dratinihaunter13
30th December 2002, 07:49 PM
To: Psyduck4ever
From: dratinihaunter13
Sure it's a little belated, but i hope you enjoy the story anyway ^_^. I just wrote it and haven't proofread to death, so if you find the occasional typo, my apologies. hopefully the story still proves fun for you. Merry Christmas!
-----
Detective Psyduck: Attack on the Runway
“It’s was a black cloud…black sky all around on the plane’s place when I step stepped.”
Detective Psyduck kept his elbows bent upon the table top and his fingers pressed against the tip of his beak. It was difficult, but he strained to make any sense out of the words from the victim.
“Let me explain, detective,” the man’s saddened wife offered. “Directly after the attack on my husband, he gave me a more clear explanation than he’s giving now – before his brain damage got this bad.” Psyduck gave a reassuring sound of his name to the human being, which she accepted with a deep breath. Then, she began her story.
“My husband, Raymond Winton, is the well-established owner of numerous Pokemon Trainer Gyms around Kanto. This line of work makes him travel just about everywhere, detective. I mean, we barely ever get to see him home and I don’t – didn’t even bother asking him where he was going after a while because the poor man had to make so many plane changes and-”
“Duck, duck psy,” Psyduck interrupted softly patting on the obviously upset Mrs. Winton’s hand. Though there wasn’t a way for the client to understand a single word the detective was saying, something about Psyduck’s calls and disposition managed to calm her down. She inhaled deeply once again.
“So he travels, all the time. A million destinations a day, I’m sure. So I have no idea where he was headed or anything. The man who did this to him, who attacked my husband, he made sure to take all flight records out of his pockets and bring his body far away from the plane he was getting off of.” Psyduck kept his eyes locked with the distraught woman, making mental notes and storing them in his psychic mind. “But what he told me, and it was a little hard to understand anyway. We were at the hospital while doctors and beeping machines rushed all around us.” Psyduck nodded with respect, but an obvious urge to continue with the story. “What I could make out, was that he had forgot some luggage on the plane after getting off it.”
(No baggage claim involved – private plane) Psyduck remembered.
“He got his bag and walked back. It was a long way back to the terminal down the runway, and he said it was night time. What he kept on repeating was how he couldn’t figure out how the guy could have snuck up on him. It was a runway! I mean, it’s a big open space, and I don’t understand myself how he didn’t notice anyone else around him.” Mrs. Winton sighed. “Well, at the hospital he kept on insisting that no one else was anywhere near him. He didn’t notice anyone around when he was attacked. He’s an important man Detective Psyduck, do you think his reputation is why someone would want to kill him?” Psyduck kept his brows narrowed in thought. “He had no grudges. Everyone seemed to like him. He was such a good man detective and I don’t know why anyone would do this!” It was then that Mrs. Winton finally broke down into tears that had been knocking at her eyelids’ door since the attack. Psyduck sighed a bit with a look of tired compassion in his eyes and reached across his desk for a tissue box. He handed it to the crying woman who gave a gurgled ‘thank you’ and tried to regain her composure.
“I can’t get out!” It was Raymond Winton in his wheelchair, eyes ablaze with panic. “I can’t move anywheres!” His mouth twisted out the words through much effort, and his contorted motions made it obvious that he could move. This must be a remembrance of the attack, perhaps beforehand, during, afterward. Psyduck stood up on his chair and tried to calm the man down with his hands while looking towards his sniffling wife for an explanation.
“Yes, yes, he said something about that too,” Mrs. Winton said through short gasps that always visit after a strong cry. “He kept telling me how he couldn’t move when he came to, how he couldn’t move anywhere. The doctors think it was just his body being temporarily catatonic from the shock of the attack, because when they got there he had motion in all four of his limbs. My husband even stated afterward that it wore off, and that was why he could move.”
(When what wore off?) Psyduck remembered. He let the couple know that he had heard enough for now, and would try the best he could to find out who did this. The couple may not have gathered this from Psyduck’s calls and body language, but it is certain that they understood something close to it. After thirteen years of doing this, the detective had gotten pretty good and communicating with humans one way or another.
