Sun is good on Snorlax skin. Feels almost as good as rain. Grey ground good for Snorlax. Hot on warm day, cold on cold day. Brood-Mother tell Snorlax ‘not-go’. So Snorlax wits until Brood-Mother sleeps, then go to grey ground and sleep. Sleep is good. Sleep is deep.

Some time, not-Snorlax fly into ear and clean. Other time, not-Snorlax walk in fur, eat lice, so Snorlax can sleep. But sometime, not-Snorlax come to wake Snorlax. Make Snorlax sight-red, smell-red, feel-red. Some time, not-Snorlax go away.

Fifteen minutes ago:

“I need a forensic examination on this sash, real quick: standard procedure, dust for prints and give me a check on the contents of the pokeballs.”

“I’m not sure I can proceed without a warrant, Officer.”

“Just got off the phone with Judge Mandy. Just gotta wait for the fax, is all.”

“Still, I’d rather-”

This time, not-Snorlax that roars crashed in Snorlax as it slept. Fast and big, hurt Snorlax, broke bone and hurt bad. Snorlax see-red, smell-red but feel no thing. Not-Snorlax crashed and made no sound. Not-life. Snorlax see-not, smell-not, feel-not. Then Snorlax sleep long sleep on grey ground, floating with no-weight, no-feel.

“The owner of this sash is a suspect of a double homicide and severe battery of three 18-year-old trainers, murdered in cold blood. If I don’t get these prints and identify these pokemon, then his lawyer is going to be here and he is going to walk away.”

“Please, Officer Jenny you have to understand; I can’t just-”

“One of the trainers was called Judy. That man had his Scyther-the Scyther that’s in one of those pokeballs-gnaw her face off. She died on her way to the hospital. The other boy, the one who had his face mangled, they say they can’t help him. That no manner of plastic surgery could salvage his face, but they could at least attach him a new pair of eyelids.”

“Give me five minutes.”

When Snorlax feel again, pain gone. Bone gone. Red gone. Only fear left. Fear and not-Snorlax. Tiny not-Snorlax, pink not-Snorlax, not-claw not-Snorlax. It make Snorlax go into black ball. But black ball empty and cramped. Not-warm, not-cool, only ticking. Snorlax scared and push out, but out there is nothing.

Five minutes ago:

“No, I have never seen anything like it. It’s a black-top pokeball. No, the reader doesn’t give me anything, all I get is this scrambled data, like it’s glitched or something. What’s that? No, I know the reader’s working fine, I just used it on three of them and it got me readings just fine.

Out is only white-black wall that hiss. Out is only buzzing and loud noise. In is only ticking. Snorlax scared.

“Is it a what? No, It can’t be a Ditto, man, Dittos can’t shift when they’re stuck in stasis. I’m thinking it’s protected, you know? Like the ones from Johto, those silver-topped ones? Like it’s a prototype or something. Hahaha, no I don’t think there’s a Mew in it.

“You think I ought to open it? I don’t know if that’s a good idea, man; there’s some pretty nasty things in there. You can what? Are you sure about that? Okay, so where’s the override switch? Oh, I just gotta press the button and hold it down, huh? And you’re sure this will recall the pokemon? You positive, right? Cause if I end up dead and mangled, I’m coming back to haunt you! Oh, you’re such a dork, dude! Okay, need to go, check this out real quick. See you man!”

Snorlax tired.

Click.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Snorlax mad.

“Out you come. One, Two, three, four…woah!”

“SSSNNNOOORRRLLLAAAXXX!”

“Oh no, God no, get back in the pokeball, get back in the-”

Splat

***

Something breaks, two rooms over; someone screams, their voice reaching the horrified staccato where genders meet, as they are faced with imminent death. Jenny looks at me, gringing, the nightstick stopped mid-swing.

“Dear God, what is that?”

“You need to get me out of here.” I tell Officer Jenny, as she fumbles with her radio.

