Chapter 1
Living legends: volume (Mew)Two
Cinnabar was a lonely place, all on its own out on an island in the middle of the ocean. Only approachable by boat or pokemon that could 'surf', made it rather remote, unreachable.
It was the perfect spot for a research facility, Peter mused, as he carefully, quietly unlocked the door, sliding it open, sending a swirl of displaced dust cascading through the air.
Darkness greeted him, and he drew out his little flashlight, carefully sliding inside and closing the door before flicking it onto its lowest setting, roving the beam back and forth, sending shadows dancing crazily along the walls.
It was midnight, the perfect time for creeping, and he had stolen the key from the Gym next door.
But he was no thief. The only thing he was after here today, was information.
News.
His big break.
He wasn't a thief, he was a journalist, an investigative journalist, working out of Cerulean town.
He had been the one who'd investigated the situation that had occurred in the cave to the north-west of Cerulean.
For some odd reason, powerful pokemon had started flocking to the cave there, making it almost inaccessible.
Covered in pokemon repellents, and escorted by Misty herself, he had still only made a little ways into the cave. But he had found something in there.
A tag.
It was an electronic tag, the kind used to keep track of wild pokemon without disturbing them overly much. And, once he'd managed to rig a connector up and interface it with his computer, and crack the years-old encryption, he found out where the source of the tracking station was. Cinnabar.
And so, he had gotten on a boat, gone to Cinnabar, and the rest, was, as they say, history.
Stealing the key was a rash decision, but he could practically taste the big story hiding somewhere under all of this.
The first place he found himself in, was the foyer. Old, plush waiting couches stood to the side, moth-eaten and broken, while a reception table sat abandoned, leaflets for various scientific procedures littering the ground.
Peter ignored the foyer completely, and crept his way into the next room over, a conference hall, by the looks of it, complete with self-important round table, discarded glass's, and pitchers containing long evaporated liquids. The main board was empty, wiped clean, useless.
The next room was much the same, except with papers laid out on the table still, yellowed with age.
Peter skipped this room as well. Next up, was the stairwell, leading down deeper, which he carefully descended, coming out into the actual facility proper.
Down here, it got a lot more utilitarian, the plush, felt corridor carpet giving way to spartan white flooring and fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling.
The rooms here were obviously laboratories, with solid-steel cabinets, giant glass windows for easy viewing and inspection, heavy doors with rotating-wheel locks, air-tight containment. The entire place looked almost...fortified. As though they were keeping dangerous pokemon inside somewhere.
He made his way deeper, ignoring room after room of pointless empty laboratories, some completely empty, others filled with scattered papers and empty vials and beakers of long-dissipated liquids.
But then, it all just came to an end. No warning, just an old break room, a coffee percolator sitting on a long bench, some old Styrofoam cups rolling about.
Peter frowned, brows furrowing for a moment, thinking to himself. Why have a rec room at the very end of the deepest part of the facility?
Surely it was a fire hazard?
But then, he pondered that for a moment. Fire hazard...
He turned on his heel, and headed for the main administration area, which he had passed not too long before, sitting down in the swinging chair there, frowning and starting to shift through the boxes under the counter and inside the cabinets. Eventually, he came to what he was looking for. Fire escape plans, for the entire set of floors.
Snuffing a laugh, he slapped his finger triumphantly down on a portion of one of the maps that he couldn't get to...leading off from the rec room.
"Government bureaucracy wins again." he said with a smirk, and then paused for a moment, shining his light about carefully.
His voice sounded unnaturally loud down here, in the darkness, by himself.
With a faint frown, he held the piece of laminated paper in hand, and headed back to the rec room, laying it on a counter and looking around. According to the fire plan, the entrance to the hidden part of the facility was somewhere in this room. Now, if he were trying to hide something...?
He started to go through the cupboards, tapping the walls, moving chairs and tables around for nearly half an hour, trying to figure out how to enter the secret area. In frustration, he tried to sweep the coffee percolator aside, only to find it solid, immovable.
Why didn't it move?
Curiously, he peered at it. It was empty, any water inside it long-since gone, the actual jug for the water to siphon into sitting on the bench besides it.
With a thoughtful expression, he flicked the 'on' switch. It didn't work. Hardly surprising, he had seen no evidence that the facility still had power.
Idly, he flicked on the overhead light, and then winced and closed his eyes as blinding brilliance struck him.
Quickly flicking it off, he pondered. Still had power...must still be connected to the power grid, never turned off. And the coffee maker didn't turn on...
He regarded it for a long moment, and then pressed down on the hot plate that kept the coffee jug warm, and smiled in triumph as he heard machinery moving somewhere behind him. He took his hand away.
Instantly, whatever small gap there was, closed, and the door disappeared.