After the thankful, but still saddened wife and her afflicted husband left his office, Psyduck waddled tiresomely back to his desk to think. Business had caused him to pick up nail-biting, a more human-based habit that he had observed all too often in his office. Psyduck didn’t even have nails, but he bit at whatever was there, or used to be. It helped him think about everything, all the important little facts that could help him solve this case. It was tricky, but his thoughts become more and more organized as his eyes turned blue with psychic contemplation. (Raymond Winton, a powerful human in the gym ownership business. I’ll have to look up news on major happenings within the Pokemon Gym business. Look for something big enough that could drive someone to attack this guy. Private plane – no baggage claim. I’ll have to check out all flights from private planes and their passenger listings for March 13th, 2003. Find out where this plane was coming from, chances are the attacker came on the same flight to keep an eye on Winston. He took all evidence of flight information, so I’m sure he did travel on the same plane. How could anyone avoid even being noticed in a spacious runway before attacking Winton? It was certainly odd that he could swear no one was even 50 feet near the man when he was attacked. And what “wore off” anyway? Winton seemed way too excited over whatever wore off for it to be temporary catatonia. And not many come out of that kind of shock. Something else wore off. Something that allowed him to move again…) Psyduck’s eyes faded away from blue, and he sprang from his chair that was far too big for him, grabbed a leather coat on his way to the door, and made his exit. There was a lot of research to be done.
Psyduck had his spectacles on at the local public library on Tangelo Island. He looked past the intelligent looking specs and at the computer screen, sifting through electronic articles of major events within the Pokemon Gym world. His eyes jumped with a glare from the lenses as he found one article that particularly stood out. It had been repeated a few times in the search results and seemed big enough for this case – big enough to instigate a ruthless attack upon a kind-hearted owner of the gyms in Kanto.
SAFFRON SAYS SO LONG TO PSYCHIC GYM, HELLO TO THE DOJO
The article went on to explain the controversial decision of owner Raymond Winton to replace Sabrina’s Psychic Pokemon Trainer Gym for a Fighting type one, housed at the local dojo in Saffron. Many psychics were left without a job after this, and the quotes were harsh. “It’s sickening to see the weaker type claim this city. Where the hell do I go now? There’s plenty of psychics asking the same thing and it’s just unfair to go down to low-lifes like the ones at the Dojo.” Psyduck began to notice how upset this could make a psychic trainer. “Yeah, I’m upset about it. I’m also hungry about it, because I haven’t had the cash to eat a decent meal since the place shut down. But you know what? It all goes back to whoever made this stupid-*** decision. That ****ing owner. I hope he’s happy about all the people he’s gotten out of a job.” Psyduck quickly looked up information on the source of this quote, but the psychic who said seemed basically harmless, and had not been on a plane since being fired. Still, the plot was thickening, and Psyduck had the motive he was looking for.
Before he jumped to any scarce-evidence conclusions, he looked up the flight information for private planes on March 13th. This wasn’t the first time planes had played a part in one of his cases, so the passenger lists flew by in his rapid, but careful search for Winton’s name. The spectacles flickered once again when Psyduck found Raymond Winton under Kanto Express Airlines, Flight #1310 to Cinnabar Island, from Saffron City.
(Saffron) Psyduck remembered. (The attacker came from Saffron and stayed on the plane with Winton until he got off). Psyduck let the scenarios play out in his mind. It was very likely that the perpetrator was an angered, psychic victim of the shut down of the psychic gym in Saffron. Who could have been so discreet as to attack Winton without him even noticing, though? As a psychic, Psyduck knew that a psychic’s mind was capable of dealing out such a beating from a distance, a distance from where the attacked couldn’t have noticed the attacker. However, Psyduck’s prior study of Winton’s wounds conflicted with this theory. The marks all over Winton’s body were from physical blows, and couldn’t have been given solely from the mind.
Psyduck printed out the necessary information he dug up and made his way out of the library, destined for the airport. He wasn’t ready to let his theory of a psychic attacker get away, not with all the supportive evidence he already had. It was time to take the case to the next step, a strategy Detective Psyduck was known to practice on many occasions – visiting the scene of the crime.
It was dark, midnight. Psyduck wanted it that way. The colorful runway lights glowed in steady lines around him, as Psyduck attempted to feel the presence of the scene of the crime. His psychic abilities had helped him solve many cases in the past, and he began to combine the energy from his surroundings with the words of Raymond Winton, trying to make a connection in his psychic mind. With eyes blue, scenarios flickered in his head with a psychic’s patented imagination.
