Tate [WWC]

A short, hastily-written oneshot about a retired Ratatta cop who "ain't like that no more."

Kind of a shoddy job and dodges the hard part, but hey, I never write fics. So as long as I suddenly wrote one in a day, I might as well throw it in the contest, eh?

Going for Rattata, a Simple (5k-10k) Pokemon.

Story is around 6.7k characters not including spaces, and closer to 8.3k with spaces. Not sure how y'all count 'em, here.

 

Um, where is it? I'll grade it happily, but I don't see the actual story.

And yes, we count the spaces.

 

　　I'm a butcher. Sure, you might be thinking a Rattata's an odd choice to work in food, but nobody cuts the salamis like I do-- Hyper Fang! Heh. Maybe a Scyther or something, but they're all off chopping up steel pipes, you know? The Big Leagues. Guys like me, we're a dime a dozen. So, I'm a butcher. That's all the backstory you need to know.

　　So the bell on my door tinkles, and in walks a Pidgey. He's not short, he's not tall, but he wears a cheap grey suit and has his headfeathers slicked back with oil. My old partner-- the bad cop to my good cop. Turned out we were both bad cops. But that's all behind me now. I'm a butcher.

　　"What can I do for ya, Piy?" I said apprehensively.

　　"Come on, can't a fella buy some meat?"

　　"Bird, I know you! You never come around here unless you're lookin' fer somethin'."
　　"Yeah, yeah, I'm lookin' for somethin'... how about some smoked ham? Sliced real thin though-- I'm on a diet, ya know."

　　I rolled my eyes and pull out his choice on the white paper. I used Cut-- I learned it for this job, after all, and I really only use that Hyper Fang move to show off to the kids.

　　"Well, to be honest..." Piy put his wings in the pockets of his suitcoat and looked over his shoulder, like he was afraid somebody's gonna hear him. Nah, not on this street, fella! It's sort of a slum, but not real busy this time of day. Real nice folks, too.

　　"I'm looking for some information."

　　I nodded, and kept Cutting the ham.

　　"Del Royo brothers. You heard of 'em? Rick and Ray, couple of nasty characters-- hitmen. Venusaur. Well look, the other day someone finds Ray in a dumpster and Rick's nowhere to be found."

　　"And? What're ya askin' me for? You think I'd be helpin' a guy like that?"

　　"I just thought you might have heard somethin', Atta."

　　They used to call me Atta-Boy back at the station. You might think it's obvious, 'cause I'm a Rattata, but really, I earned the nickname 'cause that's what I used to say to cooperative suspects. It's also what the Chief said to me, when I closed a case. The old nickname brought back memories that stung like a Weedle's horn. I looked down at my work and blinked tears away from my watering eyes.

　　"I haven't heard anything, Piy. If my boys turn somethin' up, I'll let ya know, alright?" I called all the regulars in my shop "my boys." None of 'em seem to mind-- most of 'em were young enough to be my kids, anyway.

　　"Alright, alright. That's all I'm askin'. Thanks, Atta." I looked up again at the tinkle of the door as the Pidgey walked out into the street.

　　"Hey! You forgot yer order! Damn it!" I cursed under my breath. I slice every thing fresh for my customers, so unless somebody came by asking for this in the next couple of hours--

　　I saw my ex-partner grabbed from the street and dragged out of sight.

　　"Piy?!" I rushed out from behind the counter and frankly burst out the door. Piy was propped up against the wall, his cigarette rolling on the asphalt, still lit. There were rope marks cut into his feathers and a couple of bullet holes in his chest. He groaned... KO'd. "Jesus Christ, Piy!" A shadow was high-tailing it down the street, a dusky silouette sporting two trailing tendrils. It managed to get around the corner before I even took up the chase.

　　Now, my body ain't what it used to be and I've really let myself get out of shape-- I mean, I serve food with my mouth, so what do you expect? But I'm nothin' if I'm not fast. I scurried myself right after that bastard. Nobody knocks out my partner and gets away with it! He might have had a head start on me, but this is MY turf, and I know it like I know my own tail. The fool only led me through a couple of blocks of twists, trying to lose me in the dimming, hazy evening, before he trapped himself in a dead-end alleyway.

　　When I cornered the culprit, I finally got close enough to see him clearly in the low light. It was a Venusaur-- I had suspected as much. He had a wide, lippy mouth, like an ugly, warty Croagunk. He had hard, knotty growths on his vines, and his flower had a grey tinge like cigar ash. No doubt, this was Rick Del Royo. His voice was husky and masculine, and he turned to me, hissing,

　　"What do you get from chasin' me, codger? Nothin'! Nothin' but a couple-a holes."

