets his shoes there," Tony muttered. "Besides that though . . ."

John shook his head. "Nothing."

"No fingerprints? No car trails? Nothing?"

"We dusted whatever we could, but the only fingerprints around were the ones of only the Birch family. All the killer did was hit and run. Well, actually, hit and fly. We know that he had to of least flown if he didn't leave car trails and little footprints. We also figure that the man had to be about six foot three since Brendan is five foot nine if the killer just shot him by raising his arm comfortably. But really, that's all. The only thing we have is Brendan's statement. From what I've heard was that the killer was in shadow, so Brendan couldn't see his face. He didn't see a Pok?mon's figure though. Possibly out of view sight."

"Or possibly it wasn't a bird," replied Tony, inspecting the footprint again. "Teleport perhaps? A psychic Pok?mon can go to and fro without being noticed, hence why Brendan didn't see a Pok?mon figure."

"It's possible." John only shrugged and put the plaster mold back on the table. He looked grim. "All I know is that this is one hard case to crack. All we have are emotional motives, not dire-hard evidence. We can't rely on opinions and thoughts and try to make it factual. I know there's a clue to solve this. We just haven't found it yet."

The ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound heard as the three stood in solemn silence.

"Well," the detective said through a cracked voice, breaking the awkward silence. He took in another drag of smoke from his cigar. "If you find anything else John, let us know."

"Of course lieutenant. Until then . . ." John crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, only to slip on the cold linoleum and onto his rear. He smiled nonchalantly and got up as if nothing happened. "Have a good night. Don't get too drunk now."

"But it's so hard!" whined Tony as Jacob nudged him out the door, closing the door behind him.

Jacob sighed and stared at the wall in front of them in the brightly lit hallway of the police department. "It did help a bit, but John's right. We don't have enough clues to pinpoint anything other than the fact that he buys shoes from Slateport and might have a Psychic type with Teleport or a Flying type that was out of Brendan's eyesight."

The two began to walk down the hallway, their wet shoes squeaking against the linoleum, as Tony said: "He's also right about more clues though. The CSI isn't looking hard enough. Let me see your keys."

Without a thought, the officer gave him the keys. "Wait. Why?"

"We're taking a little road trip to Littleroot."


"Wow, I didn't know that Flannery was really a witch in disguise!" said Wally, reading The Catechize out loud. "This things knows everything! I mean, I can't believe it! It's- it's incredible!" He threw down the tabloid in disgust. "Incredibly stupid."

"Oh my God. Irony!" sarcastically stated Brendan, rolling his crimson eyes as he pulled his sweater over the sleeping form of May. He breathed her scent in and sighed. "I'm worried about her Wally. She's been a tad paranoid since we went into that old building this afternoon."

"A tad paranoid?" Wally said ludicrously. "She's completely emotionless! Like a walking vegetable! Like she's in some sort of trance really. But remember that she's only like that because she cares."

"You really need to cut down on that sarcasm, wiseass. It's not funny anymore."

"Sarcasm? Funny? Never in a thousand years!"

"Seriously. I'm trying to have a one-on-one conversation with you, and you're cracking jokes."

"I thought I was being sarcastic."

"Whatever! Back to the matter though. The point is that even though I got shot, it's like she's the one that took the pain of it. You get what I'm saying?"

"Well, I'm considering if I should care or not." Wally continued to flip through the pages of The Catechize. He stopped at a page, skimmed it, and laughed soon after. "Look what it says here. I love the stupidity."

Brendan took the tabloid and began to read it. "The stupidity of what?"

"No, that's what the column is called."

Brendan only shrugged at this and continued to read. "I believe," Brendan read out loud, "that the attempted murder of Brendan Birch was not out of the jealously of him becoming the new league champion, but the jealously of him overall. The facts given - more like the no facts to give really - were well planned. The attempted murderer knew that he would of been seen through the window even in the dark, so he waited until the moon was behind his head so Brendan could only see shadow. He knew the police would look for clues so he didn't leave behind much evidence, like his foot prints . . ."

Brendan licked chapped lips, a thoughtful look dawning his face. "I've read enough. This . . . Antonio Peters knows a lot of things. But if what he says is true . . ."

