Matt hated the night shift at his office. Walking alone home in the cold and carrying a bulky flashlight was one thing. He could deal with the random weirdos who glared at him as he walked by, mostly.

As he stepped onto the sidewalk after his shift, there was nothing save for the sound of the wind. He checked his phone - it had just gone half past ten.

Taking one quick look around to check for Ghost-Types, he stepped out and began his walk home. His bag concealed a can of deodorant and a refillable lighter -an effective flamethrower when applied correctly.

Peeking around a corner, he saw a bunch of Gastly at the end of an alleyway. A quick duck back, and the can and metal lighter were in his hands.

It was all he could carry - fire-based weapons worked great against Ghost-Types, being the only way to consistently damage them. He considered. Firing a weapon would alert the Pokemon and attract unwanted attention. His flamethrower was only good for a couple minutes of use anyway.

No, better to leave them be. He edged past the alleyway's entrance and continued with his walk. Twenty minutes for the trip - twenty minutes too long, in his opinion. Rummaging in his pockets, he took out a heavy-duty flashlight made out of aluminum. The length and weight made it an excellent bashing implement.

Holding it at the ready, he walked on.


Trevor stared out the windows of the house through the closed curtains. A lone umbreon streaked past the back porch - the only sign it was there being its glowing rings.

He shook his head. Six months ago it would have been a stray cat. Now it was elemental creatures capable of performing near-magical feats.

Matt's gun was locked in the gun safe, Trevor checked his room; his own hunting slingshot laid on his desk. The box of hunting ammo was down to 50 pellets now; shooting practice and combat during the first months invariably used it up.

He put on his motorcycle jacket and armor on; just in case. The sensation of being watched came back again - no, it was impossible, the wild umbreon had left. Then again it must have been using the darkness to cloak itself.

He shook the thoughts from his head. Such thoughts were useless now - he had to think straight.


Matt sneaked past the gaggle of Gastly and looked around. Once he was sure he was out of vision range, he flicked on his flashlight, sweeping it over the general area. In a half-ruined building, a small horde of spinarak scuttled away as light fell on them.

Well, he wasn't ever going that way, not in a million years. There weren't enough aerosol cans in his bag to make his flamethrower slightly more sustainable, either. Going around was the only option, which would almost certainly lengthen his trip.

He shook his head, muttering as he flicked off the flashlight, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. Currently, he had the option of using the flamethrower - precluding him from being able to see clearly using a light source, or using the flashlight itself as both a light source and bludgeon. Switching between either would take too long.

Some time later - whether a few moments or half an hour later, he didn't know - he ducked into an alleyway to rest. Shuffling behind a dumpster caused him to draw his flamethrower.

An Espeon watched him cautiously. "Matt?"

He frowned. 'Er, what? How did you know my - never mind. Psychics."

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh… walking? Y'know. Nothing much to see here." Matt put away the flamethrower and flicked the light on. His flashlight shut off immediately after.

"Keep that light off; you'll draw attention." The Espeon frowned. "Alone? I can see you have no companions with you."

"This counts as one." Matt held up his flamethrower and flashlight. "I think I can make it home by myself."

"There are a lot of Ghost-Types out here. How'd you make it past?"

"Isn't it obvious? I just snuck by!" He stood up to leave. "Your name?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm Attis."

Matt frowned. That name rang a bell. "Wait. You're not the same Attis I met in the first few weeks of the Shift, are you?"

"Does it matter? I can help you find your way out if you want."

Matt shook his head. "I'll be fine." He got up and began to leave.


Trevor peeked through the closed curtains. No Umbreon in the backyard, or Ghost-Types lurking around. That was good.

Looking at the coffee table, he saw his phone ring. He accepted the call. "Yes? Trevor here."

"Hey, man. There's a lot of Ghost-Types out here. I'll be late home."

Trevor frowned. "You'd better be careful. Do you have any weapons?"

On the other end of the line, Matt rummaged in his pockets. "One heavy-duty metal flashlight and a can of deodorant. There's also a metal lighter from my Dad."

Trevor nodded. "Stay safe out there Matt." The call ended, and he wondered when Matt would come back.


The next few alleyways Matt sprinted down led to dead-ends - or, rather, dead ends for most. He jumped the fences and kept moving, pulling out his flashlight each main road was too open for extended travel, in case any potentially hostile Pokemon noticed him. Matt put away his flashlight and peeked out. Beyond the alleyway was the main road. If he ran straight down it would take about seven minutes - probably fifteen at walking pace. The streetlights were on, too, allowing him to see where everything was. No Pokemon around - that was good.

One last glance, and he took off.


The knocking at the door shook Trevor out of his thoughts. He opened it to find Matt standing there, roughed-up and exhausted.

"Man, what the hell happened to you?

"Had to run through Pokemon territory to get home. Damn Ghost-types…"

Trevor smiled. "At least you're safe." He led Matt inside and handed him a glass of water. "You didn't bring any weapons did you?" He checked Matt for wounds. "Bandages and first-aid supplies are in the bathroom."

"No," Matt replied. "Why would I? I can't bring my gun with me everywhere! Besides, Ghost-Types are immune to bullets." Before long, he was bandaging himself up. "It's crazy that I have to worry about this now."