　　"You damn, damn punk," I panted back at him. "You've gotta pay-- for what you did-- did to Piy!"

　　"You old idiot! Whadda ya think, I'm just gonna turn myself in? Ain't like you're gonna stop me, buddy."

　　My claws flashed quick-like with a metalic sheen, as the old Venusaur approached me. "Come on. Look at you. You're tiny! Just a tiny little rat--"

　　Flash, flash! Two cuts opened up on Del Royo's nasty cheeks, right where my Quick Attack had laid 'em. "Don't call me rat," I breathed.

　　He growled at me. His vines rose into the air, waving like a couple of dancing Arboks, "I don't like being interuppted." The vines shot forward, whipped around my legs, and lifted me off the ground in a fell swoop. I got dragged to the criminal. I got to smell his sick breath on my face.

　　"Now, now, this is just what I meant!" he croaked. There was a churring in his flower and tiny seeds drifted out on some unseen wind. He tilted his head, checking me over, "You're not even half my size, my little friend. Why would you go to the effort of running after me, when you know that I would just have to KO you after?" I felt the seeds catch on my back and neck, felt them take root and quickly sprout. Tiny pinpricks hit me when the split the skin and sucked blood. Del Royo clicked his tongue, suddenly starting to look better for wear. "Tut tut, my little codger. Tut tut!"

　　I'd had about enough. I may be retired, but, hey, you never forget your first time. I might have got some of my legs tangled up, sure, but this dummy had left my head unrestrained, and then walked right up in front of me. I bit him. Hard. Soon as he turned his head, I got him with a Super Fang-- ripped his ear clean off his skull. The big goon howled in pain, and I took my chance to Bite my way free of his vines.

　　Del Royo was starting to get a hold of himself-- he was tough, I had to give him that. But I wouldn't give him the upper hand again. Soon as my paws hit the ground, I spun in place and lunged in to Tackle him.

--

　　The lobby of the PokeCenter was comfy, real welcoming-like. It had warm lighting, not like those bright, sterile lights in the rest of the place. My wife's an interior decorator for those fatcats uptown, and she's told me all about it. I tell ya, she can go on and on about the lighting in a place.

　　I sat on the edge of one of those nice armchairs, rolling a cup of coffee between my wings. A cute little nurse had patched me up real nice earlier, but there was still some forms I had to fill out before I could leave. The doors to the lobby whooshed open, and I looked up to my old buddy Tate hobble himself in and check minself in with the Chansey at the desk. He looked awful. His ankles were rubbed raw with deep cuts, like he'd been tied up, and his back was covered in an angry rash. I knew he must have tracked down that Del Royo brother and gotten into a tussle. The fact that he had limped in here himself meant that either his opponent had managed give him the slip, or...

　　I drained the styrofoam cup into my beak and tossed it in the corner. "Hey, Atta! Atta, what happened to ya?" I called out to him, as nurses bustled around to try to get him a gurney.

　　"I chased down the guy that knocked you cold," he huffed. "How'd you get here?"
I waved my wing dismissively, "Ah, some kid found me and I guess they dragged me here. Listen, tell me what happened between you and that overgrown daffodil."

　　"Not much to tell, Piy. I--" I saw the sadness wellin' up in his eyes. "I left him in the alley. It was bad, Piy, real bad."

　　"Shh, hey, Atta, hey! Sometimes ya just gotta do what ya gotta do,"

　　The nurses brought out the gurney for Tate and helped lay him down. He just looked away from me, starin' up at the ceiling-- I could tell he was thinkin' about the old days.

　　"Listen, Tate... Accidents happen. Nobody blames you! Ya never meant to hurt that kid."

　　"Yeah, well. I swore I'd never KO again. That it was my first and last time."

　　"That your fightin' days was over."

　　"That's right," the Rattata muttered shakily, as nurses wheeled him away through the double doors. "And now, they are."

 

Closed for formatting!
Give me a sec, ok? Wanna make it easy as possible on you.

[EDIT]

Eh, turns out I didn't need to do as much shoring up as I thought. Well-- not formatting-wise, at least.

OPEN, FOR CURA-- Er, I mean, GRADING!!

[EDIT] ...again...

When I hopped in to read Clash King Dan's story, I immediately saw that he had indentations. While a good ol' TAB won't normally do it here on a webpage, I instantly knew I wanted to steal his indentations. So... now I've done that. Credit where credit is due.

tl;dr
Story updated, now with double spacing and indentation.

 

Ok, reserved for grading

 

Graded, deleted, and sent to author because WWC yay

 

Thanks, thanks, thanks, to one Ma'am Marius! Claiming Ratat.