Pookamon

New Challenges (Azrael)

"I have another little task for you." Giovanni said menacingly, stroking his chin with one long-fingered hand. His other hand rested on the back of a Persian, who sat there, tall and alert, its eyes glimmering darkly.

Azrael gulped. "Yes, my Lord?"

"A simple matter," the Boss of Team Rocket reached into a pile of papers and drew out a manilla folder. He slammed it down on the desk. "Another simple little assassination for you. Nothing too difficult, but perhaps, a little trickier than the last. You see, we do not know where she is to be found now."

He flicked open the folder deftly, revealing a photograph, somewhat out of focus, of a teal skinned girl with finned ears and silver-white hair. "Her name is Brooke, or at least, that is what she goes by. She was last seen in Celadon City by one of our spies. However, since then, she appears to have gone to ground. Your task is to track her down and," he paused dramatically as if what he was saying was going to come as a surprise to the Umbreon-morph, "… kill her."

Azrael bowed his head. "Of course, Sir, anything you desire."

A wicked smile crossed Giovanni’s lips. "Of course. And because of the nature of this task, I shall give you as long as is required to track her down. Here are her details, I am sure they shall make fascinating reading." He handed the dark morph the folder and then waved him out. "I trust you shall do your duty to your usual high ability?"

"Of course," Azrael nodded.

*

Cat crawled onto his lap. She purred and rubbed her head against him, sensing his pain. It was not that Azrael felt guilty in killing, it was just that he wished it was not so necessary. He loved his Boss, almost as much as he feared him, and would do anything for him. But Vaporeons…

Azrael had known a Vaporeon once, before the Change. They had been friends, lovers almost and it had saddened him greatly when he discovered that she had not survived metamorphisis. But that was the sorrow that comes from such things. He stroked Cat’s head and she nudged him affectionately. Flicking over the pages, he learnt the secrets of the Vaporeon Pookamon called Brooke.

She was young, he discovered, a mere seventeen years and had undergone the Change about the same time he had, not that there was anything unusual in that. The experimentation was at an all time high at that point and close to a hundred Pokemon had undergone metamorphosis each day. He sighed sadly to himself as he thought how depressing it was that she had survived what so many others, like his beloved, had failed to. It had been thought at first that the transformation had been a failure, where Brooke was concerned. The human genes they had gathered from a runaway girl, who had obviously not been entirely stable of mind. For the first few months they had thought Brooke insane. And then, one day, she had run away and disappeared. Occasional glimpses had been seen of her here and there, but she was thought to be low-risk – there were no secrets she could spill and no real harm she could do.

And then, as usual, Giovanni had changed his mind. He could not have disloyal Pookamon surviving and so had summoned Azrael to do his duty.

Azrael closed the folder. Well, Celadon City it was then.

*

The wild Meowth hissed and squirmed as Azrael clung to it, holding it within his violet gaze.

"Where is she?" He asked it.

"Meoowwtthhhh!" It hissed.

"Oh, come on," he said casually, "you can tell me, I won’t hurt you." He paused, "unless you don’t tell me, that is."

"Meoowttth meow meow meowth!"

Azrael nodded and carefully set the cat Pokemon down. "She tried to steal your food then," he said, "I understand why you are mad at her. But don’t worry, I intend to find her."

"Meow oooowww!" The Meowth loped off, calling to Azrael to follow it.

"Fine then," the Umbreon morph said, smiling slyly, and headed after it.

It led him to an alleyway, dark and shadowy. A strange smell hung in the air. The assassin could smell what the slightly fishy smell that he normally attributed to Vaporeons, mixed with something else. A smell most familiar to the Umbreon-morph.

"Blood?" He questioned, bending down and examining the filth covered ground. Yes, there was definitely blood here, old, dry, almost lost amongst the heady smell of rotting fruit and mouldering paper. But definitely blood. Further inspection revealed a broken bottle, its sharp edge caked with flaky brown paste.

"There has been a fight here," he said to himself. "Or, perhaps not… So where is the body?" He turned to look at the Meowth, but the feral cat had already vanished like a shadow itself.

"Oh well, no matter." Crouching on hands and knees, Azrael dipped his finger into the puddle of crusted blood, tasting it gingerly. It tasted coppery, with a touch of salt. He smiled to himself. "Definitely blood, and a lot of it too, from the looks of things." His sharp eyes studied the area, although it had been much disturbed, it had been some days since the Vaporeon had been here and bled here.

"Here is the depression, caused by someone of relatively slender build having a bit of a sit down," he muttered to himself. "And it is just above the blood puddle, not only that, but this broken bottle was found here," he stamped at the place, "where it could have fallen out of someone’s hand. So, the blood was not shed accidently, but more by the intent of the person whose blood it is. Pokemon blood, from the taste, but not quite." He seemed proud of himself. "Now, the amount of blood shed here is rather high, more than would normally be found in a person of slight built if that person were still to be functional, therefore, someone must have helped her." He sniffed the air. Mixed in with the pollution, the grime and the general smell of too many people living in too small a place, was something else.

The faint, barely detectable except by Umbreon nostrils, aroma of…

… hairspray.

Azrael smiled. "I shall find you, who helped the little fish-girl and you shall help me to find her." He did a little twirl so his tail swung around. "And then I shall… despatch of her." For a moment, a shadow of sadness crossed his dark face, but was then banished. "And she shall welcome me for it, as they all do, for it is her wish, after all.

To die."