What is in the eyes of Detective Pikachu here? Perhaps he is remembering the man whose life he watched drain from his eyes after putting 9 rounds into his abdomen and chest, 9 rounds he decided to shoot off after the man said to him something that only Detective Pikachu could hear.
Perhaps our hero didn’t like that, and he knew there would be no witnesses. So he killed him in cold blood. Perhaps Detective Pikachu liked that. Perhaps he thinks of it when he orgasms.
It is clear that Detective Pikachu is a disgusting creature.
Should we cut his funding?
Sure, make Detective Pikachu sweat a little bit. But will they take away his job? Of course not, not unless he gets caught. Of course, Detective Pikachu never gets caught. He will never choke out a man on camera. He’s smart about it. His Japanese parents raised him to be cunning, and his sharp mind and quick thinking defends itself with violent fury, and in that defense of itself, it has some room to spare. So Detective Pikachu dabbles in debauchery, his body shakes with pleasure as he moves into sadism as he dabbles in assault and murder.
Some days Detective Pikachu is burnt out, and the murder no longer carries with it pleasure, but it is the expression of a tired rage.
Lord help you if you are Chinese. God save you if you are black. Pikachu is a notorious racist.
Pikachu has benefits.
Pikachu has healthcare.
Pikachu has a retirement plan.
And he didn’t like being placed at schools anyway, nothing to do, no one worth killing.
Nothing will change, except maybe now more than ever, Pikachu is hated. He is not hated for what he has been seen doing, but he is hated for the possibility of him having done it. And he has done it. And he has liked it. And he has hated it. Pikachu either drinks or is sober. Pikachu is a force on his own.
Detective Pikachu is an inevitability.
Detective Pikachu is eternal.
Mad Black Freud 