Pokemon Being Caught: Cubchoo. Gligar
Sam Harrison walked down a back alley of Jubilife City. The city, lit up by neon signs, was full of the bustle typical of the hub of the Sinnoh region. Sam wrinkled his nose at the smell of sick as he walked past a night club. He didn't work near here but used the red light district as a way of commuting, avoiding the busiest streets. Some trash cans tumbled down behind him. He td to look for the source of the noise, but it's creator was nowhere to be seen. If they were trying to hide from him there could only be one assumption. Someone was following him. He quickenned his pace. It wasn't unknown for muggings and even murders to occur in the backstreets of Jubilife despite the crackdown of crime from the current council. As he approached the main street of the red light district the sound of cars filled his ears and the smell of fumes entered his nose. He was almost safe. He saw a cab in the distance, he just needed to hail it. He turned round to look at his pursuer. Green tentacles came out of the darkness and grabbed his wrists. He started to feel tired and slowly dragged himself to the end of the alleyway. His vision started to blur. He fell onto the ground. All went black
I sat on the sofa which for now was my residence at the flat of Nathan Castle, holding bills in my hands. I should explain first. Nathan Castle is a world class detective, capable of solving most puzzles in a matter of seconds. He is my best and only friend in Jubilife City. Who am I? Upon first glance I am Joe Turner, Castle's only friend and advisor, but to Castle I was currently his slave andCastle had gone without a case for weeks and the cost was slowly building up. I sighed as my friend walked into the room. He was annoyed at me, trying to be practical and give him a case.
"The Bills came through today," I told him.
"So, how much do they want?" He asked.
"In total, $700 more than what we have," I replied
"Is that bad?" He asked
"Very," I told him. "You could always have taken that case of the disappearing pensionner. Her family were offering a lot of money for that,"
"But it was so BORING!" He said, exasperated. This was the cause of our schism. He only cared about the interesting cases. There hadn't been an interesting one for a while and still he refused to take a practical job. I gave up on the line of questionning and started to tidy up the bomb site that was 221b Cook Street. Another problem with living with Nathan Castle was his complete laziness. His bed was never changed, he never cooked for himself, he never shopped. All he did was do things for the greater good of mankind, he told me.
"I'm going out," I told him. He didn't respond as usual and made my way down the steps. I opened the door and there was a man facing me. He wore a plain grey suit with a white shirt. He looked like a businessman, not surprising considering Jubilife's massive banking centres.
"Is this Nathan Castle's residence?" The man asked
"Yes," I replied. "But I doubt that he'll take a case at this time. He's a bit, reclusive. Come in anyway."
The man was a banker, it turned out. He sat on my sofa in the middle of the bomb site that was 221b Cook Street. His name was James Gallangher. Outside the traffic roared in the usual bustle of Jubilife. My partner was in his chair, eyes shut,and, to my irritation, barely concentrating.
"Mr Gallangher, what is your problem?" I asked. Nathan still didn't budge an inch.
"You see, Mr Castle, some people in the office have heard your name around, and we thought-" He began but Castle interrupted him.
"Just cut to the chase, what do you want?"
"Well, Mr Castle," the banker continued timidly. "Two days ago one of our men disappeared. He left the office as usual, and never came back. His wife called us asking if he was still there and none of his associates had any idea where he was," We waited in silence, as the smell of unwashed clothes filled our nostrils
"Boring, come again with a proper case," Castle replied, irritated at the disturbance to his peace. However I interrupted.
"No, Nathan. You know that we need the money and it isn't as if you're busy," I told him.
"I have better things to do than see to the needs of a banking corporation, RIBC if I'm not mistaken?" He replied, crossly. The man confirmed his deduction.
"Well if your not going to go then I shall!" I announced. I stood up, leading Gallangher out of the flat.
The main offices of Rustboro International Banking Corporation's Sinnoh branch was situated in a building known to most as the Rhydon, best known for its structure, made out of glass, and the comparisons between it and the horn of the aformentionned Pokemon. Its glass and metal framework worked high into the skyline of Jubilife city. Whatever the outcome of this case, it would mean big money. Gallangher lead me through the glass swivel doors into the entrance hall of the grand building. The hall was lined with desks full of people talking, noting, typing, all in a thousand different languages. RIBC was one of the leading banking companies in the world and one of its men had gone missing. It could be another typical banking suicide, a murder, a kidnapping, and this company had employed the best man for the job. Instead they got me. We got into a lift and slowly escalated the many floors up to some of the highest rooms in the building.
