OWEN'S POV
As you can probably guess, walking on four legs when you're only used to having two is no easy feat. In fact, it was one of the hardest things I'd done since waking up in the back of that carriage. (Then again, there wasn't much competition on that front.)
And so, my head and neck throbbing with each beat of my heart, I awkwardly shuffled down the path. It was extremely rough, though - it was not flat at all, and I wondered if this is what it felt like to walk as an elderly person.
In any case, I held out my forelegs like the wings of an airplane, doing so in a vain attempt to steady myself against my impulse to fall. But it was to no avail, as I collapsed into a heap no fewer than four times on the way to the station's entrance.
"Buck up, kid" one of the hooded men muttered. "You've got a lot of work ahead of you, so if you can't get through this tutorial, you're really in trouble!"
Tutorial? Are you sure this isn't just a video game? Maybe one that feels hyper-realistic, like VR?
Each time I fell on my face, I felt the boot of one of the hooded figures slam into my backside, and I would painfully get up. In the meantime, I heard the same thing happening to my brother - each cry of pain from Matty was like a tiny little shank to the heart.
This punishment continued until I reached the entrance of the station, which was lit with a handful of flickering fluorescent bulbs.
"We'll wait out here for the verdict" the man who'd been kicking me repeatedly muttered. "You two are to be on your best behavior, do you hear me?"
Matty and I climbed the steps together, Shinx and Eevee, a brotherhood of Pokémon. But there was nothing wholesome about it whatsoever.
Before us stood an imposing figure, who looked much like a rat that's grown much larger than such a rodent should be. Of course, something about the rat was different, and I reasoned that it was probably a species of Pokémon.
This rat - Cinccino, I corrected myself - wore a long robe that comprised both jet black and a very dark shade of red. Back when Pokémon had been something to dream about (but not actually experience), I'd always associated this species with cuteness and happy times.
But something told me that "happy times" weren't coming again for quite a while, at least not for Matty and me.
"Hello, you two" the Cincinno announced. "I am Sheriff Buckle. My job is to enforce the laws around these parts, and we know that you two turned up unauthorized. What do you two have to say for yourselves?"
"Uh…" Matty began.
"Tell it to my deputies, kids," Sheriff Buckle commanded. "I do not need to hear any sniveling cowardice from you two - that unhappy task will fall to my deputies, Peter and Liz. I'll have to notify them that we have two interlopers."
"Interlopers?" I wondered aloud. "We didn't choose this, you know."
"Again, it doesn't matter," Sheriff Buckle insisted. "You kids will have your day in court, as it were, but your rights under the constitution of any surface nation are null and void. Because you waived them as soon as you stepped beyond the door."
"I still don't understand," I told the Cinccino. "This must be a mistake. What's going on? What door?"
Sheriff Buckle stomped a heavy foot against the porch.
"Do not play dumb!" he bellowed. "Come inside, both of you."
We did as we were told, and we were soon greeted with a rather grimy-looking police precinct. I mean, it's not like I saw the inside of police precincts very often, just because I obeyed all laws on the surface. As a consequence, I can't claim to be the best judge of what they look like.
And yet, here we were.
"What are your names?" Sheriff Buckle asked us. "And do not lie, because I can smell an alternative fact from a mile away."
We told the Cinccino our names, and then he sat down at his desk. What looked like an old-fashioned phone (you know, the kind that must always be plugged into the wall) hung from the ceiling, and he grabbed it.
The person on the other end said something I couldn't make out. Then…
"Yes, I have two brothers here. Owen and Matthew Tendai, their names are. And they've agreed to be interrogated about the reason they came here."
"Hold up, bro," I said. "Interrogated?"
Sheriff Buckle put one of his paw digits in front of his mouth, the universal gesture for Be quiet. And then he kept speaking.
"Prepare two rooms for the brothers" the sheriff commanded. "Make sure they cannot speak to one another until both have been interviewed separately. And then we'll meet back here with the verdict."
"What about due process?" I wondered aloud. (By this time, a logical person would have warned me to shut up, but logic had taken a very low priority for me by this time.)
Sheriff Buckle put down the phone, which sprang back up to the ceiling, and glared at my brother and I. He showed his fangs.