Peter frowned faintly, and then picked up the coffee jug, placing it on the hot plate, and filling it with water from his canteen.
The weight kept the pressure-plate down, and the door slowly slid open, from the very wall itself, revealing a staircase.
Peter climbed down the staircase eagerly, licking his lips almost hungrily. This was definitely his big break.
Climbing downwards slowly, he swung the beam of his light back and forth. It was quiet down here, eerily, creepily quiet. The air was stale, and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere, perfectly sealed and contained.
This must have been where the real research occurred, away from prying eyes. The entire two floors above were just for show, he guessed.
The entire floor had been abandoned at once, from the looks of it. Several workstations in the first room he entered were still 'active'. That is to say, everything was turned off, but they looked like they had only just been abandoned. There were cups and cans of drink still next to the dormant computers, half-eaten bags of chips, long-stale and inedible, reference papers and post-its pinned to the monitors, memento's of normal life, like pictures, toys, and diaries left abandoned at the stations.
Some of the chairs were scattered across the floor, left there in the haste of exiting, andd standby lights flicked on a row of super-computers along one of the walls.
Peter 'hmm'ed thoughtfully, and made his way over to one of the computers, picking the chair up and sitting down in it, tapping a key on the old computer.
Instantly, it hummed to life, as though waiting for him to come along. It didn't even go to password protection, just right to desktop.
Frowning a little, he leaned in and peered at the icons. There was all of the usual subjects, computer exploration, file systems manager, a Graphical User Interface for lab work, and a security system checklist.
Pondering, he opened up the toolbar, and clicked open the 'recent documents' menu.
Filenames flashed at him.
CorrelativeCellUpdating.doc
CellularRegenerativeSymbiosis.doc
Autoexec.exe
Those were among the many names that he saw, but one caught his interest:
Goals.doc
Double-clicking it, it opened in a proprietary text editor, turning out to be, from what he could tell, some kind of draft to the higher-ups.
The goal of our operation is quite simple in its aim. A two-pronged scientific study aimed at genetically cloning, and improving upon the progenitor of all pokemon species: Mew.
Once cloned, and genetically altered, Mewtwo will, we are all hoping, prove to the be the most powerful pokemon in all existence. It's capabilities to show us the inner workings of telekinesis and, we're hoping, the healing process, will allow us to create medicinal techniques heretofore unheard--
Peter didn't read any further than that, closing the document and leaning back in the chair, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin.
So...they'd been trying to clone mew. More than that, they were trying to improve the genetic template of Mew. To make it more powerful.
Peter was no religious man, but something about it just...didn't strike him as right. They were playing with powers only, well, god should mess with. Or the construct known as god. Because it was the only thing, hypothetically, that could mess with that kind of power without screwing up epically.
He frowned faintly, pulled out his notepad, and scribbled some notes. Even this was more than enough for a story. They'd been cloning mew. And then the entire facility had been abandoned.
Abandoned.
Peter frowned, and brought up the security schematics, and the fire plan, as he had done before, furrowing his brows as he searched through the room names. He found what he was looking for, the security office.
He stood up, and stalked out of the room, leaving the computer running, heading for the next junction, turning left, and entering the security office.
Banks of monitor's stood along the walls, standby lights on, ready to resume their duties, probably not active until their corresponding security camera's had been switched on. There had to be at least sixty monitors. This place was very security-conscious.
He slid himself in front of the main computer, and clicked a key. Surprisingly, it didn't come on with a security prompt. How very odd. He guessed they figured anyone who knew how to get down here already had clearance enough to mess with the security system.
He tabbed open a few pages, looking for incident reports. He came across automated reports a few tabs in.
The latest entries were enlightening.
Alert: Security protocol #7A32 in effect
Alert: Lockdown Initiated
Alert: Lockdown order rescinded
Pete gave a thoughtful 'hmm', and looked for any messages in the email section that were dated on the same day.
He found two.
One was a progress report, but the other lent clues:
Lab B has been destroyed. Test subject .2 has broken free. Wide-scale evacuation of all facilities ordered. Immediate lockdown required.
So...something had happened at Lab B, and one of the test subjects had broken free, and destroyed the lab, and they'd evacuated this one as a precaution. And never re-opened it.
He frowned faintly, and clicked through some more tabs, looking for clues. A power schematic came up.
Rooms were 'graded' on the amount of power they were consuming. Most of them were a pale blue, standby power only. The lab with the computer he'd left on was a little brighter blue than the rest. But there was one room, in the far corner, which was glowing angry red. A...generator, perhaps?
With a thoughtful harrumph, he memorized the turns he'd need to take to get there, and then set off.
