[M] Pokemon: Avarice Versus Justice! (Ashen and Headwrapper)

[Headwrapper]

Clive was surprised to hear the offer Yulia presented after returning from the car, where she had left her bags. "Oh, it was no problem," he said, somewhat abashed. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand and cleared his throat. "But since you're offering, why not?"

After Yulia had ordered the pizza, the pair of detectives had quickly dropped onto the couch in the same seats they had assigned themselves the night before and flicked the television on. The movement was natural, almost too natural, but the familiarity was comforting and neither one of them cared to question it. "We should... give Jean a visit soon," Clive said. He let out a small sigh after lifting his legs onto the coffee table. His ankle still hurt, if only a little. He pretended to have a sudden interest at his pair of black socks, observing his feet while tilting his head to the side. "He's strong, so he'll recover... But he's probably going to be in a lot of pain for a while."

The man sat silently for a long while, suddenly growing stoic. He watched Fritz curiously, his eyes almost transfixed as he continued to tilt his head to one side and the other as the cat Pokemon moved around. Yulia may have spoken, but Clive would not have heard it over another thought that crossed his mind. "I wonder if his Pokemon are still in the Pokemon Center," he suddenly said. "I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. They're probably worried, on top of dealing with their own injuries." He locked eyes with Yulia. "After we eat, we should try to see them." His feet quickly dropped to the floor, and Clive hardly noticed the shockwave in his ankle while he was preoccupied with typing a message in his phone. He was tense, focused, as if locating Jean's Pokemon had become a top priority. It was only after hitting send did he seem to snap out of it. "Oh, uh, I guess you have a long trip back. You might not want to stay even later if you don't want to."

While discussing, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizza. A rather small and skinny boy stood at the door step, carefully balancing the food on one hand while holding the receipt with a pen and clipboard in the other. Clive took the food while Yulia signed the receipt, and the youngster hurried off. Clive vanished into the kitchen, reemerging with a couple of plates and paper towels for them both, which he made space for on the suddenly crowded coffee table. They chatted more as they ate, the conversation growing more casual as the time passed. "You know, I got a few letters today. Some people had dropped them off at the station, because of what I said the other day. They were... very positive, actually. Seems like for every fuckhead like Oliver Burnstine, Channel 9 news there's three or four journalists trying to spin the whole thing as a positive." He wiped his fingers with a napkin, then twisted the napkin up in his hands while he spoke. "I probably shouldn't have, but I read a few of the articles. Some of them brought up stuff about my dad, the kind of guy he was. I guess that was the kind of stupid thing that he would have done, so they're trying to draw some kind of parallels. Lazy writing, I guess."

Once they were done eating, Clive tossed the plates into the dishwasher before grabbing some of his things. "We better hurry if you still wanted to visit the Pokemon Center with me. We shouldn't stay too late."

Soon after arriving at the Pokemon Center, the nurse escorted them to where Jean's Pokemon had been resting. "There was another visitor earlier, his partner? She had long green hair, you just missed her. She will be back tomorrow to pick them up, as long as they're all healed up by then. Ah, here we are. Watch your step, it's a rather large room, but we wanted to make sure they could all stay together since they've been anxious about their trainer. We had to accommodate for the space requirements for such large Pokemon."

Clive glanced around the large room once he had stepped inside. It had felt like he stepped into a stadium. There was no ceiling, but there were plenty of places that were shaded by trees or manmade structures for the Pokemon inside. Clive counted each one of Jean's Pokemon as he spotted them, nursing their bandages or even training.

"Machamp! What did I say about putting weight on that arm?!" the nurse shouted. Machamp stopped his one-arm pushups, and rose to his feet.

"Ma," he snorted, before glancing over to Clive and Yulia. "Machamp?"

"Hey," Clive said with a quick nod. The nurse stepped away from them, opting to watch from a distance. "We wanted to see that you were all okay. Would you mind calling the others over?" Clive stepped back, avoiding Machamp's large arms that protruded from its back as the Pokemon turned and shouted to the other Pokemon. The earth rumbled beneath his feet as they slid, ran, marched, and burrowed over to them.

They talked with the Pokemon for a while, reassuring them that what they had done to protect others the day before was remarkable. After a while, each Pokemon wandered off and went back to their favored resting spots. Just when he was preparing to leave himself, Clive's eye caught Conkeldurr. The large Pokemon stood stoically, leaning heavily on the concrete pillars it always carried. Clive approached the lone Pokemon, placing a hand on its shoulder. "You did the right think, Conkeldurr," Clive said. "Jean is very proud of you. It must have been hard to follow his order and save those girls instead of your trainer, but that's exactly what he wanted. "

Conkeldurr looked back at Clive for a long while, before turning his head back forward and nodding in understanding. "Conk..."

Clive sighed. "Be seeing you." It was about time to go, and he accepted the nurse's offer to lead them back to the lobby of the Pokemon Center.

[Ashen]

Yulia was starting to enjoy the quick familiarity of Clive’s living room and the ease with which they could settle down near each other. They got to mindlessly talking until Clive mentioned Jean. A tension seemed to settle over the room, heavy and intrusive, at his name. Yulia had debated visiting him, but she’d wondered if Jean would even want to see her, or if he would blame her for not getting to the gym sooner, not preventing what had happened. Besides, after that morning, she was afraid of seeing Natasha, too, afraid of what she might say in her well-earned rage. Yulia could visit Jean’s Pokemon, though—she owed him that much—and she agreed to go along with Clive after dinner.