PING! The doors of the elevator openned and James Gallangher lead me out, and into a waiting room. The room was furnished with many seemingly comfortable chairs and fronted by a desk. I was bustled past many people as I was shown into the office of Rory Fisher, the head of the RIBC's Sinnoh branch. The company was taking this seriously, it seemed. Fisher's office looked out onto the skyline of Jubilife, its bustling streets, its winding river, the Poketch Company Headquarters and many other famous landmarks. The office was furnished with but a few filing cabinets and a couple of bookcases, but the main feature was a huge window, spanning across a large part of the room, and giving that dominating view.
Standing by the window was a man, sillouhetted by the midday Sun. He wore a dark suit, well polished shoes, and chique glasses, all of this told of wealth. He turned round to face me and I saw his face. He looked like a model from a deodorant advent, lined with stubble, straight face, fleshed out cheekbones. This man took time with his complexion. On his wrist he was wearing a watch, not a Poketch, clearly not a follower of trends or, indeed, a fan of Pokemon. A door opened and another man entered the room, a Cubchoo on his shoulder. He was elderly, wearing a suit, not as well kept and much older than Fisher's, obviously old fashionned, unwilling to move on. Suddenly I realised that I was making deductions myself. Time spent around Nathan Castle had changed my way of thinking. This newfound power both gave me confidence with this case, and fear that I was turning into the man I found so annoying.
"I assume that you are Mr. Castle?" Rory Fisher asked.
"I apologise, but Mr. Castle is currently occupied so sent me instead. My name is Joe Turner," I explained. Both men scowled in thought. In the silence the Cubchoo sniffed back the ever-growing globule.
"So, Mr. Turner, I assume that you know our problem, then?" He asked. I confirmed this as true. However I explained that there was nothing to go by. During my explaination I heard a bustle outside. Someone was shouting, asking for entry. Immediately I recognised the voice.
Nathan Castle burst in through the door, startling the Cubchoo to fall off the elderly gentleman's shoulder. He stopped in front of Rory Fisher, face flushed from an intense argument.
"Ah, Mr. Castle, we were worried that you were not coming. Please, both of you, sit down," The elderly gentleman beckonned for us to both sit down, picking up the Cubchoo in the process. Having sat down, I turned to my companion.
"You came!" I muttered discretely.
"I can't risk my whole reputation on you mucking up a case can I?" He replied, giving a small chuckle.
The elderly gentleman turned out to be the bank's chairman, Sir Christopher Broadshot, who had flown in from the Hoenn region to deal with the crisis. We listenned as his younger collegue explained the situation, standing in front of a map of Jubilife.
"Our man, Sam Harrison, left the building at 9.15 Thursday evening. His fastest route home by taxi would have been here," he explained, indicating a highlighted route drawn on the map.
"His wife called us at 10.30, asking if he was at the office. Since then we've had nothing,"
"You're lying," Castle said. "Or, at least, hiding something,"
"What are you talking about?" Sir Christopher asked.
"Your voice appears to be steady and firm, indicating the truth, but your body says otherwise. Your scratching your neck, averting your gaze. Mr. Fisher, it is vital for the life of this man that you tell me what you are hiding!" My friend's voice had risen to a loud pitch now. Silence fell on the room. Fisher looked at the chairman, and nodded.
An image was projected onto the whitewashed wall. It was a map of Jubilife, with a red dot where the Rhydon building stood. Rory Fisher stood, holding a laser pointer.
"Our company issues tracking devices on all of our employees phones. We track their movements and if anything suspicious turns up we call them in for a few questions," The Sinnoh chief began. He pressed a button on the pointer and the red dot started to move.
"Of course, Sam Harrison's phone had been tracked for more than five years and nothing suspicious had happened. Two days ago the same thing happened as usual. He left the building, taking his normal route by cab. Then," he motionned with the pointer towards a street. The dot disappeared.
"We lost track of him, here, at Cannon Street,"
"How did it happen?" I asked, intruiged.