The door leading to the room using all the energy was an old style rotating-lock air-tight affair, with a giant, silver wheel that had to be spun before the door could be opened.
Jason put his shoulders into it, feeling it protest as he turned it, old machinery clunking and making a terrible racket before a faint whump echoed, and the air equalised, granting him access.
The room was filled, end to end, with odd vessels. There were at least twice his height, with a curved, transparent sheet of glass at the front, revealing their contents. Which was absolutely nothing, from what he could see.
Eighteen of them stood in a row, at least three deep, each with a faint glowing purple light emanating from within them, all of them empty, as far as he could tell.
Thick bundles of cords snaked over to a console and to a large tank, which, judging by the dwindling amount of liquid shown in the measuring-glass, would soon run out and shut down.
He frowned slightly and moved over to the console, clicking a key, making it flicker on, bringing up a screen showing safety protocols and current actions.
It said one of the tanks was active.
Peter's brow furrowed as he leaned sideways and peered down a row of tanks, and then moved forwards and started to look at them closer. In the very end tank, right at the back, in one of the corners, was a tank, with something in it.
Moving forwards, he rubbed the edge of the glass with his sleeve, clearing away some of the frost that had accumulated.
She looked serene, frozen there in time. That was his first thought.
She was an odd white colour, with angular, feminine features, strange, ear-like things protruding from her skull, thick, powerful shoulders and forearms, and, looking lower, lithe, muscular legs, and larger-than-average hips, mainly supporting the bulk of a thick purple tail, which ended in a thick bulb. She looked to be asleep, features relaxed, carefree.
So this was Mew's clone. From what he could tell...it looked nothing like the Mew of old. Mew was pink, and, depicted as much smaller, and a fair bit cuter. This thing was beautiful, rather attractive in form, but certainly not 'cute'.
There was a clipboard attached to the side of the cryo-chamber, with notes on it.
Subject 1.1 shown to exhibit lack of aggression and defiance to efforts to tame. Perhaps induction of estrogen to make subject more malleable wrong direction. Testosterone decided for new tests. Subject 1.1 slated for liquidation.
Subject 1.1 shown to exhibit strong violent tendencies and lack of patience roughly once every month. Solitary confinement suggested for these periods of time.
Peter frowned at that, and then shook his head slowly. Those scientists really had no idea how things were meant to go...
He slid out his his camera, and took a quick picture of the note board. These things needed to be captured and shown to the world. He took a far-back shot of the cryo-chamber, and then stepped in for a close-up of the clone Mew's face. Already, he was starting to refer to her in his head as Mewtwo.
Leaning in close, he made sure he could get the best picture of her face possible, and then snapped the picture.
Flash!
The flash on the camera flared, blinding him for an instant, transposing the image of her face over his retina's for a moment, before the flash-blinding faded, and he could see her face again.
Her eyes were open!
Peter went flailing backwards, dropping the camera and landing hard on his ass, scooting, backpedalling away from the cryo tank until his back hit another of them, staring up at the Mewtwo for a long moment, while it stared coldly back...
And then, those eyes seemed to draw him in, locking him in place, immobile, a mind-melting warmth flooding his senses, and an odd, firm voice seemed to give him orders...he felt himself moving, and next thing he knew, he was collapsing, sucking in a hard breath and snapping his eyes open to stare at the ceiling.
What the hell happened?
A head slowly came into his view, and a pair of liquid-black eyes peered down at him curiously, along with a white snout, and oddly-shaped ear-like protrusions. Mewtwo was out!
Peter froze in fear, swallowing audibly as the creature started to lean in closer, eyes flicking as she raised a paw, and summoned his dropped light to her with a single curled finger, catching it deftly, and then shining it right in his eye.
He made a sound and tried to shrink away from the blinding flare, but the Mewtwo merely lifted a surprisingly powerful forepaw and wrapped it around his head, holding him firmly in place, peering directly down into his eye, watching the pupil contract.
"...Beautiful..." she breathed, leaning in even further, until their noses almost touched, Peter now trying hard to get away from her, squirming madly, even contemplating kicking her.
"Let go of me!" he cried out in desperation, and surprisingly, felt the grip lessen enough for him to wrench himself away and climb to his feet, bounding backwards until his back hit the wall.
"As you wish, master." she spat the last word like an insult.
"W-what?" he asked, stunned into confusion. "M-master?"
"You set me loose, I assume that means you claim ownership over me." she said flatly, narrowing those liquid-black eyes at him, her tailtip giving a fint swirl back and forth.
"Uhm...y-yeah, I do!" he said with a firm nod, looking her up and down, slowly climbing to his feet.
Surprisingly, she was almost his size, just a little bit shorter...but there was no doubt she was stronger than him, and with her psychic powers, much more dangerous.