Psyduck remembered Winton’s insistence on no one ever being there when he was attacked. The pokemon detective walked away from the luggage compartment of the private plane and felt a tingling in his made, a mad siren going off in his head as if a crime was about to happen.
“It’s was a black cloud…black sky all around on the plane’s place when I step stepped.”
Step, step, went Psyduck across the runway in imitation of Winton on that unfortunate night. (Steps. No other steps but mine. One set of footsteps is all I hear, and probably all Winton heard. But what if there were two sets falling at the same time?). Psyduck’s eyes flashed blue, and the siren in his abruptly rose in volume. He knew he had struck a chord with the case. (Still) Psyduck thought as he closed his eyes and walked the runway (How can somebody, even a psychic, go unnoticed when walking right behind Winton. Even if the footsteps are perfectly in unison. And what kind of attacker could do that anyway? Walk in perfect mimicry of Winton, shift in perfect mimicry of his bodily movements so he couldn’t see the attacker, so he believed he was all alone. There is no human being that can do that.)
(A Pokemon!) The siren became deafening, making Psyduck’s headache even worse but he had grown use to the headaches. He knew it meant he was getting closer, closer. Closer to the spot where Winton was attacked. (Here, here’s where it happened) Psyduck stopped in his tracks and fell hard on the floor, flailing around as if being fiercely beaten, no doubt breaking his glasses for the millionth time. (It’s still a psychic trainer responsible for it. Some angry trainer, not happy with Winton’s decision for the Dojo. He can’t mimic the footsteps though, mimic the movement of Winton well enough to be practically invisible. A pokemon had to have done it then, probably a psychic trainer’s pokemon. A pokemon who can mimic like none other, a silent one.)
Psyduck remembered. “I can’t get out! I can’t move anywheres!” The desperate cries of Raymond Winton after being attacked. Psyduck kept thrashing about with his eyes flickering blue and getting closer, closer to the answer. The beating is over and he wonders what can stop him from moving. He doesn’t feel the energy of catatonic shock, that can’t be what wore off.
“My husband even stated afterward that it wore off, and that was why he could move.”
Psyduck lay perfectly still on his back, on the cold runway, surrounded by a black night. (Psychic trainer. Pokemon attacker. Psychic pokemon attacker. Mimics. Silent. Can’t get out. Pokemon attack. Can’t get out. Pokemon attack. Wore off, then can move. Pokemon attack. Psychic attack. Can’t move. Wears off. Can move.)
(Barrier)
Psyduck leapt up from his place on the floor, only to violently strike his head against an invisible wall. He felt around the box he was in, turning in all directions until his light blue eyes saw the attacker he had already identified psychic-ly, and now physically.
The Mr. Mime copied Psyduck’s every movement, from the biting of his fingernails to the feeling of the barrier wall. It was the barrier that wore off that allowed Winton to move again. And now Psyduck was in the same position, facing the attacker, then hearing a voice.
“Another case solved by the amazing, psychic Detective Psyduck.” Psyduck looked around in panic to identify the haughty voice. He found a man dressed in black, looming over his Mr. Mime’s shoulder and peering down at Psyduck with an accomplished grin on his face. “Too bad not all psychics are as lucky as you when it comes to finding jobs, detective. Many of us lose jobs because of ignorant businessmen with far too much power!” His expression heightened in fury, but then gradually went back to arrogance. “But I’m sure you’ve figured that all out already, clever Psyduck. Famous, detective Psyduck. The incredible Psyduck with the uncanny ability to go to the scene of the crime and use his psychic ability to get to the bottom of a case. Well, I knew about that detective. I do my research as well, and I was expecting you.” The trainer moved out from behind his Mr. Mime and into Psyduck’s plain view. He was unshaven and looked simply horrible from the past weeks of homelessness he had been put through. He was underfed beneath his black, long-sleeve shirt that still couldn’t cover him properly. And his knees shivered ever so slightly beneath the cheap, black shorts the trainer had found in a trash can somewhere. Psyduck felt for his problem, but remembered the jumbled speech of a brain-damaged Raymond Winton, and remembered what his job was. To find the attacker, or in this case, attackers, and bring them to justice. “Even if you’ve solved the case, as always, no one has to know about it.” The trainer turned to his Mr. Mime. “Psychic attack!”
