The vehicle kicked up dust as it advanced down the dirt road. Dean watched the clouds as they billowed behind him. Small pebbles made muted thumps against the metal body of the automobile as it sped along towards Pallet Town. Thankfully Dean's driver wasn't much for small talk and Dean was able to mentally review his checklist for the upcoming operation.

Berries and Potions, check.

Antidotes, check.

Spare Pokeballs, check.

Notepad and pen, check.

Overnight bag, check.

Machoke's food, check.

Along with some miscellaneous odds and ends, Dean felt rather prepared to tackle whatever the forest would throw at him. As Pallet Town did not have a League presence, there would be no medical facilities beyond first aid kits and no PokeMart to resupply. What Dean brought with him was all he had to utilize so he had taken the time to over prepare. As such, accompanying his usual overnight carpetbag was a beat-up duffle filled to the brim with things that could be the difference between a thousand dollars and death.

"Mr. Rogers, I believe we'll be arriving at your destination shortly." came the gruff voice of the driver.

"Thanks. Will you be sticking around, or will I just see you tomorrow evening?"

"Got a friend in town, be bunkin' there."

"Very good. Thanks for the ride."

With that short exchange, the car came to a stop before a single floored home too small to be a mansion, yet too large to be a cottage. Dean could see an even larger barn a short distance away from the main home accompanied by two large grain silos. Golden fields spread out behind the buildings and made quite the pretty backdrop to the scene. Stepping out of the car, he breathed in the smell of the country air. A mixture of dirt, manure, oil, and honeysuckle filled his nostrils. Doctors back in the city would prescribe a visit to little farming towns like this to combat the depression and hopelessness that occasionally plagued folks living in the cramped, dirty corridors. Breathing in the clean air was said to freshen the lungs and invigorate the spirit.

Dean had to concede that the docs had a point; it was rather nice. Gathering his belongings, he lugged the bags onto the ground and raised a hand in greeting to the elderly gentleman that was exiting the home.

"Pokemon Trainer Dean Rogers, I presume?" Dean supposed that getting straight to business made sense.

"Yessir, that's me."

"Thank you for responding to our request. I trust you read through all of the details?"

"Sure did. Keep the collateral damage to a minimum, and if possible, away from the fields."

Dean's driver interrupted to inform him that he was taking his leave. Both men thanked the driver and resumed their conversation, waving their hands in a failed attempt to ward away the dust that ballooned around them.

"You'll be staying here during your visit. We have a guest room that is currently unoccupied."

"My thanks, Mister…"

"Oak. Roger Oak."

"My thanks, then, Mister Oak. Call me Dean."

"Dean then. Your meals will be prepared by our housekeeper, and I trust there won't be any, ah, issue with that?"

Dean chuckled. "Happily married, Mister Oak."

"Quite. While you are a welcome guest in my home, please do not engage in any behavior that would require…intervention as it were." The reply was dry and Dean licked his lips to distract himself from the feeling. "Sammy! Get out here and help the gentleman with his bags!"

Before Dean could protest, a young boy came trotting out the front doors to the house. Dean's eyes widened as he spotted what was obviously a rather large specimen of Nidoran, male by the coloration, following closely at the boy's heels. Dean took a closer look at the pair as they came to a stop by Mr. Oak.

Sammy was a strapping boy with sun-bleached brown hair with a build that suggested frequent farm labor. His arms were heavily tanned and the beginnings of corded muscle could be seen on the slight frame. He was dressed in denim coveralls stained with what was likely engine oil, but the white t-shirt underneath was pristine. Dean trailed his eyes up to the boy's face and stopped under the intense glare that greeted him there.

Dean forced himself to smile brightly, but within his head he cursed. Those eyes did not belong on such a young boy. There was no glint or humor to be found in those recesses. No. Those eyes were the same the Dean had seen on his fellow soldiers back when he was still in the service.

Haunted.

Angry.

Lost.

What the hell happened to make this boy have eyes like that?

Shifting his gaze downward to the Nidoran, Dean saw the telltale posture of a Pokemon who was prepared to defend his master to the death. Hackles were raised, teeth bared, and the spines upon the Nidoran's back shone with poison. Interestingly enough, however, the creature was not in front of the boy, but rather slightly behind him. Dean would have to investigate later.

Dean reached out a hand to the lad. "Hello there, son. Name's Dean Rogers. Just call me Dean."

"I'm not your son, Mister Rogers, sir."

Dean laughed all the while he gritted his teeth. "No, I suppose you ain't. Alright if I call you Sammy then?"

"If it please you, sir."

"Knock it off, Sammy." Roger Oak cuffed the boy lightly. "Be respectful of the Trainer."

"Yes sir. Sorry, Mr. Rogers." The response appeared apologetic enough, but Dean saw that the boy's stance never changed. His rigid shoulders and clenched jaw indicated that the boy was far from sorry. Dean took another mental note. Was the boy abused?

"Sorry about that, Dean. Sammy's my grandson and tends to get a bit nervous around strangers. We're a tight community here in Pallet Town and visitors are rather uncommon."

Dean side-eyed the boy again. Nervous didn't seem to be the right word. Aggressive was more appropriate.

"It's fine." Dean reached down to pick up his overnight bag, but stopped when he heard a growl emanate from the Nidoran. Dean straightened, took a pace back, then slowly reached down and made another attempt. No growl this time. He looked at the Pokemon. Interesting.

"Here, Sammy, you can take this one. Not sure if you could handle the duffle." Dean held out the carpetbag which was swiftly pulled from his grasp as the boy heaved on its handle and took off inside without so much as a goodbye, the Nidoran hot on his heels.

Dean watched the elder Oak frown and shake his head. Thankfully, Dean spotted a little smile on the old man's face. Hmmm… he thought. Probably not abuse then.

"Not sure what's gotten into the boy today." Roger Oak sighed. "He's not usually like this. Perhaps it's about the Pokemon…I did mention that I had hoped you could take it off our hands. Perhaps the boy is more attached to it than I thought."

Dean laughed as he pulled the heavy duffle bag onto his shoulders. "It's bonded to him. No way I could take it now without a fight. Besides, once you catch a Pokemon, it can only be traded or registered for controlled release nowadays."

"Oh. Should have mentioned that. Sammy didn't catch it. We don't have any of them newfangled balls around these parts."

Dean's head shot up. "What did you just say?"

"Sammy didn't catch it. Just started following him around after the incident with the Rattata."

Dean's mind began to whirl with the potential implications. Was it just looking for an easy meal? It was far too large to be a recent hatch so imprinting was out of the question. Dean had never heard of a Nidoran willingly following a human being without being caught. They were notoriously flighty and would often lash out when cornered. Wounds caused by their horns were no laughing matter as the poison was debilitating and would eat away at the surrounding flesh.

"Mister Oak, I'm going to need you to tell me everything that happened."

A Note from DJ Firefox:
UPDATED 5/16/23 - Dean now is more consistent with his character and the paragraph about Pokeballs has been completely overhauled.