"There are many ways in which it could have happened. The tracking system could have malfunctionned inside his phone, unlikely seeing as this has never happened before. The phone could have been destroyed, unlikely as it was in a cab and our men found no sign of a broken mobile. Or Harrison could have deactivated it somehow. It is possible, our code writers are capable of doing it in less than five minutes," Sir Christopher explained.
"What do you think, Mr. Castle?" Fisher asked. My friend was sat in his chair, motioneless, staring at the projection. Suddenly he leapt to his feet.
"Finally! We have an interesting case!" He announced. "Joe, come with me, we're going to Cannon Street. Thank you, Mr. Fisher. You have stimulated me beyond your puny imagination!" I hastily rose from the chair, taking the cheque hastily proffered to me by Sir Christopher.
"Payement in advance. More will come if you find our man," he said.
We stood in Cannon Street, the traffic going past, a mixture of fumes and the smell of fast food filling our noses. I held out a road map as Castle examined it. He traced his finger over the map, muttering to himself.
"What have you got?" I asked
"From here, the banker could have gone anywhere. He could have continued onwards or diverted to another street, but none of those options give a reason to turn off the tracker. The only place that that would be necessary would be the red light district to the right," he deduced.
"But if he went, why didn't he come back?" I asked
"I think that this case might turn more sinister than we first thought,"
The Red Light District of Jubilife City had suffered in recent years as the police had cracked down on unlicensed brothels and black market trading. The District continued to thrive, however, and it still covered a visible part of the city.
"If Harrison had come down here, then there are innumerable alleyways to check. We have to find a faster way," Castle told me.
"We could ask the people around here. How often can a man in a suit just walk past and not come in when your in a Red Light District," my friend, however, seemed appalled.
"We're not going to speak with such people. Anyway, all the clubs will be shut at this time in the morning," his point was fair. But we had to do something.
I had an idea. I grabbed three Poke Balls in my hand and threw them in the air.
"Infernape, Shiftry, Honchcrow! We've got to find Sam Harrison. Everyone split up and look for him!" Honchcrow flew into the skies, soaring high above the alleyways, but still able to percieve the slightest detail. Infernape and Shiftry leapt in opposite directions, jumping over buildings in their search for the banker.
"We'd better split up too," I said, but no-one was there. Nathan Castle had already gone, his superior intellect thinking ahead of me as usual.
I had been searching for at least half an hour. The rancid stench of the Red Light District filled my senses and the dimly lit alleyways hardly helped the search.
CRASH! Somewhere nearby I heard a racket as if a fight had started. I rushed over to where the sound had come from. I turned the corner round the alleyway and found Infernape leaping from a bin, aiming a Mach Punch towards a tiny figure.
"Stop Infernape!" I shouted as my Pokemon lashed downwards. The punch stopped an inch short of the figure's face. I ran into the alleyway, blocking Infernape from its target. I gazed at the potential victim of one of Infernape's lashings out. It was a Cubchoo, its small blue-white body bruised and battered from a beating by Infernape. I picked the poor Pokemon up and it started to cry, motionning towards something. I gently placed it back down on the ground and followed the tiny Pokemon as it climbed up on top of a bin. It started jumping up and down on the hard, metallic lid of the dustbin and crying out loud. I hastenned towards the container and pulled off the lid, revealing the terrible sight underneath.
"Nathan Castle speaking," My companion answered after I phoned him.
"Nathan, this is me, Joe. I've found Sam Harrison?" I said.
"Where is he?" He asked
"Right now he's in a bin but Infernape's getting him out," I replied.
"Where are you?" He questionned.
"On Gater Street, not far from where we split up," I answered.
"Don't worry, I'm coming," Our conversation ended.
He arrived a few minutes later to find me examining the repugnant body of Sam Harrison. He was quite short and was as white as a sheet. His eyes were shut and his suit covered in all sorts of refuse from the bin. My friend turned him over. I knew that the spectacle of Nathan Castle's deductions was about to take place.
"Let's have a look then. He's been dead for two days, judging from the collection of refuse. No breakage in the skin except from this graze running down his leg, no bruising, no haemorraging, no signs of internal nervous failure. It can't have been a human that did this,"
"What about shock?" I asked.
"People don't die of fright, Joe!" He exclaimed. "Either way no fluids have been lost through wounds so he can't have physically gone into shock.
Anyway, a Pokemon must have done it. The injury can only have been a psychic overload. The brain's waves are, as such, changed by the psychic waves and eventually the brain shuts down. This graze is where he's fallen over there after his brain starts to lose control and his mind shuts down," He concluded, gesturing the point where the banker must have fallen.
