Chương 9: 1.9 Liftoff

Liftoff 1. 9 April 2015 The eight of us stumbled back up the stairs, almost but not quite in a broken panic. We leaned heavily against the wall, our near-death experience shaking us to our bones. Pokemon were, as a rule, stronger than humans, but most things in the forest were susceptible to bullets like every other game. That seeming invulnerability, paired with the darkness, enclosed quarters, and the way an ice type sandshrew shattered expectations, pressed down on us like a physical weight.

Ranger Swanson looked around and took stock, making sure there weren't any unnoticed injuries. Thankfully, the only injury we had was someone from Swanson's team, a shattered arm he probably wouldn't be using for a good six months, if at all. Rocket positioned himself over the mouth of the stairs, looking down into the darkness to make sure we weren't followed. Luke, the man with the shattered arm, was whimpering quietly, cradling his arm to his body in a vain attempt to stop the pain. I tried not to look at that.

I'd never been great with body horror. Seeing his arm turned to so much jelly made my stomach flip.

"W-What the hell were those things?" Pete, the man who'd been my driver, stammered.

"Sandshrew," another said. He was a squat man with a shotgun. I was grateful he had the presence of mind not to fire it while we were crowded together in the stairs.

"It's supposed to be a ground type."

"He's right. They're not supposed to be aggressive. Dex says they roll up to avoid attackers when threatened, not hit first," I explained. I was trying to make sense of it all. Why the hell were those things ice types?

"Supposed to make burrows and curl up, like armadillos."

"Fuck your dex!" Luke's friend, Alex, said.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head.

"Like he said, sandshrew are ground types. They belong in the Arizona desert, not up here in the Cascades."

"You're supposed to be the fucking pokemon expert! What the fuck do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean it's not in any game or anime we've ever seen! I can't know something that was never released!"

"You took us down there!"

"We were looking for the body!"

"Hey, knock it off!" Swanson barked. It didn't matter. He wasn't truly a sergeant and we weren't his soldiers. Alex was too pissed to care. He surged forward and, before I could react, sucker punched me in the jaw. My head was flung back as pain bloomed on the side of my face. My vision was swimming. I hadn't been in too many scraps before; I sure as hell wasn't a fighter. My back collided with the wall and I tried to catch myself. There was shouting as the men restrained Alex.

Javier, the ex-army guy from my truck, stepped in front of me protectively. Then the shouting was undercut by the pissed off snarl of a seven feet long murder-scarf. A high-pitched shriek of terror and pain followed as Alex figured out just what he picked a fight with. I had to stop it. Things got way too out of hand as it was.

"Stop!" I shouted.

"Rocket, to me!" At the same time, a gunshot rang through the air. Swanson had his pistol aimed at the ceiling. He was glaring at us all, his mustache bristling furiously.

"Enough! Shane, keep a hold on Rocket. Alex, you fucking idiot, you deserved that. Take Luke and get back to the trucks." I grabbed Rocket by the tail and dragged him over to me. He complied, but never took his eyes off the men. His claws were extended in sheaths of white light, Slash, ready to disembowel Alex for attacking me. Alex wasn't doing much better than Luke now. He did get his arm up in time, but a split second and a single cut was all it took to open his arm to the bone.

He glared at me with unbridled hate. What had begun as a bout of hysteria had quickly become raw animosity between us. I couldn't say I was in a charitable mood either. The room fell into an awkward silence. More than one man was eyeing Rocket with caution. For his part, Rocket seemed completely unbothered by their stares and made a show of licking his bloodied paw. I could tell by the raised fur that stood on end that he was just as agitated as the rest of us.

Reaching down, I stroked his back and did my best to calm him down. I needed to show that I was in control, that Rocket would listen to me. The absence of a pokeball never felt more apparent. Ranger Swanson did his best to get us focused again.

"What else, Shane? What does an ice type know? If we meet them again, what can we expect?"

