Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ SLIS - NWO ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Tales of the SLIS -NWO #2

Disclaimer:

Pokemon is a copyright of Nintendo. Pokègirls and Pokèwomen come from the Pokewomon Forum at http://disc.server.com/Indices/169881.html.

"Wild Horses and Pokègirls" is the creation of Metroanime.

C&C, MSTs are welcome E-mail: <kelvins.choice@comcast.net> or <kelvins.choice@att.net>

      I enter the Pokècenter I've been staying at.

      "Hel - Oh! Hello!" Luce, the Nurse joy changes from professionally friendly to actually happy, "Are you able to . . . stay another night?" she asks hopefully and glances down in her lap.

      "Yes. The next town had a problem, and I'll be in town for a few days."

      "I am glad." She glances back. "There's a young boy. He brought his sister in . . . their parents threw her out, and he went with her."

      So you've been playing counselor, and I'm not going to get any, except quietly, I mentally translate.

      "I'm glad I got dinner enough for them," I say, while looking disappointed.

      "I'm sure they'll get to sleep early," Luce promises and gives me a peck on the cheek, "They've had a hard day." She leads me back to the small Taming room, where a girl covered with a blanket shivers despite the stifling heat. A ten-year-old boy looking wrung out and exhausted with the heat periodically mopped the girl's brow.

      No fur, no fur yet, I think as he reacts dully to the intrusion. Sweat-plastered hair and a hangdog expression add to the image.

      "Fever not broke," he says to Luce, "Is she gonna - is she gonna be all right?" He avoids the word 'die'.

      "It's a fairly typical Threshold into her breed," Luce tells him, "Sean, can you take him out and get his some electrolytes. I'll watch her."

      I nod, and quickly dig out all the pepper sauce and one of the orders of take out. "If she can eat."

      Luce's raises an elegant eyebrow and smiles.

      Yes, I can guess what's happening to her, I think as I lead the unresisting boy out.

      The cooler air wakes him up instantly. "I need to watch her."

      "The Nurse can, just as well as you can. You have to stay healthy too, or you won't help her," I tell him in my best 'supportive cop' voice.

      He looks up worriedly at me, when he sees the smile, he relaxes. "Yeah, I guess."

      "What happened?"

      "Sis started . . . her . . . her head and back hurt bad. My dad finally let mom take her to a doctor. There was an argument and . . . dad threw Karen out of the house. I . . . ."

      I gave the kid a shoulder hug, which he needs, despite trying to be 'brave'. Staying with his sister while she undergoes Threshold, is a lot brave than his father.

      "She's turning into some odd kind of Pokègirl, isn't she?"

      "She's turning into a Pokègirl," I tell him.

      I'm not going to tell him that odd Pokègirls are more valuable. He doesn't need to be reminded that his sister is turning into somebody's property.

      "Don't want her goin' ta a ranch. None of the guys 'round here . . . "

      I remember the local laws around here about abandoned Domestics, and I have an answer. "Are you afraid of the water?"

      "No, why?"

      "If your dad won't take Karen back, what will you do?"

      Reality slams down on him, hard. "I dunno," he sadly admits.

      "I know of a way you can stay near her, and also you'll both have clothes and a bed, and be looked after."

      "Where?" he asks, "Some orphanage?"

      "No, the Navy"

      He blanches at that.

      The Navy is the boogeyman Gendo uses to scare these fellows.

      "The Navy?" he asks quietly.

      "I can talk to a friend and get you a posting away from the channel. You won't have to choose between your home and your job."

      "I dunno," he says, looking at his hands.

      "Just so you know, you do have some choices."

      "Yeah, okay," the boy says as he looks back the way he came, "I'm okay now. Can I look after my sister?"

      "I think the nurse is checking on her and cleaning her up," I tell him, "It's best if we wait a bit, and let her finish."

      "Oh, I didn't think of that."

      "When was the last time you got any rest?" I ask in the tone of the 'friendly cop'.

      "A while, I took some naps, but she needs me."