"I guess...asking you to get back in the tank would be a bad idea?" he asked, stooping and picking up his flashlight, holding it in front of him as though it might somehow protect him.
"That would make you a bad master, and an enemy. I haven't decided what I do to enemies yet." she said delicately.
Peter swallowed hard. "W-well...I guess...we get you out of here..." he said with a faint gulp, turning about and peering nervously around.
"Out?" she asked, canting her head to the side, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing at him slowly.
"...Outside? You know, opposite of 'in'?" he asked, frowning back at her a moment and starting for the door, feeling his hands shake a little bit...not quite comfortable with turning his back on her.
There was a faint sound behind him, and then her voice was whispering in his ear, "...So I make you uncomfortable?" she asked with a distinct laugh, making him yelp and leap away from her, thudding into the door and then turning to slam his back against it.
"For fucks sake don't do that!" he rebuked, brows furrowed deeply, torch held just above waist height, as though to strike her with it.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'." she said with a smug look, tailtip swirling lightly behind her. "Lead on, Master."
Again, 'master' had a strained emphasis on it, a negative emphasis.
Peter huffed faintly and then slid out of the door, trying not to show any fear to the odd creature behind him. He couldn't do anything. If he told it...her, that he wasn't her master, then she would be free to do to him whatever she wanted. And she didn't seem to have much in the way of morality or common sense in the way most people did...she was a creature raised in a test tube. No one had taught her morals, decency, or respect.
And she thought he was her master?!
He closed his eyes a moment in disgust. Why didn't he think to bring a pokeball? At least then he would have had some kind of control over her...As it was now, his most effective action would be harsh language.
And he couldn't just run away from her, couldn't abandon her here all alone, with no one to teach her the things she'd need to survive...
Either way, this wasn't looking good for him.
"You're scared of me, aren't you?" the Mewtwo asked curiously of him, calmly striding along behind him.
"N-no." he protested with a faint shiver, trying as hard as he could not to turn his head to peer back at her. Not knowing exactly where she was, was...slightly unnerving.
"I can sense your fear. I can smell it." she replied matter-of-factly, "So is denying what we both know to be true really prudent, master?"
Peter opened his mouth to reply, and then harrumphed faintly, changing the subject, "Stop calling me master...it makes me feel--"
"--Weird?" she finished the sentence for him.
"Not helping." he stated flatly, with a firm shake of his head.
"What would you have me call you, master?" she asked with narrowed eyes.
"Peter, please." he replied as calmly as he could, a little bit jerky and on edge.
"Would you prefer if I walked in front of you?" she asked, tone calm.
"Please!" he replied, without thinking, and the Mewtwo smirked faintly as she stepped past him and started to lead the way through the hallways.
"...How do you know where to go?" he asked wonderingly as she unerringly started to take the right turns towards the entrance.
"This isn't my first time outside of that room." she replied flatly, peering at him over a shoulder for a moment, and then smirking. "And telling you that I'm ripping the knowledge from your mind would unnerve you, I'm thinking."
"Not. Helping." he repeated in a strained sort of way.
The Mewtwo just laughed faintly and started to ascend the stairs upwards.
The entry door seemed to be closed, possibly on an automatic timer to ensure that the door wasn't left open by accident.
Peter cursed faintly. "I don't know how to open it from this side." he admitted, pausing a few stairs below the mewtwo.
"A pressure switch, hmmm..." she said, eyes seeming to sparkle in the darkness back at him. He didn't even bother asking how she knew what it was.
she lifted a three-fingered paw, and closed her eyes, standing side-on to the door, brow furrowing.
There was a loud whump! of displaced air, and then the sound of shattering glass, before the door slowly started to open.
Shards of glass stuck out of some of the walls, twinkling in the meagre light.
"I missed the first time." she said with a faint shrug, straightening up and walking through the doorway, leaving a faintly shivering Peter to walk along behind her.
"Where...." he started, and then trailed off, too hesitant to ask.
"Am I going to stay?" she asked calmly. "I was rather thinking at your place." she stated calmly, peering back at him, pausing in her walking, smirking faintly at the shudder Peter involuntarily gave. "As long as it's okay with you..."
"W-well, I was thin-" she cut him off,
"I mean...it's either that, or be cast out into the wide, wide world all on my own with no survival skills, to be captured by scientists and experimented horribly on..." she said sweetly.
Peter ground his teeth. "Fine. You can stay at my place. But no...--"
"Funny business?" she finished for him sweetly.
"You know what I mean." he said flatly.
"I assure you," she said, starting to walk again, "If I happen to do anything you might call 'funny business', I will wait until you are not looking." she replied calmly, smiling innocently.
Peter just groaned faintly and shook his head. This...was not going to end well.
