AN: Well, it's my first day here, and I already have a fanfic! How's that for Speedy Delivery? This story is an idea I got from someone here. Or, at least, the title is. The rest is just me taking non-canon speculation from there. But I've said too much already. Moving on, rating is PG-15 for dark stuff and swearing, maybe some er, 'heated' situations. Wait, what's this? I have at least one stealth pun in every chapter? Fun fun fun! So, I bring you:
“How goes the new business, Delilah?”
My fingers gripped the arms of my chair tightly, squeezing. I wanted nothing to do with this man and he knew it. I chose my words carefully.
“You know how it is to work as a PI, Archer.”
Now, my current means of income are derived from the clientele that require the service of a detective. Unfortunately, this is a tougher job than one might imagine. Despite the image conjured by Hollywood, one that brings to mind a certain Bogart film, the life of a PI is harsh. I can spend months on a lead that turns out to be irrelevant, or have a case that is the result of paranoid conspiracy theorists. Which is why I have some ‘help’. But that’s another story. Archer spoke again.
“We know what it is like to leave the team. Which is why we have an offer for you.”
I stared, biting my lip with anxiety, which, coincidentally, is not a good decision unless you desire to know exactly lipstick tastes like. I brushed raven hair out of my face before asking, “What is it?”
Archer attached a calculating stare at me, before continuing.
“Surely you must have watched the news recently. The media is abuzz with chatter, and for one reason: Giovanni, who was recently uncloaked as our leader, has vanished. His disappearance marks the disbanding of Team Rocket. Only one thing can save us now. We need Giovanni. And due to your, ah, interactions with him, you are the best one to find him.”
I flinched at Giovanni’s name, remembering the atrocities of that man… Pokémon theft seemed petty to me, and the Silph takeover seemed to be at Giovanni’s whim, a venture purely for a Pokéball. Giovanni had wasted Team Rocket, and the Executives had hated it. But, they were loyal and jumped at a promise of a greater, a master plan. And then, he vanished. I knew what Archer was getting at, and I sighed.
“You want me to find Giovanni? The man will hide at his whim. I swore I would have nothing to do with Team Rocket not more than 1 year ago. He left me with, well with them. So why should I say yes to your ‘offer’?”
Archer turned those shrewd eyes at mine, and I knew he was serious.
“You will say yes because this is an offer you can’t refuse.”
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So, I ended up slumped at a table in the living room, pouring over hundreds of news articles at a unearthly hour, with my cup of coffee to keep me company. Well, and someone else, specifically my comatose Gardevoir.
“Heinrich! Get your ass awake and start helping me look for some sort of a lead!”
He stirred, and looked up. He glared at me, and sat up.
Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of bed. What’s ruffling your feathers, woman?
“I’m searching for my least favorite person on the earth, and he also happens to be the hardest one to find! The least you can do is help,” I spat.
He grinned, that demonic smile. Heinrich looked so unlike a Gardevoir it wasn’t hard to tell that his father was a Banette. His green hair came around his face like small side burns, and devilish red eyes glittered with the air of a trickster. His smile was like his father’s, but at the same time, he had a certain air of grace in his movements that all Gardevoir have. He wore a simple black sweater, his horn poking out of his torso.
Fine, I guess I’ll be mister nice-guy and help. Just don’t ask me to find anything.
And with that, we searched into the dead of the night for clues of a hidden man.
Where In the World is Giovanni?
Prelude: When Rockets Come A-Calling
For most people, a visit by a crime boss is not very high on their “To Do” list. The very word “mafia” is enough to send even the most curious passerby scuttling away, head down and shoulders tucked. Luckily for me, I was expecting it, and so it was not much of a surprise when it did happen. Four figures materialized at my office door, their silhouettes visible through an opaque glass. The four filed into the room, filling the small space. Three seemed identical, a black cap hiding their face, garbed in a black shirt and shorts with a logo, the all-too-familiar capital R, emblazoned in scarlet on the chest of their shirts. Although their bulk was intimidating, it was their leader who held the air of power. He stood tall and slim, clothed in a white shirt. He had the letter R emblazoned on his breast pocket, and he caught my eye. His thin eyebrows slanted, but the man’s delicate features were riveted in an unnatural smile. The man in white moved across the small room and sat at the other end of my desk, legs crossed. The trio of grunts simply stood at the door. The man in white then spoke, thin mouth moving. Prelude: When Rockets Come A-Calling
“How goes the new business, Delilah?”
My fingers gripped the arms of my chair tightly, squeezing. I wanted nothing to do with this man and he knew it. I chose my words carefully.
“You know how it is to work as a PI, Archer.”
Now, my current means of income are derived from the clientele that require the service of a detective. Unfortunately, this is a tougher job than one might imagine. Despite the image conjured by Hollywood, one that brings to mind a certain Bogart film, the life of a PI is harsh. I can spend months on a lead that turns out to be irrelevant, or have a case that is the result of paranoid conspiracy theorists. Which is why I have some ‘help’. But that’s another story. Archer spoke again.
“We know what it is like to leave the team. Which is why we have an offer for you.”
I stared, biting my lip with anxiety, which, coincidentally, is not a good decision unless you desire to know exactly lipstick tastes like. I brushed raven hair out of my face before asking, “What is it?”
Archer attached a calculating stare at me, before continuing.
“Surely you must have watched the news recently. The media is abuzz with chatter, and for one reason: Giovanni, who was recently uncloaked as our leader, has vanished. His disappearance marks the disbanding of Team Rocket. Only one thing can save us now. We need Giovanni. And due to your, ah, interactions with him, you are the best one to find him.”
I flinched at Giovanni’s name, remembering the atrocities of that man… Pokémon theft seemed petty to me, and the Silph takeover seemed to be at Giovanni’s whim, a venture purely for a Pokéball. Giovanni had wasted Team Rocket, and the Executives had hated it. But, they were loyal and jumped at a promise of a greater, a master plan. And then, he vanished. I knew what Archer was getting at, and I sighed.
“You want me to find Giovanni? The man will hide at his whim. I swore I would have nothing to do with Team Rocket not more than 1 year ago. He left me with, well with them. So why should I say yes to your ‘offer’?”
Archer turned those shrewd eyes at mine, and I knew he was serious.
“You will say yes because this is an offer you can’t refuse.”
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So, I ended up slumped at a table in the living room, pouring over hundreds of news articles at a unearthly hour, with my cup of coffee to keep me company. Well, and someone else, specifically my comatose Gardevoir.
“Heinrich! Get your ass awake and start helping me look for some sort of a lead!”
He stirred, and looked up. He glared at me, and sat up.
Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of bed. What’s ruffling your feathers, woman?
“I’m searching for my least favorite person on the earth, and he also happens to be the hardest one to find! The least you can do is help,” I spat.
He grinned, that demonic smile. Heinrich looked so unlike a Gardevoir it wasn’t hard to tell that his father was a Banette. His green hair came around his face like small side burns, and devilish red eyes glittered with the air of a trickster. His smile was like his father’s, but at the same time, he had a certain air of grace in his movements that all Gardevoir have. He wore a simple black sweater, his horn poking out of his torso.
Fine, I guess I’ll be mister nice-guy and help. Just don’t ask me to find anything.
And with that, we searched into the dead of the night for clues of a hidden man.
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