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Stories Write a story to catch Pokemon. A Grader will then decide if it catches or not.


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  #1  
Old 01-04-2010, 02:13 PM
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Default Vines {WWC}


Banner by Me; Full credit to the artists
Targets: Rattata, Koffing, Gligar and Yanma
Characters Needed: (10k-20k)+(10k-20k)+(10k-20k)+(5k-10k)=(35k-70k)
Characters: (Without Spaces) 64,177
Characters: (With Spaces) 78,502

Crossover between Pokemon and Law and Order SVU. Beware, some blood, lots of sexual reference-type-things, I suppose. Just don't read it unless you can handle 'rape'.

Follows the story of Detectives Marie-Anne Hille, Donovan Carber, Santine Marley and Archer Daugherty as they attempt to finally corner and arrest a serial rapist known as the Vine Rapist for his tendancy to use decapitated Bulbasaur vines. Not your average capture, I may add.
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Last edited by TsukiKaiki64; 01-04-2010 at 11:33 PM. Reason: hahahaha
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  #2  
Old 01-04-2010, 10:31 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Fuchsia City
Corner of Best Pick’s Apartment Complex
10:44 PM, October 7th, 2009


"Excuse me? Hello? I need an ambulance at 81st Avenue and Lyons Street? A young woman... She’s been assaulted. Please, I need one quick!" The lady, short and stocky with a layer of fat covering her body, sobbed into the phone, her eyes glued to the bloody scene in front of her. She closed her eyes, afraid to look at the young girl, just a few months shy of eighteen.

"Ma’am, please hold on. We’ll get a bus over to her as quickly as possible. Just stay calm and stay with her!" The voice in the phone said, her voice both bored and worried at the same time.

The older woman, somewhere in between thirty and forty, nodded frantically and hung up quickly, taking another look at the victim.

She was probably very beautiful, when her fair face wasn’t bruised or bloodied. Her hair was reddish-brown, or maybe it was just brown. It is hard to tell, in the dark of the night. The only reason Mrs. Pickering had found her was because of the sudden eruption of noise from outside the dreary apartment building. But despite her husband being the landlord and the fact that she knew everyone in the old brick building, she had never seen her. She was sure she would have recognized her. She was lying on the wet ground with her clothes torn off, swollen belly revealed to the new winter winds. Mrs. Pickering was tempted to get her some clothing or at least a blanket, but she didn’t want to tamper with the crime scene. And, as if to calm her mind, a sleek-furred Espeon was curling besides her, licking her face gently until the ambulance arrived.
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Last edited by TsukiKaiki64; 01-04-2010 at 10:42 PM.
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  #3  
Old 01-04-2010, 10:33 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Fuchsia City
Special Victims Unit
7:52 AM, October 20th, 2009


"Hille, we’ve got a case for you," the boss of the Special Victims Unit told his lead detective, Marie-Anne Hille.

"Shoot," she replied as she tossed some stray black hairs behind her pale ears. Detective Hille was one of the best. She has solved dozens of cases and put just as many rapists in jail. She was getting closer to thirty everyday but she still had the body of a model; an intimidating model. Long black hair, thin, curved body and dark green eyes. She was a brash, arrogant detective that normally liked to work alone, most likely because of her quieter, weaker-seeming partner, Detective Donovan Carber. Marie-Anne was the person that the Special Victims Unit leader, Randall Foster, choose for the most difficult and horrifying of cases. Though some may say it was because of her kinder partner, others argue that it was because of the way Hille could get anybody to say anything.

"Seventeen year old Shea Everhart was raped last night on the corner of Lyons Street and 81st Avenue." Foster informed her, taking out a file from a black leather bag he wore over his shoulder. "She’s currently at the YelloWind Hospital. Get there was soon as you can, Hille. Carber is already there and Marley and Daugherty are tracking down her parents at the moment."

"Anything else I need to know?" Marie-Anne asked, narrowing her eyes at her boss. He was notorious for leaving out key details in rape and murder cases.

"Shea is..." He checks a clipboard once more, dark brown eyes scanning the information sheet, "eight and a half months pregnant. Prime suspect at this moment is the Vine Rapist.”

The Vine Rapist was a serial rapist and still hasn’t been caught. It was normally quite easy to tell if a victim was raped by this horrific man. They were always pregnant, restrained with a Bulbasaur’s vines, and are normally marked with the words ‘****’ or ‘*****’ across the chest, written in the victim’s blood. Sometimes he even cut the words into their skin with a knife. The Vine Rapist has been lying low for a number of years and this is the first case to show up with the same MO as the others.

“That is needed information, Foster,” Hille replied, hurrying over to her messy desk. On it is a simple leather belt with five Pokeballs and a gun. Hille picked it up, wrapping it easily around her thin waist, before exiting the SVU Office Building quickly.

Foster sighed, shaking his head as his key detective walked out. This time, Foster thought to himself. This time we will catch him.
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Last edited by TsukiKaiki64; 01-04-2010 at 10:42 PM.
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  #4  
Old 01-04-2010, 10:37 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Fuchsia City
YelloWind Hospital
10:48 AM, October 8th, 2009


Carber looked up as his partner walked through the glass sliding doors into Shea’s hospital room. The room has simple white walls, a pale yellow trim and just about every other feature is either red-brown wood or dandelion yellow. He was sitting on one of the brightly patterned chairs next to the bed, bright blue eyes flickering between the mostly still girl and his partner. A thin hand was running nervously through messy blonde hair.

“How’s she doing?” Hille asked, standing at the end of the hospital bed. A purple, cat-like Pokemon was lying, curled up, besides Shea. Espeon’s forked tail twitched at the sound of the detective’s voice.

“She’s not in critical condition, if that’s what you mean. The nurse said she’ll be up in a few hours,” Carber replied quietly. “Espeon isn’t letting anyone of the male persuasion near her, though. Guess she wasn’t out during the attack.”

“What are you doing here then? Shouldn’t you be notifying the parents?” Hille replied, standing at the foot of the bed.

“I was waiting for you, Marie,” Carber informed her, standing up. His simple dark green jacket looked creased, as if he had been sitting for a very long time. “We should leave soon. We just have to wait for a while. Greg is supposed to come by, see if Shea’s Pokemon know anything.”

“Then let’s talk while we wait.” Hille’s response was short and sweet. “No need to get yourself in a bunch over this case, Don. I know you’ve been working on this case for a long time.”

“Eight years, Marie. And it still hurts every time we find a few victim,” Carber said. “She’s only seventeen.”

“All of the Vine Rapist’s victims are teens. The oldest was what… twenty-four?”

“Twenty-three. Brooklyn Ethans. Her child was killed during the attack,” Carber corrected, listing off facts about the young women like a robot. “She was devastated. Her attack was in 2002.”

“I know, Don. But this girl is fine. Do you know anything about the father of her child?” Hille asked, sighing a bit angrily.

“We don’t know anything about that yet. We’ll find out when we talk to her parents, I guess.”

Hille and Carber turned at the sound of a deep male voice, one with a heavy accent that the pair recognized as Pokemon. Gregory Weavile was about to make his entrance.

“Guessing since you two are here, that means this is the victim,” the Pokemon said, nodding his decorated red and black head at the detectives. “I’m here to speak to Espeon, though.”

“Good morning, Greg,” Carber said, standing up. The shorter Weavile glared at him, but pushed past to look at the victim.

“Good afternoon, Carber, Hille,” he replied. “Espeon, I need to speak with you.” The Dark/Ice Pokemon fell into using his native language, urging the Sun Pokemon to wake up.

Espeon opened one pupil less eye, the black sphere staring at Gregory. She lifted a delicate head, ready to defend her trainer.

“I mean no harm, Espeon,” Greg said twice, once in the language they understood and once in the language that she would understand best.

“No need to speak that tongue, Weavile,” the Espeon responded in, surprisingly, the English language. Her voice was filled with a heavy accent, one you might place on a gypsy or something of those sorts. She stood up, flexing her violet muscles before sitting down on the bed again, tail wrapped around her small paws. “I do not mind making the detectives’ job easier by speaking their tongue.”

Hille grinned. “Thank you, Espeon,” she said, only to stop talking when the red gem on Espeon’s forehead flashes dangerously.

“Call me by the name my mother gave me, Esmeralda,” she informed her. “And I am willing to do anything that put Shea in this condition. It pains me to know that the monster who did this to such a wonderful young women. Before either of you ask, I didn’t see the attack. It was after her attacker left that I was released.”

Weavile nodded. “Alright, Esmeralda. Thank you very much for your help. Do you know who let you out of your Pokeball?” he asked, sounding a bit more relaxed than before. “My name is Gregory Weavile.”

Gregory was a bit of a rare sight in the world of law. Pokemon that could speak English were rare sights themselves and few ever wanted to pursue any sort of career. But Gregory had been with the SVU for thirteen years now, along with a few other Pokemon. Marley’s Flareon, Carber’s Pulse, Hille’s Kabutops, and other Pokemon worked here now, but Gregory was the first to come to the detectives as a lone Pokemon.

“I’m not sure who, but I do know of three possible witnesses that were there,” Esmeralda responded. “Yanma, most likely. I heard the beating of his wings and felt the breeze. It might have been a Yanmega though. I don’t think so, the beats weren’t as powerful. A Gligar or one of the Zubat family line is another one that might have been there. I just saw a purple bat flying away. And a very familiar Oddish.”

“You’re saying you know this Oddish?” Detective Hille asked, frowning. The Espeon nodded.

“Yes. It belonged to a friend of Shea’s. A young girl, Angelique Rouge. But we haven’t seen her or her brother in months,” Esmeralda explained, sighing. “They left with Neb.”

Hille nodded. “Alright. Do you think you can identify any of these witnesses?” she asked. Esmeralda nodded her tiny lavender head again.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to.”

Carber held up his hand. “Wait, Rouge? I think I’ve heard that name before…” he trailed off, trying to remember why the name sounded so familiar.

Gregory Weavile answered Donovan Carber. “Lackar Rouge. On the run for the cops after several assault charges were placed against him.”
Hille nodded. “So it’s possible he did this?”

“I doubt it,” Caber replied shortly. “Lackar is twenty years old; these rapes have been going on for eight years. Do you really think that a twelve year old committed those rapes?”

Hille nodded. “True. We should still check him out.”

“If you can find him. I don’t think he did this anyways. Lackar only assaulted those men because he felt his sister was in danger,” Esmeralda said. “Though it would be great if you could. Lackar is best friends with the baby’s father, a young man named Neb.”

