When one who has the heart of a Pokemon --
but is not Pokemon born--shall rain fire
down upon us, a time of great darkness
shall embrace the land
The Next Generation
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Two Months Ago
He had not had the dream in a long time.
That was the first thought that had entered the dark recesses of his mind as he snapped awake. He blinked, before wide-set eyes took in everything as he scanned about him, noting everything.
A multitude of slumbering bodies were pressed together, most huddling together for warmth and comfort in the chilly confines of a large cave. It was dark, but not so dark that he could not see. He gazed upon the slumbering creatures, his face blank and emotionless.
He had had the dream, but they had not. They had never had the dream. They were free to roam as they pleased, nothing separated them from the Others. From the real ones. Nothing proved that they were artificial, exact doubles of already existing Pokemon.
In a fluid motion, he sat up on his haunches and looked about. He had plenty of room to move about, none of the Pokemon ever slept near him, they all kept their distance. As if they knew instinctively that he was not one of them. Even though he was.
A soft blue glow started around his clawed grey feet and tail as he lifted off the ground, shooting straight up into one of the tunnels of rock built deep within the mountain. He flew through it with practiced ease, not even having to think about it as he turned and twisted to avoid rocky protuberances.
With a small explosion of loam and grass, he found himself hovering on the slope of the mountain. It was one of many in a large range, sitting behind the large and mystical Mt. Moon. Rarely did any trainer venture here. Silent, serene and a safe haven for the fugitive Pokemon. Slowly the blue glow around his feet faded, leaving him standing in the soft, fragrant grass. A gentle breeze stirred the grass and rustled the nearby tree leaves, but left him unmoving.
He stared up, at an expanse of sky and stars that would leave the most normal of mortals breathless. He stood stock-still for a long time, just staring. The beauty of the cosmos was indeed spectacular. He yearned to be flying again, with the freedom that the bird Pokemon, and even the legendary ones enjoyed. But he could not. He would not. To be seen would bring the curious after him. To be see would to be hunted.
He enjoyed the solitude, but lately something was wrong. Something felt wrong to him. He could not figure it out, and the wrongness was now affecting his sleep, and bringing him aboveground when he should be below. Distracted, he shook his head, preparing to return to the cave.
It was because of his distraction that the rock escaped his notice and slammed against the back of his head. It did not leave a mark but hurt greatly. Instantly his eyes glowed blue, and he half turned, to see two humans. They both wore old and dirty clothes, with backpacks slung over their shoulders. Pokèballs were evident at their waists.
Pokemon Trainers. He bristled. Even being fair to the humans, Pokemon trainers were the one type he couldn't stand. Who could capture innocent animals, place them in small prisons, then have them battle brutally against one another?
The humans could, that's who.
One of the trainers was tossing a rock casually in his palm, prepared to throw. He was the one who must have thrown the first rock, it stood to reason. He clenched his three fingered fists at his sides, staring openly at them, blue eyes blazing.
The other had a Growlithe standing next to him. The fire-type Pokemon looked to be out to protect its master. But who could protect the Pokemon from other Pokemon?
"I told you it was a Pokemon," the second trainer said, as if proving a point. "And I'm gonna catch him!" He flung his arm out, dead pointed at the unmoving figure with glowing blue eyes. "Growlithe, ember!"
The orange-and-black striped dog Pokemon leapt forward, landing with his paws splayed out. Opening his mouth wide, a steady stream of orange fire lit up the mountainside, directed at the figure.
He raised a three-fingered hand and gestured casually. The fire never reached its destination, instead washing over an invisible barrier and deflecting to the sides. This didn't seem to perturb the trainer. "Okay -- Growlithe, Take Down attack, now!"
Whining, the dog Pokemon looked from his trainer to the dark figure, now silhouetted against the rising moon. He could sense the wrongness about the figure. It turned and ran, hiding behind his trainer's legs. "What are you doing?" the trainer yelled, surprised at the fact that his normally faithful Pokemon disobeyed him. All of his Pokemon had been trained well, but nothing could train them for ... him.
**Fools,** Mewtwo said, his eyes still a solid blue. **Fools, the lot of you. I don't know why I spared you.**
Both the trainers looked up, surprised. Mewtwo gestured with his three-fingered hand, and a wash of psychic energy crested over them, blanking their minds with his Amnesia attack. They slumped down on the ground, eyes blank.
The Growlithe looked confused. He looked from his fallen master to Mewtwo, who had not moved. **Go,** Mewtwo told him. **I have freed you. Leave now, while you still have the chance.**
**To hell with them,** Mewtwo spoke aloud, again looking at the sky. **They don't care about us. They never have. And never will.** He glanced down at the Growlithe, who had not moved. Fur bristling, the dog Pokemon growled at the Pokemon who had laid his master low without even touching him. **Yes. To hell with them all.**
With a burst of blue psychic aura, Mewtwo blasted into the sky, leaving a small contrail of blue behind him. The Growlithe, still puzzled and angry, stood over his master, then raised his sleek muzzle to the sky, howling eerily in Mewtwo's wake.
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The island was unchanged.
It had taken him the better part of the night to find his way back. It had been a long time since Mewtwo had flown freely in the night skies. It was confusing at first, then pure liberation. Forget that the puny humans might come after him, he could take them all with one swing of his arm! It was not the way of the most powerful Pokemon ever created to run and hide. It was his duty to instill fear in them.