"Then you weren't shot at the spur of the moment." Wally stared out the window where the rain knocked on the window. Lightening flashed again. "You were planned to be murdered before the finals even began."

Brendan rolled up the tabloid and slapped it against the couch lightly. "I say we track down this Antonio Peters."

"Why?"

"Tabloids may make up shit, but all the things he said has happened. The clues . . . Wally, you were just watching the news, and it was just now they told you about the clues, like the footprints! This tabloid was printed earlier than when the news told the region! He knew ahead. Either he's psychic . . . or he's the conspirer."

Too long. Had to cut it in half. :P

Okay, second half. =3


Pebbles crunched underneath the tires of Officer Jacob's sedan as Detective Tony pulled up next to the Birch residence. A lone police car was parked outside of it, a dim light on from inside it, probably from a flashlight.

If Tony squinted hard enough and focused his eyes for a few seconds, he could tell that the officer inside was none other than Detective Homer. He shuddered at this and shook his head.

"Look Jacob. It's Homer."

Jacob squinted his eyes too and nodded. "The captain? Here? I know that Rustboro is short on men, but the captain surely wouldn't spend his time surveying the Birch residence."

Tony turned off the car, got out of the car, and slammed it shut behind him, Jacob following suit. He walked toward Homer's police car, throwing Jacob his car keys at the same time. "He's only here because of the publicity behind it. Homer always wanted to be in the spotlight. You should take lessons from him Jacob if you want to master the art of ass-kissery. That's how he go to be head of the Rustboro Police Department. Oh, how I despise him."

"You're not one to use the word "despise" lightly. Why so?"

"Have you heard of the Kohlberg theory on human behavior? Well, he's is definitely a level two, a person who does as he is told in fear of punishment. Such a push-over, that Homer. We shared a patrol unit together once back when I was a rookie. I tried to get a new partner, but all my paperwork was ignored. It took a murder, a bullet to the shoulder, and a run like hell to get me another partner."

Jacob readjusted his black leather jacket over his shoulder and buried his hands inside the pockets of his suede pants, the rain lavishing down on his thick, unruly brown hair. "Interesting story. I'm not too fond of the captain myself. Of course I'd get my ass fired if he knew that."

"Ass-kissery is passed down from officer to officer isn't it?"

Homer rolled down his car window as Jacob and Tony stood outside from his door. He held in a gag as he said, "What are you two doing here?"

Tony, despite the fact that it was raining, adjusted the black sunglasses that rested on his loose, light brown hair and smirked cheekily. "Well, captain, I would like to know the same from you. As Jacob over here stated, you guys may have a shortage of men, but why are you doing the long, boring work? Couldn't some other underling do it for you? I know you have a lot of them wiping your royal ass."
/Detective Homer Ross, the officer that gave Tony the video earlier today, only glared at him, his true self kicking in. "I hate the cutbacks, especially since they sent you over here from Slateport division. But our men have other problems to deal with than surveying a house, so I decided to do it for them."

"Right," Tony replied. "Not because you want the popularity behind it for cracking the case."

The captain frowned. "I'm not going to deal with your shit forever, Peterson. I have different intentions for being here."

"If you can tell me, how much longer will you deal with my shit?"

"Not any longer. I'm having you sent back to Slateport tomorrow morning."

Tony only laughed, flicking the wet bangs that stuck to his forehead. "Sorry to disappoint you Ross, but I'm sticking around for this case. I'm in charge of it."

Homer deflated like a balloon with a hole in it. "Fine. One thing I ask for is reports. You only report to me understand. No one else."

"What about my dear pal over here Jacob?" Tony threw his arm around Jacob's shoulders and grinned cheekily in an over exaggeration type of way. "He's my partner in this case too."

The captain growled, his attitude fierce and quick like the lightening that dazzled the sky. "Fine. Him and me only. I want up-to-the minute reports. Got that Peterson? Up-to-the-minute."

"Of course." Tony smirked, releasing Jacob from his grasp. "You keep the media and press off my back. I don't need them riding my ass."

Tony brightened a bit at this. "Not a problem. I know how much of a royal pain that can be. Trust me on this one."