“Anything else you can tell us about this Neb?” Hille asked, crossing her arms around her torso. She was wearing a simple black turtleneck with baggy jeans, a belt wrapping around her waist that held her gun and Pokeballs.

Esmeralda shrugged. “He doesn’t have a last name, as far as I’m concerned. Was born and raised on the streets,” she explained, her voice heavy with her unusual accent and a sadness for her trainer. “But there are tons of pictures of him back at Shea’s apartment.”


Hille frowned. “He’s homeless? That can’t be very attractive.”

“He’s a wonderful young man. Just got dealt a bad hand in life. He was staying at the Homeless Center downtown for a while until him and some others just vanished,” Espeon informed the detectives.

Donovan nodded, looking at the red-heads face. He jumped when the door opened again.

“Detectives, may I speak to you?” A young woman asked, dressed in the pale blue that the nurses wore. Her blonde hair was tied into a high bun, showing more of her pale, withered skin.

Hille and Carber both followed the nurse with a nod at Esmeralda and Weavile. “Yes, Lynnette?” Carber asked, trying to act polite in front of his elder.

“I’m not sure that you’ll be looking for the Vine Rapist,” she said slowly. “It looks like him, of course. But there is a lot of stuff that suggests the perp knew her. She has cuts on her stomach, and bruises all along her back as well as a fractured tibia.”

Hille frowned. “Is her baby going to live?” she asked worriedly.

“Her daughter has a good chance of living, in the end. The cuts were barely skin deep, like the perp didn’t really want to hurt the child,” Lynnette Holland explained. “But I think you’re looking for a copycat.”

Carber shook his head. “I still don’t think so. I mean, if you look at all of the Vine’s other victims, they all have a name pattern. His first was Amanda Collins, then Brooklyn Ethans, then Caitlin Hext. This is his nineteenth victim, and therefore her name should start with an ‘s’. And look, Shea Everhart.”

Hille shrugged. “What about DNA? I’m sure the rape kit tested positive,” she asked, hopeful that the serial rapist had left some DNA this time.

“There is some DNA, but we don’t have anything to compare it to for previous cases,” Lynnette said, sighing loudly. “But bring in a suspect and I can match it up easily.” The elderly nurse was also a forensic scientist that had been working on the Vine case during its early years before she retired and became a nurse. Carber still kept Holland up to date with news of the fiend.

“Actually, you do,” Carber said, smiling. “Remember Esther Smith? He left some DNA on her. You’ll have to send what you have right now over to SVU’s forensics.”

Lynnette Holland smiled as well. “Maybe we can finally nail this guy.”

Carber nodded as Gregory Weavile hurried out of the room. “Shea’s waking up,” he informed the nurse and detectives. “And you two need to go find Lackar Rouge. Soon. Esmeralda told me that Shea would be very happy if Neb was here.”

Hille nodded. “Make sure Shea stays calm, Lynnette. And tell her we’re looking for her boyfriend.”

Lynnette nodded, waving goodbye to the two detectives before hurrying into the bright yellow room. A Blissey followed her.

Hille and Carber turned to look at each other. “Time to search for a wanted criminal,” Carber said.
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Black and White Teams


Black FC: Alexa, 5243 2120 8993

Last edited by TsukiKaiki64; 01-04-2010 at 10:41 PM.
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  #5  
Old 01-04-2010, 10:41 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Fuchsia City
Everhart’s Residence
11:36 AM, October 8th, 2009

Santine Marley, one of the best detectives in her league, rang the doorbell for a third time, letting the sound of the bell ring around her. It was getting annoying. Santine’s hair, having been dyed many times, was currently a fiery red with more yellowish tips and orange streaks. Her roots, however, were her natural dark brown. She sported a black, not leather, jacket and a simple white shirt and dark jeans. You wouldn’t think of her as a cop unless you looked into her eyes, dark orbs of midnight blue. They burned with a passion of putting criminals in their place and she was known to be fierce, despite her small size.

She was leaning partially against her partner in justice, Archer Daugherty. Her partner, always the gentlemen, didn’t make any move to push Marley off, even though he hated being so close to her. He was a tall man, tanned with rough hands and a few scars on his face and arms from being mauled by an Ursaring a few years ago. His hair was cropped short and a dusty light brown. His eyes were a light brown, one that expressed the feeling that few could see.

They pair waited for the door to be answered by Mr. and Mrs. Everhart, the patents of Shea. Even though they already knew who was responsible for the crimes committed against the young girl, it was routine to ask parents and loved ones who could have hurt her. Jarrod and Kimberley Everhart were well known around the area for their good deeds and their large, beautiful house. The door to their house was a rare wood and had been painted and earthy red.

Marley straightened up quickly when the door started to open, revealing a young woman. She wore simple sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

“Um, how may I help you?” she asked in a soft, inferior tone. Judging by the way she was dressed and acted, she must have been a maid.

Archer flashed the brunette his police badge, a mostly gold and blue badge with the letters SVU underneath it. “We’re here to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Everhart,” he explained when the maid’s dark skin paled.

“Uh, right this way please,” she said, holding the door open for Daugherty and Marley. The detectives hurried into the decorated house, and they saw what the big fuss was about. A large painting of a very peaceful looking Glaceon and Umbreon greeted them. The painting was very realistic, showing every fiber of icy fur on Glaceon and every faint ray the rings Umbreon created in the bright sunlight. They were on a red and white picnic blanket and Umbreon’s eyes were closed as the Moonlight Pokémon leaned against, what the detectives could guess, his mate.

Archer pointed out the picture to the maid. “Who painted that?” he asked. Archer was one for the beauty of the arts and loved to collect rare paintings for his own home.

“One of the other servants here. He and his Smeargle are paid to paint pictures of the Everhart’s Pokémon,” the maid responded hesitantly. “Speaking of the Everhart’s, they are just upstairs and the first door on the left is their art room. They should be there.”

Marley nodded, taking her partner’s hand and dragging him up the stairs to find the Everharts, deep in conversation.

“Excuse me,” Marley said, knocking on the dark wood that framed the doorway. She flashed her badge to the married couple when Mr. Everhart stood up abruptly.

“Who let you in?” the middle-aged man said angrily. He wasn’t all that tall, more of round. And even not that round. A stocky, middle-aged man with slightly graying brown hair and two squinty brown eyes.

“One of your maids,” Daugherty replied, shrugging. “And please, sir, I think you’d better sit down for this.” Santine shook her head a bit angrily at her partner and stepped forward, introducing herself and Daugherty.

“I am Santine Marley and this is my partner, Archer Daugherty. We are from the Special Victims Unit,” she said in a calm voice, looking much more at ease in this situation then Archer, despite him having been in the force for much longer than the woman.

Mr. Everhart stumbled back to his seat, taking his wife’s hand carefully. “Is someone hurt? Why weren’t we called?” Mrs. Everhart fretted.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You weren’t called immediately since you have… disowned your daughter. But we still feel that you should know,” Daugherty said calmly, choosing words carefully as to not upset the upscale mother.

Mr. Everhart took in a deep breath, as if he really didn’t want to hear anything about his daughter. Mrs. Everhart’s eyes widened.

“Shea Everhart was assaulted last night and raped. She is currently staying in the YelloWind Hospital,” Marley informed the parents. “She’s going to be fine; she just has some minor wounds.”

Mrs. Everhart let out a sigh of relief. “And the child?” Mrs. Everhart was much more slim than her husband and had the appearance of some sort fire spirit. Her hair, much like her daughter’s, was a red-brown that contained more red than brown. Her skin was slightly tanned as well and her eyes were the color of a polished jade stone. The dress she wore was a slightly brighter shade of that same green jade, and fir her figure perfectly. Despite her age, she looked strangely young.

Mr. Everhart frowned at his wife’s words. “Honey, we’ve talked about that. They child is better off dead.”

Archer frowned, looking at Santine quickly. “What do you mean?” the detective asked hesitantly. Mr. Everhart responded quicker than the detectives had time to process his response.

“Our daughter went and got pregnant with a homeless man’s child at a very young age. We told her to abort the child, but she refused to listen and now look at her!” His hard, angry face took a reddish hue, showing his frustration at his daughter.

Santine frowned, her fiery eyes showing worry. “You don’t care that your own daughter was raped!?” she demanded, her small, well-manicured hands balling into fists. Archer placed one of his hands on his partner’s tiny shoulder, holding her back.

Mrs. Everhart looked away from Santine’s angry glare, but Mr. Everhart stood tall when his accuser faced him.

“There’s only one man that I would know that could have raped my daughter, and that’s the Vine Rapist,” Mr. Everhart snapped. “And he only goes after young, pregnant teens. Therefore, it is Shea’s fault.” Jarrod Everhart closed his eyes, shaking his head in disrespect for the detectives. “You know who did this. We don’t need to be involved.”

There was a short silence after Mr. Everhart’s final words. Daugherty and Marley shared another quick look before dismissing themselves and hurrying out of the house, and away from the Everharts. It was quite obvious that they didn’t want to help their daughter.

But, after sitting in their car and discussing something of little importance, a habit that Marley frequently showed, the two detectives noticed that someone was hurrying out of the large house.

After taking a closer look, Daugherty recognized the willowy figure of Kimberley Everhart. He tapped at the steamed window, drawing the chatty Marley to look in that discretion as well. Kimberley now wore a dark brown jacket over her fitted dress and a floppy gray hat to cover her wild red hair.

The victim’s mother quickly advanced the car that Archer and Santine sat, knocking on the window hesitantly with her right hand. Her left hand was still hidden in her coat.

Santine, having been seated on the opposite side of where Mrs. Everhart had knocked, got out of the car and rested her arms and elbows on the car. “Are you going to help us, ma’am? Or ***** at us some more,” she asked. “I think you’re husband already did that for you.”

Kimberley sighed, looking defeated. “Yes, uhh… No, I mean. I’ll help you.” Her words were quick, worried. Like she was afraid her husband would catch her talking to the police. “It’s not much, though.” She stepped back onto the sidewalk, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Archer then slid out of the car, standing only a few feet away from Shea’s mother. Santine gracefully walked over to stand besides her partner, looking tiny in comparison. “Alright,” she said simply. “Please, tell us everything you know.”

Kimberly Everhart took a deep breath, her eyes closing for a few moments. She opened her eyes, staring directly at Archer before turning her gaze to Santine. “Like I said, it’s not much. And it’s hardly even information.”