"That Sonic the Hedgehog shit was Rollout. Those things are probably faster in the open, builds even more momentum. The most basic ice type moves are Powder Snow and Ice Shard, both ranged, one a conic blast of cold, the other a dagger of ice," I said with a grim nod. I thought more about it.

"Normal sandshrew also know Poison Sting, but I have no idea how strong their venom is. It looks a lot like Rocket's Pin Missile. We're lucky. They either don't know the move or didn't use it."

"Alright, that's good. If we have an idea of what they can do, we can prepare."

"I ain't going back down there, Tom," one of the others said.

"And I'm not asking you to. In a perfect world, we'd pick up James' body to bury but I'm not risking us. Just knowing he's gone is going to have to be good enough," he said firmly.

"But that doesn't mean we won't see those things again."

"If they haven't come up after us, we're probably fine," Jarvis ventured.

"The body wasn't eaten either, I think," Pete added.

"Do they eat meat?" I shrugged. I felt uncomfortable at the way they all turned to me. In their minds, I had a mammalian pokemon and so I must be an expert on shrews. I wished I could tell them, but I had no idea either.

"Not a clue. Shrews eat insects, but pokemon aren't really their counterparts. I know they eat berries so they might be omnivorous."

"Fine, if that's what we've got to work with, that's what we've got to work with," Swanson grunted. He motioned for us to move.

"Come on, let's get back to the trucks. We'll figure out our next move once we've regrouped." X Our next move was to check our equipment and head back inside to confirm what happened to the other five men. It was not a popular decision. More than one person wanted to give up the men as lost and go home.

"We need to go back," Ranger Swanson said firmly. He looked tired, resigned, like he'd expected casualties and he was just going through the motions now.

"You'd want us coming for you if you were stuck somewhere inside and unable to get help."

"Or they're dead, Tom," Henry was the big guy who smacked the sandshrew out of the air from hitting me in the face.

"I'm with you, you know I am, but they're probably dead."

"They might be," he nodded, "but that doesn't change things on our end. We still need to know what killed them. We need to know so if we have to come back, we come back better prepared."

"I don't know, man," Pete said.

"For all we know, there's something that's got them sandshrew so pissed off."

"The sandshrew aren't going to be coming up or they would have already."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean there's nothing up there. I'm sorry, Tom, I'm staying put." That got more than a few grunts of agreement. Truthfully, I didn't like the idea of going back there either, but taking a pit stop by the trucks made it worse. It gave us time to take stock of our lives, to think and wonder and begin to fear the unknown. We should have gone straight up; then we'd have had six people. As it was, few looked willing. I considered my options. It wasn't as if I disagreed with Ranger Swanson.

This wasn't a diner or something else that we could skip. This was a hospital in the middle of a mountain town, just about the only one reliably stocked for miles. There was a good chance we'd have to come back here eventually. If regrouping out here was a bad idea, I felt that going back to Carnelian Bay would be even worse. I'd seen it in Bend. Humans had a herd mentality; it made us feel safe when we were in large groups, even if that large group was all but defenseless.

I feared that if we had to come back, the town would make me do so at the head of dozens of men, most of whom I wouldn't trust with a can of beans, never mind mine or Rocket's life. If we were forced to leave here and things came to that, fine, but I'd rather know what I was up against.

"I say we go," I said with a nod to the men.

"Look, I know I'm the new guy, but hear me out. Put aside whatever happened to team two for a second. We need medical supplies, right? What other options are there? I guess the airport must have an emergency hospital on-site."

"We cleared that out when we swept the parking lots for gas," Jarvis said.

"The pharmacy's cleared out too, so…"

"Shane's right," Ranger Swanson said.

"We don't have much of a choice. The absolute minimum we need to do is figure out what's in there before we can come back with more men."

"Easy for you to say," someone scoffed. He glared at me with naked suspicion. He wasn't the only one. Though I was happy with Rocket backing me, I knew I'd see some backlash for this eventually. He spat to the side with disdain.