"Oh, don't worry, I will." The detective got out a Pokémon from his pants pocket and threw it up into the open air. In a blaze of white light, a tall, majestic creature formed, its eyes closed, two kinetic tools in hands as if it were meditating previously. He opened his eyes, the red star on his head glowing with energy. "I'm going to use Kadabra's Foresight to look for more footprints, blood trails, the works. Come Kadabra." He summoned the Kadabra to follow with a flick of his index finger.

"It won't do you any good. We already done that," hollered Homer from his patrol unit.

Tony only waved him off. "Right. I'm still checking anyway."

Jacob quickly followed after the detective, glancing at the Psi Pokémon. "Since when did you catch a Kadabra?"

"Since I was ten and decided to become a Pokémon trainer, and then a police officer when I was inspired by the lovely Officer Jenny's." He grinned and nudged Jacob. "Anyway though . . . Foresight Kadabra."

Red star still glowing, the Kadabra's eyes turned a crimson shade of red, producing an infra red light that could track down foot prints. There wasn't much to spot except for other footprints that didn't match the foot print that John showed him earlier. The Kadabra ventured forward, eyes still glowing, and he went around toward the back of the house where the back door was thrown open, warm, golden light pouring out through the doorway. Curious, the detective stepped up the concrete step and enter the doorway.
"Tony!" the officer hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Inspecting the house," Tony said. "There's more clues inside here. I know there is. You stay out here with Kadabra and continue to investigate the outside so Ross doesn't get suspicious." And with that, he enter the house, tracking muddy footprints all over kitchen flooring.

It was a nice house, the detective had to admit. Maybe not the most glamorous, but modest and well-kept. The kitchen flooring was made up of polished wood that looked recently waxed, considering the fact that tons of people were crowded in here at the celebration party last night. Cooking utensils hung off nails above the stove, and ceramic jars - probably filled with cookies - that rested on the marble counter top.

Flicking the light on, Tony walked into the hallway where pictures of the Birch family lined the walls. He smiled at the one picture of Brendan making a "winky" in the toilet, when he noticed a light on from the last room at the end of the hallway at the right. Walking slowly toward it, he figured that Homer inspected the house before he did, knowing that he would be the one to leave the light on.

Maybe Homer wasn't the one to that left the light on though. Maybe someone else did. Someone that wasn't suppose to be in there.

The detective stood still, hearing a set of footsteps behind him, and he turned around, noticing the butt of a pistol swing toward him, taking it to the forehead instead of the side of his skull where it was intended. Then he fell. Hard. The light of the hallway grew dark, but he wasn't unconscious. It felt like his skull broke into two, and he felt the blood run down toward his eyes, but he held onto his awareness with a firm grip and listened.

The attacker stepped over him, probably heading toward the front door, but Tony was quicker than that. He reached out blindly and managed to grab the attacked by the end of his pant leg. The attacker cussed loudly and tried to kick him off, once in the shoulder, and then again in the head. The detective groaned in pain and let go, and the attacker started to run for it, but Tony, mustering all of his strength, jumped up and hugged the attacker's legs, causing him to trip.

Using the attacker's moment of vulnerability, Tony pulled out his gun, a Police Special, as his last defense since his only Pokémon was back with Jacob. The blood dripped into his eyes though, blurring his vision, so he didn't see the attacker swing at him backward and knock at his knuckles, sending his gun flying. He then tried to holler for the officer to come, but something cold and hard poked at his teeth. He realized that this as the barrel of the gun.

"Stop this shit now," whispered the attacker as to not alert the officers outside. "Don't you know when to stay down, you son of a bitch?"

"You would of killed me now if you wanted to," said Tony cooly, despite that he was bleeding profoundly from the skull and that he was defenseless.

"Push your luck and maybe I will," replied the attacker in the same icy tone, though he sounded angry enough to do so.

Furiously, Tony blinked, trying to clear his vision without wiping his eyes in order to not alert to attacker to shoot him. He could see the barrel of the gun vibrating against his teeth, but his eyesight wasn't clear enough too see who the attacker was.

"Now I'm going to back away okay?" the attacker said slowly. "Understand me? If you try and stop me, I'll shoot. Got it?"

The detective nodded, the unbearable cold of the barrel freezing his gums.