“Anything is helpful,” Archer Daugherty said kindly. She smiled, flashing her white teeth.

“It’s just a Pokeball,” Kimberly admitted sheepishly. She quickly explained herself she noticed the confused looks on the detectives’ faces. “Neb gave it to me, before he left. He didn’t even give me a reason why he left or anything, but he told me that whoever is inside this Pokeball can help me find him. He told me to only locate him if something big happened. To Shea.”

“I didn’t chose to find him when we found out Shea was pregnant, mainly because it was only a few days after he left,” the mother explained, smiling sadly. “My husband hates Neb the way only a father could. He’s actually a very sweet boy. I still don’t know why he left.”

“We have reason to believe that Neb is traveling with a man named Lackar Rouge,” Marley explained, resting her hand gently on the woman’s shoulder. She looked like she was about to cry. “According to Shea’s Espeon, that is. Lackar Rouge is wanted for several assaults, so we need to find him too.”

Mrs. Everhart nodded weakly. “I… I see,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please, take the Pokeball. Neb promised me that I could find him if I needed to.”

Santine took the red and white orb from her trembling hands. “Would you like to see your daughter?” she asked softly.

“I’ll visit later tonight,” she replied swiftly. “After my husband has left for the football game, I’ll see her…”

“She’s staying at the YelloWind Hospital, room 216,” Archer said encouragingly.

Mrs. Everhart smiled sadly.
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Old 01-04-2010, 10:43 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Fuchsia City
Special Victims Unit, Foster’s Office
12:03 PM, October 8th, 2009


Randall sighed, tossing the Pokeball into the air absently. “This is our only lead, isn’t it?”

Santine shook her head. “Hardly. We’re still waiting for a match from the DNA,” she muttered angrily. “But even Annie agrees that we’ve got to tell Neb about his girlfriend.” Besides her, on Randall’s desk, her Magby smiled absently, not sensing that his Trainer was in a bad mood. He was still in training.

Donovan nodded. “And Lackar Rouge would be a good person to ask about this whole thing. He might be able to help us.”

Hille sighed, sounding a bit angry. “How about this,” she said, “Don and I will go look for this Neb while Santine and Archer can cross reference things with the other victims.”

Archer nodded. “I guess that’ll work. I did talk to Megan about the crime scene. Apparently the rape didn’t occur there,” he said. “There were sand particles on Shea’s clothing that suggested she was by a beach.”

Megan Honeycutt was our new forensic scientist, the one who took the job after Lynnette Holland retired to become a nurse. She was skilled at her job, even though Megan was very quiet, only just giving the detectives what they needed.

“And, also according to Megan, a beach is where Rachelle Baker was raped, along with Quianna Beck, Melanie Sanders and Hannah Samuels. All of those girls had some trace of that same sand,” Archer continued, sounding rather absent. He was gazing off into the distant, out of the partially closed window. “Same sand, too.”

Donovan nodded. “The only beach around here is Marill Beach,” he noted. Santine shook her head, making her little Magby look up from where it was playing with some pens.

“Actually, it’s not. Marill Beach is the one everyone goes to because it’s right next to the pier and whatever,” Santine explained after getting a few looks from Randall Foster and Marie-Anne Hille. “Tyke-Tyke Cove isn’t that far from Fuchsia City. There’s not a ton of sand, but it’s there.”

Marie-Anne grinned. “I remember that place. Crawling with Mantine and Mantyke,” she replied. “We can check there, too.”

Randall held up his hands, the minimized Pokeball held between his thumb and palm. “But first we need to figure out what’s inside this.”

Santine rolled her eyes at her boss. “Then let whoever is in there out,” she mused, leaning over Randall’s messy desk to grab their only lead. Randall tossed the Pokeball into the air before she could snatch it.

The sphere almost paused midair, latching open to let loose a red haze that formed into the shape of a large rat, before continuing to fall to the ground. When the red haze broke off, a Rattata was standing in the center of the room, her only escape routes blocked by Detective Carber. The deep purple and off-white Pokemon quivered on the ground, her small body shaking violently as it faced the four detectives. From her fanged and narrow violet snout she whimpered. Santine’s Magby jumped off the desk, reaching out with one of his stubby, clawed hands. Rattata shifted away from him, revealing a thick, and luckily loose, string with a card attached.

Marie-Anne reached forward to take the card, only to have the small Pokemon hiss and slash at her hand. She recoiled, glaring at the Rattata. “Dammit,” she mumbled. She stood up again, hands going to her waist. “Forgot my Pokeballs at my desk.” She looked at Santine expectantly.

Santine sighed, looking at her Magby. “Alright, hun,” she said. “Fire Punch.”

Magby’s orange hand started to glow a faint red light before it engulfed itself in a flame that didn’t seem to hurt him at all. Rattata’s eyes widened as she saw the incoming attack. Quickly, she ran towards Magby, pushing him over before he had the chance to attack. Quick Attack always striked first, and now Rattata had the upper hand of this battle.

Marie-Anne headed to the back of the room, standing next to Randall to give the two battling Pokemon more room. Carber and Daugherty followed her. They didn’t want to get hit by fire or fangs.

Santine fumed when her Magby toppled over. “Stand up and give that rat a taste of Fire Spin!” she called angrily. Magby jumped to his feet, calling out a threat in his language before spinning in a circle. Bright flames followed Magby’s ‘dancing’ and after a brief pause, they shot forward at Rattata.

Even the Mouse Pokemon’s speed couldn’t save it from the vicious fire attack. “Rat-at!!” she called out, voice searing with pain. She jumped away from the fire, only to step on another trail of fire that burned on the musky brown carpet.

Randall frowned. “That was a present from my wife,” he grumbled angrily.

Santine glared at him. “Oh shut up,” she snapped. He looked away.

Rattata looked back at her shoulder, whimpering at the sight of the burned purple flesh. She turned to her opponent and let out a fierce battle-cry, running at the Live Coal Pokemon. She stepped on the little trails of fire before sinking her teeth onto Magby’s shoulder in a cruel Bite attack.

Magby cried out, not waiting for his Trainer to send out another move. His clawed hand caught fire again after glowing dangerously and he smacked Rattata easily, sending her flying into the air only to be caught by Santine as she hurried to make sure their lead wasn’t hurt anymore. Luckily, Rattata had passed out from the unexpected Fire Punch.

Santine held the Rattata in one arm, cradling the purple and white Pokemon to her chest. With her other hand, she took the slightly charred string off Rattata’s neck.

“Private Detective Rowan Bianca Dalca,” Santine read. “Looks like Neb wanted us to find this her.”

Randall nodded. “Don, Annie,” he said. “Go find this Rowan Dalca. And bring her back her Rattata. Just remember to get Rattata healed first.”
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Old 01-04-2010, 10:44 PM
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Vermilion City
Office of Private Detective Rowan Dalca
3:41 PM, October 8th, 2009


Marie-Anne knocked on the door to the small building, labeled simple ‘Private Detective Office’. The door was new, the wood from some sort of pale red tree, unpainted. Maybe a Leppa tree. Hille didn’t have much time to assess the simple looking door before it swung open, revealing a young woman that looked strangely similar to Detective Hille. Maybe long black hair and slender bodies were one aspect of being a female detective.

But the woman’s eyes were a dark, almost red, brown color. Her skin was tan, sending rays of the Vermilion light off her skin. She wore a simple crimson sweater, tight with a loose turtleneck collar. Her jeans were black and streak with silver threads. On her feet she wore basic black converse.

Hille nodded to the young woman, who most certainly was Ms. Rowan Dalca. She showed her police badge, introducing herself and her partner.

“I’m Marie-Anne Hille and this is Donovan Carber,” she explained, retreating backwards, barely an inch, when her steady gaze was met by Dalca’s rancorous and relentless one. Her eyes were narrowed, showing slight strips of eyes that seemed to get redder as she held Hille’s stare.

Carber stepped in between them, offering his hand to Dalca while shooting his partner a quick glare through messy hair. “Nice to meet you,” he said the moment the girl touched his hand, even though she quickly pulled away.

“I’m sure you are aware that I am Rowan Dalca, but what could the Police possibly want with me?” she asked angrily, her voice carrying a heavy Romanian accent. “Especially if the Police are from Fuchsia City; I don’t do much business down there.”

“We found our card in a Pokeball containing a Rattata. We’d like to return the Rattata to its owner, as well as get the whereabouts for—“

“Hold on,” she interrupted, holding her hands up as if to push Carber away. “That Rattata is not my Pokemon. She belongs to my brother, Ash. If you’re looking for Lackar Rouge, I don’t know where he is.”

“We’re not looking for Mr. Rouge,” Hille replied sourly. Ms. Dalca looked at the detective skeptically and Hille continued. “We’re looking for a man named Neb who might be with him.”

Rowan’s eyes softened a bit. “Why are you looking for him? He’s never done anything wrong,” she claimed. She opened the door a little bit more, revealing her plain office with black leather furniture and white carpet and walls. A note-worthy mask hung from one of the walls, large red eyes following those who dare to look at it. A woody yellow surrounded the eyes, and with added silver leaves behind the mask one could tell it was a Beedrill mask, made from the people of the Haruba Desert, in Almia.

Carber and Hille stepped in warily, scoping out the place before relaxing a bit. It was very basic and plain, a simple office with a small hallway that was partially hidden behind a leather couch. One wall opened up to expose a tiny kitchen with only a fridge, small table for two and a microwave. Another door was closed and the detectives could guess that behind it was the bathroom.

Carber smiled hesitantly at Rowan Dalca. “He’s not in trouble, don’t worry. We’re just trying to contact him,” he assured her.

“Why?” she asked simply.

“His girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, Shea got hurt yesterday,” Carber explained. “It’s not that bad, but she was also raped. Her Espeon told us to tell him.”

Rowan took a deep breath, looking away. “Shea was such a nice girl… I hope she’s ok,” she whispered. “My brother is down the hall, first door on your left. Just make sure you knock first.”

Carber nodded. “Will do,” he said. “Thank you, Ms. Dalca.”

“Anything for Neb and Shea,” Rowan replied softly. “And beware; he might be a bit angry with you. I think he’s in there with a girl, if you know what I mean.”

Carber nodded, thanking the Private Detective once more before descending down the hallway with Hille following close behind. He knocked once on the door, sighing. No answer. After a few more knocks, Carber just opened the door, letting the red door swing open.