Psyduck was thrown against the walls of the invisible box of barriers, until one finally shattered from the impact. Mr. Mime wasted no time in swiftly leaping towards his opponent, no longer worried with his natural miming abilities, but now ready to fight for his trainer. “Doubleslaps!”
The lights of the runway blurred and ran across Psyduck’s vision as he felt every finger sting across his exposed face, no doubt feeling the same punishment that Winton had felt on March 13th. “Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted, detective?” The psychic culprit jeered. “To be in the exact situation as the victim. Oh I know you’re enjoying this.” The desperate cries coming from Psyduck said differently, as he was beaten over and over by the whip-like limbs of Mr. Mime. With each attack the pain grew, the pain all over Psyduck’s body. The pain in Psyduck’s head, grew.
“Duck!” A sudden explosion of blue psychic energy forced Mr. Mime to fly off of his prey. Psyduck then let out a low grown that rose and fell like the siren in his head, deafeningly, resoundingly. It caused the now panicked trainer to cover his ears and made Mr. Mime stumble over himself in fear. They attackers should have known that Psyduck’s success as a detective was not achieved without skill in battle.
“Duck.” The deafening siren of Psyduck’s voice ended with that simple syllable, then a split second of silence. Then a glowing Hyper Beam burst from between Psyduck’s eyes, carrying with it all the psychic pain that the detective had to go through in order to solve this case. The Hyper Beam did not slow down when it collided with Mr. Mime, sending him reeling into his trainer with such speed that the naked eye could not hope to comprehend. It forced them both into the wall of the airport, which was a good distance away from Psyduck, making the momentum of the blast great enough to render the attackers unconscious.
With a relieved sigh, Psyduck shook his head, rubbed his tired white eyes, and picked up his leather coat from the floor. After dusting it off, he professionally through the coat around his shoulders and dug into an inside pocked to bring out a set of handcuffs, from another inside pocket – a pokeball. Then, with a slight grin reflecting the undying love for his job, Detective Psyduck marched towards the perpetrators, justice in hand. Another case solved.
From: dratinihaunter13
Sure it's a little belated, but i hope you enjoy the story anyway ^_^. I just wrote it and haven't proofread to death, so if you find the occasional typo, my apologies. hopefully the story still proves fun for you. Merry Christmas!
-----
Detective Psyduck: Attack on the Runway
“It’s was a black cloud…black sky all around on the plane’s place when I step stepped.”
Detective Psyduck kept his elbows bent upon the table top and his fingers pressed against the tip of his beak. It was difficult, but he strained to make any sense out of the words from the victim.
“Let me explain, detective,” the man’s saddened wife offered. “Directly after the attack on my husband, he gave me a more clear explanation than he’s giving now – before his brain damage got this bad.” Psyduck gave a reassuring sound of his name to the human being, which she accepted with a deep breath. Then, she began her story.
“My husband, Raymond Winton, is the well-established owner of numerous Pokemon Trainer Gyms around Kanto. This line of work makes him travel just about everywhere, detective. I mean, we barely ever get to see him home and I don’t – didn’t even bother asking him where he was going after a while because the poor man had to make so many plane changes and-”
“Duck, duck psy,” Psyduck interrupted softly patting on the obviously upset Mrs. Winton’s hand. Though there wasn’t a way for the client to understand a single word the detective was saying, something about Psyduck’s calls and disposition managed to calm her down. She inhaled deeply once again.
“So he travels, all the time. A million destinations a day, I’m sure. So I have no idea where he was headed or anything. The man who did this to him, who attacked my husband, he made sure to take all flight records out of his pockets and bring his body far away from the plane he was getting off of.” Psyduck kept his eyes locked with the distraught woman, making mental notes and storing them in his psychic mind. “But what he told me, and it was a little hard to understand anyway. We were at the hospital while doctors and beeping machines rushed all around us.” Psyduck nodded with respect, but an obvious urge to continue with the story. “What I could make out, was that he had forgot some luggage on the plane after getting off it.”
(No baggage claim involved – private plane) Psyduck remembered.
