Murder by Bytes

Thursday, August 27, 11:47 A.M.

"Johnson!"

Brenda tightened her grip on her coffee mug, and then forced herself to relax. "What?" she hollered back. After the recent chaos with the clones, the city had quieted down, as if giving Viridian's finest a well deserved break.

She really, really hoped this wasn't an end to the quiet.

"You're up!" Holland jerked his thumb at the door. "Reported murder. Guy sounded peeved."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, and looked around for her partner. Who wasn't there. "Smith!" she bellowed, already planning any number of nasty things to do to him if he didn't show up. Now. Preferably with a good reason for taking off- and visiting the top of a mountain didn't count as a good reason. Just a sane one, and who in the station could claim to be sane?

Fortunately for Mewtwo's continued life, he showed up mere seconds later, his human illusion in place and, she was amused to see, sweating. What, did he get some sort of placebo effect from making the illusion sweat? As far as she could tell, the fur meant he had to pant to try and get rid of excess heat. She'd have to nag him about it later. It could be important.

"You bellowed?" he asked, only a faint hint of exhaustion in his voice. Their last case had been pretty tiring for him.

"Case. C'mon." Brenda stopped by Holland's desk just long enough to pick up and scan the brief scribbles of notes. One of these days they'd hit on a reasonable way of assigning officers to cases, instead of their latest idea of dispatch calling one desk, that one desk taking notes, and then pointing to the next sucker to go out.

Ah, well. It wasn't her responsibility, so what did she care? "Dead guy," she said, heading for the stairwell. "A Mr. Duncan called it in. Said he came home and found the body."

"Wonderful. I don't suppose he confessed to the murder as well?" Mewtwo must have dropped his illusion; Brenda could see him picking his way carefully down the stairs, one hand gripping the railing. His mouth was open and he was panting, she could see, though he kept closing his mouth and looking like he wanted to, well, not pant.

"We don't know it's a murder. What is with you and stairs, anyways? You go up them alright."

"You have looked at my legs, yes? They're not meant for-" He almost slipped, and dug his claws into the metal railing. Brenda politely didn't comment. "-going down."

"I can see that." She stepped closer, and got ready to make a grab for whatever she could, in the event his psychic abilities, claws, and balance all failed.

You never knew, it could happen.

"Just teleport to the bottom," she said. "It's faster."

He shot her a narrow-eyed look, and grabbed her elbow. Brenda gulped, and nearly shrieked when the world disappeared in a rush of blue, only to return all nicely shifted to the bottom of the stairs.

"I swear, I will never get used to that."

"What's the point of my teleporting and you making your own slow way down?" Mewtwo asked.

"Yeah, point. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Mewtwo let go of her elbow and got the door before she could. "Are you alright? You haven't sworn once today."

"Bloody heat wave. Can't even get upset."

Mewtwo glared up at the ceiling, as if mentally cursing whatever god had decided a heat wave was a good idea. The heat was probably responsible for the quiet, really. For whatever reason, people just didn't feel up to murdering each other in new and inventive ways when their brains were melting out their ears.

Though, the number of people who exercised themselves into heat stroke, refused to get treatment, and then died, did go up. Balance, she supposed. The morgue had to stay busy, whatever the weather.

The parking garage was cooler than the bullpen, which was par for the course. The air conditioner had broken, no one had fixed it, and the only question now was why Mewtwo hadn't fixed it himself.

"Because I don't want to end up fixing every broken object at the station. I'm a cop, not an electrician," he snapped.

"Stop rooting around in my brain." She turned the car on, and cranked the air on full. It was a new car, and she'd finally figured out the temperature controls. In two minutes the blowers were figuratively blasting ice cubes. Mewtwo finally looked relieved.

"You could always shave yourself bald."

"Bite your tongue."

"But blood tastes so disgusting."

"And the thought of shaving is probably enough to give me nightmares."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, and grinned. "Maybe patches?"

Mewtwo snorted and leaned back in his seat.

The address was smack in the middle of suburbia hell, with its many dead ends, twisting streets, and small children running out in the middle of the road just because they could. Weren't they supposed to be in school or something? It was Thursday, it was August, and school should be a year round thing now that she no longer had to go.

She kept her temper somehow and didn't roll down the window to scream at the little monsters. She finally found the right house, where the paramedics were waiting.

Mewtwo sighed, and got out. Brenda joined him, and led the way over to the paramedics.

"Is there a dead guy or what?" she asked.

"It's weird," the head paramedic said. "There's no body."

What? "This is 47 Dorton Avenue, right?"

The paramedic nodded.

"Guy called in a murder?"

Again, the paramedic nodded. For some reason, the other medic was smirking.

"What, is there just a lot of blood or something?"

"It's something you just have to see for yourself." The paramedic scratched his nose, and grinned. "Figured I'd stay and warn you."

"Okay. No body, you can leave now." Brenda eyed the two paramedics, and then the house.

Mewtwo also studied the house. "Please tell me it wasn't a false report."

"That'll be up to you," the paramedic said.

"Why are you still here?"

Now the other medic, the younger, blond one, chuckled and spoke up. "We're here in case the guy inside has a heart attack. He's certainly pissed enough to."

"And you're not inside, why?"

"He threw us out."

"Oh, great."

Brenda shook her head and left the two paramedics, moving closer to the house. It was just another cookie cutter place that defined suburbia. One car garage, she judged, three steps up to the concrete porch, front door, a second story with two windows overlooking the street. The lawn was clipped short, almost to the bare earth, and the space where Brenda would have expected a garden had been replaced by more lawn. It didn't look like a place where a murder would be committed, or even a place where some crazy would live and harass the police with fake murder calls. Then again, murder happened everywhere and some nuts were actually able to hold down steady jobs.