What they entered to surprised both detectives, though they should be used to it by now. Ash and whoever he was with jumped when the door opened, hands searching for some of the white sheets to cover themselves. Hille adverted her eyes, showing her police badge to the couple.

“Excuse me!” the young girl snapped, dark umber hair spilling itself around her pale shoulders. “What the hell do you want!? Get your asses out of here!”

Ash was a bit more merciful. He saw the Pokeball that Hille held in her other hand and knew it was his. He hushed the young girl, stroking her cheek and kissing her gently on the lips. “Cammy,” he whispered. “How about you go get dressed and chat with Rowan… I think I need to talk to these people.”

The girl sniffed, turning away from Ash and back at the detectives. Hille and Carber turned around. Cammy threw on a small red dress and hurried past Hille and Carber, shouldering them as she did.

Ash smiled, standing up. Luckily he had also taken the time given by the two detectives to put some khaki pants on. “Did Mrs. Everhart give you that Pokeball?” he asked slowly, inviting them into the room. He started scrounging around for a shirt to put on over his tanned torso, to cover up the unusual scorpion tattoo that had been needled over his heart. He ended up with a red and gold striped shirt, matching the pure amber gold of his eyes and the deep sensual red of his hair.

Ash had a thin build, with scrawny bronze shoulders and a slim waist. He looked around twenty-five years old, a small number of years older than his sister. Hs voice also carried the Romanian accent, though it was fainter than his sisters.
Hille nodded. “Yes, she gave one of our other detectives this,” she replied. “Could you tell us where Neb is?”

“Cerulean City,” Ash responded quickly. “Rowan owns a cottage there and gave it to Lackar and Neb so that they can hide. But why are you looking for him?”

“Shea is pregnant,” Carber responded softly, green eyes matching his tone. “And she was raped last night, in Fuchsia City. We thought that her boyfriend should know.”

Ash’s face fell as he looked away, face ashen. “Poor Shea… She doesn’t deserve anything like that…” he whispered. Carber and Hille exchanged glances, sharing the same thought. ‘Does everyone know this girl?’

“Can you give us the address of your sister’s cottage?” Carber asked, straightening his relaxed posture. Ash nodded, grabbing a clean piece of paper from a desk and a black ballpoint pen. The red-head scribbled the address down, writing fast, before handing it to Carber.

“Thank you,” Hille said, smiling at the young man. “We’ll be on our way.”

Ash smiled, waving childishly as Hille disappeared from the room. He called out to Carber before he could place one foot out the door. “Tell her I said hi, ok?”

“Will do,” Carber replied, waving in return before hurrying away.

Hille and Carber met Rowan on their way out; chatting with the girl that Ash had been sleeping with before they interrupted. Ms. Dalca turned to the detectives, introducing the girl to them.

“This is Camilla Bernard,” the younger detective said, motioning to the sorrel-haired girl besides her.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her storm gray eyes telling Hille and Carber that they still remember what they had done to her. Her tone was sarcastic.

“Nice to meet you, too, Ms. Bernard,” Carber replied politely. “I’m Detective Donovan Carber and this is my partner, Detective Marie-Anne Hille.”

Hille nodded to her. “We’d best be on our way,” she explained in a rather bored tone. “If you have any more information, please contact us.” Hille took out a business card and handed it to Rowan before the pair disappeared onto the streets of Vermillion.
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Old 01-04-2010, 10:48 PM
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Fuchsia City
YelloWind Hospital Room 216
5:30 PM, October 8th 2009


Shea had woken up from her deep slumber only an hour before and was still in mourning. A body had been found at the crime scene after she had been taken away, the body of her precious Furret, Eddy. He had been killed after trying to attack Shea’s rapist and buried deep in the earth after he was through with Shea. The Forensic Pokemon Scientist who did his autopsy reported that caused of death was strangulation.

Detective Santine Marley and Archer Daugherty arrived at the hospital at 5 pm, and had waited a good half hour before the nurse thought that Shea was well enough to have visitors. Luckily, Marley and Daugherty weren’t her only ones. Amanda Collins was there, as well as two of her best friends, Fawn Roberts and Hayden West. All three were rape victims of the Vine Rapist, each with their own child.

Amanda, now twenty-five years old, was a strong woman now, always looking out for new victims. Her only child, an eight-year-old little boy, has been very helpful when it came to helping new victims and his best friends are other victim’s children. Amanda was the first victim, the first one to feel violated by the Vine Rapist. She is one of the few victims that didn’t hate the detectives for all their hard work.

Fawn and Hayden are younger victims, the sixth and eighth respectively. The two of them became friends with Amanda after meeting her and they quickly established their group. Brooklyn Ethans, the second victim, had become a nanny for the sole purpose of watching the other victim’s children, since she had also been brutally beaten to the point of her unborn child perishing during the attack.

Hayden West, the older of the two, was a beautiful young African-American with coffee colored skin, hair like dark chocolate that fell in waves past her mid-back and eyes like two bronze coins. She was the more rambunctious of the two, her and Fawn, as well as the skinnier one. Fawn Roberts was the opposite of Hayden, with milky white skin and pale, oak-brown hair that had been cropped short after the rape. Her eyes were a pale turquoise blue and she had a rounded body shape.

“Detective Daugherty,” Amanda said, smiling at the detective. Her luscious scarlet hair fell past her shoulders, creating a halo around her thin arms. Her face, the color of cream, held years that had been streaming from eyes the color of burnished iron. She took one small hand to wipe her eyes as she welcomed the detectives into the brightly decorated room. “Detective Marley. It’s nice to see you too again.”

Detective Daugherty nodded, smiling at the young mother. “It’s nice to see you too, Ms. Collins,” he replied.

Marley smiled widely at Amanda. “Hi Amanda, Fawn, Hayden,” she said, waving to them. “And it’s nice to meet you, Shea. I’m Santine Marley from the Special Victims Unit here in Fuchsia City.”

Shea looked up from her bed, turning her mossy eyes to Marley and Daugherty. Her cheeks were streaked with tears from crying over her dead Furret, her trusted friend.

“Nice to meet you, M-Ms Marley…” she stammered awkwardly, wiping her remaining tears with her sleeve. “I guess you know my name already… Shea Everhart…”

Daugherty held out a hand to the seventeen year old girl after talking a few large strides towards her. He withdrew his hand quickly when she cringed. “Uh, sorry. Special Victims Unit Archer Daugherty, at your service, ma’am,” he floundered.

“N-nice to meet you, too,” Shea replied softly, looking away. She rested her wobbly hand on Esmeralda’s head, stroking her silently before speaking up again. “Do you know who did this to me?”

“Since these three are here, I suppose you know that the Vine Rapist did this to you…” Daugherty explained. “We are getting closer to finding out who did this, but we’re still not sure.”

Amanda smiled a bit. “Did you find something new?” she asked hopefully.

“Not really. It’s more of what he left for us,” Marley said, grinning. She turned to Shea to finish. “Your attack is different from others. The scars on your belly and the bruises on your arm aren’t consistent with this perp’s MO. Whoever did this had some sort of beef with you.”

Shea paled, closing her eyes tightly. Esmeralda stood up, licking her Trainer’s face gently before turning to the detectives. “There is no one out there that would do this to her. Trust me,” she said in her thick accent.

Shea closed her eyes. “I wish Neb was here,” she whispered, placing a hand gently over her swollen belly.

Marley smiled at this comment. “Actually, we have some of our detectives searching for your boyfriend right now,” she said happily. Shea looked up quickly, eyes filled with an unusual hope.

“You’re looking for him… Oh, God… Thank you so much,” she whispered, eyes streaming tears again.

“You’re welcome,” Marley said simply. “We thought he had the right to know. Plus, he might know someone who hates him enough to rape you.”

Fawn spoke up for the first time, quietly and after tapping Detective Marley’s shoulder with one manicured finger. “Are you sure it’s the same rapist, though?” she asked, voice soft as her cream-colored skin.

“We’re comparing the DNA to Esther’s,” Daugherty replied, looking away. Fawn nodded slowly. Esther Smith had committed suicide about three months after her rape.

Marley jumped when a musical carol rang through the small, crowded room. The detective searched her pockets, drawing her cell phone out quickly. She held the small red phone to her ear after checking the caller ID.

“Marley here,” she replied, shoving her way past her partner and into the hallway. “Is it a match?”

There was a faint reply on the other end, followed by a worried response from Santine Marley. “Alright, I’ll tell them.” She clicked the phone shut, hurrying back into the yellow room.

“That was Jessie,” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to reach Daugherty’s ear. Jessie Flowers was one of forensic scientists who worked under Megan Honeycutt. “The DNA is a match.”

Archer raised an eyebrow, frowning. “Then what’s with the whisper?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet and low.

“Follow me,” she said, hurrying back out the door.

Daugherty rolled his eyes. “We’ll be right back, ladies,” he said, dipping his head to the four young women. He followed his partner, almost closing the door if it weren’t for Esmeralda the Espeon slipping through first.

“Don’t tell me to go back,” the Psychic-type hissed. “I need to know what’s going on too.”

Marley sighed. “Alright,” she responded hesitantly. “I just don’t think that Shea should know. At least not yet.” Daugherty took his partner’s words as a cue to shut the door.
“Alright, what did Jessie say?” he inquired.

“The DNA from Shea is a match for Esther’s rapist, meaning that it’s the same person,” she said, drawing her breath slowly. “But Jessie accidently compared the DNA Shea’s child.”

Esmeralda, who had jumped onto a desk so she could look at the two detectives, snarled. “If you even dare to suggest Neb did this I swear I’ll…” Her threat hung in the air, coated in what used to be an alluring accent. Now it was terrifying.

“That’s not it… exactly,” Marley said, trailing off. “The DNA wasn’t a match. But whoever has been doing this to all these women… he’s related to Neb or Shea.”

Esmeralda let out a soft cry, turning her lavender head to the door, dark eyes filled with a sad light. “Neb never knew his father and I doubt he knows if he has brothers.”

“Well, we still have to ask him,” Marley pointed out. “I suppose there is a good chance that it is Shea’s own father, though I doubt he’s even capable of rape. But that would explain why she’s more beat up then the rest of them…”

Daugherty sighed. “Guess we’ll have to talk to Mr. Everhart again,” he grumbled. Marley nodded.