Cinnabar was a lonely place, all on its own out on an island in the middle of the ocean. Only approachable by boat or pokemon that could 'surf', made it rather remote, unreachable.
It was the perfect spot for a research facility, Peter mused, as he carefully, quietly unlocked the door, sliding it open, sending a swirl of displaced dust cascading through the air.
Darkness greeted him, and he drew out his little flashlight, carefully sliding inside and closing the door before flicking it onto its lowest setting, roving the beam back and forth, sending shadows dancing crazily along the walls.
It was midnight, the perfect time for creeping, and he had stolen the key from the Gym next door.
But he was no thief. The only thing he was after here today, was information.
News.
His big break.
He wasn't a thief, he was a journalist, an investigative journalist, working out of Cerulean town.
He had been the one who'd investigated the situation that had occurred in the cave to the north-west of Cerulean.
For some odd reason, powerful pokemon had started flocking to the cave there, making it almost inaccessible.
Covered in pokemon repellents, and escorted by Misty herself, he had still only made a little ways into the cave. But he had found something in there.
A tag.
It was an electronic tag, the kind used to keep track of wild pokemon without disturbing them overly much. And, once he'd managed to rig a connector up and interface it with his computer, and crack the years-old encryption, he found out where the source of the tracking station was. Cinnabar.
And so, he had gotten on a boat, gone to Cinnabar, and the rest, was, as they say, history.
Stealing the key was a rash decision, but he could practically taste the big story hiding somewhere under all of this.
The first place he found himself in, was the foyer. Old, plush waiting couches stood to the side, moth-eaten and broken, while a reception table sat abandoned, leaflets for various scientific procedures littering the ground.
Peter ignored the foyer completely, and crept his way into the next room over, a conference hall, by the looks of it, complete with self-important round table, discarded glass's, and pitchers containing long evaporated liquids. The main board was empty, wiped clean, useless.
The next room was much the same, except with papers laid out on the table still, yellowed with age.
Peter skipped this room as well. Next up, was the stairwell, leading down deeper, which he carefully descended, coming out into the actual facility proper.
Down here, it got a lot more utilitarian, the plush, felt corridor carpet giving way to spartan white flooring and fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling.
The rooms here were obviously laboratories, with solid-steel cabinets, giant glass windows for easy viewing and inspection, heavy doors with rotating-wheel locks, air-tight containment. The entire place looked almost...fortified. As though they were keeping dangerous pokemon inside somewhere.
He made his way deeper, ignoring room after room of pointless empty laboratories, some completely empty, others filled with scattered papers and empty vials and beakers of long-dissipated liquids.
But then, it all just came to an end. No warning, just an old break room, a coffee percolator sitting on a long bench, some old Styrofoam cups rolling about.
Peter frowned, brows furrowing for a moment, thinking to himself. Why have a rec room at the very end of the deepest part of the facility?
Surely it was a fire hazard?
But then, he pondered that for a moment. Fire hazard...
He turned on his heel, and headed for the main administration area, which he had passed not too long before, sitting down in the swinging chair there, frowning and starting to shift through the boxes under the counter and inside the cabinets. Eventually, he came to what he was looking for. Fire escape plans, for the entire set of floors.
Snuffing a laugh, he slapped his finger triumphantly down on a portion of one of the maps that he couldn't get to...leading off from the rec room.
"Government bureaucracy wins again." he said with a smirk, and then paused for a moment, shining his light about carefully.
His voice sounded unnaturally loud down here, in the darkness, by himself.
With a faint frown, he held the piece of laminated paper in hand, and headed back to the rec room, laying it on a counter and looking around. According to the fire plan, the entrance to the hidden part of the facility was somewhere in this room. Now, if he were trying to hide something...?
He started to go through the cupboards, tapping the walls, moving chairs and tables around for nearly half an hour, trying to figure out how to enter the secret area. In frustration, he tried to sweep the coffee percolator aside, only to find it solid, immovable.
Why didn't it move?
Curiously, he peered at it. It was empty, any water inside it long-since gone, the actual jug for the water to siphon into sitting on the bench besides it.
With a thoughtful expression, he flicked the 'on' switch. It didn't work. Hardly surprising, he had seen no evidence that the facility still had power.
Idly, he flicked on the overhead light, and then winced and closed his eyes as blinding brilliance struck him.
Quickly flicking it off, he pondered. Still had power...must still be connected to the power grid, never turned off. And the coffee maker didn't turn on...
He regarded it for a long moment, and then pressed down on the hot plate that kept the coffee jug warm, and smiled in triumph as he heard machinery moving somewhere behind him. He took his hand away.
Instantly, whatever small gap there was, closed, and the door disappeared.