The conversation became less heavy as they ate, more carefree, and Yulia happily bit into her pizza as she listened to her partner. At the mention of his letters, she set her slice down and raised a brow with an inquisitive, “Oh?” She considered them for a moment before saying, “That’s good. I’m glad to hear not everyone has a stick up their ass.” Still, she wondered what these “positive” reports and articles would do to the public opinion. Of course, it was no secret most sane people hated Team Avarice, but she didn’t want anyone to follow in Clive’s rash footsteps and endanger themselves. Clive had training, could handle himself, but if anyone tried to do what he’d done? Threaten Avarice? Maybe even go further than that? She hoped people wouldn’t be stupid enough to try.

When Clive mentioned his father, Yulia turned away, quiet. She hadn’t met the man, only knew what she did about him from the things she’d read, but he wondered about him. Wondered how like him Clive really was. There was a sadness in the cold man’s eyes, a longing, a boy who’d had his father senselessly taken too young. She made a mental note to page through those articles, too, just to see what else she could learn. It was charming, in a way, to see Clive taking after his father, but she remembered with dread how he’d looked when he spoke about the veteran detective’s demise. How Clive warned her that the same would not happen to him. And he’d been right—Yulia would never hurt him, would never betray him. She hoped.

She didn’t notice him finish eating, but when he got up to leave, she hastily joined him, abandoning her mostly-eaten crust. The Pokemon Center wasn’t far, but it was getting dark. If she wanted to get home and get a decent amount of sleep, their trip would need to be short.

A pink-haired nurse led them to where Jean’s Pokemon were staying. She mentioned Natasha, how they had just missed her, and Yulia couldn’t help the sigh of relief that passed her lips. She had nothing but respect for the older woman, but she was not ready to watch another altercation between her and Clive so soon. Jean’s Pokemon were all together, and each sported some type of cast or bandage, but luckily, none of them looked too hurt anymore. She watched as Clive mostly spoke with them, praising them and telling them their trainer would be okay. It was strange, watching the man who so strongly disliked people treat another man’s Pokemon with such patience and kindness. As he spoke to them, Yulia offered some pets and scratches to those who would accept them, and, when it was time to go, they wished them luck with their recoveries.

Back at Clive’s apartment, Yulia thanked him for letting her stay even longer, then got things packed and secured Fritz in her car. She bid him good night and finally made her drive home, exhausted and more than ready to go to sleep.

The front door lock had been broken. Her key got stuck in it, and in her struggle to get it out, the door opened by itself. Her heart was pounding as she pushed the door the rest of the way open. It was dark out, dark enough that she wouldn’t see someone following her, so she kept on alert, phone already ready to call the police, and she flipped on the lights.

The place was a mess. Soot and ash had been strewn across the living room, staining her furniture an ugly black. Things had been thrown from shelves and tables to the floor, torn and shattered, and Fritz angrily meowed at the spilled dirt of a plant that had been knocked over. The bathroom mirror had been cracked, and her bed was stained a deep, menacing red.

It was just a warning. She knew that. Yulia wasn’t in any danger. But she couldn’t help the hairs that stood up on her arms and neck, nor the chill that raced down her spine. Someone had been here, had destroyed her home, all to make a point. Fear gave way to rage, and as she fell to her knees, she felt completely powerless.

She didn’t want to call the cops. This had been personal, and she didn’t want the authorities poking into her business like that. She did wonder who could have done this—Phoenix? Or had Freya sent one of her lackeys instead? Yulia wondered if she should tell Clive, then decided against it. She would tell him later, tomorrow, not now, not when he’d struggle to sleep with the news. She knew she was safe, but Clive… What would they do to him? That thought scared her more than anything they’d dare do to her.

Exhausted, terrified, and angry, Yulia couldn’t find it in herself to clean a thing. Instead, she emptied the bag she’d taken to Clive’s, filled it with new clothes, grabbed Fritz, and checked herself into a nearby hotel. She would deal with this later, when her hands weren’t trembling quite so much.

The next morning, she arrived to work all too early. Yulia hadn’t been able to sleep much, so she figured getting a head start on her day was better than pacing her hotel room in a panic. She looked over the notes she’d drawn up. Avarice had screwed up. As soon as her shift was over, she was fingerprinting her whole house. She would find out who’d done this, and she would find justice for them all.

[Headwrapper]

After Yulia's departure, Clive turned back to face his apartment. It had grown late after their evening's activities, and naturally he decided it would be best to prepare for bed and turn in for the night. Unlike the previous night, he had little apprehension about doing so, and quickly stepped into his bedroom to change. He did so, and carried his Pokeballs into the living room. He may not have felt apprehensive, but he was still wise enough to be careful still, and he released his same squad of Pokemon into the living room like he had the other night.

He reached for the television remote and pointed it to turn off the display. In doing so, he caught a whiff of Yulia's perfume from her previous spot, causing him to pause for a long moment. He glanced at the spot on the couch, then cleared his throat before going back to his routine. Once everything was in order, he bid his Pokemon a good night before retiring to his room to rest.