“He got his bag and walked back. It was a long way back to the terminal down the runway, and he said it was night time. What he kept on repeating was how he couldn’t figure out how the guy could have snuck up on him. It was a runway! I mean, it’s a big open space, and I don’t understand myself how he didn’t notice anyone else around him.” Mrs. Winton sighed. “Well, at the hospital he kept on insisting that no one else was anywhere near him. He didn’t notice anyone around when he was attacked. He’s an important man Detective Psyduck, do you think his reputation is why someone would want to kill him?” Psyduck kept his brows narrowed in thought. “He had no grudges. Everyone seemed to like him. He was such a good man detective and I don’t know why anyone would do this!” It was then that Mrs. Winton finally broke down into tears that had been knocking at her eyelids’ door since the attack. Psyduck sighed a bit with a look of tired compassion in his eyes and reached across his desk for a tissue box. He handed it to the crying woman who gave a gurgled ‘thank you’ and tried to regain her composure.
“I can’t get out!” It was Raymond Winton in his wheelchair, eyes ablaze with panic. “I can’t move anywheres!” His mouth twisted out the words through much effort, and his contorted motions made it obvious that he could move. This must be a remembrance of the attack, perhaps beforehand, during, afterward. Psyduck stood up on his chair and tried to calm the man down with his hands while looking towards his sniffling wife for an explanation.
“Yes, yes, he said something about that too,” Mrs. Winton said through short gasps that always visit after a strong cry. “He kept telling me how he couldn’t move when he came to, how he couldn’t move anywhere. The doctors think it was just his body being temporarily catatonic from the shock of the attack, because when they got there he had motion in all four of his limbs. My husband even stated afterward that it wore off, and that was why he could move.”
(When what wore off?) Psyduck remembered. He let the couple know that he had heard enough for now, and would try the best he could to find out who did this. The couple may not have gathered this from Psyduck’s calls and body language, but it is certain that they understood something close to it. After thirteen years of doing this, the detective had gotten pretty good and communicating with humans one way or another.
After the thankful, but still saddened wife and her afflicted husband left his office, Psyduck waddled tiresomely back to his desk to think. Business had caused him to pick up nail-biting, a more human-based habit that he had observed all too often in his office. Psyduck didn’t even have nails, but he bit at whatever was there, or used to be. It helped him think about everything, all the important little facts that could help him solve this case. It was tricky, but his thoughts become more and more organized as his eyes turned blue with psychic contemplation. (Raymond Winton, a powerful human in the gym ownership business. I’ll have to look up news on major happenings within the Pokemon Gym business. Look for something big enough that could drive someone to attack this guy. Private plane – no baggage claim. I’ll have to check out all flights from private planes and their passenger listings for March 13th, 2003. Find out where this plane was coming from, chances are the attacker came on the same flight to keep an eye on Winston. He took all evidence of flight information, so I’m sure he did travel on the same plane. How could anyone avoid even being noticed in a spacious runway before attacking Winton? It was certainly odd that he could swear no one was even 50 feet near the man when he was attacked. And what “wore off” anyway? Winton seemed way too excited over whatever wore off for it to be temporary catatonia. And not many come out of that kind of shock. Something else wore off. Something that allowed him to move again…) Psyduck’s eyes faded away from blue, and he sprang from his chair that was far too big for him, grabbed a leather coat on his way to the door, and made his exit. There was a lot of research to be done.
Psyduck had his spectacles on at the local public library on Tangelo Island. He looked past the intelligent looking specs and at the computer screen, sifting through electronic articles of major events within the Pokemon Gym world. His eyes jumped with a glare from the lenses as he found one article that particularly stood out. It had been repeated a few times in the search results and seemed big enough for this case – big enough to instigate a ruthless attack upon a kind-hearted owner of the gyms in Kanto.
SAFFRON SAYS SO LONG TO PSYCHIC GYM, HELLO TO THE DOJO
The article went on to explain the controversial decision of owner Raymond Winton to replace Sabrina’s Psychic Pokemon Trainer Gym for a Fighting type one, housed at the local dojo in Saffron. Many psychics were left without a job after this, and the quotes were harsh. “It’s sickening to see the weaker type claim this city. Where the hell do I go now? There’s plenty of psychics asking the same thing and it’s just unfair to go down to low-lifes like the ones at the Dojo.” Psyduck began to notice how upset this could make a psychic trainer. “Yeah, I’m upset about it. I’m also hungry about it, because I haven’t had the cash to eat a decent meal since the place shut down. But you know what? It all goes back to whoever made this stupid-*** decision. That ****ing owner. I hope he’s happy about all the people he’s gotten out of a job.” Psyduck quickly looked up information on the source of this quote, but the psychic who said seemed basically harmless, and had not been on a plane since being fired. Still, the plot was thickening, and Psyduck had the motive he was looking for.
