Chapter 13: Police Plays
The hollowed-out silence in their new safehouse was thicker than the dust motes dancing in the solitary beam of moonlight slicing through the boarded-up window. It was a forgotten storage room above a closed market, secured by Axel through channels he refused to name. The air smelled of old wood and despair.
Officer Jenny had not spoken a word since the plaza. She sat on a crate, still in her uniform, staring at her empty hands as if she could still see the faint, fading warmth of Arcanine’s fur. The teal-haired pillar of justice was gone, replaced by a shell, her sharp green eyes dull and fixed on some internal horror. Briv’s vow to dismantle the Eclipse Squad hung in the air, a necessary but terrifying declaration that had done nothing to fill the void Arcanine left behind.
Axel was dismantling and cleaning a small energy reader, his movements precise, a futile attempt to impose order on chaos. Patricia was trying to coax a berry into Budew’s mouth, her movements mechanical, her usual sweet vitality extinguished. Dariana leaned against a wall, arms crossed, her strategist’s mind seemingly broken by a problem with no clean solution. Nicola paced, a caged animal radiating furious, helpless energy.
Briv watched Piplup. The little Pokémon had taken a few hesitant steps away from his side, its gaze fixed on Jenny. There was a recognition in its sad eyes, a shared understanding of catastrophic loss.
“We need a new plan,” Nicola said, her voice cracking the silence like a whip. “We can’t just sit here. They have her Pokémon. They…” She couldn’t finish. The violation was too complete.
“The plan is intelligence,” Axel said without looking up. “Rotom is mapping their known frequencies. Rushing in gets us all captured.”
“So we let them win?” Nicola shot back.
“We let them think they’ve won,” Axel corrected, his green eyes finally lifting, sharp and cold. “They’re arrogant. They’ll make a mistake.”
“And until then?” Patricia whispered, finally looking up, her blue eyes swimming with tears. “We just let Jenny… fade away?”
As if on cue, Jenny stood. The movement was sudden, jerky, like a marionette pulled by unseen strings. Her eyes were still hollow, but a new, terrifying resolve had hardened within them—a desperate, self-destructive force.
“Jenny?” Briv said, his voice gentle.
She didn’t look at him. She walked to the door, her hand on the rusted knob. “I’m going out,” she said, her voice a flat, dead thing.
“Like hell you are,” Axel stated, standing up. “It’s exactly what they want. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Clearly?” She let out a sound that was supposed to be a laugh but came out as a dry rasp. “You think any of this is clear? He’s gone. They took him. He’s in a box on that bastard’s belt.” Her composure finally shattered. A single, ragged sob escaped her. “I have to try. There has to be something. A trade. Information. Anything.”
“They won’t trade,” Dariana said softly. “You know what they are now.”
Jenny turned, and the look in her eyes was one Briv hoped he would never see again. It was the look of someone who had already lost everything and was now gambling with the ashes. “I don’t care about the cost. I would do anything. Anything to get him back.”
With that, she pulled the door open and slipped out into the dark corridor, her footsteps echoing into silence.
“Shit,” Axel hissed. He was at the door in two long strides. “Rotom, follow her. Silent surveillance. I want audio and visual.”
The orange spirit zipped after her, disappearing into the gloom.
The group was left in a new kind of tension, waiting. Briv’s stomach churned. This was a bad idea. This was a catastrophic idea. He looked at Patricia, at the fear on her face, and knew she felt it too. This was the mistake Axel had predicted, but it was their ally making it.
They didn’t have to wait long. Rotom’s feed flickered to life on a dusty screen Axel had hooked up. The image was shaky, viewed from above. Jenny was walking with purpose through the empty, neon-washed streets of the industrial sector, her uniform a stark, lonely blue under the eerie lights.
She turned a corner into a dead-end alley stacked with shipping containers. And there, waiting for her, leaning against the rusted metal with practiced casualness, were Roger and Callum.
“Look what the dragnet caught,” Roger sneered, pushing off from the container. “Lost without your mutt, Officer?”
Jenny stopped a few feet from them. She held her head high, but Briv could see the tremble in her hands, clenched at her sides.
“I want Arcanine back,” she said, her voice shockingly steady despite everything.
Callum laughed. “And how do you plan to manage that? You got nothing we want. Except…” He let the word hang, oily and suggestive.