"You two have pokemon of your own. That's all good for you, but ain't nobody watching my ass but me."

"Yeah, whoop-de-doo, you've got a magic ferret to do your fighting for you, kid," Henry said.

"That's great, but that don't do much good for anyone else. Same with you, Tom. I figure your pigeon will jump through the window to help you out in the upper floors, but that's no help to us." Ranger Swanson looked at them, then at me. He eventually sighed but nodded.

"Alright, volunteer basis only. I'm in, you, Shane?"

"Yeah. It's better than not knowing. I figure we'll have to come back no matter what."

"Anyone else?" Javier stepped forward and patted me on the back.

"I'm in too. Can't be worse than Iraq. I ever tell you about going door to door in a fucking dustbowl?"

"Didn't you tell me you were a driver?"

"Shhh."

"Fine. The rest of you, sit here for two hours. If we're not back or radioed in by then, head back to Carnelian bay," Swanson said.

"Let's go." As we turned toward the hospital, Rocket looked back at them with utter disgust. Three men and two pokemon wasn't a terrible party, all things considered. I'd rather have a smaller team I could trust than a bunch of idiots press-ganged into this getting in each other's way. I felt we could handle most low-level threats easily enough. No, what I was really worried about was the clear division between the ones that stayed and us, especially Rocket.

Protecting me or not, Rocket bit a person and they'd remember that. They didn't trust him to protect them, which would make working with them harder in the future. The inverse was true too. Rocket lost all respect he had for them when they refused to accompany us. I could tell; if there was ever a chance he might have considered them "pack," it sure as hell didn't exist anymore. With a wary heart, I led us into the hospital for our second dive. X The three of us followed Rocket upstairs.

Odor Sleuth made scouting the hospital much less time consuming, allowing us to skip the ground floor altogether in search of the five men from team two. Outside, Scout the tranquil circled the building, keeping track of our progress through the windows. Ranger Swanson said Scout wouldn't have room to maneuver and kept him circling overhead. He'd be able to intervene swiftly regardless because of the building's layout. Personally, I thought it was so the men stationed outside wouldn't just ditch us.

Rocket led us toward another stairwell, only to let out a quiet bark of warning. We approached as silently as we could and stayed by the windows so our aerial support could keep an eye on our position. Then, as we walked into the second floor hallway, Ranger Swanson's foot bumped into something.

"Shit," he yelped, jumping back. We held our weapons tight with surprise. I didn't blame him. He'd bumped into a sandshrew. Or, part of one. The cadaver was frozen solid and had been flipped on its back. It skidded along the ground like a grisly hockey puck. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Holy shit," Jarvis whispered.

"What the fuck did that?" I swallowed down the bile and knelt to study it more closely. The sandshrew was a mess of red. Its internal organs had been scooped out, as if the plate-like hide on its back had been turned into a serving bowl for the world's most macabre ice cream sundae. What flesh remained clung to the body in thin strips, as if whatever had done this had torn it to ribbons as it disemboweled the poor creature.

"I don't know," Ranger Swanson said, "but I bet we know why those things downstairs are so aggressive."

"Claws, not teeth. The wounds are too deep and long to be a bite. From multiple directions too, not just one strong hit," I said. Next to me, Rocket bristled and let out a cautionary whine.

"I know. We'll be careful."

"Body's frozen solid."

"So it's another ice type?" Jarvis asked.

"Fuck, think we can juryrig a flamethrower or something?" I nodded.

"Sounds about right. An ice type with long claws meant for tearing. Parts of the shrew are missing so it wasn't just some kind of territory dispute. Something's been eating these guys."

"Any pokemon you know that fits?" I ran through a quick list of ice types, but there was only one that came to mind.

"Sneasel. Maybe a weavile if we're really unlucky."

"Which is?"