Before he jumped to any scarce-evidence conclusions, he looked up the flight information for private planes on March 13th. This wasn’t the first time planes had played a part in one of his cases, so the passenger lists flew by in his rapid, but careful search for Winton’s name. The spectacles flickered once again when Psyduck found Raymond Winton under Kanto Express Airlines, Flight #1310 to Cinnabar Island, from Saffron City.
(Saffron) Psyduck remembered. (The attacker came from Saffron and stayed on the plane with Winton until he got off). Psyduck let the scenarios play out in his mind. It was very likely that the perpetrator was an angered, psychic victim of the shut down of the psychic gym in Saffron. Who could have been so discreet as to attack Winton without him even noticing, though? As a psychic, Psyduck knew that a psychic’s mind was capable of dealing out such a beating from a distance, a distance from where the attacked couldn’t have noticed the attacker. However, Psyduck’s prior study of Winton’s wounds conflicted with this theory. The marks all over Winton’s body were from physical blows, and couldn’t have been given solely from the mind.
Psyduck printed out the necessary information he dug up and made his way out of the library, destined for the airport. He wasn’t ready to let his theory of a psychic attacker get away, not with all the supportive evidence he already had. It was time to take the case to the next step, a strategy Detective Psyduck was known to practice on many occasions – visiting the scene of the crime.
It was dark, midnight. Psyduck wanted it that way. The colorful runway lights glowed in steady lines around him, as Psyduck attempted to feel the presence of the scene of the crime. His psychic abilities had helped him solve many cases in the past, and he began to combine the energy from his surroundings with the words of Raymond Winton, trying to make a connection in his psychic mind. With eyes blue, scenarios flickered in his head with a psychic’s patented imagination.
Psyduck remembered Winton’s insistence on no one ever being there when he was attacked. The pokemon detective walked away from the luggage compartment of the private plane and felt a tingling in his made, a mad siren going off in his head as if a crime was about to happen.
“It’s was a black cloud…black sky all around on the plane’s place when I step stepped.”
Step, step, went Psyduck across the runway in imitation of Winton on that unfortunate night. (Steps. No other steps but mine. One set of footsteps is all I hear, and probably all Winton heard. But what if there were two sets falling at the same time?). Psyduck’s eyes flashed blue, and the siren in his abruptly rose in volume. He knew he had struck a chord with the case. (Still) Psyduck thought as he closed his eyes and walked the runway (How can somebody, even a psychic, go unnoticed when walking right behind Winton. Even if the footsteps are perfectly in unison. And what kind of attacker could do that anyway? Walk in perfect mimicry of Winton, shift in perfect mimicry of his bodily movements so he couldn’t see the attacker, so he believed he was all alone. There is no human being that can do that.)
(A Pokemon!) The siren became deafening, making Psyduck’s headache even worse but he had grown use to the headaches. He knew it meant he was getting closer, closer. Closer to the spot where Winton was attacked. (Here, here’s where it happened) Psyduck stopped in his tracks and fell hard on the floor, flailing around as if being fiercely beaten, no doubt breaking his glasses for the millionth time. (It’s still a psychic trainer responsible for it. Some angry trainer, not happy with Winton’s decision for the Dojo. He can’t mimic the footsteps though, mimic the movement of Winton well enough to be practically invisible. A pokemon had to have done it then, probably a psychic trainer’s pokemon. A pokemon who can mimic like none other, a silent one.)
Psyduck remembered. “I can’t get out! I can’t move anywheres!” The desperate cries of Raymond Winton after being attacked. Psyduck kept thrashing about with his eyes flickering blue and getting closer, closer to the answer. The beating is over and he wonders what can stop him from moving. He doesn’t feel the energy of catatonic shock, that can’t be what wore off.