“I said I want him back.” Jenny’s voice broke again. “I’ll do anything.”
Roger stepped closer, his eyes raking over her body with contemptuous ownership. “Anything? You mean that? You’d get on your knees for us? You’d let us use that tight little cop cunt of yours?”
The vulgarity was a weapon, designed to degrade and disarm. Briv held his breath. Patricia gasped softly. On the screen, Jenny didn’t flinch.
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper, but it carried in the silent alley.
“Louder,” Callum demanded.
“Yes!” Jenny shouted, the sound raw and torn from her throat. “Just give him back to me.”
Roger shared a look with Callum, a silent conversation of pure malice. “Well, then,” Roger said, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “Fuck with us.”
For a terrifying second, Briv thought she would come to her senses, that the last shreds of her dignity would reassert themselves.
She didn’t. She simply nodded, a single, sharp dip of her chin.
“Prove it,” Callum said. “The uniform. Take it off.”
With hands that were surprisingly steady, Jenny began to unbutton her tunic. The crisp, authoritative fabric fell open, revealing a simple, practical tank top underneath. She shrugged the tunic off, letting it fall to the dirty ground. Then her hands went to the buckle of her duty belt. It clattered to the pavement with a weighty, final sound. She stepped out of her trousers, standing before them in just her underwear and boots, her teal hair stark against the sudden vulnerability of her skin.
“All of it,” Roger said, his voice dropping to a hungry growl.
She unhooked her bra, her small, firm breasts exposed to the cool night air. Then, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her practical briefs, she pushed them down her athletic legs, kicking them aside with one booted foot. She stood naked in the alley, her arms at her sides, her posture not of seduction, but of utter surrender. A sacrifice on the altar of her own desperation.
“Now the boots,” Callum ordered.
She sat on the ground, back to a brick wall, and worked the laces loose, pulling them off. Finally, completely exposed, she looked at them, her expression unreadable.
Roger and Callum made a show of it, stripping off their own Eclipse Squad gear with slow, theatrical movements, never breaking eye contact with her. Their bodies were lean and hard, marked with the new tattoos of their allegiance. The scene was surreal, a brutal inversion of power played out under the city’s indifferent glow.
Roger approached her first, his cock already hard and thick. He didn’t touch her, just stood over her. “On your knees, pig.”
Jenny obeyed, sinking to the rough, damp concrete. She looked up at him, and in that moment, she was no longer an officer of the law. She was a thing to be used.
He grabbed a fistful of her teal hair, yanking her head back. “Open your fucking mouth.”
She did, and he shoved himself inside, not waiting, not gentle. He gripped her head with both hands, controlling her, fucking her face with hard, deep thrusts that made her gag and choke. Spit dribbled down her chin. Briv felt a wave of nausea, his own hands clenching into fists. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He owed her this witness.
“That’s it, deep throat that cock,” Roger grunted, his hips pistoning. “You wanted anything? This is anything, you stupid bitch.”
Callum watched, stroking himself, a smirk plastered on his face. “Think about your big dumb dog while you’re sucking us off. Think about how you’re never gonna see him again unless you swallow every fucking inch.”
Roger pulled out, his cock glistening with her saliva. “My turn,” Callum said, pushing Jenny forward so her hands were flat on the ground, her ass in the air.
“Look at that,” Roger said, slapping a hand against her pale buttock, leaving a red mark. “Nice ass for a cop. Bet it’s never been stretched properly.”
He spat into his hand, slicking himself, and then without any further preamble, he drove his cock into her pussy from behind.
Jenny cried out, a short, sharp sound that was swallowed by the city’s hum. Callum’s thrusts were punishing, each one jolting her whole body. “You like that? You like getting fucked by the guys you used to arrest? Huh?”
She didn’t answer, her face pressed against the grimy alley floor. Briv could see the tears streaming down her cheeks, cutting through the dirt.
Roger moved around front, shoving his cock back into her mouth, forcing her to take him deep again. She was trapped between them, impaled at both ends, used as a mere receptacle for their contempt. The sounds were raw and wet, the slap of skin on skin, the guttural groans of the men, Jenny’s choked, muffled sounds of distress.
They switched again, Roger taking her from behind while Callum fed her his cock. The violation was methodical, a deliberate process of breaking. There was no passion, no desire, only the exercise of absolute power over a broken will.