She pounded on the front door, and rolled her eyes at Mewtwo. It was the heat, she decided. Professionalism mattered, but not when she was dying for cool breeze.

The door was jerked open, and she almost jumped. Instead, she gave the man a quick once over. He certainly looked like a heart attack waiting to happen. He was overweight, his hair stood on end like he'd had an electric shock, his face was red, and his breathing was irregular and loud.

"It's about damn time you showed up," he nearly snapped. "I've been waiting for hours!"

Brenda seriously doubted that. "Mr. Duncan. You reported a murder?"

"I want to see your badges!"

Brenda dug hers out without changing expression, and flipped it open for him to study. Mewtwo had pulled his badge out from wherever, and was holding it out as well. Mr. Duncan finally nodded, and stepped back.

"Well? Get in! Neighbors don't need to gawk, the nosy idiots."

She led the way, pocketing her badge as she did so. The inside of the house was slightly messy, but nothing to gag over. A pair of worn running shoes were right next to a shiny new pair of dress shoes, right beside the empty umbrella stand and pile of old, unread newspapers.

Mr. Duncan stomped away from the door to his computer, and pointed at the screen. "Look! Look at what that bitch did!"

Mewtwo tilted his head, and smiled. "You're the detective," he murmured.

"Right." Brenda moved carefully, ready to shriek for the paramedics and perform emergency first aid should it be needed. She glanced at the computer desk, which was strewn with papers and old coffee cups, and then at the screen.

"Okay, what am I looking at?"

"A murder!"

Brenda turned to stare at the man. "Excuse me?"

"She killed me!"

Mewtwo leaned down, and studied the computer screen. Brenda ignored him. "I'm sorry, you look perfectly well to me. Do you, maybe, want to rephrase that?"

Mr. Duncan gasped for breath and pointed one shaking finger at Brenda's nose. "You listen to me! She killed me! Do you know how long I've been living there? Do you? And because that bitch was jealous- look! Look at everything I had! And she killed me!"

Mewtwo straightened up. "It looks like Third Existence," he said. At Brenda's blank look, he elaborated. "An internet game, where people interact with each other. It has been described as 'real life but better'. His, ah, game self is indeed dead. Messily." He looked over Brenda at Mr. Duncan. "I wasn't aware you could get your character to jump off the roof."

Mr. Duncan flushed a dull maroon. "Now do you believe me? I told you it was murder!"

"I think I'm still stuck on the part where you called in a murder over a video game." Brenda glowered at Mr. Duncan. "Filing a false report is extremely-"

"It costs fifty dollars for each life! And I've spent months- months- building up my net worth! I have a mansion! I have a wife! I have children! And now I have to start a whole new life and my wife can't get married again for six months and I won't even be able to keep any of my money!"

Brenda turned to Mewtwo. "Is he serious?"

Mewtwo studied the ranting man. "So it seems."

"Right." She breathed out, and turned back to Mr. Duncan. "Shut up!" she snapped, and surprised him so much that he actually did. "Good, now sit down! We are going to speak calmly- with a minimum of shouting so shut your mouth!" He did. "Very good. Now. Start from the beginning. Just who killed your... game self?"

"The b-"

"Names!"

Mr. Duncan folded his arms, but the maroon color had left his cheeks. Brenda decided to count that as a victory. "My ex."

"Does your ex have a name?"

"Grace Whosley."

Mewtwo nodded, and Brenda knew she'd be able to trust her partner's memory. "Alright. You're divorced from Ms. Whosley?"

"Separated."

"Because of the game?"

Mr. Duncan shifted in his seat, and looked away. "No."

Brenda arched an eyebrow, and let the silence drag out. After a minute, Mr. Duncan cleared his throat and continued. "She said I never talked to her, called me a pig, and said she refused to live with a drama queen. And other stuff. So she moved out. The lawyer drew up the divorce papers and I'm keeping the house and this is her revenge!"

"Wow, we managed to go almost the entire time without shouting. I am impressed." Brenda folded her arms. "You mentioned a wife?"

"She doesn't nag me, not like that bitch!"

"And I bet virtual sex is better than live? Good with your hands, Mr. Duncan?"

Mr. Duncan choked.

Brenda continued before he could reply. "We might be able to get your wife on trespassing, but murder? It's a game. I don't care if it costs fifty dollars or five hundred. We'll talk with Ms. Whosley. Sue her if you want. But don't try claiming a virtual game constitutes murder ever again. Understand me?"

Under her glare, the man shrank down in his seat. "I- yes," he said, sullen. "Yes, alright, damn it."

"Good." Brenda turned to go, and smirked. "Oh, and we'll be noting that you filed a false police report, wasting valuable time for both us and the paramedics. You'll receive your court date in the mail."

"You can't do that!"

"Sorry," she sang, opening the front door and letting Mewtwo go first. "I just did. Goodbye, Mr. Duncan. Enjoy your game!"

Mewtwo chuckled. Brenda turned, and glared.

"Just for that? You can interview Ms. Whosley all on your own. I am getting off shift on time, for once, and going home!"

"Very well, Detective. And tomorrow's your day off?"

"Yup. You can do the paperwork."

Mewtwo nodded, and waved one hand at the paramedics. "I rather expected I would, anyways."

"Hrmph!" Brenda slammed the car door and watched the paramedics drive away. Tomorrow was her day off. No stupid people, no work, just a nice, relaxing day.

It was about damn time she got one.

End Notes

So yes, I am alive! I know it's been quite a while since I last posted anything, let alone in the Sword and Shield 'verse, but rest assured, I have plans and plots and stories yet to be written. It just might take a while.

Hoping you all had a happy holidays!