"What do we do now? We're in the middle of a Red Light District and we have a dead body. A bit suspicious to passers by and the police," I explain.
"Then we're going to have to call them first. Call the hounds, Joe," He ordered.
The police, surprisingly efficient, arrived within a few minutes. Immediately the scene was crowded by forensic scientists, doctors, policemen to supervise the cordon. Castle and I took our leave, Cubchoo in our hands, to return to the Rhydon building. My companion cursed at the policemen.
"Stupid fools! Stumbling in there and destroying the evidence!" He muttered. We finally left the gloom of the Red Light District and back onto the bustling streets of Jubilife. Cars were racing past now, making the most of the gap between the evening rush hour ending and the night clubs openning. We caught a cab and made our way back to the offices of RIBC.
We entered the building the Sun started dipping under the horizon. A shift was ending and people streamed out of the building as a fresh batch of bankers entered the Rhydon building. Our lift was packed as people made their way up the floors to their respective offices to do paper pushing, accountanting, or another colour in the colourless emotionless spectrum that was banking. Slowly the lift cleared of people as we approached the top office, Rory Fisher's.
PING! The lift came to a stop at the same waiting room lined with empty chairs, manned by the same receptionist. The doors opened and a man stepped out, wearing a pinstripe suit. It was Sir Christopher Broadshot, the chairman. As he saw us, his eyes opened in surprise and he came towards us, a look of delight on his face.
"Cubchoo, where have you been all day?" He exclaimed, picking up the blue-white teddy bear-like Pokemon in his hands. Looking up to address us, he started to speak.
"Mr. Castle, I am greatly in your debt. How can I repay you for bringing Cubchoo back to me?" He said. My partner, not listenning to a word he said, walked on and opened the door to Rory Fisher's office.
"Don't worry about Nathan, Sir Christopher. He's very tired and occupied, I'm sure that he'll come back later," I shook the chairman's hand and followed Nathan Castle into the office.
My friend was standing in front of the desk, staring at the man behind it. I came up behind him and stood, shoulder to shoulder, in front of Mr. Fisher. The man was slumped back in his chair, clearly tired after a hard day's work.
"Did you find Sam Harrison?" He asked, his voice full of arrogance.
"Yes, we found him in a bin in the Red Light District as a matter of fact," Castle replied. Fisher's face turned from arrogance to shock.
"Why was he there?" He asked, his voice stuttering.
"We don't know exactly, but not for a night out," I replied. "Currently the police have him, we believe that he was killed by a Psychic Pokemon,"
"How do you know?" He inquired.
"The same way I know that your salary is between four hundred and four hundred and twenty dollars a year, that you have an unhappy marriage your having an affair with two, no, three women, one of whom is about to visit you here and that your watch used to be owned by your alchoholic father, James, who you were fond of, before he had a cardiac arrest. Simple deduction, Mr. Fisher. I am Nathan Castle and I'm never wront," My partner replied matter-of-factly. The shock on Rory Fisher's face was inconceivable. I was used to this phoenomenon but nonetheless this was even better than usual.
"Trust me, Mr. Fisher, when I say that you need to tighten your security," Nathan Castle strode confidently out of the office and I stood, waiting as he wrote the cheque.
"How does he do that?" He asked.
"Don't worry, your secrets are safe with us," I replied. "If Nathan Castle used what he deduced from people then he would be the most powerful man alive,"
We were in a cab, on the way back to 221b Cook Street.
"Cardiac arrest?" That was a pretty good punt, even for you," I said merrily.
"It was all quite simple to read from him, he was very open," He replied. Happily, he continued to show me how brilliant his deduction was:
"Where shall we begin, the salary. He was wearing an expensive suit, more than three thousand, tailored, hand made. And he's a banker, he'll keep a track of everything that he earns and spends, keeping some nice savings back on top. The suit was new, less than two months old judging by the lack of repair work done to it, so annum would be easier than quarterly. He'll spend about 10% of his income on his clothes so, including casual wear and shoes it'll come up to between four hundred and four hundred and twenty thousand.