The detective rested, although not without some bouts of restlessness. A part of him was still on edge, sensing a danger that may or may not have been there, but was certainly real. However, each time he awoke, he managed the fear. He studied it, reflected on it, held it at his fingertips, and then quickly sealed it away. Become that hero they wrote about, he bid himself. No, be even better. You're even smarter. Upon his fourth awakening, he noticed the time was close to the normal hour in which he would typically awaken, and so he did. Tiredly, he peeled away his bed covers and straightened up on the edge of the bed while he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Finally, he hummed a low pitch, nearly a growl, before quickly rising to his feet.

He found no clues of any misdoings in the apartment. His Pokemon stirred at the sound of his footsteps, and began to stretch in their own positions within the living room. From across the room, Clive observed the lock on the front door, and then the sliding glass door that blocked the balcony. Finding nothing, he hurried to shower and dress himself for the day. He was out the door and on his normal walk to work by the normal hour, with his normal cup in hand and carrying his bag like he normally would. It was all normal until he stepped into the office he shared with the other detectives and found both Yulia and Natasha already there, working.

A swallow echoed in his ears just before he cleared his throat. "Good morning," he said as he walked towards his desk. He stopped briefly to look over at the large board that was hung on the wall between Natasha and Jean's desks, trying to make out the notes and pictures plastered all over it. Natasha stood in front of the board, her arms crossed as she leaned her weight to one leg. She stood for a long while, silent as a ghost, as she looked around the board.

The woman hardly gave Clive any mind, only offering an inexpressive glance when she turned to pick up something from her desk. "What?" she asked flatly, turning back to the board to pin the picture somewhere. "I'm thinking."

"Nothing, it's, uh... Can I help?" Clive asked, uncharacteristically cautious in his tone. "You know, fresh set of eyes, and all that."

"You handle yours, and I got mine," Natasha said as she took a step back from the board, never taking her eyes off of it.

Clive felt the muscles in his torso tighten, as if bracing for a blow to his stomach. He drew a long breath through his nose and sighed, then continued on to his desk. He placed his laptop on the dock, and looked over towards Yulia while waiting for the computer to boot up. She showed signs of a restless night, and Clive wondered if she had gotten enough rest after returning home. "Everything okay when you got home?" he asked her. "I didn't hear from you last night, so I was wondering."

His phone buzzed, and he held it up to get a better look. "Ah, we got the camera footage from the magnet train stations, finally. Between this and a few of the interviews we have scheduled, we can better understand how Avarice executed the attack so quickly. Guess we should prepare."

[Ashen]

Yulia spent the day dozing off at her desk and jolting awake at every sound. She was miserable, but she tried to wake herself up and put on a smile, to varying levels of success. She was only partially aware of the people around her, of Natasha working herself too hard in the absence of her partner, of Clive trying to prove himself useful to her, but today, Yulia mostly kept to herself. She didn’t want to get in the way, tired and useless as she was, and she didn’t want anyone to see how totally drained she really was.

When Clive approached her at her desk, Yulia set aside what she’d been working on and greeted him with a half-hearted smile. “Oh,” she mumbled, “yes, I’m sorry. I was just so tired, I forgot to text you when I got back.” That wasn’t really the truth, not at all; she had made the conscious decision to not tell him what was going on because she hadn’t wanted to worry him, but she hadn’t realized, in doing so, she would worry him regardless. The image of her living room covered in ash flashed through her mind, and she swallowed the rage beginning to bubble over within her again. “I didn’t want—“

She was interrupted by a notification from his phone, and Yulia snapped her mouth shut to listen to what she considered to be more important. The camera footage was a good thing; that would give them something to focus on today instead of reviewing the same notes she had reviewed far too many times already. That was, if she could manage to stay awake long enough to watch the footage. She shook the thought. “That’s great,” she said. “Seeing it all go down should help a lot in understanding just what happened.” She reached into her purse for her phone to pull up the footage herself, but she couldn’t find it. She panicked for a moment before spotting it beside her computer. Yulia let out a sigh. She would need another cup of coffee. Or four.

The two got to work shortly after. Though Yulia had meant to tell Clive what had happened at her apartment, their new work was more important to her, and she didn’t want him to worry himself so much he’d make mistakes during their interviews. Besides, she was distracted too, busy jotting down notes on what they did and, at the end of the day, typing up a summary of what they’d learned. She sent it to Clive for a proofread before she would eventually forward it to the chief. Finally, when it was time to go home for the day, Yulia packed away her things and braced herself to return to the mess she had left last night.

But first, she had to confide in her partner. She found him at his desk packing up for the day, and she approached him, lingering about awkwardly. She didn’t know how to bring this up, how to prevent him from worrying, how to convince him not to tell people. To anyone else, it would likely look like Team Avarice was threatening her life, but Yulia knew better. She didn’t know how to tell Clive that she knew better. Struggling over her choice of words for several moments, she finally waved at him, the first acknowledgment she’d made since coming over here. She cleared her throat.

“I sent you a report to read,” she started, not at all what she’d wanted to say. She hesitated and tried again. “About last night.” It wasn’t the most elegant segue, and she cursed herself for not preparing things better. “Look, Clive.” She set a hand on his desk and tried not to shrink under his expectant gaze. “When I got home, I…” This was harder than she had been expecting. Her hesitation was likely making him worry more. Why couldn’t she just spit this out? She took a breath and tried yet again. “Avarice was at my apartment last night.”