Then Roger pulled out. He looked at Callum. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Callum grinned. “The back door. She’s a cop. Bet she keeps it tight.”
Jenny flinched, a full-body shudder of protest that was instantly crushed.
“Got any lube?” Roger asked.
Callum shrugged. “Spit’s good enough for this whore.”
Roger hawked a thick glob of saliva and worked it against her asshole. She whimpered, a desperate, pathetic sound.
“Relax, cunt, or this is gonna hurt a lot more,” Roger warned, his voice a low threat.
He positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against the tight ring of muscle. With a brutal, unyielding thrust, he forced his way inside her ass.
Jenny screamed, a raw, agonized sound that was only partially muffled by Callum’s cock in her mouth. It was a sound of pure, physical and spiritual agony. Briv had to close his eyes for a moment, the image too vile to bear.
But he forced them open. He had to see. He had to remember.
Roger fucked her ass with a relentless, grinding rhythm. “Take it, you fucking slut. Take all of it. This is the price for your precious Pokémon.”
He drove into her, over and over, the act one of punishment, not pleasure. Callum, still using her mouth, grabbed her shoulders, holding her in place for the assault. They were a machine of degradation, and Jenny was the broken component at its center.
Roger’s breathing became ragged, his thrusts more frantic. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna fill this dirty cop’s ass!”
He slammed into her one last time, his body stiffening as he emptied himself deep inside her rectum with a guttural roar.
He pulled out, spent, and Callum immediately took his place, withdrawing from her mouth and moving behind her. He shoved his cock into her ravaged ass without hesitation, making her cry out again, her voice hoarse.
Callum’s pace was faster, more frantic. He fucked her with a violence that was shocking, even after everything they had already done.
“Fuck yeah, this is a righteous ass-fucking!” he yelled, pounding into her. In seconds, he too was grunting, pumping his own load into the same violated channel.
They both pulled away, leaving her on her hands and knees, trembling violently, their semen dripping from her.
“Now the finish,” Roger said, breathing heavily. He and Callum stood in front of her, stroking their half-hard cocks.
“Look up, Jenny,” Callum commanded.
She did, her face a mess of tears, dirt, and spit. Her eyes were utterly vacant, a barren wasteland.
“Open wide for the finale, officer,” Roger sneered.
They aimed their cocks at her face. Hot, thick streams of cum shot across her cheeks, her lips, her forehead. One landed directly in her eye, and she blinked rapidly, too broken to even wipe it away.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Jenny remained on the ground, naked and covered in filth and their spendings, shaking uncontrollably.
Roger and Callum started pulling their clothes back on, their task complete.
“Alright,” Jenny whispered, her voice cracked and broken. She wiped a trembling hand across her face, smearing the cum. “We had a deal. Give me Arcanine.”
Roger zipped his trousers and looked down at her, his expression one of pure, unhidden evil.
“Arcanine?” he said, feigning confusion. Then he laughed, a sharp, cruel sound that echoed in the alley. “Yeah… about that.”
Jenny’s eyes widened, a flicker of horrified understanding breaking through the numbness.
Callum picked up the Extractor device from his belt, holding it up. It no longer glowed with the captured violet light of her partner. It was dark, inert.
“We lied,” Roger said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “We can’t give Arcanine back to you.” He paused, letting the cruelty of it sink in. “The device we used? Well, Eclipse Squad uses it to send people and Pokémon into another dimension. So… yeah, sorry!”
The final, glib apology was the most devastating blow of all.
Jenny didn’t scream. She didn’t move. She simply folded in on herself, curling into a fetal position on the cold ground, her body wracked with silent, unbearable sobs.
On the screen, Briv watched as Roger and Callum turned and walked away, their laughter fading into the night.
In the safehouse, no one spoke. The reality of what they had just witnessed, the depth of the betrayal and the cruelty, was a weight that crushed the air from the room. This wasn't just about stealing a Pokémon. It was about annihilation. They had taken Arcanine to a place from which there might be no return. Jenny’s sacrifice had been for nothing. It had, in fact, been the final act in her own destruction.
Briv looked from Jenny’s broken form on the screen to the determined, grieving faces of his friends. The vow he had made in the plaza was no longer just words. It was a blood oath. The Eclipse Squad had to be erased.