"His marriage is unhappy and he's having three affairs, 'how do you know that Nathan?' Simple. There were marks on his finger from where his marriage ring usually was, and you could see the ring in his suit pocket. I noticed a miniscule speck of dirt on the rim of the pocket which shows its dirty. What loving husband would have a dirty ring. The ring's been regularly removed so he has several women who he sees about once a week. One was coming to the office that night, the ring was in his pocket, not in his wallet. he had removed it quickly as soon as he recieved the text from the woman saying that she was on her way. Unhappy marriage, three mistresses, one coming tonight.
"Now, the watch, the true genius of the deduction. It was too old to be his, a banker wouldn't carry that around, so his father's. His father used to wind it up every night, and there are scratch marks where he wound it up, from when he was drunk and couldn't quite get it. The name, James. On the rimFisher's name is engraved in it, but you can see the imprint of where the name James Fisher was before it was plated over. Now, cardiac arrest. As you said, this was more difficult. He's an alchoholic, making it likely, and he died recently and he was liked by his son, who wouldn't be wearing that old heirloom. Now, there was a letter in his bin, torn up. However I did see the crest for the Sinnoh Health Service on it. He was upset when he read it and tore it up. It came from a hospital, so the chances are a cardiac arrest. Yes, your right, I guessed it, but it was a seventy two percent chance so I was pretty sure,"
A silence followed this display of brilliance.
"You should really try harder not to piss everyone off," I said.
"What do you mean?" He asked, a touch of confusion in his voice.
"Within the space of ten minutes you ignore the chairman of one of the biggest finance groups in the world and remind the head of his Sinnoh branch of his dead father and tell him about his affairs. One day your going to upset someone too powerful and they're going to punish you, or worse," I explained. Our cab drove on, into the night.
Mark Krakenbargher ran through the streets at full pelt. He was being chased. Above him a shadow flickered in the light of the street lamps. A rush of wind indicated its closeness. A shadow swooped down. He threw himself out of the way, onto the road. A sharp pain flew through up his leg and he looked down. His pursuer had drawn blood, splitting his trouser leg, which was now being wettened by blood. He saw a tan coloured figure approach him on four legs. He scrambled to his feet and, ignoring the pain in his leg, ran across to the other side of the street. The figure gracefully leapt up into the air and dropped on all fours in front of him. Green tentacles protruded from his body and ran down to his cut, wrapping their luminescant tips around his leg. He felt himself growing weaker, his vision started to blurr. A sharp pain came to his neck. All went black.
The bright morning light highlighted the streets of Jubilife in a sharp crisp hue. Traffic started to creak its way along the complicated system, the veins and arteries of Jubilife. We were among this mass, on our way to the morgue where we were to look at the body of Sam Harrison, ex-banker. On the route our path was blocked. Luminescent yellow-green tape blocked the road. We both knew what had happened. A crime had been commited. We leapt out the cab and, hastily paying the driver, made our way to the scene.
"The victim is Mark Krakenbargher, librarian at a library close to here. He was found this morning with two wounds, a cut to the lower left leg and a deep slice taken into the throat. We've already dusted for fingerprints and found nothing, on him or on his clothes. No bullet wounds or sign of a weapon anywhere," Inspector LaRue explained to us as we paced around where the body had lain.
"We found a trail blood from here on the road," he said, indicating with his finger,"To here where he died, we presume of that afforementionned slice to the throat," I gazed at the path of blood and where it had spurted from his neck.
"What do you have?" The Inspector asked.
"Most of it is pretty obvious and meaningless. Even your men could figure out that he was cut in the leg, fell over, and managed to stumble over here. There is, however, one interesting deduction that I can make. What's the victim's normal blood pressure?" He asked.
"80/65mmHG," He replied.
"Then the cutting instrument must have come in some force if it could spurt blood across two metres," Castle explained.
"This force also came from above. So the obvious conclusion to make would be that-" He was suddenly silenced.
"The killer came in from some speed from above. Which means that it was probably a Pokemon," I blurted out.
"Good, Joe. Finally your learning something!" He exclaimed. I felt pleased at his praise but still hurt by his bluntness. "Yes, Joe's right, the assaulter was a Pokemon, but it raises a point. If the Pokemon could overcome a human psychically then why did it need to cut it open?" He muttered to himself.
"What do you mean psychically?" LaRue asked
"Sam Harrison! He was murdered by a psychic Pokemon. Haven't your men had a look at him yet?" Castle shouted at the inspector.