"Ice and dark dual type pokemon. Think weasels with extra-long claws. They're canonically said to steal eggs and whatnot."

"Pack animals?"

"Small groups? One distracts the bird while the other steals from the nest."

"Fucking hell," Swanson swore.

"Alright, good. We have a good guess of what's here. Expect more than just a pair though. The sandshrew might have come in for some reason and their predators followed. Then our boys came in and…"

"As good a guess as any," Jarvis grunted. He'd switched his hunting rifle in favor of a shotgun, though I wasn't sure how useful that would be. Sneasel were supposed to be fast as fuck.

"We done here?" Ranger Swanson looked like he was considering it.

"Rocket, how close are we to team two?"

"Lin," he growled softly. His head twitched toward a wide hallway lined with plastic chairs. It looked like it doubled as a waiting room.

"In there then, huh?"

"Close enough that we can take a peek, but I think we should head back."

"Agreed. I'm not comfortable with snea-" I started to say, only for Rocket to launch himself towards the ceiling with a Liftoff, claws out and fangs bared in a wicked snarl.

"Linoone!" he barked. I saw him twitch and ducked before my brain registered the threat. I hit the ground just in time. A weaponized icicle lanced through the air, exactly where my head had been two seconds ago. I twisted around to find that I'd guessed correctly. A weasel with a crimson plume on its head and midnight-black fur snarled at me. Rocket's counterattack, a Quick Attack-empowered Slash, found it before it could react, opening a wide, deep cut along its abdomen.

It fell to the ground with a yowling screech of pain.

"Ambush!" Ranger Swanson shouted unnecessarily. Jarvis dove on top of it, hunting knife out and stabbing down repeatedly. Good. Pokemon were durable as fuck. I'd seen pidgey tank a pistol before and keep going for several minutes; I wouldn't have trusted that thing not to get up with its intestines hanging out either. I scanned my surroundings. These fuckers almost got me, somehow bypassing Rocket's Odor Sleuth until it was almost too late. Was it the strength of a dark type?

I shuddered to think what would have happened had I a less perceptive partner. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied the shadows move. A wooden stand that had been placed decoratively along one wall, flower vase and all, hid a sneasel beneath it. One struck from above so the other would follow up from below for maximum disorientation. It was almost uncanny how human their thought process was. Thankfully, they weren't too coordinated either, giving me a second to act.

I punched Swanson on the back of his knee, taking him to the ground with me as a second Ice Shard missed him by inches. Raising my crossbow, I loosed my arrow, but I wasn't as fast as Rocket. The sneasel managed to avoid a killing shot, only taking a grazing hit to its side. Ranger Swanson brought his own pistol to bear, nailing the thing twice before it could slink off into the shadows. Or he tried, but we were forced to the ground again by another sneasel and a larger, meaner big brother.

Had they been allowed to continue their assault, we would have died then and there. Two more sneasel were bad enough, but a weavile? Three men had no chance. That was when Scout blew out the windows with a Gust, launching the weasel pokemon across the hall. It sent us rolling too, but close to the ground as we were, that was better than getting skewered by flying icicles. At the same time, Jarvis' shotgun went off, only for the sudden gale to knock the gun off course. All three of them landed on their feet.

Our air support was smart enough to avoid coming into the hospital, wary of the ice types. I cursed my luck. We should have ducked out when I guessed the species, even if we weren't positive. Quickly, I slung my crossbow and pulled out my holdout pistol. The bow was great, but it was far too slow to nail pokemon like these when I wasn't the one doing the ambushing.

"We should leave," I whispered.

"Back toward the stairs. Slowly." Jarvis grunted in grim resignation. He pumped the gun to discharge the spent shell and cycle another.

"I don't think that'll work. They might follow and I don't wanna turn my back to them."

"Into the waiting room," Ranger Swanson ordered.

"We need to fight. We'll have more room to move than the hallway."

"So will they."