“Yep,” she replied. “Let’s just hope that Hille and Carber find Neb soon and set this all straight, before someone else gets hurt.”
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  #9  
Old 01-04-2010, 11:16 PM
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Cerulean City
Sea Cottage #4
5:30 PM, October 8th, 2009

Carber looked at the wooden number on the outside of the light blue house, trimmed with white. “This is it,” he muttered. “Sea Cottage #4 on Windy Lane.”

“God, that sounds like some made-up place in some teenage girl’s mind,” Hille grumbled, knocking on the door angrily. Besides her stood a tall fossil Pokemon, one that she always took with her when looking for wanted criminals. Armaldo growled angrily as a volley of footsteps came from inside. They stopped quickly and Hille knocking again, calling out “This is the police!”

On Detective Carber’s shoulder sat a small tan and red Electric Pokemon, one that loved to accompany her owner. “Look, look!” the Plusle called, pointed at the window. The white and lavender curtains shuffled as Plusle diverted the detective’s attention. But you could still see some strange looking leaves that bobbled away quickly as well as a silhouette of a Butterfree.

Carber nodded. “Looks like our witness is here,” he noted.

“Seems like it,” Hille muttered, shrugging absently as the door slowly opened.

“Um, hello?” the man said, green eyes peering cautiously from the crack he allowed open.

Carber held up his badge, only to get the door quickly shut. He sighed. “Open up!” he called loudly, hitting the door loudly.

The door opened again, this time even slower. “W-why would the police come here…?” he asked quietly. His eyes were now covered with locks of messy black hair.

“We need to speak to a Neb,” Hille said. Besides her, Armaldo cried in agreement.

The young man’s face relaxed tremendously. “I’m Neb,” he said carefully. The door opened a bit more, revealing Neb’s tattered clothes that covered dark skin. Cowering behind his leg was an adorable Teddiursa.

Carber frowned slightly. “We don’t mean to disturb you… but may we come in?” he stammered. It was always hard telling loved ones what happened to the victims.

Neb’s eyes widened with panic. “N-no! Um… I mean, how about we stay out here?” he asked hesitantly. After getting a nod from Detective Hille, he hurriedly shut the door after picking up his Teddiursa.

Carber smiled weakly at Neb. “I’m Detective Donovan Carber,” he said, holding out his hand. “And this is my partner, Detective Marie-Anne Hille.”

“It’s, ah… nice to meet you,” he replied hastily. He shook the detective’s hand, balancing Teddiursa on his hip as if the brown teddy bear Pokemon was a child.

Hille nodded. “We aren’t here to bring your friend, Lackar, in,” she informed him. “We’re here about Shea Everhart.”

Neb’s bright green eyes filled with dread and fear. “What’s wrong with her?!” he asked, voice rising in panic. From the second-story window, the curtains moved again. This time, however, a silhouette of a young girl was visible instead of the shadow of a Butterfree.

“She’s fine now,” Carber assured Neb, who was now clutching Teddiursa to his chest. The Little Bear Pokemon cried out angrily. The blonde detective looked at the Plusle on his shoulder, who nodded and hurriedly jumped off his trainer’s shoulder.

“Hey, Teddiursa!” The Cheering Pokemon called. “Wanna play a game?”

Teddiursa struggled out of Neb’s arms and jumped onto the ground. “Come on,” Plusle said cheerfully. “I saw a park over this way!” The two Pokemon ran off together, leaving their trainers alone.

Hille’s Armaldo snorted angrily as the two vanished into the grass.

Neb looked up, tears visible in his eyes. “What happened to her?” he asked hesitantly. “I… I need to see her.”

Carber nodded. “I think that’ll be best,” he replied carefully, as to not upset the young man. Neb couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old. “But… is there an Oddish staying in this house?”

Neb frowned. “Um… yes…” he said softly. “But why do you need Oddi?”

“This Oddish is a witness in a rape case,” Carber explained slowly, as to let the words set in. Neb took a deep breath.

“R-rape case…?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper in the cold October wind. “Please don’t tell me that… that it was Shea…”

Carber nodded sadly. “We’ll take you to see her, don’t worry,” he said awkwardly. But as the detective reached over to place a hand on the young man’s shoulder, there was a shout from inside the blue sea cottage followed by a bolt of yellow electricity. It shot out from the window that the detectives had seen shadows in. The bolt landed only a few feet away from Hille.

Armaldo scrapped his claws together angrily, calling out a threat to whoever had dared to try and hurt his Trainer. “Armaldo!!”

Another man looked out the window, black eyes narrowed behind messy brown hair. He muttered something before turning away. The yellow and black Pokemon that shot the Thunderbolt followed closely behind.

Carber whistled quickly, to call back his Plusle. “Who was that?” he demanded, glaring at Neb.

The young man sniffed, wiping some tears. “Lackar…” he said softly. “I… I’ll go talk to him…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hille replied coldly. “Looks like he’s coming out here anyways.”
She was right; the door opened shortly after the reveal the wanted man. His hair, a messy rat’s nest of dark brown, covered most of his face, but you could still see the hatred in his eyes. His black jacket and jeans were covered in dirt, like he rarely even bothered to wash them.

“Get away from him,” he growled. Besides him, Electabuzz snarled at Armaldo.

Hille stepped forward, hand in front of her Plate Pokemon. “Why would we do that?” she asked casually. “We’re doing nothing wrong and he even wants to come with us.”

Lackar turned sharply to look at Neb, eyes narrowed dangerously. “What the hell is she talking about?!” he demanded.

Neb stepped forward, only turning away from his friend when he saw Teddiursa and Plusle run towards them again. His green gaze found Lackar’s night-black one soon, though. “Shea was hurt,” he explained tenderly. “She needs me.”

Lackar’s face softened almost instantly. “Then go.” Behind him, a young blonde girl peered from behind the door.

“Shea was hurt?” she whispered, pale blue eyes sparkling with fear. “Is she alright?”

Carber nodded. “She’s recovering,” he replied. “And who might you be?”

The girl, no more than fifteen years, walked daintily over to her brother. She was tiny, no more than five-two, with white, angel-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “My name is Angelique Rouge,” she replied. “And this is my brother, Lackar.”

Carber smiled, offering a hand to her. “Nice to meet you. I’m Detective Donovan Carber,” he said. “And this is my partner, Marie-Anne Hille.”

Angelique reached hesitantly to shake his hand, smiling weakly. She looked at her brother. “Can I go see Shea too?”

“No,” Lackar replied stiffly.

Angel’s face fell. She didn’t reply, even though the detectives could tell that she wanted to go.

Neb frowned. “I’ll look after her,” he replied. “And maybe Terrie can come too.”

Lackar’s eyes seemed to flash red at the name. “She’s not going anywhere near the police and neither is Angel!”

Neb took a step back. “Okay, okay,” he said in defeat.

Carber and Hille exchanged a worried glance. “Sorry to do this…” Carber said, trailing off. “But we’re going to have to arrest you for assaulted a cop.”

Lackar frowned, taking a step back. He looked at Electabuzz, nodding to him once. The yellow and black Electric Pokemon let out a cry, throwing a Thunder Punch at Detective Hille. Luckily, her Armaldo was able to move in front of Hille in time and call upon a Protect. Carber, also, came to Hille’s rescue by taking out a special Police Pokeball that allowed them to obtain a criminal’s Pokemon with ease. He threw the deep blue and gold orb at Electabuzz as he bounced back from the protective wall that now surrounded his opponent. He was engulfed in an unusual blue light before being sucked into the Police Ball.

Lackar glared at Carber. “That’s illegal,” he snapped angrily. Seemed like Lackar was a man of a few, angry words.

“No, it’s not. I’m protecting my partner from being electrocuted,” Carber replied calmly, taking the handcuffs out of his coat pocket and advancing on Rouge. Angelique took one look at her brother before she hurried back into the cottage and by that time, her older brother was against the car in handcuffs, seething.

Moments after she left, a little blue and green Weed Pokemon returned, carrying a Pokeball in his leaves. “Oddish, odd!” he sang, placing the red and white orb on the ground by Hille’s feet.

Hille picked it up. “What’s this?” she asked the Pokemon, turning to look at Plusle for the answer instead of the Oddish.

Plusle cleared his throat. “He said that it’s a friend,” he replied, shrugging. “Maybe one of the other witnesses?”

Hille shrugged. “Who knows,” she muttered. “Come on; let’s get this guy down to the precinct.”

Lackar glared angrily at the SVU detectives. “Let me go, bastards,” he growled.

“No way,” Detective Hille replied in a sing-song type voice. “You’re wanted for multiple assaults and you just tried to electrocute me. You’re not getting off that easy.”

Neb approached the two cops, placing a hand gently on Hille’s forearm. His eyes reflected a cheerless and somber light as he turned to the door again. Hille and Carber’s eyes followed his.

There, standing besides Angelique, was another girl. She was taller than Angelique’s petite size and her face held heavy black make-up. She wore a baggy black shirt and dark gray sweatpants. Her black hair was tied up in a loose, messy ponytail as she faced the detectives. Her black-lined eyes were swollen as she watched Lackar’s weak struggling to get out of that situation and run to her.

Carber stepped forward after making sure that Lackar wasn’t going to attack his partner again. “Excuse me, but who are you?” he asked cautiously.

When she didn’t reply, Neb spoke up for her. “That’s Terrie Merrill,” he said softly. “She’s Lackar girlfriend…”

Gripped in one hand, Terrie held a simple Pokeball. She was glaring at the detectives with fiery, aquamarine eyes that were filled with hate. Her other hand rested on her stomach, which Carber and Hille noticed as much bigger than it should be. She was pregnant.

Luckily, Carber and Hille put it together easily. “Um, Terrie? Would you like to come with us?” Hille asked gently, not wanting to upset the poor girl. She had nudged her partner with her elbow, telling him to hold onto Lackar.

Terrie cringed away from Hille as the black-haired detective advanced on her slowly. “Get the hell away from me,” she stammered. She took a hesitant step back, throwing the Pokeball into the air.

As the red smoke dissolved around the flying/bug shape, Hille’s Armaldo stepped forward to meet his new opponent in battle. The red smoke broke off hastily to reveal Terrie’s Yanma. But you couldn’t see the red and green Clear Wing Pokemon for very long as it zipped into a Double Team and soon multiple, blurred Yanma were buzzing around Armaldo and the detectives.

Hille frowned, rolling up her sleeves. “Armaldo! Metal Claw!” she called, her delicate hands forming into fists.

