((Me))

As head of the local militia, Sgt. Ash Chewston had seen it all: failed hostage negotiations, live WMD footage, protestors armed with sawed off shotguns; but nothing could compare to the revolting display before him.

"Fourth one this week" he sourly noted to the police captain, nose wrinkling in disgust as the smell of the scene assaulted his olfactory nerves like a chimpanzee wielding a lead pipe.

The lazily expanding pool of bubbling human blood slowly started covering what was left of the white tile floor. The charred remains of what was once a seven year old girl lay strewn against the wall of this once happy kitchen, arms protruding at unnatural angles. The shadows cast by the flickering florescent light danced to and fro revealing immolated flesh in one instant, then broiled skin the next. The little girl's skull had been cracked open, and both bone and neural tissue was missing from forehead to neck. What little of the morning sunlight that got through the kitchen blinds caused the wet portions to sparkle with an unholy radiance.

"What the hell could have caused... this" stammered a photographer nearby, clearly having quite a hard time keeping his breakfast in as he immortalized the grizzly corpse.

"Charmander, or one of its derivatives. I'd bet my badge on it!" spat the police captain.

The rest of the crime scene could only nod dismally in agreement as they went upon their appointed tasks. Many of them had already emptied their digestive tract at the sight and, for some, the scene was sinking deep into their nightmares for years to come.

Sgt. Chewston turned away, eyes downcast. "I'll handle the press this time" he muttered, grateful to have a reason to get the hell away. He left the house, a nice cottage looking residence located near the woodlands, and headed for the yellow police tape holding back the press and general populous. The dissonant chorus of pleading questions tripled in volume and intensity as he approached the crowd. He raised his hands, and waited for silence before continuing. Cameras were instantly drawn like moths to a flame.

"Good people," Ash stammered out, eyes filling with unbidden tears, "when will you ever learn? iYouri children are worshiping these genetic abominations! They were bred as a weapon against our great nation. And coupled with the ever popular craze, these things were unleashed against our unsuspecting children to cause rampant chaos and destruction!" The emotion choked his words and the tears overflowed down his face, collecting at his chin. Drip... drip... drip, went the salty liquid against his ruffled uniform. "For God's sake, the latest victim was a... a... seven year old girl!!!"

The sergeant collapsed, convulsing freely in his black hole of stress induced depression.

The morning chorus of jumbled sentences abruptly started once again, and two nearby police officers helped move the now child-like form of Sgt. Ash Chewston behind a squad car.

"There you have it, folks. Live from..."
"...that's the story from GRBK, your local source for..."
"Never has there been such an emotional outbreak among our..."

And, if you were of sound hearing during the twelve o'clock news on cable channel 5 as the sergeant was helped out of the public eye, you could barely make out his last words, screamed at the top of his emotion cracked voice.

"...hunt every last one of the goddamn monsters down..."