"Matt. We've come this far. Six months… we know how to take care of ourselves just fine." He smiled and left.


Matt groaned and opened one eye. Trevor was shaking him awake. "Guh, man! What's-"

"I'm going to work now, Matt. Take care of yourself, OK?"

Matt groaned as Trevor left. He looked around before going through his usual morning routine. He had the day off, so relaxing was an option after the stressful experience that was last night. If he didn't know any better he'd describe it as a day like any other.

Sunlight streaming through the windows, the noises as he cracked an egg into the frying pan… He sighed and sprinkled some salt on top.

Harsh cawing, close enough to be from an Earthly animal to ears not used to Pokemon - caught his attention. The neighbors seemed to be having a Spearow problem.

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. Trevor's slingshot, or his shotgun, would be good for taking on oversized magical birds. Unfortunately, the noise would attract a lot more Pokemon and he'd likely find himself in trouble.

Yeah. Better not to think about that. He went and closed the window, trying his hardest to listen for anything Earthly while eating. There wasn't much, he found out.

He wondered about Trevor. Out of his element, treating creatures he'd never known to be anything but fictional. His friend was resourceful as hell. But then again, anyone who survived the Shift would be. It came with the territory of surviving a massive disaster after all.

He washed his dishes and put them away after he was done, collapsing onto the couch with exhaustion.


Trevor gingerly opened the puppy's mouth to check its surgical scars. They'd healed almost completely, and he smiled as he handed it back to the woman - the same woman he'd met a few weeks ago. Her name was Jess Altrina - though he'd never really had reason to check patient records and owner names, until now. Most were concerned owners trying to keep their pets safe.

What counted as 'safe' these days was a little bit different. Keeping one's pets safe from magical monsters was theoretically possible by never letting it out. Still, it was unhealthy for the animal in question, leading several pet owners to arm themselves when walking outside for fear of attack.

He kept on doing the routine check-ups, finding no signs of abnormalities. "Ms. Altrina?" he asked.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Your dog's fine. Keep him away from magical monsters from now on, OK?"

"I tried! Ugh, that's easier said than done in this day and age." She brightened. "Say, why don't we meet for coffee this Friday, 3pm?"

"I wouldn't mind some coffee, myself," he blurted.

Before he could open his mouth, Jess smiled. "Well, fine. I'll be seeing you then." She took her dog and left. From where he stood in the consulting room, he could hear Jess shouting: 'Can someone move that dragon out of the way? Christ..."


Trevor gave himself a quick check in the clinic's bathroom mirror. His hair was slightly unkempt - luckily, unnoticeable until one looked closely - and it was a while since he last slept well. "Hey," Trevor said, straightening his lab coat as he stepped out. He was greeted with the sight of numerous pet owners attempting to edge away from a Flygon - whether it was the same one he met before, he couldn't tell. A few other pet owners eyed it suspiciously as they clutched their pets tightly to their bodies. "So what brings you here today- oh..."

Ragged holes had been punched in the Flygon's wings. "Fuckers shot at me as I tried to fly away." it replied. "Incinerated one of them; taught their so-called 'friends' a lesson alright. Almost had a bad landing..."

Trevor's eyes bore bags underneath them, and he blinked a few times. "Uh... right... Hang on, are you that same talking Flygon I met before?" He noticed the other pet owners looking shocked. They'd likely never have seen a talking Pokemon before.

Leading it away from the shocked pet owners, they began to talk more freely. Trevor ushered them both into a consulting room and shut the door.

"Well, I recognize you; you smell stressed. We met for ten seconds, if that, during the Shift. I'm sure you don't remember me... and well I don't remember your face either, no offense. But I do remember that I met you, and what you smell like." It shook its head. "My name is Liam. You are Trevor, am I right?"

Trevor gave a nod in response, straightening his uniform.

Back in the First Days, his attire once consisted of a suit of motorcycle armor, severely damaged from alterations with Pokemon. Liam's eyes were drawn to the bow hanging on the wall.

"It's something I put together myself, for self-defense. Not that I'd really tell my clients that." Trevor replied. He noted that Liam's voice had a definite masculine edge to it. "My clients have been through enough already. Their pets are practically their only connection to the world before Pokemon came." He placed medical gauze over the holes in Liam's wings.

"They keep acting scared!" Liam replied with a huff. "Most Pokemon around here, including me, have already got an idea that your animals, especially ones your world keep as pets and companions are not to be eaten!" He eyed the bow on the wall. "It seems like every other human here carries a knife, a bow or a gun of some sort."

"Of course. They work well against Pokemon." Trevor looked at the holes in Liam's wings. "I think you're free to go. I'd recommend you rest your wings while they heal–"

"Yeah, of course." You're going to say, 'Don't fly too much'. I guess another tip should be added onto it; 'Stay the fuck away from the Children of Earth.'"

"How'd you know about them?"

"I overheard some humans talking about them. Ugh, I swear - humans are sometimes the dumbest beings you'll ever meet..."

"I am a human myself, and I think my job as a medical worker is a counterpoint."

"Whatever. Y'know, when we first met, you wore a suit of leather armor. You smelled of blood back then, it was easy for me to imagine the myriad injuries that lay beneath it." Liam turned and walked away.

The next patient was brought in, and Trevor resumed his work, trying to put the conversation out of his mind.