"Just do it! Scout, Gust!" I complied. I didn't have a choice. I disagreed, but making the suboptimal decision was better than arguing about it mid-fight. I had Rocket launch his own salvo of Pin Missiles to distract the sneasel pack before dashing into the waiting room. There, we rushed behind the secretary's counter for cover. A second later, Rocket dove into the room and behind the desk, leaving behind a streak of white light.

"We can't let them circle us," Jarvis said. He was right. It wasn't like we could turn the heavy counter. They'd just pick us off in seconds.

"Scout will flank them, but ice beats flying, right?" Ranger Swanson asked me.

"Yeah, we can't leave him alone either."

"Plans?" They entered the room. We fired a few times, but mostly to keep them off our backs. I grabbed a ceramic pencil holder and hurled it at one sneasel. It dodged with a cackling noise that was halfway between a snarl and a laugh. Then, ice formed between the weavile's paws and a wide-area Icy Wind buffeted us all. It was like nothing I'd felt before. There was something inherently supernatural about it, a wongness that made it clear to me that this was an unnatural sort of cold.

I only stood up from behind the counter for a moment, but my fingers were already blue. My ears stung as blood tried to force itself through like molasses. I'd once wondered what elemental moves would be like. A Water Gun would surely just be a pressurized jet, right? No different than being punched really hard? Ice was just like any other solid projectile, but more brittle than rock, surely. No way in hell. Turned out, we weren't that lucky. Aura was real, and with it, elemental aura.

I didn't like my chances if I had to take an Icy Wind straight on. Rocket leapt atop the counter and loosed a barrage of Pin Missiles that kept them at bay for a few seconds. I thought fast. It'd be close but…

"Rocket to weavile. He can take it so long as he's not ganked from behind."

"We'll keep the other two busy then. You and Jarvis. Scout and me." The four of us looked at each other with a nod. Weavile would be tough for Rocket. He'd always had the speed advantage until now. I wasn't sure if he could take one; they sure as hell weren't a joke in the games. Still, we'd have to make do and be grateful that Rocket wasn't at a type disadvantage on top of a speed gap.

"On my go," Ranger Swanson said. Then, he began counting down on his fingers.

"Rocket. Hone Claws into Liftoff," I rattled off his orders quickly. This wasn't an official battle where I'd be able to command him throughout. This moment was all I had.

"Stay at range and strafe with Pin Missile. Bug trumps dark."

"Go!" A lot of things happened at once. Rocket all but vanished in a blur of white. Liftoff, damn near his signature now, turned him into a streaking missile that immediately captured every eye. That gave us slow humans the chance to poke out from behind the secretary's counter. Jarvis and I immediately took aim at one of the sneasel, but it vanished in a Quick Attack. Drawing a bead on it, even in a closed room, was damn near impossible.

Jarvis' shotgun rang out again and I heard a hiss of pain in response, but it wasn't down yet. The shot must have clipped it. We immediately lost momentum when an Ice Shard forced us to duck our heads again. I almost died there, but I got ready to do it again, as many times as necessary to keep it distracted and give Rocket the single combat he needed. I was grateful in a way. The battle would have gone even worse for us had not the sneasel closed in for the kill.

Instead, it seemed relatively content to take potshots at us from a distance. I wondered if this was the cruelty of a dark type at work. While we were trying and failing to pin down one sneasel, Ranger Swanson leapt out from behind the counter. He took aim at the second, only for it to rush towards him with what looked like a Feint Attack. Darkness rippled along its form like a living shadow. It almost seemed to evade notice, as though standard vision slid off its coat.

"Fuck!" he swore. He tried to dodge out of the way, but was unable to evade in time.

"Gah! Shit!" The sneasel had latched onto his shoulder, hook-like claws leaving deep puncture wounds through his thick jacket. Ranger Swanson tried to wrestle it but was unable to pull it off.