The blue bug Pokemon nodded, narrowing his site on one of the many Yanma copies. His black and blue blade-like arms started to glow white. He advanced on the Bug/Flying type at an unusually fast rate for the slow Armaldo. But as Hille’s powerhouse Pokemon started to slash at the Yanma, it quickly dematerialized into nothing. Armaldo wasn’t so easily discouraged, though. He quickly moved to the opposite Yanma, slashing at that one until it, too, vanished.

Terrie didn’t offer many moves as she watched her Yanma fluttered back and forth after Armaldo finally hit his target. Yanma’s ability, Speed Boost, offered much help as Armaldo struggled to keep up with it. Metal Claw after Metal Claw hit nothing but cold air from the October evening. The sun was setting fast and all that you could see of its once bright light was hidden behind tall evergreen trees.

“Call off Yanma, Terrie,” Carber called uneasily.

Neb chimed in. “Please, Terrie?” he asked softly. “Do it for me?”

But Terrie didn’t look at either of them, her friend nor the stranger that was arresting her boyfriend. Her eyes were locked on Lackar. Somehow, she managed to call out another move and Yanma obliged quickly.

He flapped his thin wings as fast as the speed of light, if not faster. Curved, blue shock waves fell towards Armaldo.

“Protect!” Hille called quickly. Armaldo was compelled to act upon his Trainer’s will and, at the wave of one of his arms, the green protective screen steamed forward from the chilly wind. The shockwaves bounced off easily, forcing Yanma to dodge its own attack.

Neb cut through the small, dying yard to rest a hand on Terrie’s shoulder. She shrugged it off quickly, blue eyes still locked on Lackar. Angelique looked a bit lost as she clung to her Oddish with Butterfree hovering over her. The black haired young male opened his mouth to reason with her, but she beat him to it.

“I’m not letting them take my Lackar!” she shouted at him. “And there is no way in hell that I’m going with them. Why should I, anyways?” She paused, looking at her Yanma again with unsteady eyes. “Air Slash!”

Yanma darted at Armaldo again, this time making his hit. A ball of blue light had swirled in front of the Clear Wing Pokemon and as Yanma approached the Plate Pokemon, the ball of wind shot its way towards Armaldo and knocked him over. Hille let out an angry, frustrated cry.

“This doesn’t change anything, Terrie,” she replied stiffly after taking Armaldo’s Pokeball out again and returning her Pokemon. She also grabbed one of her Police Pokeballs to throw at Yanma.

“No, it doesn’t!” Terrie shouted back angrily, one arm wrapped around her stomach. “Let him go!”

This time she grabbed a second Pokeball, this one covered in a blue case. Pink and purple heart stickers were layered on the Pokeball and as Terrie threw it, those hearts came alive in the air; popping with white sparkles. The shape of a muted gray-violet and blue Gligar appeared under the shower of sparkles and glitter that fell from the open Pokeball.

“Gligar! Use Poison Sting!” she cried out, tears streaming down her face in a flood now.
Hille and Carber exchanged alarmed glances. Gligar looked confused, since there was no opposing threat at that moment. Did Terrie mean to attack the two detectives? Poison Sting was a dangerous move to make, especially if it was meant for Hille and Carber.
Right before Gligar unleashed his attack, Carber realized something. Even though Terrie was doing so much to keep her boyfriend away from the cops, but Lackar was just looking away, not even looking his girlfriend in the eyes.

Carber pulled Lackar up straight from where he had him pinned to their police car. “You’re not even going to say something to her?” he hissed. Donovan Carber was generally a nice, calm guy but some situations set him off. And this was one of them.

Lackar wasn’t able to reply, however. Hille held out another Pokeball, throwing it into the air to meet Gligar and Yanma in battle. The reddish-orange Mouse Pokemon let out a fierce cry when he saw his opponents.

“Rai! Raiachu!” He called. Gligar was swooping in from above, stinger first, for his attack after finally finding his opponent. Hille called out a move and Raichu obliged with stunning speed. Raichu jumped backwards, lightning-shaped tail following behind him, dodging the Poison Sting attack with great ease. Upon landing gracefully on his brown feet, Raichu unleashed stars that swam their way to both Gligar and Yanma.

Following the Swift attack was a quick, well balanced Thunderbolt that divided itself into two separate bolts, each zapping their target with ease. Hille smiled as the two Flying-types fell to the ground, one from the Swift and one from Thunderbolt.

“Recall your Pokemon, Terrie,” she threatened, “or Raichu will zap you too.”

Lackar, who had never responded to Carber’s questions, looked up at the sound of the threat. His eyes, filled with an uncharacteristic sadness, locked onto hers.

“Terrie…” he whispered. “Please come with me?”

Terrie looked up again, nodding slowly. “Okay…”

Neb sighed with relief as he and the Teddiursa in his arms led Angelique and her Pokemon to the Police car.

Carber and Hille didn’t talk much on the way back to Fuchsia City, but Neb and Angelique did. The detectives were sure they were trying to lighten the mood, talking about old times they had together. Carber’s Plusle joined in occasionally, mostly chatting with Neb’s Teddiursa. They seemed to be having fun.

Behind them, however, Lackar and Terrie were whispering almost silently. Something about their baby? About how Lackar was going to jail? Maybe they were talking about how they couldn’t afford bail. Carber and Hille never did find out.

Only one thing was racing through their mind, worrying them to no end even though she was safe in their car. The next letter in the alphabet was ‘T’ and here, sitting right behind them, was a young, pregnant teenager whose name happened to be Terrie Merrill.
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  #10  
Old 01-04-2010, 11:18 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Fuchsia City
YelloWind Hospital Room 216
8:21 PM, October 8th, 2009


Donovan Carber and Marie-Anne Hille waited outside of the hospital room, watching Neb and Shea’s joyous reunion with sad smiles on their faces. Neither was married and only Carber had a serious girlfriend. Watching the hugging, kissing and crying brought tears to their own eyes. Lackar was still under careful watch, but he had been allowed to see his old friend. His hands were tied by his steel bracelets, of course.

Angelique and Terrie were there too, congratulating Shea on her pregnancy. Terrie looked a bit sad, like she wanted to be the only one in their little group that was going to be a mother. She put on a happy face nonetheless, of course. Even their Pokemon, or at least the ones they still had with them, were happily chatting and playing.

They really need to get bigger hospital rooms for these sorts of things, Carber thought.

Carber looked over when Detective Marley placed her hand on his shoulder, looking into the window. The look in her eyes reminded him of some of the things they had learned on their way to YelloWind Hospital. Randall Foster had called to inform them of a few things.

Sadly, they figured out that the Vine Rapist is related to Neb, not Shea. Which meant that Donovan and Marie-Anne’s job was going to get a whole lot harder, trying to find Neb’s parents. Santine Marley and Arch Daugherty also came up with a list of people that some of the victim’s knew and who had access to Tyke Tyke Cove during most of their rapes.

They have yet to ask him, but the detectives suspect that his mother is dead. The young man wears an old necklace, one that looks very worn out. Duct tape is all that is holding it together now. Inside a large, bulky locket is a torn picture of a young woman with pale skin and hair the color of hay. If she is Neb’s mother, than he certainly takes after his father. That puts together a bit of an appearance for the rapist, at the very least.

Hille jumped to the sound of someone standing behind her. She sighed in relief that it was only Gregory Weavile, the Pokemon translator and a sometimes-detective.

Carber stood up quickly, nodding to the Pokemon. “What did you get from Gligar and Yanma?” he asked.

“Just about everything,” Greg replied, grinning. “Yanma got a good look at him and even followed him home. Oddish can identify him, too. Gligar made it easy for us to find him. Hit him on the head.”

Hille cracked a childish grin. “That’s great,” she said cheerfully, glancing back into the hospital room. “Are they willing to point him out?”

“Definitely. For now, though, you two are going to check out Tyke Tyke Beach,” the Dark/Ice Pokemon informed them. “Yanma told me that he stopped in a building over there, so check out all of them. Daugherty and Marley pinned down a few suspects that could potentially be it that live around there. Only two have been there since at least 2002, so look there.”

“These orders from Foster?” Hille asked, narrowing her eyes. At the same time, Carber asked, “Who are the two suspects?”

“Of course,” Gregory snapped in regards to Hille’s question, rolling red eyes. “So get too it. And bring Yanma; he’s a lot calmer when he isn’t around his Trainer.”

“For your question, Carber,” he said, turning to the older man. “The suspects are James Seaver and Benjamin Travers. Seaver lives in 8221 Cove Cabin while Travers lives in 8235 Mantine Beach. Just a couple of blocks from each other.”

“We’re on it,” Carber replied, taking the Police Ball that Gregory Weavile had extracted from the pocket on the too-large brown jacket he wore. “We’ll report back later. Keep an eye on Lackar, though. After this visit he’s going back to our precinct.”

“Will do,” Gregory replied. “Just make sure you get the bastard that did this. And don’t go right now. Get some sleep, this guy isn’t going to be attacking anyone else for a little bit.” He was right. The Vine Rapist took two years to go from his eighteenth victim to his nineteenth.

“You don’t need to tell us twice,” Hille grinned, grabbing her black jacket and heading down the stairs.
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  #11  
Old 01-04-2010, 11:21 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Outskirts of Fuchsia City
Tyke Tyke Beach, 8221 Cove Cabin
8:01 AM, October 9th, 2009


Tyke Tyke Beach wasn’t very popular for a number of reasons. It was out of the way, too far from most cities to be visited that often. Then, there were the swarms of Mantyke and Mantine that resided there during spring, summer and autumn before returning to the deep oceans in the winter. The rocks that dotted the beach were also reason to stay away.

Yet, in spite of all this, there were a few vacation houses that were hidden in the surrounding woods. It looked like a nice place to live, or stay for a while. The houses were small and simple with white walls and dark brown rooftops. Few windows, so it was a perfect place to hide someone for a while. No one could look in and no one could look out.

Carber and Hille pulled up to 8221 Cove Cabin, hurrying out of their car. Yanma was following behind them, buzzing wildly around their heads. Hille’s Armaldo followed her closely behind and the Detective kept both a Pokeball in one hand and her gun in the other. Carber’s Plusle rested on his shoulder, cheeks sparking with electricity. He knocked on the door, loudly. After a few moments, footsteps sounded from inside.

The door opened quickly. An older man in his late forties stood there with a hand on the doorknob. Behind disheveled red hair were plain brown eyes. A Buizel stood behind him, looking questionably at the detectives.

