From: "Steffan Alun" <sha3@aber.ac.uk> Subject: [PW!] Up To Speed Date: Saturday, July 10, 2004 7:25 PM Jack OATS, Private Investigator, reclined in his seat and placed his shiny black shoes roughly on the corner of his desk. He lit himself a cigarette, and took a drag, before addressing the scrawney blond-haired man sitting opposite him. "Fire away," he said. Mike started and stopped several times, struggling to think of a good place to begin his story. "Start at the beginning, son," urged OATS, as though he'd read Mike's mind. "It always helps." Mike breathed heavily. "I suppose it started when I took my daughter to hospital one day," he said eventually. "Thing is, my boss relied on me. He couldn't do a thing without my help, and I was happy to do anything on his behalf. However, I did have to skip work for a bit every day to pick up Shelley - my daughter - from school and take her home. "But one day, I get to school, and she's ill. I'm torn between taking her to hospital and going back to help Mr Harrison. Turns out they both needed me. "Shelley got progressively worse, and now only a very expensive operation can save her life. My boss, on the other hand, also ended up in hospital in my absense." OATS regarded him with an air of mild interest from within a cloud of noxious smoke. "He'd been trying to stop someone stealing a helicopter," said Mike. "It belonged to Mr Compeyson, the president of the company." "What company?" asked OATS. "The company I work for," said Mike. "ComComCom. The Complete Communications Company - building a bright future for bright people. Erm, we make phones and stuff." Mike regarded OATS's telephone, which looked practically antique. "I could set you up a fax machine if you'd like." "You said the president of the company had a helicopter," said OATS breezily. "Yes," said Mike. "He works for the head office, in Celadon City. He'd visited our branch in Goldenrod to discuss a business proposition with Mr Harrison. Mr Harrison had been given a large sum of money, and he needed to justify having that money." "And Harrison ended up in the hospital...before this meeting, right?" interjected OATS. "How did that happen?" "When someone stole the helicopter, Mr Harrison borrowed a Pokémon from a member of staff." "Borrowed?" asked OATS. "Yes, borrowed," said Mike, not giving the question any real thought. "He tries to board the helicopter, but the thing crashes with him inside it. Next I see of him, he's in hospital, when I was visiting Shelley." "And what happened?" "He borrows my car and drives away." "He stole your car," said OATS. "No, I gave him keys," said Mike, neglecting to mention that he'd done so at gunpoint. "I followed him in a taxi." "What happened next?" "A pedestrian walks into the car," said Mike. "Harrison ran someone over?" asked OATS. "It wasn't his fault," insisted Mike. "The man came out of nowhere, and then became a Charizard." OATS glanced at Mike, and if it weren't for his look of absolute, innocent sincerity, would have written him off as a time-waster there and then. "He was a..." started Mike. "Ditto. Continue." "He scared Mr Harrison away. I've not seen him since." "How long ago was this?" "It's been almost two years," replied Mike. "And you haven't heard anything since?" "I've had other things on my plate," said Mike simply. "When I realised that nothing short of a small fortune would save Shelley's life, I worked and worked every hour God sent to make as much money as possible. I took any job I could find. That's why I have Loudred." Mike indicated his Loudred, who seemed mesmerised by OATS's Persian - fascinated to the extent that he hadn't made a single sound in a very long time. The Persian was treating Loudred to an air of distain. "That said," continued Mike, "Not a day has gone past when I didn't think of Mr Harrison. I was given his job when he vanished, but I could never take his desk. I was so certain he'd be back." OATS had finished his cigarette by now, so he lit another. "Things really kicked off a few months ago," said Mike. "I was head-hunted by a bus company in Pewter, and-" "Give me names, son," said OATS. "Pugh Pewter Tours," said Mike, and OATS noted this down. Mike hadn't realised how many notes OATS had been making. "They paid an incredible amount of money. I transferred from Johto to here at that point." "To Pewter City?" asked OATS, and when Mike answered in the affirmative, OATS walked towards a map of Kanto and placed a pin in the Pewter City area. "Anyway, I work there for a while, and all is well," said Mike. "I draw people's attention towards landmarks and so on, and I get paid a silly amount of money for doing so. Nothing exciting happens. One day, though, completely out of the blue, the police turn up. They try to arrest me for dealing with drugs. I don't believe it. "I lose my head. I realise that if I get arrested, it could really mess up any chances I have of raising money for the operation." "And how much money have you been making since escaping the police and living on the streets?" Mike didn't detect the note of irony in OATS's voice. "I've been on the run ever since," he said weakly. "Have you heard from the tour company since?" asked OATS. "No, nothing." "I see." OATS crossed back to his filing cabinets and fished out a large directory. He returned to his desk and started leafing through it. "What are you doing?" asked Mike. "Fishing for scraps of information on the company?" "You could say that," said OATS, amused. "I'm gonna give them a call." -- Steffan