"Scout! Quick Attack!" I commanded, shouting at the top of my lungs. I had no fucking clue if that bird would obey me. Hell, it'd be weird if it did, but trying was better than waiting around watching him get mauled. I sure as hell didn't feel safe taking aim at Ranger Swanson. Talking wasn't free. An icicle almost took my eye, but Jarvis chucked the office chair in the way. The tranquil, swerving around the building, burst through another window. Scout let out a crooning warcry before dashing towards his mark.

His talons sank into the sneasel and ripped it off Ranger Swanson. That earned another grunt of pain from the man, along with streaks of blood from where the sneasel's claws left their mark. The old park ranger jumped on the sneasel, immediately stabbing it with his hunting knife. He then proceeded to wrestle the fucker in a sight that would have seemed comical had I not known better. Pokemon were deceptively strong despite their size. As it was, the man was effectively wrestling a particularly pissed off buzzsaw.

I must have been distracted because our sneasel had taken that chance to run around the counter, facing both Jarvis and I. It held an Icy Wind in its paws, ready to slow us down and pick us off one by one.

"Out!" Jarvis called. We dove out of the way. It missed, but so did we, the gale too strong for us to properly aim in.

"Gust!" Ranger Swanson roared. His arm was littered with cuts despite his thick winter wear. He chucked the sneasel into the air.

"Give us space!" That proved to be a mistake. Jarvis and I were halfway up, stumbling to our feet. The sudden gale in a limited space threw us around like ragdolls. I felt half a dozen cuts and bruises from flying stationary, chairs, and anything else the tranquil could lift and only avoided a concussion-via-mug by slapping it aside with my pistol.

"Fuck, Tom!" Jarvis yelped in pain as he collided with a chair. Getting thrown around like a pinball by a magic pigeon wasn't fun, but it did distract the sneasel pack. It immediately switched targets to Scout, dismissing Jarvis and I as lesser threats. It fired off a quick Icy Wind, not fast enough to take down Scout, but fast enough to still clip his right wing. Frost formed rapidly around the limb. Scout let out a pained squawk with every wingbeat as he forced his stiffened muscles to move.

Ranger Swanson's sneasel had been slammed into one wall, but the little fucker was still up and kicking His hunting knife was stuck inside the sneasel, but it ignored the wound in favor of launching a Quick Attack right back at the bird. At the same time, I unloaded the rest of my clip at the sneasel that had been ours. Mid-Icy Wind, it was unable to respond in time and went down. I ran over and slammed my own knife into its throat, making doubly sure it wouldn't get back up again.

I turned to find the last sneasel, but Swanson had already punted the sneasel off his bird. A final bang rang out from Jarvis' shotgun. This one was on target and the wall behind it was painted a messy red. Finally with room to breathe, I reloaded my pistol and searched for Rocket. He had taken the weavile out into the hall. I found them there, fighting more like rabid raccoons than pokemon. It brought into focus just how little training they had. Watching them was like nothing from the anime.

There wasn't a give and take, just a yowling, biting, clawing mess of fur and blood as they rolled around. I could guess what had happened. With a bug type move in Pin Missile, Rocket had the edge at range. But with Icy Wind and Ice Shard, the weavile was definitely faster on the draw, faster movement too. It had quickly rushed my partner down despite his best efforts and turned their fight into a melee one.

"Make some distance!" I shouted to no avail. Whether he heard me or not didn't matter. He just couldn't afford to do anything but fight back. If he tried to leap away, he'd only be turning his back on a weavile, a particularly painful type of suicide. I could see countless cuts and slashes along his body. Despite the natural toughness of pokemon and the thick fur, blood stained his cream-colored coat. I drew a bead on the pokemon, not hard considering they'd given up all pretense of using moves or techniques.

Still, I was loath to pull the trigger. They changed position as they bit and clawed at each other that I risked killing my own partner.

"Rocket, trust me!" I shouted desperately. I said that, but I had to trust him in turn, trust that he'd move.

