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Act 1: Armageddon

Chapter 1: A Mundane World

Every time I open my eyes, my weary eyes, I see things that I simply don't want to see. The bright flashing numbers on my digital alarm clock telling me that I'm late for an appointment down at the station. The bottle of whatever generic brand alcohol it was that I'd guzzled the previous night. My wife's photograph that I thought I'd burned. I never wake up in the morning, yawn, scratch my head, and catch a glimpse of something cheerful; it just doesn't happen. Hell, even if it did, a nasty crime scene flashback would probably worm its way into that happy little moment, fester for a few seconds, then burn it down. Murder scenes and crying rape victims have that effect on a smile. After nine years of investigative journalism and private eye-ing, you start to lose sight of all the beautiful things that life has to offer and tend to focus on all of the cruel, malicious, sadistic, and perverse things. It's sad, but I can't even remember the last time I smiled without having to force it.

Damn, is this what they call a midlife crisis?

"Guess I'll get dressed..." I yawned as I slid out of bed and shambled towards the laundry pile that made up one half of my bedroom.

My name is Alan Thomas Kilbane, of the Alderwood Raichu Clan, and as I'm certain you've guessed by now, I'm a private detective. Here in Saffron City, Kanto's largest metropolis, crime of every kind is just a hop, skip, and a jump away from your doorstep. I have to deal with this shit day in and day out, constantly, and it's starting to wear me thin. Okay, you caught me, it's already worn me thinner than the loose leaf paper I use to write my weekly reports, but you get the idea. I'd be a liar if I tried to tell you that I looked good for my age, a strapping 38. My hair is matted, my eyes are bloodshot, my cheeks are starting to loose their electric yellow, my paws are numb from scars and callouses, and my tail's been in need of a good cleaning for a couple of months now. Yeah, I've seen better days, much better days actually, but I should count my lucky stars while I still can because things could always be worse.

"The station, huh?" I smirked whilst inspecting my wall-mounted calendar. "I hope this pays off; self-destructive anti-depressants and liquor don't pay for themselves."

With all the speed of a wounded sloth, I lurching from my cluttered anthill of clothing that I begrudgingly called a 'laundry pile', then I shambled over to my bedroom's built-in bathroom and took to grooming myself. In an attempt to look as presentable as I could, I brushed my fur and put a comb through my mussed hair several times, though I'm not quite sure how much it helped. A decently rigorous half hour of stretching and meditative yoga helped to shake my joints loose and stave off arthritis for another three days. And to top it all off, I even boiled up some fresh coffee while still wearing only my boxers. Yeah, taking care of your morning with only a rumpled pair of boxers to back you up; the greatest part of being single.

So I ventured forth from my shack of a home, dressed in my usual wrinkled jacket and grease stained tie, and prepared to dive right into my day. My car, a stunning Yugo GV, rumbled and shook violently as I turned the ignition and started her up. With different color doors, one missing window, a bent rear bumper, and a radio that could only pick up a grand total of seven stations; she wasn't the most exotic or lavish of rides, but could still manage to get me to where I wanted to go. And sure, the engine might quit on me from time to time, and the brakes might not always work as quickly or as often as I'd like them to, but a car is still a car, and I'm not really in a position to complain. After all, I could be walking to work, right?

"Morning, Alan!" shouted a shrill voice from across the parking lot. "It's a beautiful day for an interrogation!"

"Hey, Will, you're here early." I replied; cold and aloof as I lit a crumpled cigarette. "Or is it actually late in the day? I always feel a little groggy, so I can never really tell."

The young man that called out to me was a new addition to the force, a greenhorn rookie by the name of William Heckler. You could tell he was a newbie almost instantly; the lack of control over any given situation and clear emotional stress are dead giveaways. A small, orange Charmander with enough cheery charisma and unbridled enthusiasm to block out the sun, seeing his bright smile always seemed to put me in a bad mood. Though probably unaware of it, his fiery tail always starts to wag back and forth, not unlike that of an excited dog's, every time he approaches someone. What with him being the building's newest face and freshest meat, he's probably just trying to make friends, although that doesn't still stop his little show of affection from being the most embarrassing thing that I've ever seen. After all, the word 'cute' should never, ever be used to describe anything that a grown man does.

"Interrogation, huh?" I continued; taking brief breaks from talking whenever I needed another puff. "So they've finally brought in their prime suspect, that's good news. How long have they been working on this case, seven months now? They'd better have some damn good dirt on this guy, freshly dug up too, otherwise he might just escape back under the radar again."

"Tell me about it." Will said nervously; timidly staring at the ground. "We've been busting our asses trying to catch this guy, so he'd better be the one and only. If he turns out to be innocent, If he turns out to be clean, then we've just thrown away more than half a year and allowed the real killer enough time to escape."

"No, I think you've got the right guy this time." I responded. "I read the report yesterday, everything seems to adds up."

"...But what if we don't?" sighed Will pensively. "What if we've just been on another wild goose hunt this whole time, following the wrong breadcrumb trail?"

Though I'm not normally one to lend a shoulder for someone to cry on, we were still comrades in arms and Will had been giving this investigation his all. Besides, with a past record of innate nervous tension and unbridled fear, another pile of worries and woes wasn't something that he really needed. So, I slapped him in his scaly back and said, "Don't worry about it, Will, we've got the right guy. Though we're still without a clear motive, he was seen at more than six of the crime scenes and has been linked to three others through DNA evidence. Add an unstable alibi to the equation and the whole picture seems to come together nicely. All of that said, if we're wrong and we've got an innocent man incarcerated right now, then I'll eat my smokes and drink my Yugo's used oil."

Will looked back up, shook off his apprehension and fear, then asked, "You really think he's the culprit?"

