The Ratman Chronicles: First Blood

It’s official folks, there is no turning back now, we have drawn first blood. It’s been over a month since the boy and I had our first encounter with Ratman on that moon lit March night. Since then the trail has gone cold, we had all but given up hope of catching our eternal foe. That was until yesterday when we stumbled upon what looked like a deserted hobo camp sight.

I didn’t note anything of import as I kicked through the trash, muttering words of disgust. That’s when a peculiar bottle caught my eye. I picked it up for a closer inspection and felt my heart leap into my throat. I immediately signaled to the boy to be on guard. We stood back to back with weapons at the ready. James had no idea what was going on but could sense the danger in the air.

It was the empty bottle of Swiss-up that confirmed we were on Ratman’s turf. I don’t even think they make that swill anymore but apparentlyr Ratman must have brought along his secret stash. Fearing an ambush, I began searching the wood line for my quickest escape route, praying not to see the rat.

I was starting to feel confident that we were alone when suddenly I heard a familiar song. That high pitched, shrieking voice could only belong to one rat.

“What’s the word
Thunderbird
What’s the jive
Birds’ alive
How’s it sold
Good and cold
But what’s that price?
Thirty Twice.”

That’s when Ratman appeared from the shrubs directly in front of me, holding a half drunk bottle of T-Bird and a devilish grin. He broke the bottle against a tree and drew his arm back for a killing blow. I feared I was about to die face down in the trash of a disgusting hobo camp.

That’s when I felt something streak just over my right shoulder. One of Ratman’s eyeballs exploded, spraying jets of blood in all directions. He let out a shriek loud enough to crack windowpanes from 5 blocks away and deafen all the neighborhood dogs. Just a quickly as he appeared, he bolted into the woods and disappeared before I knew what had happened.

I turned to see James standing beside me, his Jake the Pirate cannon now empty of its homemade projectile. I tried to say something but he was already bending down to collect some blood samples.

We studied the blood samples all night, hoping to discover a weakness we could exploit. I will post any results after we finish our investigation.

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