She didn’t give him time to respond. “They’d broken in by the time I got there. There was…ash everywhere, ruining the furniture, and in the bedroom…” She hesitated before deciding against mentioning the blood-like stains on her bed. “I think it was just a threat,” she added, knowing it would do little to alleviate his worries but hoping anyway. “If they had wanted to hurt me, they could have, easily. I checked myself into a hotel just in case, and I haven’t been back yet, but I was going to fingerprint the place, see if we can’t get some names on file for this. The MO—the soot and ashes I mean—matches Phoenix, but I doubt he’d be dumb enough to come out himself, or not without covering his tracks. Maybe we’ll still find traces of him, though, or find him on the cameras outside. It’s worth a try.”

When she finally finished speaking, Yulia noticed her hands shaking again, and her breaths were uneven. She knew she was in no danger, but even still, the fear was there, impossible to hide from. She tried to swallow it and put on a brave face for the man in much more danger than she, but this exhausted, she didn’t have it in her to pretend.

She straightened and looked around the room to make sure no one had been listening in. Turning back to Clive, she sighed. “I’ll be alright,” she added. “This isn’t the first stalker I’ve had. At least this time, they skipped the traumatic breakup.” She tried to smile, but her joke fell flat, and she quickly shook it off. “I just thought you should know. But you go home, get some rest. I’ve got a lot to do. A whole apartment to clean up.” Or perhaps that part would wait until later, when she’d gotten any semblance of rest. She watched Clive, hoping he wouldn’t push this, knowing he would.

[Headwrapper]

Overall, Clive found that the day's work proved to be production. From the interviews, he and Yulia learned that Avarice's takeover of the train stations and the department store used the same strategy. The criminals were fast, taking advantage of previously planned surprises to clear a path for their ranks to rush in and overwhelm the security.

The inventory of goods stolen from the department store was lengthy, and unsurprisingly focused primarily on battle items and trainer equipment. The team did not bother much with the items on the shelves, and instead loaded up the goods still in shipping containers that had yet to be put on display. Clive was impressed at Phoenix's opportunistic approach. The day of the festival in Saffron had also lined up with the day of the week the Department Store in Goldenrod usually expected their larger shipments of potions, revives, Pokeballs, and TMs. Avarice had compromised some of the incoming trucks without being detected and drove them to the department store's shipping dock. They then quickly and violently took control and began loading the goods that were still on pallets onto the trucks, filling their trailers from end to end before driving off.

The prospect of Avarice loading up on such items was concerning. Of course, they surely had access to these items already. Their usual supply was likely to be slow, burdened by the need to launder the money involved and to mask the traceability of the items themselves. To go to such drastic measures meant that Avarice had plans for something that required such items in large supply, and very soon.

Much like the trucks, the trains were taken over similarly. Avarice agents were implanted in the trains and in place of the operators, and as such could easily control the flow of passengers. They strategically placed a number of team members, armed with their tortured, vicious Pokemon, in just the right trains that they would arrive at the stations. From there, it was trivial to make way for additional passengers, hold them hostage, and take over the stations themselves. Emptied trains were used to transport the stolen goods, but had arrived empty when they reached the next station. How they managed to remove so many goods, and where, were both mysteries.

Later that day, Clive got to work on unpacking the information they had. I see it, he thought to himself. When he returned to his desk, he dropped down into his chair and turned to face the wall behind him. In his mind's eye, he could see the paths towards finding Phoenix painted in front of him, bleeding downward like raindrops on a car window. But which one, is the right one? His eyes were wild, determined, and he hardly blinked. Suddenly, he licked his lips, and turned back towards his desk. "Satellite guy, satellite guy," he muttered, scrolling through his desk phone's contacts. He finally settled on the number, and gave it a rang. It went to voicemail. Clive left his voicemail and quickly typed an email to follow up.

Shortly afterwards, while Clive was gathering his things, Yulia approached him. Some kind of confession hung her lips, but she was reluctant to part from it. Clive watched her patiently, expectantly, while she struggled to make out what it was she was trying to tell him. The man stood still as a statue, intently watching Yulia's face as she struggled to put together the words. He only moved when his partner finally blurted out what Avarice had done. His messenger bag, which he had just finished stuffing with his laptop and notebook, slipped from his fingers and hit the desk with a loud thud. His head hunched forward and his face somehow grew even more serious. He placed one hand on the desk and leaned forward, almost as if to challenge what Yulia had just said.

His partner continued, citing her feelings that the stunt indicated that Avarice did not intend to truly harm her. Clive's gaze wandered towards the rest of the office, suddenly unable to continue looking at Yulia directly. He straightened up as Yulia carried on, and pretended not to notice her hands shaking. "I'm going with you," he said sternly. "And I won't ask why you waited until now to say anything."

[Ashen]

She had suspected that he would worry, that he would want to take things into his own hands to protect his partner and further their case, but Yulia hadn’t expected the dread that crept from her core at the thought of Clive coming home with her. She was confident she could handle whatever Avarice threw her way, and while she did trust her partner, she worried for his safety more than anything. The villains had already broken into her apartment once—and who was she kidding? Their access to her home could not have been easier if she’d left the door unlocked for them—so what was to stop them from attacking Clive as soon as he walked through the door? Unease stirred in her stomach, and she wanted to tell him no, tell him she’d be fine, that he needed to rest after such a long and productive day, but she knew the stubborn detective wouldn’t listen to her anyway.