"You two are the worst" he growled. "It's quite annoying to be asked the same question over and over again. Now, my deputies will be arriving any moment, and - ".
"We're here" muttered a rather deep, feminine voice that projected nothing if not apathy.
"Hello, Liz," Sheriff Buckle told his deputy. "You take the older brother, the Shinx - his name's Owen. Peter, the Eevee, Matthew…you'll interview him. When both of you are done with your interviews, meet back here, where we'll discuss the results."
I gulped as the reality of the situation sank in. Yes, I might be tortured in order to get information out of me, but if the same thing happened to Matty, I would be powerless to stop it. There's no worse feeling in the world than being unable to protect what you love.
"Matty," I told my brother, "I'll see you on the other side."
I just hope I meant "other side" in some way that doesn't imply that one of us will die.
Anyway, I was chastised once more for not staying quiet, but that hardly mattered to me. Nothing mattered anymore except answering Liz's questions carefully so as not to incriminate myself or Matty.
"Follow me, Owen" Liz commanded. She was a tall, hooded figure whose species I could not make out. Not even her eyes were visible beneath her shawl.
Liz led me into a small room, about the size of the principal's office at my small-town high school. She motioned for me to sit down, and I did so.
"Good…well, who knows what time of day it is?" she said.
It's not a good time when you're being held at a police station, I thought bitterly, though I obviously knew better than to voice this aloud.
"So please state your name" Liz instructed me a few seconds later.
"Owen" I said. "You already knew my name, didn't you?"
"First and last name, please" she replied curtly. "I don't make the rules here - I just enforce them."
"Right. I'm Owen Tendai."
"And how old are you?"
"Eighteen years of age" I responded, realizing that I was sitting on my tail. My eyes watered as a result, though I couldn't worry about that right now.
"Very well. If I may ask, Owen…how did you end up here?" Liz enquired, scribbling something down on a notebook.
"Your guess is as good as mine," I replied.
"Really?"
Now, it's quite intimidating being interviewed by a police officer in general. It's even more intimidating when you can't see that police officer's face. But I was determined not to let her break me.
"Yes, really," I insisted. "I don't have any clue how I ended up here. And I don't even know where here is, exactly - would you mind enlightening me on that?"
Wow. For a guy who's so awkward - or at least, was so awkward as a human - I sure know how to talk with a silver tongue when I need to.
Liz shook her head, managing to do so in a way that didn't expose her face at all. "You don't need to know that, Owen."
But I want to. Of course, I didn't voice that thought aloud, but you can bet your ass that I wanted to.
"The first thing I remember," I said, "is waking up in that carriage on the way to the station. Before that, I think I just went to bed at home."
"Where is home for you, Owen?" Liz asked me curtly.
"Uh…it's a small town in New England. It's called Wildebush."
"New England? Also known as United States Census Region 1?"
I frowned. "How would you know that?"
"Just because I'm a police officer doesn't mean I'm an airhead" Liz snapped. "Now, Owen, what makes you think that I believe you?"
My legs felt as stiff as boards. "You don't…believe me?"
"You'll have to forgive me for this, but lots of prisoners play dumb when they first arrive in the underland. As such, I think I and my colleagues have a right to be skeptical of your claims."
My heart's pace quickened, and I became convinced that it was trying to fit in a lifetime's worth of beats in the next few minutes.
One thing was clear: If Liz were inclined to be violent toward me, I was screwed. It would be all over in a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds, and then I'd be dead. They could easily make it look like an accident, even if there would still be many questions asked by law enforcement on the surface.
"So tell me, Owen," Liz continued. "Are you loyal to your brother?"
I didn't expect that question. "What?"
"I asked," the hooded woman hissed, "whether or not you were loyal to your brother. As in, would you go to the ends of the Earth for him?"
"Matty's my brother," I replied matter-of-factly. "Of course I would. Family ties come first, don't they?"
"If your brother were obviously guilty," Liz responded, "would you defend him until your last breath? Would you ignore all evidence that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't telling you the truth?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Guilty of what?"
"Being an intruder" Liz stated, as though anything were that simple.