Getting up off the ground, the attacker backed away toward the front door. Then, hastily, the man threw open the front door and ran outside under the pouring rain. Thunder roared again.

Groggily, knowing that the attacker was gone and that it was safe to walk, the detective got back up to his feet, using the wall as a support, picked up his gun that slid backward toward the kitchen, and blundered back toward the back door where Jacob and Kadabra were waiting.

"Tony?" Jacob asked worriedly. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"I fell up a flight of stairs," sarcastically stated the detective despite his predicament.

"What the hell! You got pistol-whipped dammit! Who was it!"

Tony wasn't concerned about his health, but more about the assailant "Check outside . . . the window," Tony said in a hoarse voice as he grabbed his eyes and tried to wipe the blood out of them. He leaned against the doorframe, weary. "Homer . . . Homer . . . He had to of gotten him. He would of seen him."

Jacob walked past the wounded detective and toward the end of the hallway, entering the living room. Even through the rain pelting the earth below, Jacob could see the world outside, from the ancient oaks dripping with water, to the red rose buds that decorated the Birch's lawn, enjoying the treat of rain after longs days of almost unbearable heat. That's not what he noticed though.

Detective Homer's police car was gone.

Wow, that was a really good and long chapter. The second part was full of suspense too (which was good). Though, I noticed a spelling mistake in some part, but the whole chapter was really good. Keep up the good work.

this is a great fanfiction,Breezy. Sorry if I am spamming or something.

Look I know it not september anymore but that shouldn't stop you from continuing this fanfic. :surprised

The best of writers take time in writing, you know...>>

Quit this fanfic. Not in your life.:) If there were fanfic writer development stages (psychology has been ruling my life lately and I've been seeing things in list. Stupid moral development. >>), I'd be at the "I don't care, it's my fic, I'll update it when I want to whether or not I get reviews" stage.

I'll humor you. I'll let you see what I have so far.

Chapter XVII:​

"Hello Lietenant Peterson. I am Dr. Dan, and yes, I do know my name sounds like a type of cough medicine or a superhero who?s powers were triggered by a radioactive nuclear plant gone haywire. But it's okay. For you see, I'm wearing a lab coat. A white one. A doctor one."

Tony figured this was what "Dr. Dan" was trying to say. Although sure he wasn't, the doctor's moving mouth fitted perfectly with the words Tony provided for him.

"My white coat is better than that gray blazer you have on now. That's the difference between you and me. It represents who we are. While that little gray coat may rank you high in the police hierarchy, this white coat ranks me higher than you. For you see while you skipped along happily along in the Police Academy, I went through vigorous years of Medical School. So you can trust me. I am no Mankey. I'm the top banana."

Tony nodded when it seemed appropriate to do so.

"So listen to my soothing voice, a voice that matches the calm white of my coat. You're in good hands. We fixed you up like new. I told you I was the top banana. No one Mankeys with the Mankey."

Again, he nodded.

"Detective?"

"Uh? Repeat that again please." Tony snapped out of his half dream-like, half dazed state. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair, his thumb grazing the rough white bandage wrapped around his head.

"How did this happen?


[insert scene about interrogation Brendan's doctor and blah blah blah 11/21]


"You mean, there really is an Antonio Petals?"

"Yeah. I looked him up in the phonebook and got his address that way. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I just figured that it would be . . . never mind."

It was a cloudy afternoon, though the sun's grace managed to peep through, basking certain parts of Rustboro in

[convo with Antonio Petals 11/23]


[May and Max's trip to Slateport 11/23]


[ski mask analysis with what's his face 11/24]


[callback to police station 11/24]

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Finish the sentence! =D Yes, I do write with the brackets telling me what to insert there otherwise I'd forget about what I would put there since I have too many fanfic ideas and fanfics themselves. Those dates are deadlines to write that scene. But as you can tell, I've been neglecting them.

You have now peered into Breezy's fanficcy mind. Rather cramped is it not?

Tell ya what. I'll work on this. I'll admit I've been neglecting this fic since most of my reviewers are kicking me in the rear to update HLBMA or... something else. If shadowphantomness at ff.net stopped IMing me, I prolly would of forgotten this fic existed until I get bored and decided to look at my ff.net stories.