So instead, Yulia sighed. She hesitated, shifting the strap of her bag from one shoulder to the other. “I didn’t want you to worry all day,” she answered, but the excuse felt stupid now, and she felt stupid for saying it. She started away, knowing he would follow but hoping he wouldn’t, hoping he would suddenly remember some appointment he was late for or somewhere else he would rather be. When she heard his footsteps trailing her, though, she silently swore and led him out to the parking lot.

The forty-minute drive back to her apartment was an agonizing wait of second-guessing and blind panic, and it was a wonder Yulia managed to avoid crashing her car at all. You’re such an idiot, she scolded herself, and other insults easily followed. She didn’t regret telling him; Clive deserved to know what was going on with things pertaining to his partner and this case. She just regretted putting both of them in more danger than her comfort was worth.

After a quick stop by the hotel to pick up her things and her Glameow, who only acknowledged Clive with a sleepy meow, they arrived at Yulia’s building to find it just as ruined as Yulia had left it. It wasn’t any easier to look at the second time. She refused to look at Clive, who was no doubt taking in the scene in search of clues. Even if this wasn’t her fault, Yulia was embarrassed to be showing her apartment like this, or embarrassed she’d been attacked at all. Swallowing her pride, she set Fritz on the floor and took a step inside, counting the deep breaths to try to calm herself.

Finally, she looked to Clive to gauge his reaction to such senseless destruction. As she watched him, she felt her headache worsen, and a familiar murk started to close in on her. This was not an ideal time to faint—no time was, really—and she desperately pleaded with herself to avoid this. She bit into her lower lip, drove her fingernails into her palms, hoping the pricks of pain would keep her here. After a moment, the blackness faded, leaving only a rush of nausea. A warning.

She stumbled gracelessly towards the bathroom to expel the bile racing up her throat. If she hadn’t already been embarrassed, now she was mortified. She hated appearing so frail, but there was at least solace in knowing Clive would likely understand her retching as a reaction to her surroundings. When she finished cleaning herself up, she made her way back to him, a rushed apology on her lips, eager to move on.

Yulia crouched beside her couch and touched at the ash staining the cloth. She needed to work, look for clues that would lead them to stopping Avarice, but seeing her things destroyed like this… Maybe she wouldn’t be as useful as she’d hoped. She stood again, trying to ignore the dizziness that caused, and focused her attention back to Clive. “Give me a few minutes to feed my Pokemon, and then we can look around. We’ll find something; we have to.” She refused to believe this had been done to her for no reason and with no benefit. “Maybe Shroud can sniff something out. I’ll get Fritz searching too.”

She met his gaze, her own eyes pleading with him to listen to her. “And once we’re finished, Clive,” she said more softly, “you really ought to go home. Get some rest. This has been hard on everyone, but I promise. I’ll be alright.”

[Headwrapper]

Once they had arrived at Yulia's apartment, Clive carefully followed his partner into her home, carefully observing his surroundings as he treaded forward. His face was hard as he glanced around, careful not to betray any sort of shock or surprise from what he saw. For now, he simply absorbed what he saw, which was not anything more than simple breaking and entering and vandalism. The soot and ashes were a nice touch, he thought, and he was almost surprised not to find feather patterns strewn about. Phoenix loved to take ownership of his deeds, especially now, while he believed he could still get away with it all.

The detective turned away as Yulia hurried to the bathroom and retched, and took the opportunity to wander around the apartment. While he was sure Yulia respected a little privacy, the apartment was no longer her own. It was a crime scene, and Clive was all too comfortable with exploring those. He carefully walked between the furniture, studying the soot and ashes, until he caught a glance inside of Yulia's bedroom. He quickly stepped away and looked towards the bathroom door just before Yulia had returned. "Yeah. Houndour might remember the scent from the feather we found in Sierra's home too."

He reached beneath his coat for his Houndour's and Zorua's Pokeballs, pausing momentarily to acknowledge Yulia's suggestion to go home once they were finished. He let our a single chuckle, pretty much a grunt, before continuing to dig out the Pokeballs he was reaching for. "Don't you worry, I'll be out of your hair once we're done." He released the pair of Pokemon before continuing. "You know, if we were doing this all above board it would go by a lot faster. There's a lot here for just two of us."

He knelt down and reached into his bag, while giving his Pokemon instructions on what to look for, to focus on, and when to seek his attention. A camera emerged from his bag, prompting Rotom to rise from Clive's pocket in protest, insisting that it's newfangled camera lens would be more than suitable for the job. Clive eventually yielded with a loud sigh, instructing the Rotom to stay close. He began to threaten he would do something should a single picture be out of a focus or misaligned, but eventually trailed off, either not having the heart to threaten the eager Pokemon or just engrossed by his work.

After a while of searching, Clive returned to the center of the living room, peeling away at the blue nitrile gloves he had put on during the search. He sighed and looked around for Yulia. "Hey, listen. I know this is your home and everything, but... Can you stay at a hotel a couple more nights? I really think we ought to get more people involved, get forensics here. We can make this worth it, somehow. There's more here than just fingerprints and boot prints, I know it."

He turned, taking in the ash-stained room once more. "Rotom... You can check for cameras and microphones right?" He nodded once the phone responded positive, with the stipulation that they would need to be in close proximity. "Okay good. That's your next job." He watched as the phone buzzed around, floating near the walls, against decorations, and even underneath pieces of furniture. An idea popped in Clive's head, but he needed more information, more to affirm his suspicions.