Peter frowned faintly, and then picked up the coffee jug, placing it on the hot plate, and filling it with water from his canteen.
The weight kept the pressure-plate down, and the door slowly slid open, from the very wall itself, revealing a staircase.
Peter climbed down the staircase eagerly, licking his lips almost hungrily. This was definitely his big break.
Climbing downwards slowly, he swung the beam of his light back and forth. It was quiet down here, eerily, creepily quiet. The air was stale, and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere, perfectly sealed and contained.
This must have been where the real research occurred, away from prying eyes. The entire two floors above were just for show, he guessed.
The entire floor had been abandoned at once, from the looks of it. Several workstations in the first room he entered were still 'active'. That is to say, everything was turned off, but they looked like they had only just been abandoned. There were cups and cans of drink still next to the dormant computers, half-eaten bags of chips, long-stale and inedible, reference papers and post-its pinned to the monitors, memento's of normal life, like pictures, toys, and diaries left abandoned at the stations.
Some of the chairs were scattered across the floor, left there in the haste of exiting, andd standby lights flicked on a row of super-computers along one of the walls.
Peter 'hmm'ed thoughtfully, and made his way over to one of the computers, picking the chair up and sitting down in it, tapping a key on the old computer.
Instantly, it hummed to life, as though waiting for him to come along. It didn't even go to password protection, just right to desktop.
Frowning a little, he leaned in and peered at the icons. There was all of the usual subjects, computer exploration, file systems manager, a Graphical User Interface for lab work, and a security system checklist.
Pondering, he opened up the toolbar, and clicked open the 'recent documents' menu.
Filenames flashed at him.
CorrelativeCellUpdating.doc
CellularRegenerativeSymbiosis.doc
Autoexec.exe
Those were among the many names that he saw, but one caught his interest:
Goals.doc
Double-clicking it, it opened in a proprietary text editor, turning out to be, from what he could tell, some kind of draft to the higher-ups.
The goal of our operation is quite simple in its aim. A two-pronged scientific study aimed at genetically cloning, and improving upon the progenitor of all pokemon species: Mew.
Once cloned, and genetically altered, Mewtwo will, we are all hoping, prove to the be the most powerful pokemon in all existence. It's capabilities to show us the inner workings of telekinesis and, we're hoping, the healing process, will allow us to create medicinal techniques heretofore unheard--
Peter didn't read any further than that, closing the document and leaning back in the chair, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin.
So...they'd been trying to clone mew. More than that, they were trying to improve the genetic template of Mew. To make it more powerful.
Peter was no religious man, but something about it just...didn't strike him as right. They were playing with powers only, well, god should mess with. Or the construct known as god. Because it was the only thing, hypothetically, that could mess with that kind of power without screwing up epically.
He frowned faintly, pulled out his notepad, and scribbled some notes. Even this was more than enough for a story. They'd been cloning mew. And then the entire facility had been abandoned.
Abandoned.
Peter frowned, and brought up the security schematics, and the fire plan, as he had done before, furrowing his brows as he searched through the room names. He found what he was looking for, the security office.
He stood up, and stalked out of the room, leaving the computer running, heading for the next junction, turning left, and entering the security office.
Banks of monitor's stood along the walls, standby lights on, ready to resume their duties, probably not active until their corresponding security camera's had been switched on. There had to be at least sixty monitors. This place was very security-conscious.
He slid himself in front of the main computer, and clicked a key. Surprisingly, it didn't come on with a security prompt. How very odd. He guessed they figured anyone who knew how to get down here already had clearance enough to mess with the security system.
He tabbed open a few pages, looking for incident reports. He came across automated reports a few tabs in.
The latest entries were enlightening.
Alert: Security protocol #7A32 in effect
Alert: Lockdown Initiated
Alert: Lockdown order rescinded
Pete gave a thoughtful 'hmm', and looked for any messages in the email section that were dated on the same day.
He found two.
One was a progress report, but the other lent clues:
Lab B has been destroyed. Test subject .2 has broken free. Wide-scale evacuation of all facilities ordered. Immediate lockdown required.
So...something had happened at Lab B, and one of the test subjects had broken free, and destroyed the lab, and they'd evacuated this one as a precaution. And never re-opened it.
He frowned faintly, and clicked through some more tabs, looking for clues. A power schematic came up.
Rooms were 'graded' on the amount of power they were consuming. Most of them were a pale blue, standby power only. The lab with the computer he'd left on was a little brighter blue than the rest. But there was one room, in the far corner, which was glowing angry red. A...generator, perhaps?
With a thoughtful harrumph, he memorized the turns he'd need to take to get there, and then set off.
The door leading to the room using all the energy was an old style rotating-lock air-tight affair, with a giant, silver wheel that had to be spun before the door could be opened.
