“Hey Roger, we spotted more droppings over by the silos today.” A younger man sporting a deep tan had stood in the foyer clutching his hat in his hands. One button of his overalls was loose and his white undershirt stood in stark contrast to his bronze skin. Paul was the hired farmhand. “Think they’re Rattata, but I saw some that are a bit bigger than I’m used to seeing."
Roger had winced and frowned. If the Pokemon had gotten into the silos it could spell disaster. The disease and filth they spread would ruin months of hard work.
“Double check the area and set up some traps. Take Sammy with you…he can fit into the tight spaces. We’re due to finish the harvest this week, gotta take care of the problem before winter.”
That was why Sammy now found himself crouched in the tight corner of the barn setting up snap traps. Gingerly adding another swab of peanut butter on the end of the final trap, Sammy began the process of extracting himself.
“All done Paul.”
“‘Bout time. Now I’ll boost ya up. We better get the rafters too.” Paul slapped several long sheets covered in thin films of wax paper into Sammy’s hand. “These here are glue traps. Nasty things, but the snappy ones are liable to fall off or the pests will just go around. They’re sticky on both ends, so slap 'em on all sides.”
“Got it.”
Sammy felt himself being bodily lifted until he sat upon the man’s broad shoulders. The smell of sweat and dirt wafted up into Sammy’s nostrils.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we used a ladder for this?” Sammy asked.
“Kid, we gotta have fun when we can. Besides… I’m pretty sure I can just toss you up there. You’re just…ever so small.”
“I’m not that small!” The frown on Sammy’s face mirrored that of his Grandfather’s from earlier. Sure it was fun to be tossed into the ocean or the creek, but this seemed…rather unsafe. Before he could continue his protest, Paul ducked down.
“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do. You get your feet on my shoulders and I’ll grip your ankles. Then when I jump, you grab the rafters and haul yourself up. I’ll go grab a ladder to help you get down.”
“I-I’m not so sure about this…”
“It’ll be fine kid.”
“But what if-”
“On the count of three!”
Sammy gulped as he felt Paul grip his ankles and push him further up. Steadying himself, Sammy clutched the glue traps and felt his body defy gravity for a moment. The beam above rushed towards his face as Sammy managed to grip the side with his free hand. Swinging his legs up, Sammy straddled the beam upside down.
“What happened to counting?!” he screamed back at Paul.
“A real man doesn’t need a countdown!”
Scrabbling so he could perch right side up, Sammy swore internally. Paul was a nice guy. He taught Sammy quite a bit when it came to farm work and always managed to find time to spend with the boy. But Paul had a tendency to rush into the things without thinking them through. It tended to land him in hot water…with Sammy implicated as a bystander.
Sammy started peeling off the wax paper and began to stick the traps onto the beam, scooting himself forward as he went.
"Oi! Make sure that you focus on the side closest to the silos and look for any gaps that look chewed! Put some in front of you too!"
"How are we gonna clean these things if they catch something, anyway?"
"We?" Paul began to belly laugh as he dragged a wooden ladder over. "No kid, you will be cleaning them!"
Sammy continued to mutter under his breath as he worked, slapping down each strip to the wood. When he got to the end of the beam he was currently on, Sammy gingerly crept across the side until he reached another before repeating the process. Soon Sammy ran out of the sticky traps and called back down to Paul.
"That's the last of them!"
"Alright, see that corner next ya?"
Sammy nodded towards where Paul was pointing. "Yeah?"
"I'm gonna prop the ladder there, come on down!"
Sammy shifted as Paul rested the ladder against the barn wall. Reaching out with his feet, Sammy found purchase and began to descend its rungs.
"Nicely done, kid.". Paul placed one meaty hand on Sammy's head and began to rustle his hair. Sammy swiped at the emasculating gesture and glared at the older man.
"No thanks to you."
"Ha! Come on Sammy, let's take a look at where I found those droppings."
The two headed outside the barn and made their way around its right side. The main silo was built more or less attached to the structure. A secondary silo lay just beyond it. They were first alerted to things being wrong as they rounded the first silo and heard screams.
A cacophony of snarls and chittering assaulted their ears. The air snapped with sounds like tiny gunshots. They picked up the pace and were met with a mob of purple.
Ten Rattata were circling and snapping at another larger pinkish-purple rodent that bristled with spines. Its large ears were folded across its back as it whirled to face any that stepped too close. Its haunches were bleeding and it clearly stood no chance against the mob.