      "If you get sick, then who'll look after her? Let the Joy do her job, you get some rest and something to eat, and take a shower yourself."

      "Uh, okay," he relents, then pauses, "You'll tell me if anything happens, right? If she wakes up?"

      "I'll come get you," I promise, "Or the nurse will."

      The working area has some vending machines, and I know where the private kitchens are. The girl will probably eat all the take out, and still be hungry, I think as I drop off the food in the Taming room. When I return to the boy, he's sound asleep on one of the tables. I take him to one of the private bunk rooms, and return to where Luce has the girl rewrapped. As she steps out into the corridor I scent a faint smell of infection.

      "Foxymaiden?" I ask.

      Luce seems surprised I can figure that out, since I never pulled my Pokèdex. "Yes, the tail hasn't sprouted properly and the ears are having some trouble, who ever gave her the E-medal should have waited until she finished Thresholding. The ears are ingrown, and there's some infection."

      I can guess who did that, I think, Rather ordinary to extremely valuable, then she gets sick and their windfall suddenly will start draining resources. Lovely species I'm forced to live with.

      "I'm asking as a forensic investigator, why not just put her in a Pokèball and run her through a Healing Cycle?"

      "I thought of that, but she's been chipped and my stuff can't get past it."

      More evidence, I don't say.

      "Check on the boy," I say and head to the quarters I'm sharing with her. There, in a small locked case, I have a police 'Grand Master' Ball, the joking name for one that respects no collar or chip. Not surprisingly, no one outside the upper level police know about them. The few found in criminal hands are painstakingly traced back to the theft victim or the illicit manufacturer. Accent on the pain, once we find them.

      When Luce returns, I have the ball in hand, and the girl in the ball.

      "He's fine, it's just exhaustion and he'll sleep for a few hours."

      I don't ask. We take the balled girl to the healing machine and Luce runs me through the specific settings to ease a Pokègirl through a difficult Threshold or Evolution.

      Good kid, she knows a cop can do things a Pokègirl can't, even if she has to step us through the technical aspects. Once the machine swallows the ball, both of us wait for the timer to come on. Five hours and 45 minutes, even I know that's a long time, I think as I step behind Luce.

      In an instant, I have her arms pulled up behind her back, and my handcuffs on her. "Now," I tell her harshly, "You are going to tell me all you know about this case."

      "No! There's Joy-patient confid - YEEK!"

      I have my hand between her legs and I'm pressing up with the edge. "I can use a metal yardstick instead."

      "No, I'm a good Pokègirl. In the name of Hip -"

      "Hypocrite, I know you . . . do . . . things. Now you're going to tell me about them," I tell her in my best Noir villain tone.

      "Please don't hurt them," she whispers, "They're only kids." Her frightened tone is very believable, except to someone feeling her rubbing herself on my hand, her labia and clit swelling and warming.

      "So, it's all right to hurt you?" I ask threateningly, and press my hand up harder.

      She whimpers, but nods, and I drag her by the hair, on her head, to her room. Forcing her to walk on tiptoes the entire way. Once there, I hang her collar from a convenient hook, her feet hang a few centimeters off the floor. I open a cabinet.

      The Silver River League gaucho who taught me to use a whip would go crazy over this collection, I think as I select a true 'cat, with barbed wire braided into the strands. I ignore how her nipples have poked out and her rubbing her thighs together as she hangs. I rub the handle on her breasts, especially around the nipples.

      She bites her lip and whimpers, squirming as she thinks about the barbs and how they'd feel.

      "Legs apart!" I order.

      She shake her head 'no', her fear real this time. I shove the handle between her legs, tight up against her crotch.

      "Fine, keep them closed," I tell her, "If you can." I select a plain 2-meter bullwhip. With a crack, I flip the lights off and plunge the room into darkness. While Luce is struggling, I slip on a pair of nightvision goggles.

      Now I can see, and she can't, I think as I crack the whip, and flick her hair with my free hand.