“Dispatch, there appears to be a disturbance in Lavender town Hospital, need immediate backup.”

“You have to cut me loose, please.” I plead, as a garbled response is emitted from the speakers.

“Ten-Four” Officer Jenny responds.

“Don’t leave me here, don’t leave me here, DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE!” I scream at Officer Jenny, who goes out into the hallway, her hand on her pokeball sash, leaving me to fend for myself, strapped on a hospital bed with my body broken, beaten and without any means to protect myself.

Something smashes against the wall, two rooms over. I find myself thinking of plaster and smashed tiling, reduced to dust, peppering coarse fur. I think of a face that looks slightly human, distorted by fear and rage, spotted with blood that’s not entirely its own.

Need to get to my pokemon. Need to defend myself before that thing comes over and chews my damn face off.

I try to move my left hand, but it’s cuffed. My right hand’s in a cast, my broken fingers wriggling uselessly. If I can get my hand free, then I can undo the belt that’s wrapped round my waist, keeping me down. I got one good leg left, so I can hobble down to Acquisitions, get my pokemon, give myself a fighting chance.

Why I bother even considering going up against a Snorlax gone berserk is beyond me, at this point.

I look for something I can use to pick the cuffs, something I can bend and jam into the lock, to pry them open. Like an idiot, I’m praying that maybe Officer Jenny dropped one of her hairpins as she was busy beating the living shit out of me.

Somewhere in the distance, someone screams something out, a name perhaps, drowned out by the Snorlax’s roar. There’s a gunshot that rings out across the entire floor. Fat lot of good a 9mm is going to against a beast this size.

It’s sheer terror that makes me come face to face with the only viable option:

My IV drip needle.

Oh God.

Don’t ask how, but I get it off. It involves a hell of a lot more pain that it should. When I’m done, the back of my hand is like a big red, dripping stain. I jam the needle in the tight space between the handle and the mattress and bend it. The cuff’s biting into my wrist the entire time, sending jolts of electricity up my arm. When the tip’s properly bent, I put the needle in my mouth and jam it in the lock.

“SSSNNNOOORRLLAAAXX!”

I drop the needle and scream, as I watch it slip off the cuffs and slip out of the bed. Thankfully, the IV tube keeps it in place, but just barely out of my reach. I try to lean over and grab it with my teeth, but it wriggles away from me at the last second every time. Gritting my teeth, I reach out my cuffed hand, as far as I can. The steel bites deeper into my wrist than before. I bite my lower lip and groan against the pain. Finally, the damn thing’s in my hands. I lean down and work the tip back into the cuffs, until finally, there’s the familiar ka-click, sweet and eloquent like a chorus of angels.

Something hollow and metallic bounces around in the corridor, making a sound like radio-drama thunder as I’m undoing the last of my restraints. I take my first tentative steps on the floor, checking my balance: not in any condition to run, but good enough to make it to the ground floor, past reception and into Acquisitions. I’ve never been in the Lavender town Hospital, but if you’ve been in my line of work long enough, you get to know the standard layout of every hospital just the same.

Soon as I got my pokemon, I can put a fight. And if I can’t then maybe I can buy me some time; get the hell out of Lavender town, go to Mister Giovanni, hand him his black-topped pokeball and act all innocent-like. Push comes to shove, I can always just promise him hits. That oughtta get on his good side.

The corridor smells like wet fur and blood and the way things smell the very second they’re dead. The Snorlax has its back turned to me, busying itself with something that I’m thankful that I can’t see. I hear crunching noises that I know are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Fighting my urge to start hopping away in terror, I start hobbling as quiet as I can, making my way to the staircase.

I’m nearly scot-free, when the elevator door dings and some poor idiot security guard comes out of there, waving his tazer around as if it’s a proper gun. He looks at me and goes

“The hell is going on here?”

The security guard and I barely have time to scream, as the 600-pound Snorlax comes crashing down on us.