"Castle, Sam Harrison wasn't killed by a psychic breakdown. His retinae are intact," Nathan Castle's face turned to a mask of horror. Nathan Castle, the detective that never lost, was wrong.
We were in the morgue and evening was falling on Jubilife and we were still in the morgue. The whitewashed room was filled with microscopes, scalpels and other instruments that looked like they had come from a castle. I took the coffee over to my companion where he was standing, peering into a microscope.
"Here's your coffee that you ordered," I said, announcing my presence.
"Joe, come and have a look in this microscope," He asked. I was flattered, Nathan Castle had never asked for my help before. But then, neither had he been wrong until today. I nudged him out of the way and looked down the long tube. I saw red globules swirling around and, in between them, some small green rectangles.
"What do you see Joe?" He asked. I explained the sight that I had seen to him in as much detail as he could. His face lit up, the first time today.
"Good, good. The red 'globules' as you called them are blood cells taken from Mark Krakenbargher's leg. The green cells, also from his leg, are from a plant species," He explained. Even I knew what this meant. The killer was a grass type as only they could have photosynthetic cells. However come and look over here," he said motionning to another Microscope, " and you can see that there are no traces of these cells, but instead these skin cells," he was right, as usual.
"I have also checked the wound on the leg and the cells there are of a minute difference to the cells on the neck wound. I know for a fact then, that we have three killers, a grass type and a pair of the same species of Pokemon, Gligar in this case," I watched in my usual fascination as he carried out this reasonning which, for once, I understood. The lab's dark light shone down on his gleeful face as he did this.
"So where do we go next?" I asked.
"These killers must have had a motive to kill both Harrison and Krakenbargher, we need to check out their flats and find out what linked them," He replied.
Sam Harrison's flat was typical for a high-wage banker. The block was modern and shaped from dark iron and triangular sheets of glass, interlocking like a zip stretching down thirty floors. After a few words with the tenant we acquired a key to the dead man's flat. The news of his death had only recently come out and the flat was still in the state that our victim had left it. The flat was made up of several rooms, each with a cream carpet and light green walls. The dominating features of the flat were the bookcases lining it, filled with novels, encyclopedias and all sorts of paper backs. Castle showed no respect and ripped open draws, toppled tables and stormed around the flat like a hurricane, gathering what information he could like a bee zipping around a field gathering nectar. I refrained from letting loose any Pokemon in fear of creating even more mess. I entered the study area of Sam Harrison. The room was comparatively sparse, containing only an elm desk that curved around the corner of the area, a computer and a shelf. I immediately walked over to the computer and turned it on, only to find the PC locked with a password. I turned to the next important item next to it, the calendar. It was packed with meetings, conference calls, dinners, and even a holiday. I beckonned Castle over and showed him the planner. I watched as he scanned the calendar and I knew that by the time he had ripped it up and thrown it in the modern wire bin.
We were in the cab on the way to Krakenbargher's house. Castle was thoughtful, always a bad sign.
"What's wrong?" I asked innocently.
"I found nothing in Harrison's house, nothing!" He exclaimed. "The only information I got were about his physical state, which we already knew, and that he had cancer,"
"He had cancer?" I cried out, incredulous.
"Yes, he had been diagnosed two months ago, it was incurable," He explained. This could mean something, I thought, if something had linked the two men. The cab drove on through the streets of Jubilife.
We were in the East end of Jubilife, notoriously known as the poorest part of the city. Mark Krakenbargher's flat was considerably less spacious than the banker's. It lay at the top of an old, dirty, 80's council block. We entered the lift next to a bent old woman, carrying a pair of bags, holding them protectively close to her. The lift came to our destination and we stepped out into the flat.
The residence of Mark Krakenbargher was as messy and dirty as the East End that it was situated in. Items were scattered around the filthy floor and beer bottles smashed on the tiles of the cooking area.
"This is much better," Castle exclaimed as he entered the flat, gleefully examined the evidence. From his gathering of evidence I could tell that he didn't need any assistance with this task and went strolling out onto the balcony. The East End was as unappealing as ever but in contrast to the skyscrapers of the City the sight was quite striking. I saw two figures flying through the sky above Jubilife. They got larger in my vision and I started to make out parts of their bodies. They had purple stingers and were gliding across the sky, not flapping their wings like most flying Pokemon. Suddenly I recognised them as they aproached and ran into the flat.