The moon was setting behind him as Mewtwo landed with a gentle thump in the long grass. It waved gently outward at the wind he had brought with him. He dropped his limber gray arms to his side as he gazed around.
The island was overrun with vegetation. A small clump of trees had invaded the southern shore, while long grass had grown everywhere else. A pile of rubble, covered over by silt and grass, had added a large hill on the eastern shore.
The rocks were mostly green, covered in a mossy substance that glowed a little in the moonlight. There were no traces of the castle, or of the lab that existed before.
New Island was a small island, once owned by a man named Giovanni. It was later that Mewtwo had learned Giovanni was an evil man, who would do anything as long as it suited his own ends. Much like Mewtwo himself had been.
But, Mewtwo could not help but reflect, it was Giovanni who taught him to use the great strength that he was born into. It was Giovanni who helped him learn to channel it. It was Giovanni who made him a weapon.
He walked slowly across the grass, his broad gray claws trampling the brittle stalks. The castle was long gone, destroyed by himself and Mew. Debris was probably scattered across the ocean bed by now.
A brisk wind sprang up, Mewtwo's slow stride disturbed several slumbering Spearows. Startled, Mewtwo backed up a step, eyes glowing blue. The Spearows, who were initially going to attack, thought better of it and flew off into the night. He let them go.
It had been a long time since he ranged this far from his mountain home. Too long. As he walked slowly along, the ground changed from grassy loam to hard-packed ground. He looked down, and saw that he was treading on a playing field.
Long weeds and grass disrupted the field, growing through cracks. Time had passed. He paused in the center of the field, closing his eyes. The area still had a strong feeling about it, the psychic energy locked within the ground. To a normal human, or even a normal Pokemon, it would translate into a strong sense of unease.
To Mewtwo, it meant power.
He had been wrong, he knew that now. The way he went about it was all wrong. Just because he was born different, he would destroy human and Pokemon alike?
The anger, the pure, undiluted, black rage still clung at the back of his mind. His hatred at the scientists who birthed him, an imperfect clone of Mew. His rage at being so callously used by Giovanni. And more importantly, the pain of imprisonment.
It was not the Pokèmon’s fault. Some of them allowed themselves to be used, even to be the so-called "friends" of the Others, the humans. They were misinformed, misled.
Still others were captured and forced to bend to the will of trainers, given no choice but to serve.
He bristled at the thought, and the wind picked up around him, spiraling around him, sending the grass into the patterns of an Omastar's shell. It was not the Pokemon at all, it was the humans who were wrong!
His eyes went solid blue as he held his arms out straight in front of him. There was an outward explosion of psychic power as a wave of blue washed over the island. A terrific storm of dust kicked up, obscuring everything from view.
The dust settled slowly, blown gently by the sea winds. The sun was slowly rising when the air was at last clear, and it sent cleansing rays over the oceans. The first rosy hint of dawn chased the gloom and darkness away, casting a long shadow on the form of Mewtwo.
He stood unmoving in the center of the island, head bowed, eyes closed. He lifted his head slowly, as if the sun revitalized him. The awkwardly shaped eyes snapped open, staring straight at the sun's fiery strength.
His shadow was cast long against bare rock. The force of the psychic energy had done its work, cleansing the isle of all vegetation, the growth of two decades gone in an instant.
Mewtwo let the sunlight rinse over him, as if cleansing him. The rays warmed his harsh gray skin, a warmth he rarely allowed himself to feel. Tearing his eyes away from the glowing orb of absolute power, Mewtwo gazed around at the destruction he had wrought.
He would make things right. He would free the Pokemon from the bonds of slavery, and bring them out from under the tyranny of humans. He would require help, yes, but that help could be found. He already had allies of the cloned Pokemon, even before executing his influence.
He felt a momentary pang as he thought of the woman he had conscripted so long ago. She had provided him with information about Pokemon that had proved vital, but even then it felt wrong to kidnap the women, spirit her away from her family under the cover of darkness.
He had apologized to her the only way that he could, by wiping her memory of the events that had happened. He had done that for all of them -- the trainers, the woman -- even the Pokemon. It had taken the last bit of his strength, but Mew had helped, destroying the castle after their joint powers had transported the humans back to the mainland.
Mewtwo closed his eyes as he thought back. It had taken him a month to recover his power. He was still young, not used to harnessing and using great psychic powers, and that stunt taxed him greatly, mentally and physically. After he had made a full recovery, he had actually regressed, driving the events out of his mind and living like a true animal, with the cloned Pokemon, hidden deep in the mountains.
It took a long time for him to come back to himself. There was a great blank in his memory. Mewtwo frowned. He still wished he knew what he had been doing in that time. If only he knew how long he'd regressed ...
Shaking his head, he cast those thoughts from his mind. He looked about the island. He would rebuild ... here, he decided, marking the spot with his foot, scratching it into the earth.
He looked up at the sky, still frowning. Those trainers ... mere children, yet they had fouled up his plans so brutally. Something told him that if they got involved again, then he might not make it out of the scrape. He had to be smarter than the humans, cleverer than the humans.
Maybe ... maybe if they were removed from the picture ...
The blue aura built up under him, propelling him into the sky and back towards his mountain home. There was much work to be done. He must start immediately.
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A/N: All right, all right. So Mewtwo’s the perfect villain, ‘specially if he’s misguided. I just love his character, powerful, confused, and so cool-looking, t’boot! Whatta y’all think?