"Yulia, besides the ashes... What else links this to Avarice?"

[Ashen]

Yulia was thankful for Clive’s silent concentration as he looked through what used to be her apartment for clues. His inability or unwillingness to talk to her during their investigations had been the source of many of her frustrations, especially in the beginning, but now, it was a welcome reprieve to the young detective who didn’t know what to say about the crime scene in front of her. Clive insisted that they involve other people, but the thought of so many of her coworkers, of strangers, squished into her tiny rooms, sifting through her belongings, looking for the things that would incriminate her in ways she couldn’t have even predicted… Yulia swallowed the thought.

She fed her Pokemon quickly, stopping only when she saw that one of the bags of food had been slashed, but she moved it and its spilt entrails out of the way before summoning Fritz and the Pokemon still in their Poke Balls. Her Braviary, Beartic, and Skorupi seemed wary once they could look at their surroundings, but the Glameow only tsked in the others’ direction before plopping down at his food bowl. As they ate, Yulia went to find Clive, only to listen to him arguing with his phone-Rotom. When he noticed her, he again suggested opening her home to strangers. If Clive couldn’t find anything in this wreckage, Yulia doubted anyone else would. Contrary to what Natasha believed, Yulia knew Clive was the best fit for her partner, the most determined to stop Avarice alongside her; his insistence was endearing, if annoying, but she couldn’t find any excuse to refute him.

“Yes,” she replied quietly, already dreading the drive back to the hotel. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be sleeping well there no matter how many nights Clive’s investigation took. Fritz found them then and meowed angrily. Yulia crouched beside the fussy cat and tried to reason with him, promising extra treats if he helped them look for clues, but Fritz seemed to roll his eyes before trotting off to his bed, half-torn with stuffing spilling out of it, and dropped into it. Yulia didn’t have the heart to argue with him, fearing the poor Pokemon was stressed from all the moving around, from having his home destroyed too—even if it was far more likely that the Glameow was just stubborn and lazy.

She moved to scratch him behind the ears, but Clive’s voice stopped her. He was talking to Rotom again, asking it to scan the place for cameras or microphones. Both things he would not find here. Yulia wanted to tell them not to waste their time, but she didn’t know how to. He’d ask why she knew, with one hundred percent certainty, why her apartment was clear of anything like that. She kept quiet, feeling the rift between herself and her partner grow yet again.

He then turned to her, catching her by surprise even though she had no reason to be startled by him. Yulia shifted, wondering about the reason for her partner’s question. “It seems obvious,” she said, “doesn’t it? All the destruction and ash, we’d just need some feathers to match Phoenix’s MO perfectly. And the timing is too convenient, after your—um. After the press conference at City Hall, I mean. Especially after Phoenix called me—”

She paused. Had she…told Clive about that? Her face flushed, and she turned away to hide it. Yulia hadn’t been keeping that from him on purpose—had she? After Phoenix’s call, she’d gone to Clive’s apartment, and spent the night there, to protect him. It wasn’t a conscious choice, not telling him about it; she’d simply been preoccupied with everything else. Or that was what she told herself.

She met his gaze again and tried to move on, failing to feel any less awkward. “Maybe I am just paranoid,” she admitted. “This case has become so important to me; maybe I’m trying to link too much to it.” She didn’t believe those words even as they left her mouth. Avarice had been the most important thing in her life long before she’d even enrolled In the Academy, and she had no reason to believe this could be linked to anything else. “I don’t have enemies, Clive,” she continued. “An ex, maybe, but she’s long gone. I don’t have anyone but Avarice that would do this to me. And besides, even if this has nothing to do with them, shouldn’t we figure out who did this anyway? For our own safety?”

What was she even saying? Was she trying to convince Clive or something she didn’t even believe herself? Her head was drumming, and she jumped when she felt the soft fur of her Beartic rub against her arm. “I’m fine,” she told Zita, who looked like she didn’t believe her trainer in the slightest. Yulia cleared her throat and met Clive’s gaze again. “I do believe it’s Avarice,” she told him. “You can call it a hunch, if you want, but I just don’t know who or what else would be behind this.”

She turned away, crouching beside an overturned pot to absently paw through the dirt all over the floor. “But they’ve made a mistake,” she continued softly. She wasn’t quite talking to Clive anymore. “They’re so rash, focusing on their theatrics at the expense of common sense. And we’re here to catch them when they fall. Because they will fall.”

Her voice was rising, and she could feel her skin heating again. She didn’t know why she was getting so worked up about this—maybe the stress was getting to her, and she was too tired to fight it now—but she needed to calm down. Yulia looked at Clive, as if remembering he was there. “I’ll take a five,” she mumbled, an apology woven between her words. She hoped the time out of this place would clear her head. She wasn’t helping anyone like this anyway. “Let me know if you find anything. We can… We’ll call for backup later, once we’ve finished here, and see if they can find anything we can’t.” She nodded, trying to convince herself this was a good idea.

[Headwrapper]

Clive watched Yulia as she hurriedly left the apartment. He sighed heavily, mentally noting that Yulia was likely pushed as far as she ought to be for now. The recent events and their current setting was stressful enough, he understood, so he would be wrapping up the night's search alone. He reached out towards the floating Rotom-phone as it approached him, confirming that no surveillance equipment had been transplanted anywhere in the scene.