“My husband even stated afterward that it wore off, and that was why he could move.”
Psyduck lay perfectly still on his back, on the cold runway, surrounded by a black night. (Psychic trainer. Pokemon attacker. Psychic pokemon attacker. Mimics. Silent. Can’t get out. Pokemon attack. Can’t get out. Pokemon attack. Wore off, then can move. Pokemon attack. Psychic attack. Can’t move. Wears off. Can move.)
(Barrier)
Psyduck leapt up from his place on the floor, only to violently strike his head against an invisible wall. He felt around the box he was in, turning in all directions until his light blue eyes saw the attacker he had already identified psychic-ly, and now physically.
The Mr. Mime copied Psyduck’s every movement, from the biting of his fingernails to the feeling of the barrier wall. It was the barrier that wore off that allowed Winton to move again. And now Psyduck was in the same position, facing the attacker, then hearing a voice.
“Another case solved by the amazing, psychic Detective Psyduck.” Psyduck looked around in panic to identify the haughty voice. He found a man dressed in black, looming over his Mr. Mime’s shoulder and peering down at Psyduck with an accomplished grin on his face. “Too bad not all psychics are as lucky as you when it comes to finding jobs, detective. Many of us lose jobs because of ignorant businessmen with far too much power!” His expression heightened in fury, but then gradually went back to arrogance. “But I’m sure you’ve figured that all out already, clever Psyduck. Famous, detective Psyduck. The incredible Psyduck with the uncanny ability to go to the scene of the crime and use his psychic ability to get to the bottom of a case. Well, I knew about that detective. I do my research as well, and I was expecting you.” The trainer moved out from behind his Mr. Mime and into Psyduck’s plain view. He was unshaven and looked simply horrible from the past weeks of homelessness he had been put through. He was underfed beneath his black, long-sleeve shirt that still couldn’t cover him properly. And his knees shivered ever so slightly beneath the cheap, black shorts the trainer had found in a trash can somewhere. Psyduck felt for his problem, but remembered the jumbled speech of a brain-damaged Raymond Winton, and remembered what his job was. To find the attacker, or in this case, attackers, and bring them to justice. “Even if you’ve solved the case, as always, no one has to know about it.” The trainer turned to his Mr. Mime. “Psychic attack!”
Psyduck was thrown against the walls of the invisible box of barriers, until one finally shattered from the impact. Mr. Mime wasted no time in swiftly leaping towards his opponent, no longer worried with his natural miming abilities, but now ready to fight for his trainer. “Doubleslaps!”
The lights of the runway blurred and ran across Psyduck’s vision as he felt every finger sting across his exposed face, no doubt feeling the same punishment that Winton had felt on March 13th. “Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted, detective?” The psychic culprit jeered. “To be in the exact situation as the victim. Oh I know you’re enjoying this.” The desperate cries coming from Psyduck said differently, as he was beaten over and over by the whip-like limbs of Mr. Mime. With each attack the pain grew, the pain all over Psyduck’s body. The pain in Psyduck’s head, grew.
“Duck!” A sudden explosion of blue psychic energy forced Mr. Mime to fly off of his prey. Psyduck then let out a low grown that rose and fell like the siren in his head, deafeningly, resoundingly. It caused the now panicked trainer to cover his ears and made Mr. Mime stumble over himself in fear. They attackers should have known that Psyduck’s success as a detective was not achieved without skill in battle.
“Duck.” The deafening siren of Psyduck’s voice ended with that simple syllable, then a split second of silence. Then a glowing Hyper Beam burst from between Psyduck’s eyes, carrying with it all the psychic pain that the detective had to go through in order to solve this case. The Hyper Beam did not slow down when it collided with Mr. Mime, sending him reeling into his trainer with such speed that the naked eye could not hope to comprehend. It forced them both into the wall of the airport, which was a good distance away from Psyduck, making the momentum of the blast great enough to render the attackers unconscious.
With a relieved sigh, Psyduck shook his head, rubbed his tired white eyes, and picked up his leather coat from the floor. After dusting it off, he professionally through the coat around his shoulders and dug into an inside pocked to bring out a set of handcuffs, from another inside pocket – a pokeball. Then, with a slight grin reflecting the undying love for his job, Detective Psyduck marched towards the perpetrators, justice in hand. Another case solved.