“Who are you?” he asked, brushing hair out of his eyes. The detectives glanced at each other. The rapist was most likely African-American, or at least a man with very dark skin. This man had pale skin with a few freckles. There wasn’t even a tan.

“Detectives Carber and Hille,” Carber replied, showing him the Police badge. “We’re here to question you about unusual things you might have seen in the area two nights ago.”

“Why? Did something happen?” he asked, eyes widening. James Seaver peered outside, perhaps to see if someone was watching him.

“We’re just investigating a rape,” Hille replied. “So, did you?”

“Well, not much. Just Mr. Travers up really late. I said hi to him, but he ignored me. Looked real wound up,” Seaver replied uneasily. “But he’s like that a lot.”

Hille glanced at her partner, green eyes narrowed. “How often?” she asked.

“Well… he’s not like that all the time. But every couple of months he is,” Seaver replied, leaning against the doorway. The man was wearing a dark brown jacket and dark jeans, dressed for any cold October day. “He hasn’t been like that for almost a year, I think. Then all of a sudden….” He paused. “You think he raped this girl? If it’s that girl I saw in the news… Wasn’t she raped by the Vine Rapist?”

“Yes, she was,” Carber replied. Plusle jumped down from his Trainer’s shoulder, landing on the cobblestone under his feet. “Yanma over here witnessed the rape, or at least part of it. He followed the perp over to Tyke Tyke beach and so here we are.”

“Well, get the bastard, ok? I’ve got a nineteen-year-old daughter… I don’t want any freak touching her, that’s for sure,” James Seaver said coldly. “If that’s all…”

“Yes, that’s all,” Hille said. “Thank you for the information.”

“Anytime, detectives,” Seaver replied, dipping his head at the pair. “I’ll look forward for when you do get him.”

Hille and Carber nodded as the man shut the door. Carber glanced at the map they had pulled off the internet. “Well, to Mantine Beach we go.”
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  #12  
Old 01-04-2010, 11:22 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Outskirts of Fuchsia City
Tyke Tyke Beach, 8235 Mantine Beach
8:37 AM, October 9th, 2009


Guns in hand, Carber and Hille approached the house of Benjamin Travers slowly. Pokemon surrounded the area, with Staraptor and Swellow keeping watching above the ground. Hippowdon and Dugtrio hid under the sand in case the rapist tried to run for it. Behind the two detectives were their own Pokemon, Armaldo and Haunter with Hille and Beedrill and Blastoise with Carber. Of course, Carber had Plusle on his shoulder like he does almost all the time. The blonde detective knocked loudly on the door.

“Police! Open up!” he shouted. He held his gun carefully at his side. When the door rattled slightly, he took a step back, nodding at Hille to do the same.

But instead of a man opening the door, it was dark purple haze that greeted the detectives. It had them covering their noses desperately, trying to get away from the gas. The Pokemon around them started coughing and Beedrill even fell to the sandy ground. They’re skin had been given multiple purple hues and they reeked of poison.

From the open doorway, two Weezing stood, barring the way into the beach house. A Koffing hovered above them and from all three Poison Gas Pokemon were wisps of the same purple fog.

Carber looked at his partner in alarm. His black-haired partner shouted at the door. “Call your Pokemon back! We’ve got the place surrounded!”

There was no answer from the house. Instead, the two Weezing started to glow as one floated into the skies besides the two Flying Pokemon that flew above the house. The other purple and white Pokemon floated behind the two detectives and, before anyone—human and Pokemon alike—could respond to their attack, they exploded. The noise of all the Pokemon’s cry and the Explosion sounded like a bomb had gone off, killing millions of people. The cries themselves would haunt Carber for the rest of his life.

The Explosion easily knocked out all the Pokemon around them. Swellow and Staraptor fell to the sky like dead birds while Blastoise, Armaldo, Haunter and Beedrill suffered from the damage as well. Hille, too, had been knocked unconscious by the Weezing’s suicidal move. Luckily Carber and Plusle were still standing. Well, they had been knocked to the ground by the shock waves and they knew they had some bruises on them. But they were still alive and ready to get up and fight.

Strangely, Koffing still floated harmlessly in the way. If Travers had planned for his Pokemon to explode, why not make sure the weakest of the three exploded with one of the Weezing. Weezing in general was much stronger than Koffing, but both had exploded themselves. Now Koffing looked scared, the craters on his spherical body puffing out gas quicker than normal.

Carber stood up, wincing when a bone in his left leg cracked. He cringed when another Explosion went off, this one from around the back. There must have been three Weezing that exploded themselves to prevent Travers from being found. Carber couldn’t expect any of the back-up he brought to help him. He was positive that Dugtrio and Hippowdon had also been knocked out from the newest Explosion.

Plusle stood up, weakly hopping back onto Donovan Carber’s shoulder. Koffing continued to float there, bobbing up and down as it stared, frightened, at the detective and his Pokemon partner.

“Are we going to fight him?” Plusle asked, peering at the purple opponent from behind a few stray strands of Carber’s hair.

“Of course,” Carber replied. “First, Charge.”

Plusle jumped into the air after a quick nod. When it landed on the ground, sparks began to cover the pale yellow and red Pokemon’s small body. When Koffing realized what was about to happen after the Charge attack, he quickly began to spin at such a high velocity that rays of light purple circled him.

Carber frowned, seeing the Gyro Ball coming before Koffing at the chance to strike. “Use Shock Wave!” he called frantically. Plusle gave another nod, raises both hands into the air for a powerful orb of blue electricity to form. Koffing was rapidly approaching with Gyro Ball in effect when Plusle unleashed his attack.

The force of both powerful moves collided in the air, creating a fourth explosion that nearly popped Carber’s eardrums. Clouds of sand and dust rose to the air, obscuring both Pokemon from vision.

Carber looked around the house, searching for signs of a Trainer. From one of the few top windows was a tall, humanoid shape. The curtain flashed in front after realizing that Carber was watching him.

Carber turned his attention back to the cloud of smoke. “Plusle! Use Swift! Once the dust settles in, use Thunder and Spark!”

“Aye, Aye Captain!” Plusle called back. Carber hurried around the back of the small beach house, taking note of Hippowdon and Dugtrio, knocked out on the ground besides Weezing. But he continued on into the house. Strangely, it was unlocked. Wouldn’t a serial rapist who has been at large for over eight years know better than to leave his door unlocked?

With his gun raised, Carber walked slowly up the tattered stairs. It seemed like Mr. Travers didn’t keep a very clean house. Soda and beer bottles layered the ground floor along with bags of chips and microwave meals. It seemed to Carber that he was stepping on full chips every time he walked up another step.

Once he got to the second floor, he peered out one of the other windows. He saw his Plusle dodging attacks like Sludge Bomb with intense speed. It seemed like Plusle was winning, with not another scratch on him. Koffing, on the other hand, suffered serious burn marks from attacks like Thunder and Spark. The Poison Gas Pokemon was breathing out Smog like there was no tomorrow. Plusle had the sense to head up one of the few trees and keep himself and the unconscious Hille safe with Protect.

Carber turned around, gun pointed forward, when he heard a crack; most likely from a chip on the dirty floor. An older man, no more than forty-five years old, watched him angrily. He was African-American and had the same color eyes as Neb, bright green. He was well built, with a simple white shirt on and torn up, faded jeans. His hair was longer than his son’s and almost touched his back. The man smiled.

“I want to show you something before you arrest me,” he said simply. He turned around easily, as if he didn’t have to worry about being shot by Carber. Maybe he sensed Carber’s hesitation to kill. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore.

Carber followed him without his gun moving at even the slightest.

“You see, I killed my first victim,” Benjamin Travers mused. “Beautiful young girl. She loved me and for a while, I loved her. But then she got pregnant. My son, she told me. Like I needed a son at the time. Life was difficult, you know? I couldn’t marry her, she was white. So, after she had her son I killed her. Not sure if they ever found her body.”

“I took the boy and placed him on the front steps of an old motel. The owner took care of him for a while. His idiot mother named him after me, Ben. Somehow he never heard Ben and instead heard Neb,” Travers stopped walking, looking over at Carber. “I kept track of him, of course. He lived on the streets for a while, after the owner died. No one wanted him.”

“Why did you rape all those women?” Carber stuttered angrily.

“Why? Because that first woman, Kate Ander… She made my life Hell. My parents found out I got her pregnant and they threatened to throw me out. I’ve always hated babies, and now I know that I should kill all the women that think they can be mothers at such a young age.”

“But you didn’t kill them. You raped them,” Carber stated simply, confused.

“I thought that they should just suffer instead of dying,” Benjamin mused, continuing to walk again. He led the detective into a room, one filled with pictures that had been tacked onto the wall. Carber recognized pictures of Amanda Collins, Brooklyn Ethans, Caitlyn Hext, Diana Adams, Esther Smith, Fawn Roberts and many more of this man’s victims. Hanging from the ceiling was even the vines that had been used in the rape. “I’m glad someone finally found me… but I think you should let me finish the alphabet first.”

Carber’s eyes widened as Benjamin Travers pulled out a gun from under the single table. “You will let me, right?”
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  #13  
Old 01-04-2010, 11:24 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

If Carber lives and arrests the Vine Rapist before the Vine Rapist kills him, it's a capture for all Pokemon.

If the Vine Rapist kills Carber before Carber can arrest him, then it's not a capture for any Pokemon.
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  #14  
Old 01-10-2010, 11:11 PM
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Default Re: Vines COME BACK LATER

Ack, long. *kidnaps and hides in closet* I'll grade.
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  #15  
Old 03-21-2010, 03:59 AM
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Introduction: You had both ups and downs to this. First off… well, it was a hook. I could see where the plot was going, just a little bit—but there weren’t a lot of hints at how, which is entertaining for the reader. Rape and crime does tend to grab the interest of the average bear, what with the way television has conditioned the youths of today. :P That said… it is rape, and by simply mentioning it, you raised a number of concerns in This Reader, who tends to find that there are very few writers capable of dealing with the issue of rape in a… palatable light. Writing tends to demean rape through either simplifying it in a way that turns it into a petty side-issue, or by melodramatizing it to the point that the reader starts giggling. What I found interesting here was the fact that your portrayal avoided the matter altogether—the reactions of the woman who found the body were all very… neutral, subdued emotional responses. Honestly, were the rape not a plot device, the way it’s been dealt with (both subject-wise and description-wise) in the introduction would make it… entirely superfluous to the story. Perhaps devote a bit more time to… pondering the matters with which you are dealing, and thinking about how you want them portrayed in your writing—especially in the introduction, as it sets the stage for the rest of the piece. There was a certain neglect in the imagery dealings that gave the concept an, “Oh, whatever,” feel to an issue that, from what I can see in your dialogue, you did not intend to be “glossed over” in the reader’s emotions.