      She squeals like a stepped on Titmouse.

      "That wasn't even close," I tease her, as I crack the whip again, and flick her skirt.

      The 'cat clatters to the floor. "Please," she moans, a mix of fear and lust.

      "Bad girl!" The whip cracks again and again, with me plucking at her hair and clothes. Flicking her nipples through her uniform makes her pull her legs tight up beneath her and let out a deep-throated cry.

      Basso Profundo, I note, My voice isn't that deep.

      As she unclenches, her expression has changed as well.

      I bet I couldn't beat her off with the 'cat now, I realize, If I used it for real.

      "I'll give you what you want," she tells me huskily.

      "If I wanted information," I tell her as I rub the whip between her spread legs, "I would have started with the questions. I want you to moan, and beg and plead."

      That moan tries to sound pitiful, I think as she leans towards me and moans, But it has too much 'when I get loose I'm going to eat you!' in it.

      All the lights come on and a loud bell sounds in her quarters.

      Coitus Interruptus is another hazard of getting intimate with Jennies or Joys.

      "You! You! You cheater!" she shouts as I lift her down, "You had me convinced that -"

      My kiss interrupts her. "Job," I remind her as I spin her around to uncuff her. While she strips out of her apron and skirt, I pull a fresh apron, skirt and panties from the dresser and toss them to her. She's dressed and presentable before she's out the door.

      I wonder if she's going to beat me up, before she jumps me? I think, Or just skip the foreplay entirely and tackle me when she gets done. That's the other danger about Jennies and Joys. They seem to turn it off instantly, but it really isn't off, it's just on a full boil with the lid clamped down, and like any pressure cooker, there will be an explosion later.

      Joy runs her fingers over my erect nipples, about all that can still be erect at this point, and sighs. "Hermaphodism isn't unknown, and there are surgeries - "

      "If you have to use your lips and tongue, I could suggest an alternative," I tell her as I carefully grab her ears, "Do you want me to show you how it's done?"

      She squeaks again, and with a sly smile, disappears under the covers. I glance down at my breasts that would make a Tomboy's look like a Venuswhore's in comparison. She wondered why I hide it, partially because I've heard every 'Pokeboy' joke that's ever been told, I remember, The worst part is they're closer to the truth than they know.

      About 70 years ago, Sanctuary decided human males were the real problem, and they had all these rescued girls and all this biotech to do splicing. So they took a lot of Drag-King and DildoQueen, a smidgen of PsiDyke for man-hating, and gods only know what else, to develop a Pokèboy. Somehow they added camouflage so their creations wouldn't appear as Pokègirls to a Pokèdex. A replacement for men, with the same pack mentality and as vulnerable as any Pokègirl to Taming needs and S-Goth control. A few generations of crossbreeding and the human population would be far more controllable, and ripe for the S-Goths to simply walk into power.

      It didn't quite work. I'm enough of a misanthrope I almost fulfill that need, I dislike human males and females, I patently loathe most Pokègirls, but completely despise those who created me. Carmen was a similar failure. She has the masculine build, but is more amused than offended by humanity, and has only female genitalia, where aside from tiny functioning breasts, I have only male. She appears as a PsiDyke, her camouflage didn't take fully. Mine works just fine. We were two of the failures who survived the S-Goths' trying to close the lab. Some of we failures died in the fighting, or the fire. Some others as their genetic instability caught up with them. The rest died in the intervening seventy years, from a myriad of causes, old age among them. Yet Carmen and I are the same age as we were when they pulled us from the equipment and we drew our first breath, apparently about 25 years-old. To the best of my knowledge, they've never had any successes after they tried with us.

      Two immortals who've taken it upon themselves to guard foolish, clumsy humanity from those who would 'improve' it, against all common sense.

      So with a loose top, and tight pants, I'm a guy for all the world to see. Every 30 or so years, I disappear, and my son appears. Who I really am is my business.