"Nathan. Two Gligar are coming this way!" I shouted. My partner looked up from his investigation.
"Good. I've finished this examination. Let's go," He answered. We headed for the lift.
PING! The lift opened. A Pokemon stood in the lift. It's body was a tan colour and it had a large curved leaf on its head. It was a Leafeon. The four-legged Pokemon leapt out of the lift and tackled me to the ground. At that moment the pair of Gligar flew in through the open window, their claw's glowing. Their attacks sliced gashes in Castle's legs and he fell to the ground, crying out in pain. Green tendrils extended from Leafeon's leaf and wrapped themselves around Castle's leg and power started to drain out of him.
The lift opened and a man stepped out. It was Sir Christopher Broadshot, the elderly chairman of RIBC, Cubchoo on his shoulder. The look on his face made me realise that he wasn't about to help us. He stepped out into the flat, wrinkling his nose.
"I don't usually like to get my hands dirty," He said, contempt rising into his voice. "But you, Mr Castle, have made this job somewhat more difficult than I had expected," Castle's head fell to the floor, he was approaching exhaustion.
"Why did you do it?" I asked as I felt one of the Gligar slice my leg.
"All three men were addicted to heroin," Broadshot explained. "Their addiction was such that Krakenbargher had to sell his flat and move here. Then three weeks ago a sum of Three million PokeDollars was taken from the banks expenses and it was tracked down to Harrison. When I reached him the money had been squandered and debts to dealers had been repaid. So I took my revenge, their lives," The green tentacles of Leafeon's Giga Drain wrapped themselves around my leg. I started to feel weary. But something rang strange in what the chairman had said.
"You said three men. But only two have been killed," Castle was unconcious now, he probably only had a minute left.
"That's right, our next destination is the flat of Rory Fisher. He is partly responsible and will take the full weight for his crime," Broadhot explained. He turned to leave.
"Let's go Cubchoo. Gligar finish them off," He ordered. One of the Gligar's right claws glowed white and he flew up as high as he could. Then a strange thing happened. Cubchoo jumped off Broadshot's shoulder and a light blue-white beam was fired from his mouth. The Ice Beam hit Gligar and sent him flying into the wall. The FlyScorpion fell to the ground, packed in a block of ice. The Cubchoo blew a snowy gust towards its owner, freezing him in his tracks. He turned, ready to battle the other two, but it was too late, they had already fled the scene, jumping out the window and out of the grasp of the law. The green tentacles around our legs dissolved.
I pulled out a PokeBall and walked towards the Gligar. However I felt a tugging on my leg. I turned around to find Cubchoo standing in front of me. He jumped up and hit the capture mechanism. The ball swallowed the blue-white Pokemon whole and fell to the ground.
Bleep....Bleep....Bleep....Ping! Cubchoo was caught. I picked up the PokeBall and Pocketed it. Turning around to Gligar.
"Now, your turn..."
We were sitting in Rory Fisher's flat. All the furniture had been sold or packed up as he prepared to sell the flat after he was fired. He was sitting in front of us, looking thoughtful.
"He was right about everything. How did they die?" He asked.
"They were drained of energy, Krakenbargher was killed before it could take effect," Castle replied coldly.
"Where will you go now?" I asked sympathetically.
"I have friends in other banks. I'll get a job eventually," He answered. "Here's the cheque we promised, at least you can keep your rent,"
"Thank you," I said, taking the cheque before Castle ripped it up. "I suppose that you want some time to yourself," He nodded and I stood up, beckonning my companion to follow.
"Wait," I exclaimed before we left. "Do you know anything about this Cubchoo?" I asked, releasing the blue-white bear Pokemon from its Poke Ball.
"Yes, that was Sam Harrison's. I guess that Sir Christopher took it after Sam's death," Fisher replied. Satisfied, I left the flat.
We were in the cab on the way back to 221b Cook Street. I was exhausted, tired after two days of barely any sleep. What had we gained? Two Pokemon and the rent for a few months. It was enough for now.
"You were wrong," I said.
"What?" He replied.
"You were wrong. The great Nathan Castle couldn't find out how a man died,"
"And?" He anwsered grumpily. I laughed. He wouldn't recover from this case for a while, physically or emotionally. But he would arise from the ashes, even more potent than before.