"Ah shit! Fucking pests!" Paul stooped and swept the ground even as he began to sprint at the group of fighting Pokemon. His arm cocked back and began to hurl the pebbles he had grabbed, pelting the purple creatures. Sammy looked around for something to use and spotted a pitchfork.
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Gripping the instrument, Sammy began to holler and joined the fray stabbing left and right. “Get away from it! Go away!”
The Rattata were not stymied by the two human interopers as they continued to harass the larger pink Pokemon. Even as their numbers were temporarily thinned by virtue of a rock to an eye or a kick that sent them crashing, the Rattata were out for blood. Sammy screamed as one bit into his shoe, its comparatively large incisors easily shearing through the leather and digging into his foot. Sammy blindly stabbed downward, and the pitchfork slammed through a rodent. Bloodied tines dug into the dirt, pinning the Pokemon through its neck as blood gurgled and bubbled around the metal. Sammy wanted to drop the pitchfork, but the Rattata continued to nip at him even as its lifeblood stained the ground.
Emboldened by the sudden arrival of allies, the spined Pokemon attacked the hapless Rattata. Incisors dug into the Rattata's head as the pink rodent shook its own, snapping the pinned Pokemon’s vertebrae. Blood stained its muzzle as the pink rabbit-like creature screamed a battle cry. Rising up on its hind legs, the Pokemon flared its ears and rattled the spines on its back. While it may not have drawn first blood, it claimed the first life.
The permanent loss of one of their number threw the Rattata into a frenzy. Squealing and gnashing of teeth echoed around the three fighters as they rallied for another push. They would no longer be satisfied until the enemy was dead. Sammy’s fingers locked around the haft of the pitchfork and his knees refused to move.
Paul stepped forward to face the onslaught, his posture hunched. He reached into his overalls and brought forth a knife. Used more for whittling and cutting sandwiches than anything else, Paul thrust his pocketknife forward as he called back to Sammy.
"Well shit, kid. Stay behind me…this is about to get messy.”
Sammy's face formed an expressionless mask. The small horde of raging Rattata poured forward, each with fangs capable of cutting through bone. And all they had was a pitchfork and a dull pocket knife.
Messy? I killed one of them!
The world seemed to slow as Sammy watched the teeming mob of eyes and fangs. The air was brisk and at his back, the smell of blood wafted with the breeze and fell upon tiny nostrils. Sammy could see the whiskers on the Rattata shiver as sensitive noses drank in the scent and allowed it to further enrage them. One appeared to have a broken leg, another's eye was swollen shut. Taking it all in, Sammy could tell that Paul faced the healthiest of the mob as they split their attention between the two humans. Without glancing down, Sammy spoke. To his ears his words sounded steady and in control. It did not waver like he expected it to, but was firm.
"Give me a hand, would you? I can't do this by myself." He asked the big-eared creature.
With a snarl, the Pokemon at Sammy's side sprinted forward as the spines on its back continued to quake and rattle. They somehow looked pointier than before. As Sammy watched, several of the spines shot forward and impaled the pelts of two of the oncoming Rattata.
"Sheeeeeiiiit! How'd you like that you bastards?!" Paul cried.
Then the battle was joined. Paul took a nasty bite to his left arm as he stabbed his blade into the rat's side again and again. Sammy swept his pitchfork in an arc before him, warding off the Rattata and giving them space to act. The pink Pokemon released salvo after salvo of glistening needles that at first seemed ineffective. But as the minutes passed, Sammy noted that the Rattata who had been stung were faltering. Their heads shook and the fur around the spots grew darker. Foam appeared at their mouths and their eyes grew bloodshot, highlighting their red pupils and becoming demonic.
One by one they fell. Sammy took another bite to his left leg while Paul sustained the brunt of the damage. Paul's arms bled freely as he turned and swerved in place attempting to dodge the incoming fangs. The pink creature had seemingly run out of poisoned needles and now was bashing its body into the few Rattata still standing. Sammy swung and stabbed wildly, trying to immobilize the Rattata that were dazed from being tackled. He often missed, and tried to block the lunging purple demons with the shaft of his weapon.
What seemed like hours of farm warfare came to an end as the final Rattata fled. Its nine brethren lay broken and twitching, needles and bone sticking out and turning the entire area crimson and violet. It looked back as it ran, an oppressive omen as it seemed to say, "You haven't seen the last of me!"
Sammy let the broken pitchfork fall from his fingers. At some point a Pokemon had simply snapped it in half. Sammy's legs felt like gelatin as he collapsed to the ground exhausted.