      I spurt into Luce's mouth and she eagerly swallows and licks me clean. As she surfaces, the grin typically indicated she'd been eating something else, I enfold her in a hug. I know what a Pokègirl wants, I've wanted it, I've been one for seventy years, I think as she snuggles and drops into a blissful sleep.

      I lay awake a while, considering my options, and my long, long future.

      The office is tastefully appointed, typical of a midrange politico trying to buck for big-shot status. I flash my badge to the secrepokè and head into the office. She touches a button that locks the door, and is about to put me in my place, when I crush the lock and continue opening the door.

      "Ah good, your lawyer and political advisor," I say cheerfully, "I was hoping we wouldn't have to go downtown. Keep this assisting the investigators in their inquiries," I tell them as I wedge a chair under the door. I pull up another chair to the table. I ignore their fear and anger at the intrusion.

      "Let's start off with a few things in the clear. First, when I was asked about the relationship, you responded automatically, but I wasn't asking you."

      The political advisor sits back and covers her face dramatically.

      Drama Queen, I think

      "Second, I want to know about her, not you." The one I tagged as 'political advisor' speaks first, "My husband's . . . tastes are not for discussion." She grins evilly. "Your own tastes run the same way."

      "My bosses know about my bed and breakfast habits, and where my per diem goes, but all my lodge mates are still alive. And so are my father's, unless they died of old age. The matter at hand is murder."

      And now I have another suspect, if it turns out to be a random case. Jealousy has killed plenty in this world, I don't say aloud.

      "I don't believe she had an enemy in the world. My wife was not the jealous, jilted lover," the politico tells me.

      She was the tit-hound, not you, I realize, It just looked better that you went and got her, or slipped your wife in . . . or you did threesomes. This case just gets better.

      "I never had one official complaint, and never heard one bad word said about her, and with your opinion of politicians, you know what that means."

      The lawyer spoke up, "It is our considered opinion, that this was a random crime, by an insane maniac, or a mad Pokègirl, since even a Joy could defend herself against most human opponents."

      "You've requested a replacement?" I ask.

      Since you're wanting this to drop, I think, And the cops already know this was part of a pattern. I'll let that go.

      "The League has sent a Megami and several guards, in case it is an attack on the Pokècenter or the Pokècenter system."

      " 'System'?" I ask.

      "There was a similar attack a few years ago, at the center you're currently staying at," the politico tells me, and smiles, "The current Nurse Joy is a replacement. The previous Joy too was mutilated like our Joy was."

      And I missed it, or they're lying, I wonder, Or is it unrelated?

      I stick with my questioning, "Have there been any troublemakers in town? Someone who would . . . not like to be annoyed?"

      "Present company excepted?" the wife asks and smirks at me.

      "Dear," the politico soothes.

      No, not threesomes, although he might have watched. It wouldn't do for an up and coming politician to have a Breeder-wife with such tastes, but a harmless affair, with his wife's knowledge and even participation is an acceptable deviation. Multiple long-term relationships, especially when the Breeder doesn't object, those can be swept under the rug and snickered about at fancy parties. But the Joy was her plaything.

      "We want this fiend caught, so does this officer," the politico adds and gives me a faint nod.

      I relent, and give him my card. "I have a message service and pager, if and when you want to talk. My sympathies for your loss." I slip out, after resetting the door. "You need to get that fixed, it sticks," I tell the secrepokè and leave.

      The station's desk Jenny makes me feel just as welcome as when I'd first arrived. "They want you in the chief's office."

      Not enough to page me, or call me, I think as I walk through the halls, and up the stairs to the administration level, Otherwise known as The Ivory Tower, to the cops who actually do the work. Do I really want to be part of them, instead of part of us? I think as I walk.

      In the office, the S-Goth is waiting with the Chief, her captain, and someone from Internal Affairs, although her pet is nowhere to be seen.

      "I told them," she says tearfully.

      Oh, her pet didn't take it well, I think as Carmen brushes past to deliver coffee or tea to everyone. She hands me a cup of strong Ruby League-style tea.

      Strong enough to melt a Widow, and black, just like I like it.