Jason put his shoulders into it, feeling it protest as he turned it, old machinery clunking and making a terrible racket before a faint whump echoed, and the air equalised, granting him access.
The room was filled, end to end, with odd vessels. There were at least twice his height, with a curved, transparent sheet of glass at the front, revealing their contents. Which was absolutely nothing, from what he could see.
Eighteen of them stood in a row, at least three deep, each with a faint glowing purple light emanating from within them, all of them empty, as far as he could tell.
Thick bundles of cords snaked over to a console and to a large tank, which, judging by the dwindling amount of liquid shown in the measuring-glass, would soon run out and shut down.
He frowned slightly and moved over to the console, clicking a key, making it flicker on, bringing up a screen showing safety protocols and current actions.
It said one of the tanks was active.
Peter's brow furrowed as he leaned sideways and peered down a row of tanks, and then moved forwards and started to look at them closer. In the very end tank, right at the back, in one of the corners, was a tank, with something in it.
Moving forwards, he rubbed the edge of the glass with his sleeve, clearing away some of the frost that had accumulated.
She looked serene, frozen there in time. That was his first thought.
She was an odd white colour, with angular, feminine features, strange, ear-like things protruding from her skull, thick, powerful shoulders and forearms, and, looking lower, lithe, muscular legs, and larger-than-average hips, mainly supporting the bulk of a thick purple tail, which ended in a thick bulb. She looked to be asleep, features relaxed, carefree.
So this was Mew's clone. From what he could tell...it looked nothing like the Mew of old. Mew was pink, and, depicted as much smaller, and a fair bit cuter. This thing was beautiful, rather attractive in form, but certainly not 'cute'.
There was a clipboard attached to the side of the cryo-chamber, with notes on it.
Subject 1.1 shown to exhibit lack of aggression and defiance to efforts to tame. Perhaps induction of estrogen to make subject more malleable wrong direction. Testosterone decided for new tests. Subject 1.1 slated for liquidation.
Subject 1.1 shown to exhibit strong violent tendencies and lack of patience roughly once every month. Solitary confinement suggested for these periods of time.
Peter frowned at that, and then shook his head slowly. Those scientists really had no idea how things were meant to go...
He slid out his his camera, and took a quick picture of the note board. These things needed to be captured and shown to the world. He took a far-back shot of the cryo-chamber, and then stepped in for a close-up of the clone Mew's face. Already, he was starting to refer to her in his head as Mewtwo.
Leaning in close, he made sure he could get the best picture of her face possible, and then snapped the picture.
Flash!
The flash on the camera flared, blinding him for an instant, transposing the image of her face over his retina's for a moment, before the flash-blinding faded, and he could see her face again.
Her eyes were open!
Peter went flailing backwards, dropping the camera and landing hard on his ass, scooting, backpedalling away from the cryo tank until his back hit another of them, staring up at the Mewtwo for a long moment, while it stared coldly back...
And then, those eyes seemed to draw him in, locking him in place, immobile, a mind-melting warmth flooding his senses, and an odd, firm voice seemed to give him orders...he felt himself moving, and next thing he knew, he was collapsing, sucking in a hard breath and snapping his eyes open to stare at the ceiling.
What the hell happened?
A head slowly came into his view, and a pair of liquid-black eyes peered down at him curiously, along with a white snout, and oddly-shaped ear-like protrusions. Mewtwo was out!
Peter froze in fear, swallowing audibly as the creature started to lean in closer, eyes flicking as she raised a paw, and summoned his dropped light to her with a single curled finger, catching it deftly, and then shining it right in his eye.
He made a sound and tried to shrink away from the blinding flare, but the Mewtwo merely lifted a surprisingly powerful forepaw and wrapped it around his head, holding him firmly in place, peering directly down into his eye, watching the pupil contract.
"...Beautiful..." she breathed, leaning in even further, until their noses almost touched, Peter now trying hard to get away from her, squirming madly, even contemplating kicking her.
"Let go of me!" he cried out in desperation, and surprisingly, felt the grip lessen enough for him to wrench himself away and climb to his feet, bounding backwards until his back hit the wall.
"As you wish, master." she spat the last word like an insult.
"W-what?" he asked, stunned into confusion. "M-master?"
"You set me loose, I assume that means you claim ownership over me." she said flatly, narrowing those liquid-black eyes at him, her tailtip giving a fint swirl back and forth.
"Uhm...y-yeah, I do!" he said with a firm nod, looking her up and down, slowly climbing to his feet.
Surprisingly, she was almost his size, just a little bit shorter...but there was no doubt she was stronger than him, and with her psychic powers, much more dangerous.