So. Enjoy that less than a page clip of my next chapter. =3

LaTeR dAyZ!

I think Norman shot Brendan, but by accident because he thought that he was an intruder. When he found out that it was Brendan he shot, he tried to cover it up. The caller may have been Maxie, just because Brendan quit Magma and defeated them doesn't mean that they would still be worst enemies... Maybe Maxie was watching and called Brendan on his cell phone. Maybe he thought that if he saved him, he would rejoin Team Magma and together they would expand the landmass. Doesn't explain the green hair in the hockey mask though.

EDIT: This fic isn't dead, is it? I need to know!

its been er... 3 months right? and the next chapter's still not posted!!

XD I forgot about this fic. I sowee... I was too concerned about updating my other fic.

Breandon is the best guys no matter wat!!!!!!!!!!

Yo thats not right

Gohan said:

I still say Brendan shot himself.then I'm gonna tie it with that whole lie,love and stuff.so I'm gonna say that:
Maxie called Brendan to warn him.Maxie thought Drew,the crazy love ridden co-ordinater was gonna shoot Brendan or at least try.Drew made it to Birch's house and then got out the gun.but then a few minutes before he was to comit murder Brendan pulls out a gun.Drew watches, stunned as the boy picks up the phone and then drops it.Drew back to reality throws a rock at the window and it shatters.Brendan takes this chance to shoot himself.he pulls up the gun and BANG!May comes on the flying pokemon.Drew hides in the bushes and watches the girl trainer with jealosy.then he gets the idea to frame Wood.between the time when Maple alerts the police and they arrive he slips off his ski mask and retrieves the rock.then he decides to hightail it out of there.he slips away with night as his cover and returns to his home.if he has a flying type it takes only a little while.but if he doesn't he returns home and his parent(if he lives with parents)ask where he has been.the news of Birch's injury has reached the media and they saw the news on tv.Drew explains he was on a walk.the parents don't believe him and he has thrown suspicion on himself.so he calls Maxie and arranges a deal.Maxie refuses and says he thinks Drew did it.he listens to part of the deal and modifies it.he is going to warn Maple and startle her at the same time.then an Auqa dude leads Birch to the rundown place.he tries to warn Birch and is working for Drew at the same time.Drew told him what to say and the Auqa dude made up some of it to go along with Drew's speech.
okay I'm done with hypothesizing.man that took forever to write.its great you continued this again.

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If he shot hiself then how did he get rid of the gun.

Datriot said:

I can't wait for the next chapter I wanna know who the shooter is!(I haven't done that well at reading the clues...)

Click to expand...

This story is getting better every second but i hope my favorite charachter is not the bad guy

Kai the Master said:

i think its gary or ash breezy did say someone youd never suspect.

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Or it might b Prof.Oak u never know.....

It took me a while to read all of it, but I really like it! So mysterious and cool! And you added Drew in, and any story with Drew is awsome, but he better not d*** be the one who shot Brenden! I think it was Walley, but then again, I'm no good at this sorta stuff...

Actually, guys, I'm going to need your help.

I have come to a point in my story where I realized that my plot is too . . . what's the word I'm looking for? Loophole-ish filled? o_o Yeah. Let's go with that. My fic is too loophole-ish filled for me to continue. I've tried to go around them, cover the holes, but there were too many to have a solid footing on. So I might just discontinue this fic.

HOWEVER, I am thinking of rewriting this fic. It'll have the same basic plot and characters of course, but I should do a better with the clues, hidden plot, etc, etc.

BUT THEN - no I don't know why I'm capitalizing the first few words at the beginnings of paragraphs - I started writing this new fic which somewhat relates to this story but is written in a totally different way. To be honest, it really isn't a mystery fic since you aren't picking up clues and you don't get to analyze things as much. In my opinion though, its pretty decent if you like to be confused and go "eh?" a lot. =3 I'll post a preview of it sooner or later.

If you did like the mystery clue picking thing though, I could continue the Pokémon Detective instead and write a whole bunch of miniature mysteries instead which will be a hell of a lot easier on my brain.

It's your choice though since I'm perfectly fine with either option.