"Liftoff!" My finger depressed the trigger. At the same time, white light clad my partner. His tail curled up between him and the weavile, before launching him clear into the air. He braced against the ceiling with his claws. The weavile had a split second to look surprised before I dumped the entire magazine into it. I probably landed only half the clip, if that, but that was enough. Combined with all the damage Rocket managed, I didn't need to put it down, only give Rocket the chance he needed.

Then, as the last shot faded, Rocket dove down from the ceiling. He left an audible thump in the tile, rupturing the frame altogether. The world's most pissed off murder-scarf struck like a fluffy lightning bolt. His Hone Claws-enhanced attack ripped clean through the weavile, decapitating it for the coup de grace. I sank to my knees. It was over. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears in the sudden silence. Three sneasel and one weavile almost killed us all.

Hell, it probably would have killed damn near any other group in Carnelian Bay. My breath came in ragged gasps as I came to grips with that. I felt a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Nice shooting," Jarvis said with a nod of respect.

"Rocket did all the work," I said. My voice came out in whispers. The newfound quiet felt almost sacred, as though it had a weight of its own I was almost afraid to disturb. I saw my bleeding partner and whistled.

"Come here, Rocket. I have a first-aid kit in my backpack."

"Good. You're done," came Ranger Swanson's gruff voice. He stumbled out, Scout the tranquil held in his uninjured arm like a football. His mangled shoulder needed to be looked at as well.

"That… That was fucking stupid of me. I shouldn't have pressed us in here once you guessed these weasel-things."

"We still need to find team two. And you didn't; we got ambushed here," I grunted back. I did my best to clean Rocket's many cuts with my water bottle. They weren't too deep thankfully, the natural durability of pokemon proving itself again, but he was positively littered with gouges made by the weavile's hook-like claws.

"I'd want you guys to come look for me if I go missing too, Ranger Swanson."

"Tom, kid. It's always Tom. I reckon this is more humbling than I'm used to." Jarvis kicked the ground and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it with a match and offered us one.

"Ehh, you did alright, Tom. Could've been worse. I saw you wrestle one of those fuckers."

"Fat lot of good that did. I don't think I'll be moving this arm right for a while."

"It bought us time." I turned down the cigarette and kept my hands busy disinfecting Rocket's wounds with iodine. He whined pitiably but made no attempt to move away. Just the fact that he let me fuss over him meant we were clear, but I had to check.

"Rocket, we're alone, right?"

"Lin-linoone," he chuffed out a nod.

"Smell any other humans except us?"

"Oone…"

"Alive?"

"Linoone," he whined, placing his paws over his snout.

'Well, fuck," Tom swore.

"They're gone then, huh?"

"Stop it," Jarvis said.

"Not a waste, Tom. This wasn't a waste. We're hurt, but the hospital's free pickings now."

"He's right. Least we can do is take the bodies back," I added.

"We can hope." Tom let out a sigh as Jarvis finished wrapping up his shoulder. He stood and did his best not to bring attention to it.

"Alright, let me radio the boys downstairs. Seeing how we did all the fighting, they can be the ones to carry the bodies."

"Amen to that." Author's Note Hysteria is a scary thing. It makes people do stupid shit, like punch the sole person with a pokemon in the room. The context is less important than that Rocket attacked a person. He went from "tame" to "dangerous." I legit forgot that Ranger Swanson's first name was Thomas. I spent half the chapter calling him Ron and had to go back and edit the names back. I've never seen a single episode of Parks & Rec. Pop culture is scary. I'm not happy with this fight scene.

I felt it was a bit too… flawed? I don't know how to describe it. It almost felt too easy. On one hand, sneasel should go down quickly if you can land your hits. On the other hand, I'm not sure I made it clear how threatening a party made of assassins could be (because that's basically what they are). Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites.

You can find them all on my Link Tree: https: //linktr. ee/fabled. webs.