"I guess...asking you to get back in the tank would be a bad idea?" he asked, stooping and picking up his flashlight, holding it in front of him as though it might somehow protect him.
"That would make you a bad master, and an enemy. I haven't decided what I do to enemies yet." she said delicately.
Peter swallowed hard. "W-well...I guess...we get you out of here..." he said with a faint gulp, turning about and peering nervously around.
"Out?" she asked, canting her head to the side, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing at him slowly.
"...Outside? You know, opposite of 'in'?" he asked, frowning back at her a moment and starting for the door, feeling his hands shake a little bit...not quite comfortable with turning his back on her.
There was a faint sound behind him, and then her voice was whispering in his ear, "...So I make you uncomfortable?" she asked with a distinct laugh, making him yelp and leap away from her, thudding into the door and then turning to slam his back against it.
"For fucks sake don't do that!" he rebuked, brows furrowed deeply, torch held just above waist height, as though to strike her with it.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'." she said with a smug look, tailtip swirling lightly behind her. "Lead on, Master."
Again, 'master' had a strained emphasis on it, a negative emphasis.
Peter huffed faintly and then slid out of the door, trying not to show any fear to the odd creature behind him. He couldn't do anything. If he told it...her, that he wasn't her master, then she would be free to do to him whatever she wanted. And she didn't seem to have much in the way of morality or common sense in the way most people did...she was a creature raised in a test tube. No one had taught her morals, decency, or respect.
And she thought he was her master?!
He closed his eyes a moment in disgust. Why didn't he think to bring a pokeball? At least then he would have had some kind of control over her...As it was now, his most effective action would be harsh language.
And he couldn't just run away from her, couldn't abandon her here all alone, with no one to teach her the things she'd need to survive...
Either way, this wasn't looking good for him.
"You're scared of me, aren't you?" the Mewtwo asked curiously of him, calmly striding along behind him.
"N-no." he protested with a faint shiver, trying as hard as he could not to turn his head to peer back at her. Not knowing exactly where she was, was...slightly unnerving.
"I can sense your fear. I can smell it." she replied matter-of-factly, "So is denying what we both know to be true really prudent, master?"
Peter opened his mouth to reply, and then harrumphed faintly, changing the subject, "Stop calling me master...it makes me feel--"
"--Weird?" she finished the sentence for him.
"Not helping." he stated flatly, with a firm shake of his head.
"What would you have me call you, master?" she asked with narrowed eyes.
"Peter, please." he replied as calmly as he could, a little bit jerky and on edge.
"Would you prefer if I walked in front of you?" she asked, tone calm.
"Please!" he replied, without thinking, and the Mewtwo smirked faintly as she stepped past him and started to lead the way through the hallways.
"...How do you know where to go?" he asked wonderingly as she unerringly started to take the right turns towards the entrance.
"This isn't my first time outside of that room." she replied flatly, peering at him over a shoulder for a moment, and then smirking. "And telling you that I'm ripping the knowledge from your mind would unnerve you, I'm thinking."
"Not. Helping." he repeated in a strained sort of way.
The Mewtwo just laughed faintly and started to ascend the stairs upwards.
The entry door seemed to be closed, possibly on an automatic timer to ensure that the door wasn't left open by accident.
Peter cursed faintly. "I don't know how to open it from this side." he admitted, pausing a few stairs below the mewtwo.
"A pressure switch, hmmm..." she said, eyes seeming to sparkle in the darkness back at him. He didn't even bother asking how she knew what it was.
she lifted a three-fingered paw, and closed her eyes, standing side-on to the door, brow furrowing.
There was a loud whump! of displaced air, and then the sound of shattering glass, before the door slowly started to open.
Shards of glass stuck out of some of the walls, twinkling in the meagre light.
"I missed the first time." she said with a faint shrug, straightening up and walking through the doorway, leaving a faintly shivering Peter to walk along behind her.
"Where...." he started, and then trailed off, too hesitant to ask.
"Am I going to stay?" she asked calmly. "I was rather thinking at your place." she stated calmly, peering back at him, pausing in her walking, smirking faintly at the shudder Peter involuntarily gave. "As long as it's okay with you..."
"W-well, I was thin-" she cut him off,
"I mean...it's either that, or be cast out into the wide, wide world all on my own with no survival skills, to be captured by scientists and experimented horribly on..." she said sweetly.
Peter ground his teeth. "Fine. You can stay at my place. But no...--"
"Funny business?" she finished for him sweetly.
"You know what I mean." he said flatly.
"I assure you," she said, starting to walk again, "If I happen to do anything you might call 'funny business', I will wait until you are not looking." she replied calmly, smiling innocently.
Peter just groaned faintly and shook his head. This...was not going to end well.