"Look, Liz, you have to believe me," I said. "I'm not going to sell out Matty like that."
By now my tail was getting very sore from me sitting on it for so long. In reality, it had likely only been a few minutes, but time was difficult here.
Though I could not see her eyes, I was able to tell Liz was narrowing them because…I just could. Sometimes instincts just shouldn't be questioned.
"The words sell out imply that your brother is in the wrong. Could he know something that you do not?"
"Well, he knows all sorts of things that I don't," I said. "He might be younger than me, but he's a lot better in social situations. He probably knows how to get all the girls at Wildebush High. Or guys, if he's not straight. But that doesn't matter."
"I will warn you," Liz said, "that I can be very persuasive."
MATTY'S POV
Peter sat me down and began interviewing me.
At first, it was very difficult for me to focus due to the sourness in my stomach and the blush on my face. I could barely believe the weakness I'd shown in that carriage, literally wetting myself out of fear.
The dehumanizing treatment stung too, as though I didn't deserve any dignity just because I wasn't…human anymore.
No. They called me an intruder, an interloper. And Peter, though I could not see his facial features, clearly wasn't pleased.
"So what do you go by?" the hooded man enquired.
"You mean, what pronouns?"
"Your name, please."
"I'm Matty," I told Peter. "Matty Tendai."
"Got it. Matthew" Peter responded. Thought it hurt like hell for my requested name to be dismissed like that, I felt sure that many other parts of me would hurt far worse if I protested. So I kept quiet.
Until, that is, the questions started.
"How old are you, Matthew?" Peter enquired. A dark gray claw appeared out of his robes and began scrawling something on a notebook. "And forgive my handwriting - doing it with two digits is a lot harder than with five. That's one thing I envy humans for."
"Sixteen" I said. Why is he apologizing? He's the one interrogating me, after all!
"Noted" Peter replied, writing what I assumed was the number 16 on his notebook. "Now, how did you end up here?"
"I woke up in the carriage," I told Peter. Soaked in my own urine, sadly. "As to what happened before that, I have no idea."
My interrogator put his pen down, staring intently at me. It didn't matter that his eyes were invisible, because his shock was evident.
"You mean to tell me," he all but bellowed, "that you don't know how you arrived in the underland?"
"Correct" I replied, my limbs aching from the position I'd been placed in. Having four legs, particularly when you're not used to it, really puts into perspective how much we take for granted when we've only got two.
"I might need to ask some more questions," Peter admitted. "You see, Matthew, there are a lot of criminals who pass through this hall. Liars, frankly. And they're far from honest about the circumstances leading up to their discovery of the underland."
I pieced together what he'd just revealed. "So you're saying that you don't believe me?"
"I'm saying," Peter continued, "that we have reason to be skeptical. We're not going to dismiss what you say out of hand - it still matters. But we will take into account your overall emotions when you're answering the next few questions."
"Like a polygraph test?" I wondered aloud. "I thought those didn't work."
"Don't tell me what doesn't work" my interrogator responded coldly. "Now, Matthew, where are you from?"
"Wildebush" I told him, seeing this truth as harmless. "It's a small town in the New England region, which is in the northeastern corner of…".
"I know where New England is," Peter snapped. "You don't need to explain it like I'm five."
"Right" I said, scratching my ear with one of my paws. It had started to itch like crazy, and I feared that this itch was nothing compared to what would come later.
"I have one more question for you, Matthew. Would you do anything to protect your brother?"
"Of course" I shot back at Peter. "He's my brother!"
"Even if it were clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he did something wrong?"
"I mean, it depends what it is. But Owen wouldn't do anything like that!" I shouted, hoping very much that this was a hypothetical question.
Even if it isn't, I thought, saying that was worth it. And I'm sure Owen wouldn't cause harm on purpose - he wouldn't even hurt a fly by accident!
"If you say so" Peter responded calmly. "So your position is that your brother did nothing wrong?"
"I mean, I don't even know what you're accusing him of," I said. "But yes. I'm certain Owen obeyed all the laws."
"Very well, then. Your interview is complete - head to the main room of the station, and we'll bring your brother out shortly. I'm sure you will have much to talk about."