"No, Will, I know he's the culprit." I responded firmly, putting my hand on his jittery shoulder. "Now let's go inside, meet with the Captain, and get this whole thing over and done with, alright?"

"Right!" Will heartily affirmed; his smile back stronger than before.

Maybe it was just me, as things often are, but something did feel somewhat strange about today and the feeling of cautious optimism that was thickly permeating the air. I felt pretty good, much better than I normally did, and felt good about the investigation as well. I really, honestly felt that after today's interrogation, we would get the information that we've been so desperately needing. As I entered the building with Will in tow, I noticed that everyone else seemed to be struck with the same odd feeling of hope and confidence. All of the gray, timeworn faces that I'd become so used to seeing every day and night had suddenly become blithe, buoyant, and colored once again.

"Alan, there you are!" yelled an intimidating Blastoise as it angrily stomped its way towards me. A nearby janitor winced as he watched the big man thump his feet against the floor, ruining the recent waxing. "Where the fuck have you been?! We've been waiting this whole time, now get down to the interrogation room and do your job!"

"So I did oversleep, eh?" I grumbled under my breath. "Oh well, we can't all be early birds like you, now can we?"

"What was that?!" barked the big turtle, poking me in the chest as he tried his hardest to act superior. I'm guessing that his hearing was slightly better than I'd previously thought. "If you've got enough time to make smart remarks, then you've got more than enough time to do your job! We've finally got the bastard in our hands, in our hometown, on our turf, and I'm not gonna let your laziness screw things up! Now, get your ass moving and get down to the interrogation room!"

"I'm going, I'm going." I relented, not at all in the mood for an argument.

"Damn right!" he bellowed; pushing me aside like a small child.

That was Edward Witherspoon, the local blowhard and current Department Chief. Big and mean, he throws his considerable weight around whenever he fails to get what he wants. However, as arrogant and pompous as the big blue bastard is, he does commit himself to the job and never fails to yield results when the results need to be yielded. He's a good cop, but just the biggest fucking prick you've ever seen. It takes a while to get used to him, that's for sure.

"C'mon, Will, let's get going." I sighed; slowly shuffling down the long, lonely hallway.

Will, who was already on his was somewhere else, immediately stopped and turned around. Confused, he questioned, "Who? Me? Do you mean me?"

"I don't see anyone else by the name of Will around here, do you?" I smirked sarcastically, lifting one eyebrow. "I figured we'd try the old 'Good Cop, Bad Cop' routine. After all, you're the nicest guy around and I'm an empty, hollow, shell of a man. What do you say, let's give it a whirl."

"Yeah, let's do it!" he cheered jovially. "We'll get this guy to talk, no matter what!"

And we most certainly would; I didn't plan on leaving this building without a confession from the suspect and his long awaited court appointment date. So with my henchman following closely behind, I strolled casually down the hallway and towards the most uncomfortable looking man I've ever had the displeasure of seeing. Standing proudly and sporting a pair of steel bracelets, the hottest accessory of the season, was a Snorlax of both furious disposition and quite vehement demeanor. He loomed ominously and would have been quite a frightening sight had he not been restrained by several armed guards and officers. His name was Kiev Mikhail Petrivka and he was today's guest of honor.

"Kiev." I greeted coldly; after all, there's no real point in being completely courteous to someone suspected of murder.

"Detective." replied the massive man; his thick Slavic accent putting my beautiful Celtic voice to shame.

"If you would be so kind as to follow me, we will proceed with today's interrogation." I explained stoically, drawing out the events that were soon to follow. "And as I'm sure you already know, any forgeries or perversions of the truth will be viewed as obstruction of the law. I'd advise you to be as truthful and forthcoming as you possibly can."

"Should I speak the truth, you will only see my words as lies." he sneered. "Still, I shall tell you all I know."

Though I normally did work involving investigative journalism and simple reconnaissance, I was actually quite famous for my elegant twisting of words and my skillful negotiating techniques. Saffron's 1st Department has used me as an interrogator on many an occasion, enough to earn me the nickname 'The Negotiator' at least. However, as I stepped into that icy room with Kiev, a supposed serial killer, an immobilizing chill ran down my spine and throughout my entire body. For a split second, a brief instant, every fiber of my being screamed for me to escape that claustrophobic room and run far, far away. But being the kind of guy that I am, a cat killed eight times by its curiosity, I just had to stay and find out what was so very terrifying about the truth that this man was soon to reveal.

"How about I ask the stupid question first, eh?" I smirked smugly; flicking my spent cigarette ashes into an available ashtray. I knew he wouldn't give me the answer that I wanted, not this soon, but I though that it was still worth a try. "Kiev Mikhail Petrivka, did you kill the 17 victims connected to the Bibliophile Case? Did you slit the throats of 17 people, then brand their bodies with a passage from the Book of Evolution and the symbol of the Greater Flame Deity, Entei?"

A long, grave silence followed my simple inquiry. Though I tried to follow my foe's eyes as he contemplated his answer, his gaze was clearly focused on nothing and simply drifted aimlessly. As he nodded to himself solemnly, a defeated gesture if any, I felt a twinge of sorrow fester deep within me.

"That's not really all it took, is it?" I questioned uncertainly.

Kiev just lifted his face and replied, "It is, Detective, it is. Neither you nor I came here this day in hopes of matching wits. We came to see the truth revealed, did we not?"

"And?" urged a timid Will, hidden in the shadowy corner at the far side of the room.

"And..., yes, I am the man you seek." answered our captive as he stood up, undaunted, and looked me in the eyes. "I am the man who took the lives of 17 people, indifferently killing anyone who was destined and ordained to die. Men, women, and children all fell lifeless in my arms, the arms of an enslaved beast."

...Whoa, what did he just say?