The detective groaned slightly as he knelt down to search through his bag. After a minute, he had withdrawn a few vials, brushes, rolls of tape, and his fingerprinting and casting kits. When prodigal intuition failed, it was time to fall back to the fundamentals. He worked methodically, expertly, and silently. With time, he had collected various castings of the fingerprints on the door knobs and various pieces of furniture and accompanying decorations. He added castings of the boot prints around the entrance of the apartment, and then collected a few vials worth of the ashes. Each sample that he took was meticulously labeled with clear, carefully written letters, which did not match Clive's usual chicken scratch.

Another groan escaped his lips as he stood up. He took a few moments to stretch his back, and then lean his weight off of his aching ankle. When he was done, Clive tugged at the blue nitrile gloves that clung to his hands like a second layer of skin, but did not remove them. Something urged him to scan for foot prints in other areas in the apartment. It would not have made sense, he found several prints near the door way, so there was no reason for anyone to enter through a window. Indeed, he did not find any foot prints that suggested the windows were used as an entrance, but what he did eventually find was even more surprising.

"She was here, too," he said, raising his black light higher. In the center of the living room, he could make out a pair of small foot prints, the shoes of a little girl. The prints sat undisturbed, and no sister prints suggested that the person who left them took a single step from that spot. No prints suggested that the person had walked to this spot, either. "Had she come to watch?" he wondered aloud, as he began to make the cast.

It was late, very late, when the night's work was done. It was time to retire for the night, and for the pair of detectives to go their separate ways. Clive collected up all of the samples and what could be considered evidence, intending to visit the HQ to drop off the evidence before turning in for the night. Once he and Yulia went their separate ways, Clive did make his way back to the GRPD and checked in all of his samples for safekeeping. He lingered for a while longer, deciding that it would be best to go ahead and request any testing that he thought was needed. He wanted to see if forensics could identify the source of the ashes- or at least what was burned to produce it.

Hours passed, and Clive would still be present at his desk, processing through the fingerprints and shoe castings. All of the imagery had been added to the system, and so he set to work having the images ran through the system against what was already on record. After clicking through a few menus, a loading bar would appear on the center of his screen, lingering at about half full. Clive stared at the screen blankly, hunched forward tiredly as he did so. The stubbornly slow loading bar gave him an opportunity to rest his eyes, and after having his eyes closed for a few seconds he decided that his tired neck needed a bit of a rest to. He overlapped his arms over top of each other before laying his head down.

Just like that, Clive awoke to realize hours had passed. His computer had also gone to sleep, having sat idle for the elapsed time, and Clive only saw his own face reflected back in the dark screens of the deactivated monitors. Someone had turned off the lights, save for a desk lamp nearby. Even so, the blue light that crept through the window allowed ample view of the room, although it was all mostly a blur as Clive shook off the heavy fog of sleep. His chair creaked as he stirred and began reactivating his computer, sifting through his papers, and the like.

"You know you won't be at your best like that," a voice said from across the room. It was Natasha's voice. "Someone brought back a file for you from forensics, too."

Clive did not reply, preoccupied with stretching his aching and unrested body. He stood to do so, and rounded the corner of his desk to pick up the file Natasha had alluded to. These should not have returned so early, but Clive wondered if the lab-rats on night shift knew what case the testing was for. There was still further testing being suggested to pinpoint an exact source for the ashes, but it was clear that the origin was from untreated wood. A tree or pile of firewood perhaps.

He placed the papers back onto his desk. Nature was calling, and he would not be able to enjoy the familiarity of his own bathroom that morning. He focused his efforts on not steadying himself and not stumbling as he tiredly left the office, not wanting to look like a fool in front of Nat. He relieved himself, vigorously washed his hands and face in cold water. After he worked through his morning routine the best he could, he studied himself in the mirror for a short moment. "Don't have time," he grumbled, straightening himself before marching back towards the office.

[Ashen]

The nighttime air did little to soothe her frazzled nerves, and as she pulled a cigarette or two from her purse, Yulia felt like she was about to collapse against the side of her apartment building. Her head was spinning with the impact of everything that had happened, and she couldn’t think straight. Despite her efforts, it felt like things were getting worse. Why had she ever thought she would be able to stop Avarice? To stop her? And now, because of her ambitious pride, her home was wrecked, her partner was in danger…not to mention all the people and Pokemon who had already suffered at the hands of Team Avarice. Her hands quaked, and her cigarettes fell from them to land on the ground. Yulia startled, then stomped out their flames. With this most recent attack, she and Clive were getting closer to achieving their goals—but she also felt that she was closer to losing herself entirely.

Clive stayed at her apartment later than she wanted him to, but she couldn’t blame him. He was being thorough, checking the place for whatever clues he could find, however negligible, and she was thankful for him. In her state, she wasn’t able to look things over with his attention. When they finally finished at her apartment, she recalled her Pokemon to their balls, packed more food and treats for them, and with Fritz in her hands, she bid Clive goodnight and headed back to her car.

Yulia didn’t remember getting to the hotel. Her car took her elsewhere, driving along new, narrow roads and back alleys, camouflaged by the darkness of the night. Fritz noticed something off when he awoke from his nap in the passenger seat. Yulia looked…different, eyes glazed over and lips shaping around something inaudible. He hissed at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Wanting to get her attention, to ensure she was okay, Fritz leapt into her lap. Yulia panicked, swerving dangerously close to a telephone pole. The car skidded to a halt, and she sat there for a minute, panting. Her eyes turned towards the Glameow and narrowed. “You stupid fucking cat,” she barked in a voice wholly not hers, a voice that startled the Pokemon into lying down again. She started the car again, eager to continue what she’d started.