"Fuck. You think your Grandfather will pay for the medical bills?" Sammy shrugged as he felt more than saw Paul's form sit next to him. The man had stripped off his shirt and was tearing it into ribbons to staunch the blood dripping from his arms.
We killed them.
Before he lost consciousness, Sammy thought he felt something sniff at his fingers before pressing itself under his palm. Soft whistling and purring reverberated under his touch as the boy fell back and his vision went white.
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Sammy woke to the feeling of someone dabbing his forehead with a warm, damp cloth. He struggled to open his eyes and hissed as the throbbing bite wounds on his foot and leg lanced into his consciousness.
“You awake, Sam?”
“Aggie?”
Finally forcing his eyes open, Sammy turned his head to find the girl sitting next to his bed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Apparently a couple of farms were hit by the Rattata. Mom and Uncle Charlie are downstairs talking with your Grandpa and the others.”
Sammy groaned as he tried to sit up, but an unfamiliar weight on his legs made it difficult. Peering down, Sammy was surprised to see two large pink ears attached to a softly breathing body. The spikes down the Pokemon’s back lay flat and its haunches and midsection were bandaged. With each breath, its sides rose and fell as its nose twitched.
“He wouldn’t let anyone besides me and Paul get close to you.”
“What? Where is Paul anyway? Is he okay?”
“He was looking mighty pleased earlier. Sounds like your Grandpa gave him quite the bonus as well as promising to pay for his medical bills.” Aggie wrung out the towel she had been using. “Now stay still, I’m still trying to get Rattata blood out of your hair.”
Sammy sighed, but did as the girl bid. Her muted tone made him pause and her unusually tender touch was a stark contrast to her usual demeanor.
“What are the grown-ups talking about?” he asked.
“I bet they’re trying to figure out what to do.”
His stomach churned as Sammy recalled the battle from earlier. Glancing down at the Pokemon resting peacefully on his lap, he could still see the bloodstains on its muzzle.
“Sam? You okay?” Agatha’s voice seemed so far away.
Sammy’s mind reeled as he tried to shove the images away.
I didn’t want to do it. It was an accident!
Agatha clutched his hand. The body on his legs rumbled as it padded a bit farther up the sheets to rest by his side. The Pokemon’s purrs vibrated his chest and calmed him. The memories driven away to dark corners of his mind.
“We’ll be alright, Sam. They’ll get the bastards.”
Sammy wasn’t so sure if he wanted them to.
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A fist slammed on the table.
“What the hell are we gonna do about this, Roger?”
Roger Oak sat at the head of the long table in the dining room surrounded by farmers and workers. Every seat was filled with angry people and more stood against the walls. Tempers were flaring as just about every farm had been assaulted by the Rattata. The farmers were used to one or two nests attempting to raid their grain stores and silos, but this was unprecedented.
“It’s almost like they knew that we couldn’t rally if they hit us all at once!” another voice yelled above the throng.
Roger folded his hands in front of him and looked at the people. The Oak family had been the first to settle in Pallet Vill - no, that wasn’t right. They were far too large to retain the Village designation. New docks had been built to accommodate new trade routes and bigger ships. The small family fields had expanded into the surrounding woods and were worked by more than just residents. Folks from Viridian City had made their way to Pallet as farmhands, mechanics, carpenters, and masons. No, Pallet was no longer just a village. Pallet was a true town.
As the oldest family, the Oaks were looked to as the de facto leaders, and as patriarch, Roger was mayor in all but title and League acknowledgement. The people needed answers and direction. If there were already this many Ratatta, how big was the nest? Gods forbid that there be a Raticate matriarch. Or even worse, a male and a female.
A Raticate consumed its weight in food daily and would send Rattata on raiding parties to collect nuts, seeds, and berries as tribute. If there was a pair of mating Raticate out there, their fields and silos were in jeopardy. With the harvest season in full swing, things were ripe for the picking. Two Raticate and their spawn could decimate the area and devour everything.
Roger raised his hand and a hush passed over the concerned citizens of the town.
“Friends, I think it's time we called in a Trainer.”
“Oak, a Trainer won’t come cheap. Most probably won’t even take up the request! Even if one did respond, you know what they do!” a woman’s voice cut the silence. “They don’t care about our livelihood! They’ll burn the fields and forest! They’ll corrupt the children!”
Roger’s face was stone. “And pray, tell me what our alternative is? Do we have any guns here besides some old hunting rifles? Would you send our boys to be mauled to death? Would you see our fields and homes be overrun?” His glare softened.
“We’ll just offer a bonus if they limit the collateral damage.”