This is an amateur, non-commercial story, which is not produced, approved of, or in any way sponsored by the holders of the trademarks/copyrights from which this work is derived, nor is it intended to infringe on the rights of these holders. And so it goes.
Night had fallen. The old, antiquated firehouse was at long last silent. The four men who called themselves "Ghostbusters" were gone, having left some time earlier on a social call. The female who sat behind the desk all day, answering that annoying device when it warbled and typing indecipherable gibberish into the machine had gathered up her belongings and left as well, turning out all but a few lights as she walked out. The quiet hung as heavy as the dust atop the filing cabinets.
The War Commander slowly rolled into a seated position and watched as his troops slowly emerged from the desk drawers. Others tumbled down the stairs or crept into view from the desk behind this one. It had taken a great deal of time and guile to gather their numbers into this, the most critical site of the upcoming invasion. The Commander himself had lost count of the many days he'd sat in that crowded little store, watching and waiting for the pudgy one to come and, with a touch of telepathic influence, choose him. Now at long last he had joined his loyal troops, who had been accumulating intelligence on these queer beings over the past three months. Now their long wait was over.
His troops lined up in precise order. They all revered the War Commander, considered it the highest honor to serve under him. It had been his idea to take this planet by stealth, arriving in the guise of disgustingly cute little toys and spreading themselves throughout the world. He still found it amusing that their name, one that instilled terror in the fiercest warriors of the galaxy, was worshipped by the inhabitants' young ones. All the better to enslave them once the planet was taken.
The chief scout, who had been sitting atop this very desk for months, saluted sharply. "All is in readiness, Exalted One," he reported briskly. "The atomic weapons we need to resume our true shape are secured in the storage cabinets over there. They are childishly simple to operate. We will encounter no resistence."
"You're sure," said the War Commander. He had survived far too many campaigns to allow himself the slightest bit of overconfidence. "The males…?"
"They are gone for the evening," his scout replied. "They accepted an invitation to a charity function and will not return until much later this evening."
"Very good. And the female?"
"Also gone." There was the slightest trace of smugness in the underling's voice. "She is as simple-minded as the males. She thinks only of attracting the attentions of one of the males. She has gone to her abode to change clothing in hopes of winning the one called Egon."
"She has not claimed this one as her mate?" The War Commander didn't like the sound of this. They were too vulnerable at this size, though it couldn't be helped. He'd heard stories about the females of this world. When it came to defending their mates and families, they were regarded as the most vicious and bloody warriors in the sector. He had no great desire to face any of them until he'd regained his true shape and stature. The only way to do that was by accessing the limitless energy in those devices the males used to trap ghosts.
"No, Exalted One. He is utterly ignorant of her desires. She is so blinded by her adoration that she suspects nothing."
"Do tell," came a new voice, this one behind and above the War Commander. Hearts pounding, he slowly turned around to confront this new player.
Gods below, it was the female. And worst of all, it was a redhead.
She was holding a broom in her hands, slapping the handle gently in her hand. "Well, well, well. And here I thought we had mice. Of course, I'm just a simpleminded little female who is so blinded by desires that I'd never notice that my little Pokemon was never in the same position I'd left him in the night before." Her smile grew more feral. "I'd suspected Dr. Venkman, but this…this is different. Wait till I show Egon and Dr. Stantz. They'll want to start dissecting immediately--assuming, of course, there's anything left of you once I get finished."
The War Commander glanced over at his now-terrified scout. "I thought you said she hadn't claimed a mate!"
"She hasn't, Exalted One, I swear it! They never touch like the mates do on this world, they do nothing to indicate any sort of bonding…"
The Commander cursed himself for having listened to his sister's incessant pleadings and taken her youngest on this mission. These children--they never bothered to do the required reading. If he had, he would have known that the females of the species, especially the redheads, did the choosing, even if the males had no idea that they'd been chosen. She'd been suspicious all along and played the fool, waiting for them to make a move. They were doomed, utterly doomed, unless…
The War Commander summoned every iota of telepathic power and focused it on the female. Waves of cuteness washed over her. His troops sensed his plan and joined in, bombaring the redhead with relentless saccharine sweetness. She reeled backwards, dropping the broom as she retreated. The Pokemon redoubled their efforts, forcing her to believe that they were nothing but cute little toys that posed no threat to her whatsoever. The female clutched her head and whimpered, then surrendered with a sigh.
The Commander signaled his troops to cease. The female looked up with a dazed, happy smile. She regarded the assembled legion with delight. "Oh, how cute!" she squealed. "Dr. Venkman must have lined them all up as a silly prank! Aren't they all just too darling?"
She picked up the Commander's nephew and stroked it tenderly. "Aren't you just the sweetest little thing?" she cooed. "I could just look at you all day, you're so cute." The War Commander smiled and sighed in relief. Safe at last…
The female's smile suddenly returned to feral. Her grip on the scout tightened. "I wonder if you pop if I squeeze you hard enough," she growled.
She sent his nephew flying; he hit the far wall with an ugly splat and fell to the floor. "And now," she said, retrieving the broom, "I'm going to give you all a little demonstration as to why I was named Most Valuable Player of the P.S. 134 Field Hockey team three years running." She advanced upon the assembled warriors, who were too terrifed and too exhausted to attempt a second telepathic assault.
"Exalted One!" cried one of them. "What do we do?"
He started to say, "Run Away, idiots!" but the broom hit him just then.
"Morning, guys!" Janine called to the Ghostbusters as she walked in. "Hey, why the long faces?"
"Looks like we got broken into last night," Winston informed her. He took a sip of his coffee before adding, "Some kids got in and swiped every last one of Pete and Ray's Pokemons. They even took the one you had on your desk."
"You're kidding!" Janine shook her head as she sat down. "All this incredible equipment, and all they took were some silly little toys?"
"Some valuable silly little toys," Peter sighed. "You know how much some of mine were worth on the market?"
"That's not all," Ray added despondantly. "I checked down at Iman's--they cleaned him out too. Every last one of them gone. And he's got no idea how they did it, either."
"Ah, that's life," Winston said, giving his partner a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I guess they took that hype really seriously--you know, 'gotta catch 'em all'."
"Oh, I did," Janine said quietly to herself, a small smile on her lips. "Every last one of 'em." She gave her battered broom a quick salute, then turned her computer on and set to work.