      Carmen sits next to the girl. "She told them about her connection and her monitoring the League's police force for some time. And they told her, they've been passing disinformation through her and other operatives for years."

      I manage not to glance back at the open door behind me. What are they playing at? I keep my expression composed. How does this affect the investigation? Typically we have 3 to 5 weeks between crimes.

      "I assume her pet wants off the case."

      "Correct," the captain says, "And you'll need to be ready to go somewhere else," he says.

      Thinks he can sweep it all under the rug and get rid of all his problem children.

      'That's probably true,' Carmen places in my mind.

      "Thank you for your cooperation," I tell them sincerely, before I turn and leave.

      Cleaning out my office takes only a few minutes. Telling my bed and breakfast I have to check out, I think sadly, And that I may not be back, that will take longer.

      The kid and Karen are gone. Left behind is a copy of the Navy contract, posting both of them to the Magma Islands. All signed sealed and delivered, I think, Too bad the old man didn't reconcile. Sad to see family's go that way.

      "Luce?" I call, and when I don't get an answer, I stop being the concerned lover, and become the cop on the hunt. The pistol in my hand is one of the new 11.43 mm types, able to founder a Clydesdame.

      "Luce?" I ask as I move carefully, quietly, through the Pokècenter, moving the sight frame from doorway to doorway, ears and eyes straining.

      It's too soon, I think, The closest killing was 10 days, it's too soon!

      "Boo -EEEK!" Luce drops the cake she was carrying. "I like foreplay, but can you point that cannon somewhere else?" she asks timidly.

      "Sorry," I apologize as I put the weapon, "It's the case I'm working on. We just tumbled an S-Goth out of the squad. I thought they'd come here to . . . "

      She steps up and hugs me. "I'm fine, after what happened here, they've got good security," she assures me. Then she looks up into my face. "But you're leaving, aren't you?"

      "I'm sorry, I -"

      Her kisses have a frantic feeling I've not experienced before from her or most Joys.

      "I love you, I love you, I love you," she tells me between kisses.

      This isn't just foreplay for a Taming, I realize.

      "But I'll have to leave when I get my new assignment," I tell her, "Which could be any time."

      She stops her frantic kissing and just holds me. "Then we have tonight, and maybe tomorrow, at least?"

      "Yes, we have tonight, and probably tomorrow," I tell her.

      She smiles and snuggles against me, ignoring the fact she's up to her ankles in cake.

      The airship terminal is like every other airship terminal, in every city, in every League. Cheap, durable, and industrial drab. More important the place can be cleaned quickly than it is attractive, I think as I wait for the great lolling airship to get tethered down, so we can board. I hated leaving Luce behind, and not just from the going away present she gave me.

      "Hey, is there room for one more?" the voice I never wanted to hear again.

      "Good afternoon. I thought you'd be going back home," I say not bothering to hide my hostility to an S-Goth.

      "Look, I want to solve the case as much as you do," she replies defensively.

      "Don't like the competition?" I ask, "This ship is heading back to the Sunshine League, as soon as we're out of international waters, I can and probably will, shoot you with impunity."

      "I'm on your side here," she replies, but still backs away.

      "You?" I ask and smirk, "You think just because I have balls and a prick, I have no brains. That's nice, open-minded, not gauche at all."

      She snarls at that, but comes no closer.

      I head to the commo terminal to alert the authorities of two Leagues of her attempt to board.

      My office back in Golden Poppy is the same as I left it. The Titmice and Mousewives kept the place spotless. I check the e-mail, and see I have a meeting with my boss. I just hope he hasn't gone nuts and is insisting I work with an S-Goth . . . naw, I think.

      The office can't be any more of a shrine that it is to what is good and bad about the SLIS. Medals, news clipping and mug shots decorate the walls. The woman behind the desk would be unusual in any League but ours.

      "Colonel," I say, and nod.

      The Matron smiles and looks up at me, "We got an official request - " She smirks at my cringe. "For you to take the major's test. Here." She hands me a packet. "Study those and you should have no problems with passing."