Back in the parking lot of the GDPD, Yulia blinked the world back into focus. There was a new gap in her memory, one that encompassed all of her night since she’d left her apartment. Why did she feel like she had gotten no sleep at all? She looked at herself in her mirror, then fixed the bags under her eyes with the makeup in her purse. Still looking tired, she shook herself awake and got out of her car. It was just about time to start her shift, so she figured that was where she’d been going before she lost her memories.

As she locked her car, she noticed her Glameow in the backseat, still asleep. “Fritz?” she murmured, confused, incredulous. She pulled open the door to scratch him behind his ears. The Pokemon looked over his trainer, and when familiarity crossed his eyes, he purred against her palm. “What are you doing here?” she asked, and she wished the Pokemon could answer her, could tell her all the things she couldn’t remember, all the things being kept from her.

Fritz meowed softly, as if to reply, but in the next moment, he jumped back, startled. A seizure ripped through his trainer’s body, paralyzing her, and Yulia fell to the ground, shaking. Her breath hitched, and she struggled to keep her grip on her consciousness, but her fight was futile, and everything went black.

~~~

The halls were long and narrow, and the torchlight coming from the sconces on the walls provided little insight to what this facility was used for. Angry footsteps echoed through the hall. Phoenix was here; she had ordered him to be, and she wouldn’t dare disobey her. She had a lot to say about his carelessness, about the clues he had left behind—not to mention his little pet, Sierra, who had been a thorn in her side for months now.

He was right where she’d told him to be, waiting for her. When he saw her, he stood and saluted, but she waved him off with a heavy grunt. “What is this?” she demanded, slamming a photo on the table between them.

Phoenix looked it over. It was a photo of Yulia’s apartment taken from Clive Oiler’s Rotom-phone. The ashes Phoenix had left were still strewn across the floor and over the furniture, and several things lay broken and in disarray, clearly visible even through the black-and-white filter. Phoenix hesitated. “I thought—”

“There’s no reason for us to scare Yulia,” she interrupted, fist slamming against the table. “Do you want to break her? We aren’t worried about her. Don’t you think the Oiler boy will link this to you? I can only imagine what clues you left for him—”

“He doesn’t—”

“Don’t interrupt me,” she snarled, silencing Phoenix. “Where’s Sierra?”

At that, Phoenix straightened. “She’s in custody,” he responded. “Last I heard, anyway.”

“Take care of her,” she said with a dismissive wave of the arm. “I don’t want her to start talking. She’s always had loose lips, that one.”

Phoenix mumbled. “Freya…?” he mumbled.

“Don’t question me,” she bit back. “And don’t you take matters into your own hands again. You work for me. Don’t forget that.” With that, she got up from her seat and stormed out, leaving Phoenix to think about the mistakes he’d made and the one he had left to make.

~~~

She was late. Yulia glanced at the clock on the top of her phone screen and cursed herself. Her head was pounding from where she’d fallen on the asphalt earlier, and dried blood ran from her new wound to her temple. She turned on the water and rubbed at the blood, all the while swearing under her breath. Fritz meowed warily behind her, but Yulia didn’t have the time to dote on him right now. “I have to get to work,” she told him.

In truth, she didn’t know how she’d gotten back to her hotel room, or where she had been for the past four hours. She could only imagine the mouthful she’d get when she got back to work. After these recent attacks, and the break-in, the police department needed her now more than ever, and she had disappointed everyone by disappearing without warning.

Once she was half-convinced she was presentable enough to face the public, she left her hotel and made her way to work, even if by the time she got there, her shift would be halfway over. She would make up for it by staying late, she told herself. She didn’t even have a good reason for why she’d missed so much time. I was passed out in a parking lot was only half true, but she couldn’t remember the whole truth. She never could.

She entered the building as a whirlwind, panting from running from the parking lot, and sat at her desk. She hadn’t looked at anything work-related before she’d arrived—she figured it would only make her more anxious, and she didn’t need to get into another almost-accident on her way—and now, her eyes fluttered over the screen trying to keep up with the notifications still streaming in. She hadn’t even seen Clive yet, who likely had his own share of questions and concerns for her to address.

Yulia got to work replying to emails and texts, then typing up additions to reports she’d already penned. She had more surveillance videos to watch, another report to read and respond to, and seemingly dozens of other ever-growing tasks. Apparently, Clive had already begun the forensic analyses of what he’d found in her apartment, too, and she needed to talk with him about that. Overwhelmed and exhausted already, Yulia’s work began lacking important details, and she was all too aware of her slipping quality.

She tried to gather her bearings while on a cigarette break. Yulia considered that being here, still working, wasn’t going to help anyone, but she couldn’t go home—where was home, anymore?—and she didn’t want to let her coworkers down, anyway. If she just focused, she could get through the documents she needed to read, maybe have another conversation with Sierra, or if she could just remember what she’d—

The cigarette fell out of her hand, and Yulia realized then that she was dozing off. She straightened, then put out the flame. She needed to find Clive, share updates—not that she had any, not really—and explain that she hadn’t been feeling well, but she was working on it. All her other duties could wait until she’d had some rest, but she wanted to know what, if anything, he’d found in her home.