The great detective sees a man wrangling with a giant. A fresh shower and cheap soap can’t hide the bags under his eyes, the droop in his shoulders, a perpetual haggard shift in his posture. This was a man disturbed from his rest, coaxed out of bed. One not entirely sure he wishes to be here until his eyes find the dead man. Those eyes focus on the body more than anything else.[break][break]
People fascinate this creature. People fascinate him more than Pokemon or dirt trails or the overgrowth of grass. Recognition dawns in his eyes at Nikita’s name. Anyone with a finger to the pulse of this world knows Nikita Sokolov. He is great. The great detective. Suddenly playing the part of a junior, his posture corrects itself. He tries to stand taller, not to challenge, but to show respect.[break][break]
But the hunger in his eyes doesn’t go away. They’re still held by the same fervent desire to find out the truth of what killed this man. He needs it like a hound needs a bone, like a heroin addict needs a fix. He focuses on the body, dressed in his cleanest dirty shirt, with hair still wet from a shower combed in some meager attempt to be stylish.[break][break]
The eyes fall under the body. They trace from there to the edge of his hairline. They go to the forehead, where the telltale dots these monks are known for do not blemish his forehead.[break][break]
“I don’t think he was killed.” Navy says, voice serious as a heart attack. Realizing what he said, he corrects himself. “Rather—I don’t think he was murdered.”[break][break]
“What—” Greg tries to interrupt but Navy keeps going. If Sokolov and him are the ones they called in to help, then it behooves them to work together. Discuss thoughts. If he’s wrong, so be it. He’ll at least offer a sounding board to the great detective.[break][break]
“It looks like a hyper beam or something caved in the guy’s chest. Pattern’s not consistent with any ballistic weapon I know about.” He glances to his senior, wondering if he will have some greater insight into that before he continues.[break][break]
“But…it’s too small to be a Pokemon, either. Anything that could produce enough force to do this to his chest would scorch the place. Someone would have seen it or heard it. You’d have an open and shut case. You wouldn’t need me, much less Sokolov. So, if it wasn’t a man and it wasn’t a Pokemon…hard to call it murder.”[break][break]
The gears are turning in his head. The man punches the giant. Even if he’s wrong, he’s trying. Sometimes, the trying is what matters – at least in Michael Navidson’s world.

[break][break]

+ Nikita Sokolov

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

The junior is nothing if not obedient. He enjoys the momentum, the cogs turning in his head. It makes this trip out of Slateport in the dead hours of the morning with the effort. Navy points a finger at the man’s forehead. Michael Navidson is not the sort of creature who can make great leaps in logic. He’s not particularly knowledgeable.[break][break]
But what he does know, what he understands in intimate detail, his threadline as a detective, is the human heart. It drives people to do stupid things. It acts on impulse devoid of logic. The heart’s effect upon the rest of the body cannot be understated.[break][break]
“Our victim’s young. If I were a betting man, Greg, I’d bet he hasn’t taken any vows or gone through any initiation rites. In other words, a novice. Someone they trust enough to let in here without drawing too much attention.”[break][break]
Navy traces a finger from the body to a door leading into the temple. Faint imprints of footsteps lead to where he fell, blown away several feet from where the steps end.[break][break]
“He thinks he’s gotten himself an easy score. Some treasure they’ve got hidden away inside. Walks out with it. Some of ‘em have pack a punch. Mess with them the wrong way, toy with it, boom. Explosion. To put it another way…”[break][break]
Navy nods back towards the heavily forested canopy heading down outside, back to civilization. Back to cars. Back to all the modern amenities that make life worth living, all the things these monks reject.[break][break]
“…I think he tried walking out of here with a mega stone. They’re volatile when they’re not handled right. Learned that the hard way myself.” The younger man taps his wrist, where a broken watch sits. Affixed to it is a mega stone – Garchompite, to be precise. Navy doubts he will have occasion to use the stone tonight, but it serves his purpose well enough.[break][break]
“Ask the monks. If it’s not a mega stone, it’s a tera orb or something else like that. Sokolov, I’ve got my Arcanine with me. If you want, he can try to pick up the scent of whatever he was holding, track through the forest and find it.” He punctuates this with a smile that has a teasing, wry quality.[break][break]
“Wouldn’t want you to run into land pirates looking for it yourself, you understand.”

[break][break]

+ Nikita Sokolov

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

“Hmmm…” He gives the man’s words serious thought. Chews them over. Ruminates. He’s right in the sense that there’s a million other things it could be. His eyes turn back to the face of the young man.[break][break]
“This is less my experience as a detective speaking and more as a trainer. Bad shi- er, it usually doesn’t go well if you accidentally trigger something chock full of infinity energy. Seen it nearly kill a guy in a match before. Shoots off like a bullet into the great wide yonder.”[break][break]
He falls back on instincts he will come to call warrior’s instincts in a few weeks. They have no place in this world he currently inhabits. Greg chimes in, trying to be helpful.[break][break]
“They haven’t told us anything’s been stolen.” He admits. “Granted, what with the body, I doubt they’ve had chance to really see what is or isn’t there. Most of them are still half-awake at best.”[break][break]
Words that really benefit neither of them. Navy tries to move it forward, see what the Great Detective thinks.[break][break]
“What would you say happened then, Sokolov?”


[break][break]

+ Nikita Sokolov

[attr="class","pokeclass"]