      "Thank you, Colonel," I say, "Are you feeling all right?"

      The normally implacable Pokèwoman stands and looks out the window so thick and heavily armored, it's yellow. "I'll need a replacement. That's a major's billet, or above."

      I don't want your job, I ache to say aloud.

      "Promotion?" I ask.

      "Special operations subdivision of InterLeague Crimes. There's something brewing. The Sages want the 'best and most experienced thinkers assembled.' I was on the short list. Imagine, all those G-Points, Supe-bra Genii, Ka-D-Bras, and Alaka-Whams to choose from, and the Sages want a worn out old Matron with grandkids."

      "And a lot of cops who wouldn't be here without your leadership," I tell her truthfully.

      She turns back. "They also told me about an officer, who's father and grandfather I came up the ranks with. Your granddad saw to it that a snot-nosed punk understood what it meant to be a cop, and especially an officer of the SLIS."

      So she found out, I think, That's why Carmen told me to take the major's exams.

      "I don't think I could ever replace you," I tell her, and look down at the paperwork, "I'm not sure I'd want to try."

      "Understood, but you are the most qualified. You've also been pressing your luck. You aren't invulnerable. The organization needs your experience as more than a field agent."

      "Message received," I say, trying not to be petulant about it.

      She smirks. "And Carmen has someone you should meet," she tells me in the tone that tells me I'm dismissed.

      I head back to my office, and verify I still have my clearances. Okay, I'm still an officer in good standing, I think, Despite the fact they know what I am. Interesting.

      I call up the data on our friend, and how she got out of Johto. Okay, Silver River, and that's close enough she could teleport to the Magma Isles. Then take a small boat to Nuevo Tenochtitlàn, I consider, I can imagine the reception she'll get there.

      I put that out of my mind and return to the case. Julio hasn't reported in. No point bugging him, he won't respond until he's done. I go through the rest of the back up of mail and paperwork. That takes only until a little after lunch. I head down to the range.

      The argument of firearms against Pokègirls is heated, with the 5 and 7 mm pistols useless against anything except humans. High power/high velocity have more effect. Now, someone's reintroduced the old .45 APC, and these are rapidly catching on because they won't kill a Pokègirl, but they will put one down.

      The safety glasses and earphones are mandatory. There are always a few officers practicing. The sound of gunfire is interesting, because typically a weapon is a last resort. Don't pull your gun unless you're fully prepared to use it, I remember my training officer telling the class, I got the same the next two times I went through the academy.

      I don't like the limited ammo, but the rounds are large. Ten rounds one at a time hit the center of mass of the man-target. I don't smile, the shooting is good enough. But it doesn't bring me any closer to dealing with my real problems, I know as I return to my desk to begin going over the materials the Colonel gave me. So I go to one of them rather than a field agent.

      When I finally go home, I'm not a happy officer.

      What I find politely waiting on my doorstep is a pleasant surprise. "Luce?" I ask as the NurseJoy separates from the red-haired, winged woman.

      She runs a few steps, then slows and composes herself. "Are you happy to see me?"

      "Very," I tell her as I enfold her in a hug, "Just surprised. Aren't you . . . owned by the Pokècenter system?"

      "Your friend suggested I would likely be a victim of - like you were afraid of," Luce tells me, looking deep into my eyes, "The Johto authorities even paid from my blimp ticket."

      "I . . . I still have your present," I tell her, and her smile warms my heart.

      I look at the other woman waiting patiently. "Carmen sent you?" I ask.

      She nods.

      "Fred and I been talking all day," Luce said.

      "Fred? I bet there's a story there," I tell them, "There's a good restaurant down the street. If you'd care to join us, you won't be intruding."

      "Thank you," she says quietly as she takes my arm, while Luce takes my other arm and rests her head on my shoulder. "Sometimes, I think Carmen is one of the Sages," Fred whispers to me.

      "I wouldn't bet against it."