Plot: The plot progression had stable flow, and picked up/wound down in appropriate places. When it comes to genre effectiveness—which is to say, the coherence of the mystery—there was a certain disconnect, partially because many of the hallmarks of the Law and Order/crime-solving niche methods were overlooked.

Most of this came in the detectives’ psychologies, particularly for reactions to various bits of dialogue—such as the instance in which Esmeralda mentioned Neb, and the detectives did nothing to follow up on it. Information is power, and they would not allow such an opportunity to slip away.

I’ll touch on this further with a particular situation: The Everhart scene. First off, Santine’s reaction to the Everhart’s callousness was not what one would expect from an experienced detective (and to be amongst the “best in her league,” it is likely she has experience; you were vague on that point, though). She would be aware of the possible consequences of blowing her top, and, if she were good at her job, would know that regardless of personal opinion on the matter, she would need to moderate herself. Although the rashness did seem part of her character, it’s unrealistic for her to simultaneously be careless and high-regarded. Had you given the reader a better sense of the character’s prowess and importance to the SVU, a suspension of disbelief may have been possible; as-is, the emotional temperament was not consistent with what police look for in competent investigators.

Then comes the Everhart pair: The father immediately said, “It’s the Vine Rapist!” after, if I’m reading correctly, receiving… no information about the specifics of the case. Unless the Vine Rapist is the only rapist who ever existed in the Pokémon world, Everhart suggesting this would raise a FREAKING HUGE red flag in the detectives’ minds. But it didn’t.

Just… watch your psychology, really. The plot itself was what it intended to be: A brief crime drama.

Grammar: Your grammar confuses me. It’s not bad—it’s just completely inconsistent. You have the usual comma flubs, quite a few dialogue tag mistakes, funky tense changes, and some problems with redundancy. At the same time, everything but the comma issues are sporadic enough to make me think that the issue is more proof-reading than genuine misunderstanding of concepts. SO THAT’S SOMETHING. Be a bit more careful, though.

Quote:
She was probably very beautiful, when her fair face wasn’t bruised or bloodied. Her hair was reddish-brown, or maybe it was just brown. It is hard to tell, in the dark of the night. The only reason Mrs. Pickering had found her was because of the sudden eruption of noise from outside the dreary apartment building. But despite her husband being the landlord and the fact that she knew everyone in the old brick building, she had never seen her. She was sure she would have recognized her. She was lying on the wet ground with her clothes torn off, swollen belly revealed to the new winter winds. Mrs. Pickering was tempted to get her some clothing or at least a blanket, but she didn’t want to tamper with the crime scene. And, as if to calm her mind, a sleek-furred Espeon was curling besides her, licking her face gently until the ambulance arrived.
I bolded any awkward phrasings or grammatical functions. …As you can see, there’s quite a bit of bold. At the same time, it’s not as if it’s this horrible, icky mess—it’s readable… it just flows weirdly. Take a look at the commas I bolded. Not all of them are necessary, and some of them are downright incorrect. Remember that commas are used to separate clauses—putting them smack dab in the middle of more complex clauses (like the first comma and the third comma I’ve highlighted) can confuse things. The second comma is more an issue of flow. Because the flow of thoughts breaks, instead of continuing smoothly, you may want to consider — to be used instead of a comma. That’ll separate the ideas more thoroughly, let them stand out. As-is, they bleed into each other when the sentence would probably be better off with distinction. The random bolded “g” indicates where a comma should probably have gone, as “or at least a blanket” is a clause that interjects the flow of the sentence.

The “because of the sudden…” thing is just highlighted because it’s wordy without any of the advantages of wordiness. Be careful with sentences that have lots of “of”—it always seems to manage to distract. The combination of two ofs and a from is just too much to take. “Because of the sudden noise that erupted from outside the dreary apartment building,” or something to that extent, would have been easier to read. The last few highlights are for pronoun confusion. There’s so much “she” and “her” that keeping track is more of an effort than it perhaps should be.

Then there’s the is. You sporadically lapsed into present tense for no reason whatsoever. If you’re writing in past tense, stay in past tense (unless there’s an artistic statement of some sort being made with the changes… which I wouldn’t necessarily recommend.) The is should be was. Any “has” is usually “had.” Et cetera. You did this a lot, so watch it carefully.

Quote:
"Ma’am, please hold on. We’ll get a bus over to her as quickly as possible. Just stay calm and stay with her!" The voice in the phone said, her voice both bored and worried at the same time.
Here’re two other slight issues. Redundancy of phrasing is something you struggle with regularly (in this situation, the double use of voice—a word like “woman” could have been substituted in the first, or “tone” in the second, but as-is, my head reels a bit with the grammatical construction). Just look for situations in which you use the same word twice—it’s not necessarily bad, and can be quite a useful literary device in some situations, but tends to lean more towards non-conducive in your writing at this point. Additionally, watch your dialogue tags. You seem to follow the rules most of the time, but remember that if there’s a tag sentence (like “the voice in the phone said”), there’s no capitalization on the first word.

Your main issue is the off-kilter feel caused by the comma abuse and tense swaps. Just from the writing itself, I’ve gathered that you know the rules; pay more attention to applying them, and you’ll be better off.

Details: Your main concern with the details themselves at this point is that they feel a bit forced. They often carry the tone of, “Oh, what does she look like? RIGHT. Let’s slap it all down and get it out of the way.” Details are art, not just an obligatory part of writing. A lack of details when it comes to a certain aspect of scene can lead to subtle embellishment of other details, while cramming too much into the wrong space can have a negative impact on the flow and perception of the tale. They’re a judgment call, obviously, but work to pay attention to what details you include and where you place them.

What hinders the “art of detail” at this point is more the fact that you list everything as if it’s only details. This is a problem, ‘cause details aren’t only details. They’re an opportunity to flesh out actions, characters, thoughts, situations… to treat them as if they’re only information is a bit of a disservice to the piece.

Quote:
She was getting closer to thirty everyday but she still had the body of a model; an intimidating model. Long black hair, thin, curved body and dark green eyes.
Like this. Honestly, I’d almost call this a waste of space. Kinda harsh, but it is the case. Honestly, what she looks like doesn’t matter. The story won’t be particularly impacted by the fact that the character is a blonde instead of a redhead (unless a serial killer is sniping out brunettes, ‘r something). The color of hair doesn’t mean anything about the character on a basic level unless you assign some relevance to it. To describe things, you gotta make them matter. If, say, you tell us that her thin, curved body was… more a result of self-discipline than self-denial, you’ve given us a far more thorough picture of the character. Knowing that she’s thin is kinda useless to us, but knowing that she’s thin because she works hard, not because she refuses to eat, gives an actual personality and sense of meaning to the character’s appearance. Don’t throw away words; always try to do something with them that will not only give an image, but give a meaning to the image.

I… also worry a bit about some of the ramifications in dialogue. There were some things that characters said casually that had huge world-view/though-process extensions and were just… too offhand, honestly. Speaking is an extension of thought; the nuances of speech reflect nuances of thought. This wasn’t always reflected in your dialogue; in fact, some of the insinuated bits of meaning behind dialogue completely contradicted what you wanted the reader to think of your characters. (For example, there was a conversation in which someone basically said, “Oh, is Shea okay?” and one of the agents said, “She is unharmed, but she’s been raped.” Something to that extent. Very casual answer, but the phrasing insinuated that rape did not equate harm in the investigator’s mind—which is far from the truth, it would seem. So watch that.)

Right now, your writing progression, especially description-wise, is pretty much up to you. There’s always a chance to improve, obviously, and commentary from others will help you out—but there has to be a deliberate attempt at experimentation, improvement, and incorporation on your own terms. You’re at the point that no one but you can really “help” your writing by any remarkable margins. There’s a lot of improvements that could be made, but they’re not gonna happen without directed effort on your end. SO WORK HARD, MMKAY?

Battle: It was a battle. Fighting happened. Um. It was a bit short for the story length, and wasn’t well-described; actual descriptions of the moves would be an improvement, because as-is, everything’s kinda vague. This felt a bit like some of your details... as if it were there because it had to be, not because it mattered to the story or was something you just plain wanted to write. Even if you feel that way about something, try not to write it like that; try to give it relevance, and use, or it's just going to be tedious for both the reader and the story. In this particular fic, the battle was the climax of the story—they'd hunted down the killer, found him, and were trying to take him into custody at the risk of their own lives. I didn't really feel that danger, or even that excitement, that should go along with a climax such as this. You can help work that in with more careful use of details that'll make an impression—maybe give that Thunder Shock attack some frightening lightning lances, or describe one of the Pokémon in a way that... disturbs. (Big fangs? Fearsome roar? Whatever works for you.)

Length: Yeah.

Verdict: You know what? I’m going to give you all four Pokémon captured. You showed decent amounts of effort in the writing. Although the plot wasn’t the most original thing for the genre, the integration of crime-scene dramas and Pokémon made for a “new” read, and certainly isn’t something that pops up around URPG a lot. If ever. The plot’s inherent straight-forwardness was well-handled, and the mystery/detective aspect pulled itself off, save the hitches in psychology that I mention. You really need to be watching the detail, as I’ve seen that a couple of graders have mentioned it besides me—and I know I’ve mentioned it quite a bit. Improvement in that area should also correlate with an elimination of those inconsistencies in characterization, because that’s just the weird way those things work. When you start going for more Hard Mons and up, graders are going to be expecting some more nuanced applications of descriptive methods, but the originality of your plots will always bend in your favor… again, be very, very careful about executing them, as that seems to be the recurring “gap” in your writing style (however, even with the ideas, this particular fic, I wouldn't have given you a hard mon if you'd been writing for one).
__________________

EmBreon is the maple syrup to my slightly undercooked crepe
{URPG Stats}--{ASB Stats}--{Fanfiction}
khajmer = biffle
yoface = broham

thegalleonman: (8:37:28 PM) How sad.
thegalleonman: (8:37:37 PM) I'm amused.

Last edited by Scourge of Amaranth; 03-21-2010 at 03:54 PM. Reason: EDIT: I lost a paragraph while CPing and couldn't find it again. Put it back and had TK look at it.
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